“Master Heinrich, I have a question.”
While Heinrich was complaining, Morin also caught a blind spot in his words.
“When you were describing previous events just now, the subject you used all along was ‘we’.”
Morin interrupted the old mage’s continuous complaints, staring straight at him.
“This underground research institute obviously couldn’t have only had you as the sole researcher, and there was also that defense force responsible for security… But why are you the only one here now?”
“Where are the others? Were they all killed by those ‘out-of-control products’ you mentioned?”
This question was like a basin of ice water, instantly extinguishing the anger and desire to talk that Heinrich had just ignited.
The expression on his face froze, a trace of panic flashed in those cloudy eyes, and even his body began to tremble slightly, as if recalling something extremely terrifying.
“They…” Heinrich opened his mouth, a slight tremor in his hoarse voice, “They are all dead… all dead.”
He told Morin and the others that after the people in the research institute discovered they could no longer evacuate or contact anyone else, they prepared to temporarily hold out here.
After all, even setting aside the concealed location, this underground research institute was easy to defend and hard to attack, and had ample supplies. Theoretically, it could maintain everyone’s survival for at least three months.
So even after the “Undead Scourge” broke out in Paris and it ultimately fell, this underground research institute was still considered semi-operational.
The researchers continued to advance the “Sentinel Project” and dispatched some people from the defense force to try to contact the authorities.
It was only after the two dispatched squads vanished without a trace that the research institute also stopped this behavior.
“It was shortly after that, the second-generation ‘Sentinel’ modification potion was finally successfully developed by us.”
Heinrich’s voice lowered, as if falling into painful memories:
“It was also at that time that the negative energy concentration on the surface of Paris began to rise sharply… It should have been Chardonnet using the Eiffel Tower to activate the negative energy of the Paris Catacombs.”
The old mage looked up at Morin, his eyes full of lingering fear.
“I guess now, perhaps it was that sudden surge of negative energy that ultimately led to the complete loss of control of the second-generation ‘Sentinels’.”
“After all, this research institute… has a dedicated transportation route leading directly to the underground of Paris.”
“When the signs of the ‘Sentinels’ losing control first appeared, no one had realized the severity of the problem yet… The researchers resting on the first floor all returned to their respective posts, trying to solve the problem from a technical level.”
“And the defense force stationed here also deployed in full force and arrived on the second floor, preparing to use force to suppress those ‘Sentinels’ showing anomalies.”
Speaking of this, Heinrich smiled bitterly.
“This is why you didn’t see anyone on the first floor, because when the emergency happened, almost everyone came to the second floor… The remaining people on the first floor mostly also fled or encountered other accidents.”
“But unfortunately, we all underestimated the performance of the second-generation ‘Sentinels’… Or from this perspective, our research was extremely successful; the second-generation ‘Sentinels’ displayed combat power far exceeding expectations.”
“This suppression operation… ultimately evolved into a slaughter.”
“The two companies of the defense force at the time were completely crushed in almost a single encounter… The combat logic of those ‘Sentinels’ led them to release large-scale [Cloudkill] spells throughout Area E…”
“In that kind of relatively enclosed space, the power of this spell was amplified countless times. Most of the soldiers of the suppression force fell on the spot in the poisonous cloud, and the remaining people could no longer organize effective resistance, and were ultimately killed.”
“As for those other unarmed researchers, they were even less of a match for them.”
Heinrich’s voice grew lower and lower, as if he almost didn’t have the strength to speak anymore.
“Besides me, there were originally eight mages from the ‘Eye of the Loire’ Mage Order in this research institute responsible for technical guidance and security work.”
“But half of them were ‘research-type’ mages, whose practical combat capabilities were not even as good as an ordinary soldier.”
“The final result was… Except for me, the creator of these ‘Sentinels,’ who because I had a premonition of danger in advance and knew the terror of these combat weapons, fled in advance into this sturdy Monitoring and Command Center, and survived relying on the emergency supplies and independent life support system stored here.”
“Everyone else was slaughtered to the last by those out-of-control products, and their corpses were all dragged away and thrown into the Biological Waste Disposal Area.”
After hearing Heinrich’s detailed explanation, the entire Monitoring Center fell into deathly silence.
Master Haber and the Section III intelligence personnel looked at each other in dismay, the expressions on their faces extremely grave.
Although they harbored doubts about this necromancer’s words, they had to admit that his rhetoric indeed perfectly corresponded to the scenes they had seen all the way here in the research institute.
