Mythology Rebooted-Chapter 47 - 44 The Underground King
47: Chapter 44 The Underground King
47 -44 The Underground King
The Earth Release Technique brought the woman immense unease; under such pressure, she nearly confessed everything.
She didn’t want to betray her own husband, as well as the mayor, the Bishop, the dentist, the firefighter, the courier, and a few other male colleagues in the office.
Wayne: (눈_눈)
So plain-looking yet she has so many lovers; one would imagine she’s quite articulate and quite skillful ‘on the clock.’
“Who asked you to bring this up?
Answer me, where did you confine the intruders?” Wayne asked coldly.
“In Saint’s Gate, there’s an Underground Prison where the Bishop has imprisoned the intruders, preparing to sacrifice these blasphemers to the great Underground King tonight,” the woman replied swiftly.
“What is the Underground King?”
“I…
I don’t know, it…
it’s enormous…”
Fear crossed the woman’s face, and recalling something, she started to tremble, babbling incoherently.
Saint’s Gate was none other than the tunnel leading to the underworld, with its entrance located in Enrold Town.
The precise location was marked in the two detectives’ report, very close to the headquarters of the Earth Core Cult.
Starting from the town hall, it was just a fifteen-minute walk away.
Originally, the site was an empty piece of land that the Earth Core Cult had purchased to build a chicken farm on.
Midway through construction, a Bishop unexpectedly discovered a massive fissure leading to the Earth’s core.
The followers believed it was a manifestation of the Void Lord, answering their devout prayers and showing direction to these lost souls.
It was only later that Professor Vincent and his team of geologists were invited to come to Enrold Town for an on-site investigation.
The entrance to the tunnel, the headquarters of the Earth Core Cult, and the town hall could be connected in a straight line.
This strategic arrangement was no coincidence and was very likely to be some kind of Magic Array, which was a very important piece of intelligence.
Wayne committed it to memory, planning to first rescue Isabella and then relay the information to her.
One failure could be forgiven; even a powerful dragon can’t suppress a local snake.
Wayne was willing to give Isabella another chance; a powerful Mage recommended by the Glamor Lady couldn’t possibly fall into the same trap twice.
As for the Lady embedded in the wall…
This was a woman deeply faithful to love, who had confessed everything to preserve her virtue.
Wayne was moved by her modesty and knocked her out with a karate chop.
He removed the earthen wall and dragged the Lady into the neighboring office, locking her in a filing cabinet.
There was nothing Wayne could do about the Starfish-shaped Tentacle Monster in the corridor.
He tried to burn it with fire Magic, and surprisingly, the effect was exceptional.
The starfish’s outer surface was sticky, reminiscent of marine life, seemingly juicy and full of water; yet it was more flammable than catkins, turning to ashes the moment it met the flames, leaving behind only a black gooey substance on the walls.
It resembled crude oil!
“Be grateful that this world doesn’t have Bald Eagles, or else each one of you, without exception, would be branded a terrorist,” Wayne remarked.
Wayne barely managed to clean up the scene, unable to leave no trace, but it was enough.
Before the Earth Core Cult noticed the disappearance of their two female followers, he had to rush to the chicken farm to save Isabella.
Wayne lowered his hat brim and hurried out of the town hall, a premonition looming that the bald elder had seen through the white dove’s disguise.
At the time, he had maintained composure and sent two female followers to confirm the situation.
Wayne prepared for the worst, realizing he might have been exposed.
There was urgency in the rescue, and he needed to act fast.
…
The chicken farm.
Typically, farms rearing meat or egg-chickens were constructed in suburban areas, as far away from towns as possible.
However, with members of the Earth Core Cult in the town hall, even the mayor reduced to a loyal dog, building the farm within the town didn’t come as a surprise.
The farm’s entrance was guarded by members of the Earth Core Cult, all donning white hooded robes made of coarse fabric with many threads at the cuffs and a hemp rope tied around the waist—their attire strikingly similar to that of ascetic monks.
Wayne didn’t barge in rashly.
At the corner of the street, he stopped a supply truck belonging to the Earth Core Cult.
The robed driver leaned out, annoyed: “Buddy, I’m busy hauling stuff; you better have a good reason, or I’m about to give you one.”
