Chapter 237: The Doomsday Sanctuary

The space opposite the magic gate—or rather, this hidden section of the facility—was even larger than Gawain had imagined.

It wasn’t just the main hall that everyone had initially seen. As the soldiers expanded their search, they quickly discovered a surrounding corridor structure outside the hall, with rooms lined up along the corridor’s outer edge.

These rooms were fully furnished. Tables, chairs, and various living or research equipment were all still in place, well preserved—unlike the rooms outside, which had been completely emptied.

“Nothing here has been moved either,” Hetty observed, looking into a newly opened room that appeared to be a communal dining area. Long tables and chairs filled the space, and neatly arranged sinks stood in the corner—though, of course, no water flowed through them anymore. “And the condition of these items… is much better than what we saw outside.”

“The entire facility seems to have been under a large-scale magical preservation effect, drastically slowing the decay of all objects,” Gawain said, lowering his gaze to a long table nearby. Though mottled with rust stains, the table itself remained solid and intact. “Still, there’s some degree of corrosion.”

Tyr padded thoughtfully between the tables, her fingers brushing over the dust-covered surfaces. “It feels like this place was ready to be reactivated at any moment—if someone returned, they could start living here immediately.”

Gawain said nothing, silently walking among the rusting tables. Just then, a squad of soldiers scouting ahead suddenly returned to the room. Their leader approached Gawain.

“Sir! We found a storage room up ahead!”

“Take me there.”

Gawain quickly followed them to the warehouse, where the scene made him frown.

This was a supply storage area, with neatly stacked platforms and various faded signs. But what troubled Gawain was that the originally packed goods had been opened.

Countless wooden crates had been pried open; empty boxes and jars were scattered everywhere. Some were stacked somewhat orderly, but others were strewn across the floor. Aside from this chaotic “packaging,” no useful materials remained.

“This…” Hetty gripped her staff tightly at the sight. She instinctively looked to Gawain. “Ancestor, this…”

“Someone’s been using these supplies!” Gawain stated the only plausible conclusion. “There’s been activity here—at least during the initial period after the facility was sealed off.”

“How is that possible?!” Hetty gasped. “Wasn’t this place abandoned and sealed a thousand years ago? Didn’t everyone evacuate?”

“That’s what I thought too, but look at these depleted supplies—if they’d been used before the lockdown, the logistics managers wouldn’t have let the warehouse end up like this,” Gawain pointed to the scattered empty crates and jars. “This clearly shows consumption after the facility was sealed, and it probably went on for quite some time.”

Hetty swallowed hard. “This… is unsettling…”

Tyr asked, “If there were people here after the lockdown, where are they now?”

Gawain shook his head. “I don’t know. But if those who worked here were human… no human could survive a thousand years.”

Soon, the soldiers found more supply warehouses, most of which had been emptied. Only a few contained items untouched for many years, judging by the thick dust on the sealed boxes.

Even with magical preservation, supplies couldn’t last a millennium. Though the packaging remained intact, the contents had long since rotted. Gawain briefly inspected these and lost interest.

After checking the corridors outside the main hall, the group reached the corridor’s end, where paths converged. A slanting staircase led upward from this junction to the facility’s upper level.

“Looks like there’s more up there,” Hetty said, looking up into the dim space at the top of the stairs. This ancient facility boasted an impressive energy system, but no matter how advanced, it couldn’t fully resist the ravages of time. The lighting upstairs was noticeably dimmer and flickering, suggesting power issues. Hetty summoned a mage’s eye to scout ahead, then nodded after a moment. “No danger detected.”

The team ascended the stairs and soon reached the upper level, where a heavy metal door blocked their way.

“The magical lock on this door has failed,” Hetty quickly found the mechanism controlling the lock. Faint runes were etched into the door’s center, but they no longer responded to magical stimuli. “Now it’s just an ordinary iron door. We can break it down.”

Two soldiers stepped forward, aiming their heat ray guns at the lock. After several blasts of scorching energy, the magical mechanism melted away. Without its magical protection, the advanced ancient device was just a piece of metal with a relatively low melting point.

Gawain placed his hand on the door and, drawing on his legendary knightly strength, slowly pushed open the massive door that once required magic to move.

Creak—

With the screech of metal grinding against metal, the ancient door, centuries old, swung open. A musty, stale odor wafted out from inside, but suddenly a faintly cool mist appeared out of nowhere, swirling around the group and sealing off any harmful air.

Gawain glanced back just in time to see Tyr casually wave her hand, water elemental power flowing silently between her fingers.

He didn’t tell the siren that every soldier’s armor was enchanted with a long-lasting “Breeze Shield” effect. Instead, he smiled and thanked Tyr for her kindness, then stepped through the doorway.

What he saw next stunned him into silence.

Inside was a large semicircular chamber. Rows of neatly arranged seats curved along the room’s arc, and on those seats sat one corpse after another.

These people had clearly been dead for many years, but thanks to the magical field slowing decay throughout the facility, they hadn’t turned to dust. Instead, they resembled mummified remains. They wore ancient Gondor Empire mage robes or tunics—attire that revealed their identity.

They were the personnel left behind after the facility was sealed!

Hetty’s eyes widened in shock. The overwhelming sight left her speechless for a long moment before she whispered, “They… they’re all here… all died here…”

“Why were they left inside?” Tyr, who had heard the facility’s history from Gawain, was puzzled by their presence. “Could the evacuation have gone wrong, and these people were forgotten?”

“That kind of mistake is impossible,” Gawain frowned. “The evacuation was clearly orderly, with no room for such errors. And the warehouses we found earlier are a clue… The supplies show that those left behind were part of a plan.”

He carefully walked between the rows of seats. After passing through them, he reached the front of the semicircular hall.

Turning around, Gawain saw the rows of seats perfectly aligned before him. Nearly a thousand silent corpses sat there, their “gaze” focused exactly where he stood.

The eerie feeling sent a cold sweat down his spine, but it also drew his attention to the floor beneath his feet: a subtle raised device embedded in the ground, its surface etched with runes still faintly glowing with residual magic.

He recognized it—an ancient Gondor Empire communication device. Powered by the vast energy of the Deep Blue Well and the empire’s magical conduits, these devices linked every corner of the empire. But after the Deep Blue Well’s explosion, the network collapsed beyond repair. Modern human nations’ messaging spells and magic towers are mere remnants of this ancient technology.

Though disconnected from the “Deep Blue Magic Network,” the device still held some residual energy and hadn’t lost its stored information.

Recalling memories from seven centuries ago, Gawain infused some magic into the device. Instantly, the long-silent ancient apparatus sprang to life. Its runes flashed wildly as a beam of light shot from its top, projecting onto the wall behind Gawain.

He turned aside to avoid the projection and saw a message cast before the nearly thousand corpses in the hall. Written in ancient Gondor’s common tongue, the brief message read:

“You are the last survivors. Live on. Do not return.”

That was all the device contained—clearly the final communication sent here. Earlier messages had either been deleted or lost to time.

“Last survivors…” Tyr read the message aloud. The siren, who had lived an unknown length of time, surprisingly recognized the ancient Gondor script. She stepped forward, curious. “What does this mean?”

“It was the last message sent here during the onset of the magical cataclysm,” Gawain said slowly. “I’ve long suspected what happened here, but many mysteries remain to be solved.”

(End of chapter)