The empty dormitories, the life support area with no signs of struggle, and the bloody battlefield on the second floor… All this seemed to corroborate Heinrich’s story.
But Morin didn’t think so.
He looked at the old mage before him, whose face was full of grief and seemed still in shock, but he couldn’t trust him at all in his heart.
This old guy’s story sounded flawless, with no major logical problems, and even the emotions were spot on.
But intuition told Morin there was something fishy going on.
There were too many suspicious points.
Setting aside anything else, could this old man survive alone in this danger-filled underground research institute for several months?
Outside were all out-of-control killing machines; was the “underlying logic” he spoke of really that reliable?
Moreover, judging from his previous words and actions, this old guy was no saint.
His attitude of treating human life as grass would definitely be considered a “crime against humanity” in the world before Morin transmigration… No matter how you looked at it, he didn’t seem like someone who would feel sad over the death of his colleagues.
So Morin felt that Heinrich’s appearance just now had somewhat of an acting component to it.
In Morin’s “taken-out-of-context” understanding, Mr. Lu Xun once said: “I have always speculated on people with the worst malice…”
So he felt this sentence applied to any world, especially when used to speculate on this scheming old bastard in front of him.
However, because the special unit card displayed on the map for the other party was still yellow representing “neutral,” Morin could only hold his ground for now.
Now that everyone was in the same boat, making some things explicit would actually make it harder to act…
Furthermore, he was currently more concerned with another pressing problem.
“Master Heinrich, according to what you said, we are very safe now… But the main magitech core outside has stopped. How long can the backup power here last?”
This question instantly pulled everyone’s attention back.
Heinrich was stunned for a moment, seemingly not expecting Morin to suddenly ask this.
He glanced at a certain energy reading slowly dropping on the console, and his face also became somewhat ugly.
“The power supply of the backup magic crystals can last for at most another three hours.”
“It’s been almost half an hour since it started, which also means that in two and a half hours, all the equipment here, including lighting and ventilation systems, will completely shut down.”
“When the time comes, not to mention the threat of those ‘Sentinels’ outside, just the hypoxia caused by the ventilation system stopping operation will be enough to take all our lives.”
Morin impassively glanced at the system.
In the [Intelligence] tab, a new piece of information had refreshed.
[Underground Research Institute Backup Energy Duration Remaining: 02:32:56]
This old man didn’t lie about this matter.
That is to say, no matter what secrets this old fox Heinrich was still hiding, they had to finish everything within two and a half hours, and then evacuate from this hellhole.
Time was tight; they couldn’t waste it here anymore.
“It’s about time, everyone.” Morin clapped his hands, attracting everyone’s gaze, “We must act immediately.”
With things having come to this point, there was no time to get entangled in the truth of the past.
The top priority was to plan the next course of action.
Morin had Master Haber and the Section III people bring over the two-story floor plan of the research institute found in the Monitoring and Command Center, and spread it on the floor.
A group of people gathered around, by the light overhead, and began to discuss the plan.
The mission objective was very clear and very simple.
Step one, set off from the current Monitoring and Command Center, and head to the “Finished Product Warehouse” also in Area D.
Step two, enter the warehouse, and take those three “Second Generation Sentinel Modification Potions” Heinrich mentioned.
Step three, return along the same path to the first floor, and rendezvous with the others left at the entrance to receive them.
Step four, all personnel evacuate this underground research institute.
The entire plan sounded simple and direct, with no flashy parts—because everyone’s goal was indeed quite clear.
“If anyone else has any objections, speak up quickly. If not, we’ll do it this way!”
Morin saw that no one had any opinions, so he pointed at the route on the map and made the final decision:
“I will take the combat engineers and flamethrower teams as the vanguard. Master Haber and the Section III people will take Heinrich in the middle. Kahn, you lead men to bring up the rear.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Understood.”
Everyone responded one after another and began to quickly check their respective weapons and equipment.
A tense yet orderly atmosphere once again enveloped the entire Monitoring Center.
However, while Morin and the others were formulating their escape plan, what they didn’t know was that in another corner of the second underground level, an even more bizarre scene was unfolding.
Area F, [Biological Waste Disposal Area].
This was the deepest and filthiest place in the entire research institute.
Several out-of-control “Sentinels” were dragging the corpses they had just collected from the “Practical Combat Testing Area,” walking expressionlessly toward the center of the disposal area.
In front of them was a massive incinerator like the gaping maw of an abyss.
