Chapter 2: What it Was Like to Crawl Out of a Coffin After Transmigrating

Translator: Atlas Studios  Editor: Atlas Studios

The heavy stone door was slowly shut under an ancient spell. Its magic traveled through the gaps between the door and wall, creating a seal that completely shut the nightmarish world outside.

They were now impervious to the shouts of the guard captain, the screams of the injured and dying and better yet, the roars and howls of the terrible, wretched monsters—all noise was silenced by the thick stone and steel separating them. Even though everyone knew that this barrier was only temporary, Rebecca still let out a long sigh of relief in this lull of the racket. It would be wonderful if only the hell outside was merely a nightmare.

However, in the next second, Rebecca shook her head vigorously, thoroughly casting off the weakness that had manifested from her mind. The hefty rock would not serve to provide safety for long, but might weaken her will as it let her indulge in a fleeting moment of security. With that thought, the young successor of the Cecil Clan could not help gripping onto her already dimmed staff, hoping that this weapon could instill more courage in her.

Her clan’s knight, Byron Kirk, said from behind, “Viscountess, the passageway has been sealed shut, and the monsters shouldn’t be able to get in anytime soon.”

Rebecca turned back to look at the loyal and devoted knight. His steel armor was scarred, his breastplate had a noticeable dent, and a burn mark was visible beneath his short grey hair. That blemish had been caused by Aunt Herti, who had thrown a huge fireball to save this middle-ranked knight from the jaws of a monster, and it had almost exploded against his scalp. If not for the God of Fortune’s blessing, this knight, who had served the clan for twenty faithful years, would have become nothing more than a corpse.

Naturally, Rebecca suspected that it was because of Aunt Herti’s magic infamously “missing its mark, as always”…

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“Good work, Knight Byron.” Rebecca looked down to conceal the fatigue in her eyes. “We can take a breather now, at least.”

She then turned her head around and sized up the remaining people left by her side. Three of the soldiers had torches in their hands as they guarded the perimeter. Aunt Herti, wielding a fireball, was inspecting the wall at the end of the stone hall. And Betty, the little maid who had followed them muddle headed, was grasping a saucepan that she had grabbed along the way and cowering behind the soldiers as she surveyed the place with her large, flashing eyes.

Together with herself and Knight Byron, she was afraid that the seven of them were now the last survivors— it was impossible for the ones who had remained on the surface to survive.

After ascertaining everyone’s condition, Rebecca now turned her attention to the stone hall.

This was an ancient place. The rectangular stone hallway was webbed with spider silk and thick with dust. At one end of the hall were a number of decaying objects. Even though they were very old, their past beauty and elegance still shone through. The walls of the stone hall were decorated with intact murals and reliefs. Even though the frescoes were slightly discolored, and the reliefs had undergone some wear and tear, they were still pleasant to admire.

Herti Cecil scrutinized the murals and reliefs in earnest for a long while. Compared to the modern northern states’ frivolous but impractical aesthetics, this hall was adorned simply and solemnly, giving it “First Dynasty” airs. The murals depicted heroic figures or locals customs, and the reliefs were carvings of the symbols of mythology and the gods. As an erudite spellcaster, Herti was well-versed at interpreting useful messages from these antique artworks.

As she studied the contents of the murals and reliefs, Herti could not help but hold her left hand up to her chest. In a soft voice, she whispered, “May the ancestors forgive us…”

“Aunt Herti.” With her staff in hand, Rebecca walked over to Herti’s side. This young woman looked a little anxious, for it was only then that she realized where they were, and began to feel ill at ease. “This is…”

“This is the resting place of the Cecil Clan,” Herti Cecil said gravely. “Don’t do anything offensive.”

Rebecca swallowed. Looking around, she said, “It looks like there hasn’t been anyone here for a long time…”

“Ever since Marquis Grumman stole a sacred object from these tombs and took part in the rebellion that almost annihilated the clan, this place has been completely sealed off. We as descendants of the Cecil Clan have the knowledge to open it, but the clan rules state that no one should ever step foot in here unless they are at death’s door.” Herti Cecil cast a long look at Rebecca. “We are the first people to enter this place in a hundred years.”

“Technically, we are ‘at death’s door’ right now…” Rebecca inhaled deeply. “Will the ancestors forgive us?”

Herti smiled stiffly. She was unable to answer this question, and could only use the hints on the murals as a guide to look for the mechanism to open the burial chamber.

It did not take much effort for her to find the special pillar. She pressed a hand on top of it gently.

The stone door leading to the burial chamber vibrated slightly, before an entire slab of rock rose, rumbling as it went.

However, when the stone slab rose, Rebecca heard a strange noise from within—there was a sound of a weapon being dropped, and an unsuppressed cry of surprise.

“There’s someone inside?!” Herti responded immediately and called out in a low voice, “Byron!”

