Chapter 263: The Virtuoso's Fragment

The laughter and chatter at the table lasted until the Yorkshire pudding was gone.

Only glossy bones remained of the roast beef ribs, and the red wine sauce from the stewed lamb shanks had congealed into a crust on the plates.

Satisfied with their meal, the trainees shifted the conversation from academics to the real business of the night.

"I'll make you a bet." Wade Bourne picked his teeth.

"The most precious thing down there has to be that scepter. It was in the papers for a month, plastered all over the front pages."

"You believe whatever the papers print." Catherine poured herself half a glass of lemonade.

"Last week's evening edition said they fished a girl with a fishtail out of the East City canal."

Bourne choked on his words.

At the other end of the long table, a few other young nobles huddled together, keeping their voices low as they guessed what else was hidden below.

Mummies, gilded coffins, and whether those jars were actually filled with organs.

Edith shrank back in her corner, staying out of it.

She had spent the entire day at the museum lecturing people about green-glazed figurines.

The sheer joy of finally seeing the real artifacts was impossible to hide.

Richard cleared the last piece of pudding from his plate and picked up his tea to wet his throat.

After telling stories all day, he was genuinely exhausted.

Exhausted or not, his anticipation hadn't faded in the slightest.

Seals leaked slowly. Richard knew this well.

But no matter how secure a seal was, a tiny trace would always seep out at its nodes.

Tonight, there was an entire Storeroom below them.

Even if each item leaked only a pinprick, it would add up to a massive amount.

"Everyone."

A figure stood at the dining room doors.

Pendleton stepped aside to hold the door open, revealing the same white-bearded director they had met at noon.

The trainees hurriedly stood up.

"Sit, sit." The director waved them down.

"Have you all eaten your fill? If not, I'll have the kitchens bring out more. The work downstairs is going to be incredibly taxing on the mind."

By the time everyone wiped their mouths and pushed in their chairs, the sky outside had gone pitch black.

The July nights in the Imperial Capital were sweltering, but the walls of this centuries-old stone museum remained cool year-round.

The great clock struck nine, and the heavy bronze doors swung shut.

The entire museum fell silent.

The twenty trainees gathered back in the main hall.

The sphinx crouching in the center of the hall, standing over two men tall, had merely been a novelty for visitors to point at during the day.

Now, resting in the gloom, a long shadow stretched out from beneath its half-crumbled stone nose.

"Creepy," Wade Bourne muttered, shrinking his neck.

"It looked magnificent during the day. Now, it looks like it's about to open its mouth and bite."

Another trainee beside him agreed:

"The place is completely empty now. Who knows how many thousand-year-old corpses are buried beneath us."

"Alright, gather around," a voice called from the far end of the hall.

Director Wetherby strolled out from beneath the archway of the Greek Hall, his hands clasped behind his back.

Two men followed him.

The man on the left was middle-aged. His ether possessed a steady, winding quality like thread spinning on a spool—likely a Minor Adept of the Secret path.

The man on the right was a Hunter. He was tall and lean, and as he walked, his right hand hovered loosely near his waist.

Richard swept his Inspiration over him and noticed an Enchanted Blunderbuss and a knife tucked into the man's belt.

The director stroked his white beard and introduced them.

"This is Mr. Pritchard, a Minor Adept of the Secret path. He will be maintaining the sealing array downstairs for us tonight."

The Secret practitioner gave the group a curt nod but remained silent.

"And this is Mr. Hammond." The director lifted his chin toward the Hunter.

"If anything acts up down there, he's the one who will deal with it."

Hammond didn't even nod. He merely shifted his right hand slightly higher on his waist.

The trainees exchanged glances. Even Bourne, the biggest joker of the group, shut his mouth.

A Secret practitioner to maintain the array and a Hunter to hold the line... Judging by this lineup, going downstairs was going to be far more complicated than just looking at antiques.

The director took a few steps, walking halfway around the sphinx.

"A few days ago, we had a 'guest' intrude downstairs. We drove it back, but it left a little something behind."