According to the design, this should have been the place to dispose of experimental waste and failed products. High-temperature magitech flames would burn all organic matter to ashes, leaving no trace.
But since some unknown time, this massive incinerator had stopped working.
The heavy metal cover above the incinerator had also long been closed.
But those “Sentinels” seemed completely oblivious to this.
They continued to follow some “underlying logic” written deep in their souls, dragging corpses still carrying residual warmth to the edge of the incinerator, and throwing them down without hesitation.
“Thud.”
“Thud.”
The corpses fell, but the sound they made was not the metallic crash of hitting the bottom of the furnace, but a muffled, sticky sound.
On the massive cover of the incinerator, a small mountain made of corpses had long been piled up.
Hundreds of corpses were piled together in twisted postures.
Most of them were still wearing Gallic Army uniforms or the white coats of the underground research institute researchers.
The corpses at the bottom, due to the passage of time, had long been highly decomposed, even turning into a black gelatinous substance.
And at the top of the mountain of corpses were those “fresh” corpses that had just been thrown down.
Major Hamilton’s head, separated from his body, was stuck at such a bizarre angle amidst a pile of rotten meat.
On the other side, the eyes on his head, staring wide in death, stared straight into the darkness above.
Occasionally, squelching sounds would come from deep within the pile of corpses, as if something was squirming under that pile of rotting meat.
The smell of corpses, so strong it almost materialized, mixed with the smell of blood and decay, filled the entire space, making this place like hell on earth.
And those “Sentinels” just stood beside this mountain of corpses, mechanically repeating the action of throwing corpses, like a group of tireless undertakers.
And the objects of their undertaking would all become part of this mountain of corpses.
Meanwhile, above ground, the city of Paris.
The Île de la Cité, which once symbolized the glory and art of the Gallic Republic, had completely changed its appearance at this moment.
Notre-Dame de Paris, this magnificent Gothic cathedral, had now become the forward base and temporary command post of the “Neutral Purification Unit” sent by the Papal Theocracy in this city of death.
On the square in front of the cathedral, rows of white tents were neatly arranged. Fully armed Holy See deacons and people from the Order of the Holy Sword moved among them, the atmosphere solemn and tense.
Although the “Iron Maidens” of the Order of the Holy Sword had not been deployed here, unlike the Teutonic and Garter Knights, the Church’s knightly orders were not solely Armored Knight units.
As the elite forces under the Pope, even setting aside those Armored Knights, the combat power of the remaining foot knights could not be underestimated.
At this moment, in front of the main entrance of Notre-Dame, two remarkably eye-catching men were discussing something in low voices.
One of them was exactly the leader of this purification unit, Father Francisco from the “Order of the Holy Sword.”
He still wore that heavy Church white full-body heavy armor, wearing the dog-faced bascinet. That massive greatsword rested on the flagstone ground beside him. His whole person was like a white iron tower.
And beside him was Archbishop Maurice of the Paris Diocese.
Just like during the Battle of Paris, he was also wearing a similar style of heavy armor, only without wearing a helmet, revealing that weather-beaten face.
This Archbishop of Paris, who had once fought side-by-side with Morin, had eyes full of gravity at this moment.
“Archbishop Maurice, are you sure you didn’t feel wrong?”
Francisco’s voice came from inside the helmet, muffled and powerful.
“Is the negative energy in the city really increasing instead of decreasing?”
“My feelings won’t be wrong, Francisco…”
Archbishop Maurice shook his head. He looked up at the gloomy sky, as if able to pierce through the clouds and see those energy flows imperceptible to the naked eye.
“We have been purifying here for nearly half a month, consuming countless holy water and purification scrolls every day… Logically speaking, even if we can’t completely purge it, it should at least show some improvement.”
“But the current situation is, the negative energy here not only hasn’t weakened in the slightest, but… but is even more active and thicker than when we first arrived.”
Maurice’s voice carried a trace of worry; various signs evoked some images he didn’t want to recall.
“This is very abnormal, it’s like… like someone is deliberately opposing us. We purify in the front, and someone is desperately creating pollution in the back.”
Father Francisco fell silent.
Although he didn’t have as keen a perception of energy flows as Maurice, the knights and deacons under his command had indeed reported quite a few anomalies during recent patrols.
Those low-tier undead creatures wandering in the city not only hadn’t decreased, but instead became increasingly active, and even some new species never seen before had appeared.
All of this pointed to a disturbing possibility.
