The Cycle of Fate

Chapter 134: The Catacombs

After disguising himself with the "Spyglass of Secrets" outside the Market District Police Headquarters, Lumian boarded the carriage adorned with the scent of iris flowers.

Two ordinary officers in black uniforms sat side by side, with three dark-colored urns placed before them. The names of the deceased were written in fluorescent ink on the urns.

Once Lumian took his seat opposite them, the police carriage began to move slowly. The older of the two officers, curious, asked, "What's your relationship with them? Why go out of your way to see them off?"

He recalled that of the three deceased, two had no relatives or friends left, while the third, though still having distant relatives alive, had family members who were too terrified to claim the ashes, not even acknowledging any blood or familial ties.

In a calm tone, Lumian replied, "I'm their landlord, in a way."

"Just a landlord?" The older officer was skeptical.

"Officer, landlords are people too; they can have feelings."

Lumian responded with a chuckle, "I've had drinks with some of them, chatted with them occasionally. It's no trouble to help bring their ashes to the catacombs."

The younger officer stared out the window, uninterested in conversation, while the older one seemed naturally talkative.

"You're still young, like you look. If you're in the market district running an inn or apartment, remember not to get attached to your tenants. Otherwise, you'll either get scammed or heartbroken. After a few more times, you won't care as much."

After some idle conversation, the officer asked, "There are still some of Flamand's personal belongings at the station. None of his relatives want them. Do you want to take them? Otherwise, we'll dispose of them ourselves."

"I'll take a look when we return from the catacombs."

Lumian wasn't too concerned. On the way from the Market District to the Purgatory Square in the Astronomical District, the older officer kept chatting, either with Lumian or trying to get his colleague to talk, leaving no silence.

When they finally arrived and Lumian stepped off the carriage carrying Roul's ashes, even he, despite being sociable, felt a sense of relief from the constant chatter.

The catacombs' custodian was someone Lumian had met before—a man in his thirties, medium build, with slightly curly hair, thick beard, and upturned eyes. He wore yellow trousers, a white shirt, and a blue vest.

"Kendall, it's you again?" The older officer greeted him with a laugh.

Carrying an unlit electric lantern, Kendall smiled and replied, "Robert, I heard you were coming, so I rescheduled to meet you."

As the catacomb's caretaker, Kendall glanced at Lumian, then reminded them, "You didn't forget the white candles, did you?"

"Forgot everything else, but not that."

Robert, who held Flamand's urn, struggled a bit as he pulled out three white candles from his pocket, handing one each to his colleague and Lumian. With everyone prepared, Kendall lit his electric lantern and turned to lead them down the 138 steps of stone stairs into the dark depths.

They passed heavy wooden doors engraved with two sacred emblems and traversed eerily silent corridors where even their breathing was audible.

For Lumian, this dark environment was familiar. But the young officer seemed nervous, clutching Mrs. Michel's urn tighter for comfort.

After walking through a wide avenue lit by gas lamps, the group of four arrived at the entrance of the catacombs.

The entrance was a massive, natural stone gate, modified by human hands, standing quietly in the dim light. Skulls, bone arms, sunflowers, and steam element carvings adorned its sides, while behind it, light seemed incapable of penetrating the dense darkness. Above the gate, two inscriptions in Intis read: "Halt, before you lies the Empire of the Dead."