Bear School Astartes-Chapter 814 - 797: Basement Knowledge

Vesemir turned his head, walking towards the basement of Ker Morhan.

The old Demon Hunter led the young Demon Hunters further down.

Lann noticed a distinct dividing line on the dim staircase, with the building materials showing vastly different degrees of oxidation and weathering above and below it.

"When it served as a military fortress, the deepest part of Ker Morhan ended here."

Vesemir sensed Lann’s curiosity, even though the old man didn’t turn his head, he could tell Lann’s hesitation and confusion just from the sound of his footsteps.

"And further below, it was excavated during the Demon Hunter Order period. That’s why there is a difference in the degree of oxidation. Because that period as a military fortress, even by Ker Morhan’s age, is quite ancient."

As they continued down, the staircase to the basement grew darker and colder.

Making Lann regret wearing just a silk shirt.

Luckily, his [Second Heart] and Genetic Seed sensed the change in temperature and quickly adjusted physiological activity, the chill only bothered Lann briefly before disappearing.

The spiral stone staircase had no handrails or guardrails, and if one were to slip and fall, it was likely impossible to avoid breaking several bones for an ordinary person.

But considering that those who came here were either skilled Warlocks or fully mutated Demon Hunters, this seemingly dangerous staircase probably hadn’t seen a single drop of blood.

It wasn’t until they reached the bottom of the stairs that Vesemir took a torch from the wall and lit it with a ’poof’ using the [Igni Rune].

"I wasn’t aware that Ker Morhan was so lacking in fuel, even though this castle stands amidst the endless timber of the Blue Mountain."

Lann commented sarcastically.

"Why didn’t you light a torch when we were on the stairs?"

Vesemir merely glared at the unruly cub.

"It’s just my habit... Every time I come in here, I like to walk in the dark for a bit, to... adapt."

"Adapt to what?"

"I told you, ’the dark.’"

Vesemir pulled a necklace-like key from his collar, entangled with his Wolf School emblem, the old Demon Hunter had difficulty separating them to take it off.

"Don’t you often carry this key?"

Lann interjected suddenly.

Vesemir replied with pursed lips, "I’d rather have dementia and forget this key exists, child. Truthfully. If not for the promise I made to you..."

As the key drew near, a previously unseen keyhole suddenly appeared on the stone wall.

This was a Magic Gate, complete with its corresponding Magic Key.

As the key was inserted, the seamless stone brick wall suddenly outlined the shape of a doorframe.

Vesemir pushed the heavy door open.

Then he took the torch stuck in the wall to lead the way.

Along the way, he lit the lighting fixtures with the torch in his hand.

Fire pits or hanging torches.

Finally, as Vesemir gradually lit up this vast basement resembling the hall of Ker Morhan Castle, the young Demon Hunter finally understood why the old Demon Hunter was so secretive about everything here.

Among the dusty, decayed, and oxidized equipment, rusty cages held things resembling desiccated corpses.

Whatever it was, it was so shrunken that Lann couldn’t discern the species.

Some of these cages were piled together, while others seemed to be singled out for research and placed in the middle.

Some were hung from the ceiling with iron chains, and as time eroded everything, the chains were corroded by oxygen and water, broke, and crashed onto the floor with the cages and mummified contents.

Many bookshelves and cluttered desks were placed in this basement, some with uncapped ink bottles and displaced quill pens on top.

And of course, the only reason these decayed and fragile items remained intact was that nobody had disturbed them.

Lann glanced at Vesemir walking ahead; the old Demon Hunter’s expression was as he expected.

Resistant, heavy.

If not necessary, he really didn’t want to come down here, not until the day he died.

"These aren’t monsters in the cages, they’re humans, child. Those mummies were all human."

Vesemir’s voice was slightly muffled.

"From strong men in their thirties to children of ten... The initial mutation experiments for Demon Hunters aimed to cultivate efficient monster hunters affordable compared to deploying armies. In establishing potions and determining the age range of subjects, human lives were expendable."

"At first, they experimented on experienced fighters, hoping that injecting them with potions would instantly produce a powerful Demon Hunter capable of tearing a griffin apart with bare hands."

"This absurd and ridiculous idea wasted over a hundred lives before being discarded."

"And similar ideas were endless, each mistake requiring many deaths to eliminate wrong answers."

"But even so, you can’t deny that those Wizards initially pursued the noble ideal of ’a world where humans no longer lived under the threat of monsters.’"

"Yet, it is precisely this noble ideal that makes it all the more tragic..."

Vesemir sighed in the cold, crypt-like basement, the warmth turning into white mist as it left his mouth.

"To have a group of idealistic Wizards continually harm and torment others in this process... was it not a form of torture on their minds as well?"

"Many Wizards went mad without lasting till the end. Some committed suicide, some went insane and were purged, and some experimented on themselves..."

"To be honest, I once thought this basement was enchanted with powerful magic, which is why no vengeful spirits emerged."

Vesemir shook his head, lighting the last fire pit in the basement that could still be lit.

"And from the moment the mutation formulae and processes were finally determined, the final straw snapped for the remaining Warlocks."

"Alzur and Maraspina, along with their students and friends, vanished one after another, and Demon Hunters lost stable magical assistance from then on."

"In those days, those Wizards who incited mobs to storm in couldn’t have lasted half an hour against any Wizard conducting research in this basement."

"But on that day, I survived only by hiding beneath the corpses of my brothers and mentors."

"That’s all there is, child. I’ve even put the equipment for the Trial of the Grasses here, and unless someone absolutely must become a Demon Hunter, I will never open this place again."

Vesemir placed the torch in an iron bracket on the wall, turned, and spoke to Lann.

"The research records of the Wizards, the notes of Alzur and Maraspina, and the most original alchemy knowledge system of Demon Hunters. Everything is open to you."

The old Demon Hunter frowned, his lips pursed as he suppressed the inner discomfort, motioned toward a bookshelf to Lann.

"This is the reward from us ’old wolves.’"

"And I hereby make the same promise to you, Vesemir."

Lann stepped forward without hesitation, resolutely looking Vesemir in the eyes, saying.

"I will never become the kind of person you fear."