“As a matter of fact, I do have something.”
Wayne stretched out his fist, fingers tightly clasping as if holding something, and said seriously, “I’ve heard the voice of the Void Lord.
He has bestowed upon me a holy relic and instructed me to quickly present it to Your Grace, the Bishop.
We cannot miss this sacred day.”
Why didn’t you say so earlier, one of our own!
Sharing the same faith, the driver’s attitude turned noticeably friendlier.
He leaned closer to Wayne’s fist and took a deep breath, pleading, “What kind of relic is it?
May I take a look, please, just one glance.”
“Of course…”
Bang!
Wayne climbed into the driver’s seat, rustled around for a bit, and put on the driver’s white robe before starting the truck and heading straight for the chicken farm gate.
Free eggs were in high demand and the townspeople were enthusiastic, with many queuing up several times under the pretense of just arriving.
This was the truck driver’s fifth trip between the rally site and the chicken farm, and the members of the Earth Core Cult guarding the gate didn’t notice anything amiss, letting Wayne slip inside successfully.
The truck stopped, and the prepared cultists started loading crate after crate of eggs onto the truck; Wayne locked the door and joined the team of egg movers.
“Hurry up, everyone, they are really pressing us over there.”
A new face, but hardworking, no one doubted his identity.
After a short while, Wayne clutched his stomach, pale-faced, and said, “Damn, where’s the bathroom?
I’ve got a bad stomach ache, and I can’t hold it in anymore.”
“Stay away from me, you nasty crab…”
A spray battle is best viewed from afar, not up close.
The cultists quickly pointed out the way, urging Wayne to hurry back; any delay in the egg transport could bring blame from above, and no one wanted to deal with the fallout.
Wayne was shouting that it was about to happen as he ran off with the keys, his comical figure drawing laughter, while the air was filled with a light-hearted atmosphere.
The cultists liked this newcomer; he was the life of the party, even if they didn’t know his name.
Wayne vanished around a corner with a few brisk steps, grabbed a handful of air, and sniffed it, but did not catch Isabella’s scent.
Understandable, first because too much time had passed and the scent had dissipated, and second because Isabella was a Mage, surely possessing ways to hide her own scent.
Lately, Wayne had strengthened his thought process through meditation, taking his control over his sense of smell and Supernatural Sensing to a new level, especially the former, practically achieving command at will.
That was a good thing.
He could continue deluding himself, convincing himself that the farts of a Magician Girl smell nice.
Wayne entered the main chicken farm building through a side door, surprisingly discovering that there weren’t many laying hens.
It’s not that there were few, but compared to the endless supply of free eggs provided by the Earth Core Cult, the number of laying hens at the farm was pitifully small.
Unless there had been a version update and each and every laying hen was on the level of a 007 combat chicken.
Not quite understanding, Wayne saw a cultist pulling a small cart of crates of eggs from the storage room, immediately pretended to be busy, and pulled up a cart next to him, walking inside.
It was a massive warehouse, with tall concrete walls built high and only a few windows left at the very top.
Hanging lights illuminated the roof and two assembly lines roared to life, with eggs moving along the conveyors.
Dozens of cultists boxed eggs numbly, their eyes vacant, merely following a mechanical routine, like puppets on strings incapable of fatigue.
Wayne couldn’t see to the end of the conveyor belt; a black cloth hanging from the machinery obstructed his view, but he detected a familiar odor.
The smell of an eight-legged starfish.
Very strong!
The source of the odor was right at the end of the conveyor belt!
Wayne’s eyes narrowed suddenly as he hurried toward the machinery, lifted the black cloth, and saw two massive tentacles.
Slippery.
Squirming.
The ends of the tentacles opened, laying semi-transparent eggs that solidified upon exposure to light, looking indistinguishable from ordinary chicken eggs.
The speed and efficiency would make any laying hen question its existence.
Boom!
Wayne felt a chill over his entire body, his scalp tingling as if it might explode, his stomach churning so violently he nearly vomited on the spot.
“Damn it, are you trying to turn the whole town into monsters?”
“Wait, I remember the maid brought back a basket of eggs, could it be that this morning’s fried eggs were…”
“Ugh!”