Without any further instruction, the knight had already unsheathed his sword and rushed towards the entrance of the stone slab, the three other soldiers followed closely behind. After getting over her shock, Rebecca dashed ahead as well, while at the same time shouting an order to the muddleheaded maid, “Betty! Find a place to hide!”

Just as she ran into the burial chamber, Rebecca saw Knight Byron poised with his sword, ready to swing it onto an agile, petite figure.

The little figure darted around Knight Byron like a gust of wind, sometimes disappearing into a cloud of smoke and escaping into the shadowy areas of the chamber. Her shadow manipulation powers and nimble footwork was an eye-opener for Rebecca, for Knight Byron did not usually spend this long going against stealth users. However, with the three remaining soldiers encircling them, and Herti blocking the door of the burial chamber with fire, the dexterous figure lost all their escape routes and landed on the floor, flustered.

It was only after their movements stopped that Rebecca could take a good look at the face of this intruder. It was a young girl that looked her age, but a little shorter. She was wearing old leather armor, had short hair and a pretty countenance. Even though her face was stained with much dirt, it was still obvious that she was a beauty. Her most striking feature was her ears, which were sharp, but were not as long as elfin ones. This explained her lineage: she was a half-elf.

However, she could not tell what the other half of her lineage was, for the elfin bloodline ran strong, which meant that the appearance of half-elves with either human or monster blood looked almost the same.

Once the half-elf girl landed on the ground, Knight Byron immediately stepped forward and pressed his long sword against her neck. The remaining three soldiers closed in in an instant, their three swords barring all her escape routes.

“Who are you! How dare you break into the tomb of the Cecil Clan?!” Herti walked up briskly, her voice full of uncontrollable rage. For an aristocratic descendant like her, the fact that her ancestors’ resting place had been broken into by a tomb raider was enough to make her mad with fury—if news of this got out, the Cecil Clan’s crumbling reputation would be turned to dust.

Rebecca was also glaring at the half-elf. Even though she was still slightly confused from this sudden incident, the mere presence of an intruder in the forbidden tomb of her ancestors was enough to make her angry.

The half-elf girl’s voice trembled as she was simultaneously pinned down by the swords and glared daggers at by Herti and Rebecca, “Wait… Wait! I haven’t stolen anything yet!”

Byron’s sword pressed deeper into her neck. “How dare you!”

Just as the knight’s voice fell, a strange clattering noise rang out from the black steel coffin in the middle of the burial chamber. Everyone’s ears picked up the sound, and they quietened immediately.

After a moment of silence, Rebecca was the first to react. She conjured a head-sized fireball above her staff and shook it at the half-kneeling half-elf on the floor. “What did you do to my ancestor?!”

This time, the half-elf girl sounded like she was about to cry. “Don’t… Don’t kill me yet! Your ancestor rattling in his coffin is a more pressing matter! The lid is about to blow!”

Accompanying the half-elf girl’s voice was the increasingly loud rattling noise from the black steel coffin, which was even starting to shake the lid.

“Ancestor!” Herti’s face was drained of all its color. This was the first time that this dignified and elegant lady who patronized the aristocratic circles lost her cool. “Please rest in peace! The person who has disturbed your sleep will be punished…”

The half-elf girl shouted noisily, “How will saying all this nonsense help now! Hurry up and hold down the lid of your ancestor’s coffin!”

The three soldiers looked at each other. Even Byron was in a state of shock. However, Rebecca reacted this time. She rushed up swiftly to the platform where the coffin laid, just as the coffin lid was pushed aside and a hand emerged from the gap.

Upon seeing this, Rebecca pounded on the hand with her magic staff without hesitation. “Lord Ancestor! Please rest in peace!”

The hand was immediately hammered back into the coffin. At the same time, a pained voice cried out from inside, “Who the hell hit my hand!”

Rebecca lifted her head dazedly. She saw her knight, Aunt, and the three soldiers staring at her, their mouths agape.

She looked down at the magic staff in her hand. This time, she was the one who was about to cry. “Aunt, did I offend our ancestor…”

Herti yelled suddenly, “Rebecca! Get off of there!”

Rebecca was taken aback. “Aunt?”

“This could be a resurrection of the dead!” Herti’s face was deathly pale. “Or it could mean that those monsters have… defiled the sacred remains of our ancestors!”

The possibility of this made Rebecca break out in cold sweat. Just as she was about to jump off the platform and hide behind the soldiers, the heavy lid of the black steel coffin rattled again—and this time, the person inside the coffin used their full strength, causing the coffin lid to detach, flying into the air.

Afterwards, a majestic-looking man with short brown hair and dressed in ancient aristocratic garb sat up from the coffin.

The half-elf girl, who was half-kneeling on the ground, turned to look at the scene and could not help but let out a long sigh. “See, your ancestor has fully risen from the dead.”