Just then, an armed deacon wearing light armor ran quickly from the square, stopped in front of the two, and saluted.
“Your Eminence the Archbishop! Father!” The deacon’s voice carried a trace of excitement, “We caught him! That necromancer we’ve been keeping an eye on for days was just cornered by us in the ruins on the Left Bank!”
“Oh?” Francisco and Maurice exchanged a glance, both seeing a trace of interest in each other’s eyes.
“Bring him over.” Francisco ordered.
“Yes!”
Soon, two fully armed, tall knights of the Holy Sword escorted a thin, small figure from the distance.
When that so-called “necromancer” was brought before them, both Francisco and Maurice were stunned.
It was a teenager who looked at most fifteen or sixteen years old, wearing a tattered black mage robe. He was thin and weak, his face pale, with a few streaks of dirt on his face.
Sandwiched between two tower-like knights, he trembled with fear, his eyes full of terror and despair.
His eye sockets were red, seeming like he could burst into tears at any moment.
“This… is the necromancer you’ve been keeping an eye on for days?” Archbishop Maurice looked at the priest beside him with questioning eyes.
Francisco also took off his helmet, revealing that unshaven face. He looked at this child before him who wasn’t even as tall as his war hammer, and for a moment didn’t know what to say.
And that teenager, after seeing Francisco’s face written full of “fierce and vicious,” his psychological defenses instantly collapsed.
With a “waaah,” he cried out loud directly, tears and snot running all over his face.
While crying, he mumbled indistinctly in Gallic: “Don’t burn me to death… I didn’t do anything… I’m not a heretic…”
This sudden scene left everyone around dumbfounded.
A group of battle-hardened, murderous religious inquisitors surrounding a crying child—this picture was somewhat comical no matter how you looked at it.
Finally, Archbishop Maurice, who looked relatively kinder, sighed and stepped forward.
He waved his hand, telling the two knights to release the teenager, then half-squatted down, trying to make his tone sound gentler.
“Child, don’t be afraid… We are servants of the Lord, not devils.”
Maurice took a clean handkerchief from a deacon nearby and handed it over.
“Tell us, what is your name? Why are you alone in this kind of place?”
Perhaps Maurice’s attitude worked. The teenager sobbed, took the handkerchief, and wiped his face, but still didn’t dare to look up at him.
Under Maurice’s patient questioning and comforting, the teenager intermittently recounted his experience.
He was indeed a necromancer, and had just reached the threshold of a Tier-1 mage.
Before this, he had been following his teacher, a Tier-2 “hedge mage” in his seventies, wandering and learning in various villages across Gaul.
After the Battle of Paris ended, the news of negative energy bursting here quickly spread among the Necromancy School mages in Europa.
Whether hedge mages or necromancers employed by the state in Mage Orders, they all realized this was a once-in-a-lifetime research opportunity.
This Tier-2 “hedge mage” was no exception, so he took this sole apprentice of his and sneaked in, preparing to “join the grand event” with other necromancers.
As a result, just a few days ago, his unlucky teacher took him to collect materials in the city and was torn to shreds by a group of powerful undead creatures that suddenly popped out from underground.
Ultimately leaving him, this rookie mage, wandering alone in this danger-filled city of death.
He originally wanted to escape Paris, but before he could find a way out, the purification unit of the Papal Theocracy marched in and blocked the main exit routes.
Under his teacher’s constant “subtle influence” over the years, the image of the Vatican Holy See to this child was roughly equivalent to man-eating devils who specialized in catching necromancers to burn for fun.
Once caught by these white devils, the end result would be tied to a stake, howling in the holy fire and turning to ashes.
So, this pitiful rookie could only hide like a rat in the ruins, barely surviving on a bit of meager magic and scavenged spoiled food.
Until today, he really couldn’t stand the hunger and came out to find food, only to be caught red-handed by the Holy See’s patrol.
After listening to the teenager’s tearful account, Maurice and Francisco were both somewhat at a loss whether to laugh or cry.
With most necromancers controlled by the purification unit, the remaining necromancers were hard to find because there were few of them and they were more scattered.
That was why they mobilized so many people these past two days to surround and capture this “evil necromancer” who had exposed his tracks.
But no one expected the target to actually be just a frightened, underage apprentice.
“Go check if this child is on the Inquisition’s wanted list.” Francisco instructed the deacon beside him.
The result quickly came back.
Unsurprisingly, this rookie’s name was not on the list at all.