The main hall was so quiet that the faint crackle of burning candles could be heard.

The director's expression darkened beneath his white beard.

Through several layers of stone flooring, Richard could feel a mass of something throbbing rhythmically.

It was a severed organ. Torn from its main body, yet still not entirely dead.

The director continued.

"By all the rules, this thing should have been destroyed on the spot."

"But those two Virtuosos forbade me from destroying it."

"The current situation is unstable, and in the future, some of you will inevitably have to stand on your own and take charge."

"Nominally, tonight is the final practical assessment of your training."

"But to put it bluntly, it is a lesson prepared for you by those two Virtuosos."

A brief silence swept through the main hall.

The tension in Richard's chest eased slightly.

This was a carefully arranged lesson with a safety net already in place.

The two Virtuosos had trapped that severed piece in an array and were feeding it to the students of this top institution as target practice.

"I must lay down the harsh truths first."

The director's tone grew deathly serious.

"That thing is 'alive'."

"When you use your sight to read it, it will follow your gaze and 'look' right back at you."

"The higher your Inspiration, the more dangerous it is."

Someone in the hall sucked in a sharp breath.

"I will be the one doing the real work tonight."

The director swept his gaze over the group once more.

"Parsing that fragment, weighing it accurately, and sending it back where it came from... I will handle all of that."

"Your job is simply to help me read it."

He raised a hand and gestured in the air.

"It is wrapped in several layers.

If I peel them off alone, it will look at me with every layer I remove.

By the time I reach the innermost layer, I fear my hands will be too tied up to deal with anything else."

"Therefore, these layers must be peeled off piece by piece, by different people."

"Those studying Inscriptions will peel back its outermost shell for me.

Those in History and Folklore will read its origins and figure out exactly what it used to be.

As for the innermost, most dangerous layer..."

The director's eyes swept across their faces.

"I will read the traces of its true name myself. None of you are to touch it."

"Remember," he said with absolute finality.

"Whatever step I am on, you will report that specific layer's findings to me.

Once you've made your report, retreat to the outer circle and stay there.

The peeling will be divided among us, but striking the core will be my burden alone."

The director continued. "Mr. Pritchard will maintain the sealing array, and Mr. Hammond will lock down the perimeter.

If anything goes wrong, I will evacuate you all immediately and call upon the two Virtuosos to intervene."

"At any point, if I yell to retreat, drop what you are doing and run back upstairs without looking back."

"Is that understood?"

"Understood," the twenty trainees replied in unison, their faces taut with tension.

Director Wetherby nodded, and the severe intensity on his face suddenly vanished.

"Alright, the harsh truths are out of the way."

He pulled a greasepaper parcel from his robe sleeve and patted it.

"I had the kitchens prepare a midnight snack for you all in the side hall downstairs.

Cold ham, cheese, and freshly baked scones."

"If you get tired or hungry from reading, go help yourselves."

His gaze lingered on Richard for a moment, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth beneath his white beard.

"Especially for a certain young gentleman. I made sure they brought down an extra bucket of milk."

The tension that had gripped the main hall was instantly broken by his words.

The trainees let out low chuckles.

"At the banquet, I promised you something."

The director beckoned to Richard.

Richard stepped forward.

"Tonight, I will give you the position closest to the array."

The director stroked his white beard and slowly added, "You managed to weave the history of half the Old Continent into stories so captivating that even sugar merchants and railway tycoons were spellbound.

"Tonight, I want to see how much of that vast knowledge holds up when you can't just talk your way through it."

Richard bowed slightly.

"I will do my best, sir."

Director Wetherby turned around.

"Let's go."

"The fragment left behind by our guest is waiting for us downstairs."

A narrow door, hidden behind the Greek Hall, led down to the sealed Storeroom.

The door was reinforced with silver plates, which were in turn carved with heavy inscriptions.

Mr. Pritchard stepped forward and pressed a finger against a specific spot on the doorframe. The door swung silently inward.

