Building An Empire Starting From The Labor Camp In Exile-Chapter 46: Familiar

’Clap! Clap! Clap!’

The sound echoed, the only noise in the stillness, and Kren suddenly looked disturbingly similar to the monster lying on the ground, as if the two overlaped but that was only the aura he felt. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Atrox took an unconscious step back.

But then Kren smiled, and his eyes returned to their usual scholarly gleam. "Atrox! I can’t believe you’re a Necromancer! You said you were from the Dark Order, but I didn’t think you’d be a Necromancer. Those are some of the most powerful Knights in the Dark Order!"

Atrox narrowed his eyes before he made his expression smooth again. ’Necromancer? What is Kren talking about?’

He glanced at the monster, then back at Kren, he nodded and asked."Necromancer... but I’m not a Knight yet."

Kren spread his arms wide and gestured to the monster. "Don’t you see? The creature is undead—a hallmark of Necromancers. It must mean your core is sensitive to Necromancer essence. That must be what draws the monster.

"Now you just have to familiarize yourself with that essence. Fortunately for you, you’ll make good progress in this ruin, as it’s filled with such energy." Kren smiled at him expectantly, as if waiting for a response.

Atrox nodded slowly, his green eyes darkening slightly. Whatever was happening was beyond his understanding but he smiled. "Yes, it must be as you say. This is good! I must be lucky, I’m gaining even before we start gathering resources."

He forced a smile and glanced at the monster. ’No! It’s not the Dark Order—it’s the Forbidden! What exactly is going on? Is the undead monster somehow connected to the Forbidden Mark Order? Then it’s fortunate Kren and the others misunderstand—for now, at least, until I figure this out’

Arvas studied Kren and Atrox, his gaze sharp and drilling. He spoke flatly, "Congratulations. Not many Squires are lucky enough to discover their attuned essence, you are indeed very lucky. But we need to move on—there are still plenty of undead wolves out there."

With that, Emily decapitated the monster. It didn’t resist as it’s body slumped and its head rolled to the ground, red eyes still fixed on Atrox. He shuddered and looked away.

They continued their journey, though the others kept their distance from Atrox. Only Tiber, Syla, and Taiwo stayed close but not as close as before either. Fortunately, no wolves ambushed them again, a relief for Atrox, who didn’t want a repeat of what had just happened.

The crimson moon still hung in the sky, watching him like some omnipotent god. Then Kren and Arvas slowed their pace and called him over.

Atrox’s heart skipped a beat. ’What now? Did they somehow figure out my Mark? But that’s impossible. Then why are they calling me over again?’

Ignoring the questioning looks from the others, he walked forward. Kren greeted him with a smile as he noted Atrox’s confusion. "Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble," he said with a laugh.

Arvas scowled. "You’re wasting time again, Kren! This isn’t a classroom. Be serious!"

Kren dismissed the remark with a simple smile. "You fuss too much. I just want to show him something practical related to what I’ve been teaching him."

Atrox raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

Kren gestured ahead. "There’s a broken cathedral nearby with murals. I want to show you how it looks. I believe this ruin isn’t from another world—it likely originates from ours. I’ve seen something similar before."

That piqued Atrox’s curiosity. "From this world?"

Kren nodded as they moved aside, ignoring Arvas’s exasperated sigh. "Yes. Typically, ruins are places brought here from other realms or worlds that Arcane Wizards tried to reach.

"But some ruins already existed in our world. Remember the ages I told you about? There are ruins from the First Age, all the way to the Emperor’s disappearance. They’ve been warped around Rifts, just like the others."

’So this place existed here originally, not brought from elsewhere. They really did believe in gods back then’ Atrox thought, studying the cathedral.

The structure was broken, worn by time, and covered in blackened vines. The stained glass windows were long shattered, and they entered through a gaping hole in the wall, stepping onto rotted wood.

Inside, rusted metal chairs filled the space, the air heavy with the scent of dried husks and rot. Many of the seats were occupied by skeletal remains, most crumbling to dust, but others still intact, their slack jaws frozen in expressions of horror, all staring in one direction—the altar on the raised platform.

It was as if they had died from pure terror. Atrox shuddered and looked away, focusing instead on the dust swirling in their wake as they approached the platform, led by Kren.

His skin prickled with goosebumps, the empty sockets of the skeletons feeling as though they were watching him.

"There are murals on the wall behind the altar that I think you’ll find interesting," Kren said. "I believe they depict the gods of the First Age. Although, I doubt this cathedral is that old..."

The altar was made of black stone, gleaming as though slick with blood—but no, it was the red light pouring through a hole in the roof, making it appear wet.

But Atrox’s focus wasn’t on the altar; it was on the murals behind it. They depicted a man in black robes, standing against a backdrop of darkness, his hands clasped and his face hidden beneath a hood. Surrounding him were others dressed similarly, all bowing in apparent fealty.

Something about the man drew Atrox in, compelling him to move closer unconsciously. The area around the figure rippled, revealing hidden symbols Atrox couldn’t quite discern. He knew something surrounded the man, but it was shrouded in mystery.

He leaned closer, his green eyes darkening further, and then gasped as he recoiled. He had seen something—a single, vivid image.

A red moon.

So lifelike, it felt as though he were staring directly at the one outside.