"Bro, what do you think of those punches I threw just now? Pretty slick, right?!"
The hip-hop guy who had just smashed the door open swaggered up to Linck's side.
Though he lowered his voice deliberately, in the sealed confines of the chamber, even the faintest sound seemed to echo a hundredfold.
Naturally, the others heard every word loud and clear.
"Well… yeah, it was pretty slick," Linck replied "honestly," eyeing the way the man's thick eyebrows bounced with each word.
Truth be told, he had thought it was impressive a moment ago—but now, Linck was more amused than awed.
Hearing Linck's approval, the hip-hop guy lit up like he'd found a kindred spirit and launched into a rapid-fire conversation.
Before long, the chamber was filled with his chatter. Linck offered the occasional grunt or nod, but most of his attention was fixed on their surroundings.
By the faint glow in the chamber, he spotted something on the right-hand wall: not just glowing beads, but a series of murals.
Unlike the carved reliefs on the outer walls, these inner walls were covered with paintings.
A strange sense stirred in Linck—perhaps the truth countless archaeologists had longed for was hidden in these murals.
The others, however, were far more interested in the occasional antiques and treasures they found along the way.
Only the man with glasses noticed Linck's focus and cast the murals a few glances himself—though he didn't think much of it.
If even one of them had been a true ruin hunter instead of a treasure seeker, they wouldn't have been so indifferent.
Seeing Linck studying the paintings intently, the leather-clad woman frowned, gave the hip-hop guy a sharp kick, and pulled him back.
"Stop bothering Mr. Linck! Honestly…"
She even shot Linck an apologetic look.
The hip-hop guy gave a sheepish laugh, rubbed his head, and fell silent.
As they ventured deeper, the murals gradually revealed their story.
As Linck had guessed, the tale here was something the outer reliefs had never shown.
If the outer carvings painted a bright, optimistic past, these inner walls told a tale steeped in darkness.
Long ago, during an expedition, a group of people discovered a strange, circular altar.
By chance, they learned that offering living creatures as sacrifices would grant them greater power.
That power manifested as the ability to control emotions, shaping them into Nen beasts—monstrous forms born from raw feeling.
And the beasts depicted here were exactly like those carved on the great door outside.
It turned out they weren't mere abstract art—these creatures were emotions made flesh.
From then on, the group hunted living creatures relentlessly.
The altar became their center of power, drawing more and more people until a kingdom was born.
These founders became its first royal family, hoarding the secret of their power from the world.
As the kingdom grew, living creatures nearby became scarce.
The royal family turned their gaze on their own subjects.
To their astonishment, human sacrifices yielded far greater power than animals—likely because human emotions were far richer and more complex.
From then on, every generation of the royal family had taken part in such sacrifices.
Linck couldn't help but sigh. This world was indeed one where hope and disaster walked hand in hand.
The principle of equivalent exchange was etched into every corner of it.
If his guess was right, this altar might even have ties to the Dark Continent.
There was something undeniably sinister about it.
And if one were to speculate further—perhaps the kingdom's romanticized culture, where people embraced vivid emotions and pursued art, was deliberately cultivated by the royal family.
The richer the emotions, the greater the power gained through sacrifice.
Linck frowned slightly—there was something he didn't understand.
The murals flowed seamlessly from one scene to the next, depicting every detail vividly.
Yet every time the sacrifice itself was shown, the altar was shrouded in solid black—as if that part had been gouged away.
Eventually, the tale reached its climax.
Like so many stories, it ended in ruin.
One king, drunk on power, sacrificed lives in excess.
In his greed, the monstrous force he summoned consumed him entirely.
The Nen beasts born from emotion swarmed out in full force.
The murals ended abruptly there, the final image painted in clear haste.
Even without the rest, Linck could guess the ending
the beasts ravaged the kingdom, leaving it a lifeless wasteland.
With nothing left to feed on, they vanished.
The palace—now the Harimu Ruins—was the epicenter of the catastrophe, shrouded ever since in a miasma of malignant Nen.
It became what people now called "the Dead Zone."
As Linck and the others passed the final mural, the short passage finally came to an end.
They stepped through a narrow opening…
…and into a vast chamber.
Where, before their eyes
lay mountains of gold, silver, and jewels, all gleaming with golden light.