A flight of stone steps vanished into the darkness below.

"Stay close," the director said, stepping in first.

"Downstairs is not like the upper floors. If you fall behind, no one will come looking for you."

The twenty trainees filed in after him.

Hammond the Hunter brought up the rear, pulling the door shut behind him.

The stone staircase was incredibly long, spiraling down around a central pillar.

Every dozen steps, a lamp lit by the museum was embedded into the wall.

The further down they went, the cooler the air became, until the walls were slick with moisture.

The scent of centuries-old dust mixed with aged spices grew thicker with every step.

Richard walked in the middle of the group, spreading a thin thread of his Inspiration out into the surrounding air.

He hadn't gone down many steps before he felt it.

The ether permeating the air was so thick it was sickening.

The ether concentration on the Imperial Capital University campus was already incredibly high, with nodes scattered everywhere.

But this underground museum Storeroom was somehow even denser.

On a normal day, the high-tier supernatural items were completely sealed, leaving only a negligible trace of ether leakage.

But that severed fragment down below was violently throbbing, throwing the entire Storeroom into chaos.

Provoked by its presence, the other supernatural items were constantly leaking ether into the air.

The corners of Richard's mouth curled up slightly.

This was a very good thing for him. His opportunity had arrived.

When they finally reached the bottom of the stairs, the space opened up before them.

Rows of chest-high glass display cases lined both sides of the Storeroom, accompanied by wooden racks draped in dust cloths.

The cases and shelves were packed with authentic artifacts excavated from the Black Soil River Basin.

Gilded painted masks, green-glazed figurines, Stone Tablets carved with beasts and birds, and several Painted Wooden Coffins with their lids left half-open.

These were the very same items they had seen during the day.

But unlike the replicas, these genuine artifacts were all gathered in one place. The combined ether field alone was oppressive enough to make it hard to breathe.

At the very back of the Storeroom, a separate area was sectioned off by a circle of stone pillars.

Richard's eyes fell upon the center of that space.

Nine silver lines were drawn on the floor, forming a circle. At the very center hovered a mass of something.

It was about the size of two fists.

Its shape was impossible to describe—a murky gray blob, like a cloud of smoke that couldn't quite solidify.

Yet, it was precisely this cloud of smoke that was throwing the entire Storeroom into chaos.

Mr. Pritchard stood just outside the array, his hands tracing invisible patterns in the air.

Threads of ether flowed from his fingertips, feeding into the nine silver lines to lock the cloud of smoke dead in the center of the circle.

"Take your positions," the director ordered, keeping his voice low. "And keep your distance from the sealing array."

The trainees lined up along the sides of the Storeroom.

Hammond the Hunter took a few long strides and positioned himself between the array and the staircase, physically blocking the exit with his right hand resting on his belt.

Richard was directed to the stone pillar closest to the array.

He took his position beside it and steadied his breathing.

The Silver Ring resting against his chest felt noticeably cold right now.

That cloud of smoke was currently "looking" at every single person in the Storeroom who possessed Inspiration.

It didn't have eyes, yet it was undeniably watching them.

But the Silver Ring dimmed the "lighthouse" of his presence, while the Eagle Hook made the entity misjudge his origins.

The two effects stacked perfectly, dimming him into a flame so faint it was practically invisible.

The cloud of smoke "looked" in his direction for a moment, failed to notice anything of interest, and turned its attention to the others.

Richard secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

Now, it was time for his real work to begin.

The ether in the Storeroom had been stirred into a frenzy and was bleeding into the air.

Out of everyone present, he was the only one who could turn this freely leaking ether into something tangible.

Standing by the stone pillar, he didn't move a muscle.

Instead, he simply extended his dimmed thread of Inspiration, letting it ride the currents of ether toward the nearest display case.

Inside the case sat a gilded painted mask. Agitated by the entity in the array, it was rapidly bleeding ether.

Richard's own ether flow brushed delicately against it, like skimming a spoonful of oil off the surface of a broth.

His [Available Points] began to tick upward.