Chapter Two What on Earth is Emerging from the Coffin After Completing the Transmigration?

As the heavy stone door slowly closed under the push of an ancient spell, the magical energy traversed the grooves on the walls and floor, forming a sealed energy loop. The nightmarish world outside seemed completely cut off.

No shouts from the captain of the guard, no cries from the wounded and dying, no roars from the terrifying monsters—every sound was blocked by the solid stone and steel. Although everyone knew this barrier was only temporary, in this moment of tranquility, Rebecca couldn't help but exhale deeply—how good it would be if the hellish outside world were just a nightmare.

Yet, the next moment, Rebecca shook her head vigorously, dismissing the fleeting thoughts of weakness from her mind. The heavy rocks and steel couldn't provide lasting safety; instead, they might weaken the will, trapping her in this short-lived illusion of security. Thinking of this, the young heir of the Cecil family couldn't help but tighten her grip on the already dimmed staff, hoping the weapon would bring her more courage.

The voice of the family knight, Byron Kirk, came from behind, "Milady, the passage is sealed, and those creatures shouldn't be able to get in for a short time."

Rebecca turned to glance at the loyal knight. His steel armor was covered in scars, and there was a noticeable dent on his breastplate. The grey-white short hair showed a clear burn mark—a result of Aunt Hettie using a large fireball to save the knight from a monster's jaws. It was an extremely perilous situation at the time; the fireball almost exploded right next to the mid-level knight's scalp. If it weren't for the favor of Lady Luck, this knight loyal to the family for twenty years might have become a lifeless corpse.

Of course, Rebecca couldn't be sure if it was due to Aunt Hettie's famous "magic never hits people" constitution...

"You've worked hard, Sir Byron," Rebecca lowered her eyelids to conceal the weariness in her eyes. "At least, we can catch our breath for now."

Then she turned around to assess the situation of the remaining few people: three soldiers were holding torches, vigilant around, Aunt Hettie was holding a burning fireball, carefully examining the wall at the end of the stone hall, and the confused little maid Betty was tightly gripping the frying pan she had carried all the way, cowering behind the soldiers, curiously observing the place with her big, twinkling eyes.

Counting herself and Sir Byron, these seven people were probably the last survivors—those left on the surface could not have survived.

After confirming the condition of each person, Rebecca couldn't help but take a closer look at the situation of this stone hall.

It was an ancient place, a rectangular stone hall where spiderwebs and thick dust could be seen everywhere. Some decayed objects were piled at one end of the hall. Despite their age, one could still discern their former elegance and luxury. On the walls around the stone hall, intact murals and reliefs could still be seen. Although the murals had faded and the reliefs were slightly worn, it did not affect their viewing.

Hetti Cecil carefully examined those murals and reliefs for a long time. Compared to the frivolous style originating from the northern countries that rose recently, everything in this stone hall appeared solemn and simple, with a distinct "First Dynasty" atmosphere. The murals depicted heroic figures or local customs, while the reliefs portrayed scenes and abstract symbols of mythical legends. As a knowledgeable spellcaster, Hetti was adept at interpreting useful information from these ancient paintings.

Looking at the content on those murals and reliefs, Hetti couldn't help but place her left hand on her chest and murmur, "May the ancestors forgive..."

"Hetti Aunt," Rebecca, carrying her staff, came to Hetti's side. The young girl looked a bit nervous, and only now did she seem to realize what kind of place she had stepped into, becoming slightly uneasy. "This place..."

"This is the resting place of the Cecil family's ancestors," Hetti said solemnly. "Don't do anything disrespectful."

Rebecca swallowed hard and surveyed her surroundings. "It seems like no one has been here for a long time..."

"Since one hundred years ago, when Marquess Gruman took sacred artifacts from the ancestors' tomb without authorization and participated in the rebellion that almost led to the family's destruction, this place has been completely sealed," Hetti said, looking at Rebecca deeply. "Every descendant of the Cecil family knows how to open it, but due to the family decree, no one dares to enter without good reason. For one hundred years, we are the first to set foot in here."

"And now it is indeed the 'good reason' for life and death..." Rebecca took a deep breath. "Will our ancestors forgive us?"

Hetti forced a smile. She couldn't answer that question and continued to search for the mechanism to open the deeper tomb chamber based on the hints in the murals.

It didn't take her much effort to find the special stone pillar. She then pressed her hand on the top of the pillar and exerted a little force.

The stone door leading to the deeper tomb chamber immediately produced a slight vibration. Subsequently, the entire stone slab slowly rose with a scraping sound.

However, just as the stone door was lifting, Rebecca heard unusual sounds coming from behind the door—a sound of something falling, followed by a suppressed exclamation.

"Is someone inside?!" Hetti also immediately reacted and shouted, "Byron!"

Without waiting for more orders, the knight had already tightly gripped his sword and rushed toward the direction of the stone door. The other three soldiers followed suit. Rebecca, after a brief moment of hesitation, also rushed forward, simultaneously commanding the bewildered little maid, "Betty! Find a place to hide!"

Having just entered the tomb chamber, Rebecca saw Byron, who had entered earlier, swinging his sword towards an agile petite figure.

The petite figure, like a gust of wind, danced around Byron, dodging left and right. Occasionally, she turned into a black smoke and disappeared into the ubiquitous shadows in the tomb chamber. Her control over the power of shadows and the agility of her movements left Rebecca wide-eyed—it was rare to see a rogue entangling with Byron for so long. However, as the remaining three soldiers completed their encirclement and Hetti, holding a fireball wreathed in flames, blocked the entrance to the tomb chamber, the agile figure completely lost space to escape. She ended up in a miserable state on the ground.

Once she stopped, Rebecca finally got a clear look at the intruder's appearance—a girl who seemed about her age, slightly shorter, wearing worn-out leather armor, with ear-length brown hair. Despite some stains on her face, her beauty was still apparent. What caught attention most was her pointed ears, which were not as long as those of elves, suggesting she was a half-elf.

However, it was challenging to determine her other half-blood heritage. The strength of elven blood was so dominant that the racial features of half-elves, whether humans or orcs, tended to be similar.

The half-elf girl, just landed on the ground, turned her head and couldn't help but sigh, "See, your ancestor really played dead this time."