Chapter 1035:
Meanwhile, the collector-minded businessmen practically lit up at the mention of Brice’s name, whispers of excitement spreading like wildfire.
Coen stepped forward, bowing slightly, respect etched into every movement. “Professor Morrison, it’s an unexpected honor. This concerns both the safety of the major sporting event venue and the preservation of historical artifacts. We need your eyes on this urgently.”
“Nonsense!” Terrance barked, agitation flaring in his voice. “I’ve already said the A7 and A8 plots are perfectly fine!”
He waved at the security guards, voice rising. “Get these people out! Now! Move!”
The guards hesitated, caught between orders and logic. One official leaned in, fixing Terrance with a pointed look. “If there’s nothing wrong, let Professor Morrison inspect and report. What’s the harm? Why all the panic? Are you hiding something?”
Amid the escalating argument, Rylie’s gaze dropped to the floor. Marcus also froze, his ears catching a subtle, almost imperceptible sound beneath their feet.
Both had hearing tuned like a hound’s. Marcus leaned closer. “Did you hear that? Like… the ground cracking?”
Rylie’s nod was tense. She could hear it—an eerie crackle and rustle, deep beneath the surface.
Her nose twitched at the scent rising through the seams of the red carpet: earth, rust, and a faint trace of decay.
“What’s happening?” Marcus breathed.
“This is bad,” Rylie muttered.
𝖣𝗶𝘀c𝗼𝘷er n𝗲𝘸 𝗌𝘁o𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝘰𝗻 𝘨𝗮𝗅ոо𝘃𝗲𝘭𝘴.𝖼𝗈𝗺
Then, louder—sharp and commanding attention—her eyes shot up. “Professor Morrison! Mrs. Reid! Everyone, get out! The ground is splitting! It’s not safe!”
Brice bent over a particularly solid-yet-cracked patch, inspecting it closely. His eyes narrowed, and almost instantly dread crossed his face. He shot upright. “It’s the chamber ceiling! Judging by the sounds… it won’t hold much longer. There could be cavities or water beneath. Heavy machinery has leveled this site, throwing the pressure completely off balance. Everyone, move out now!”
But Terrance clung to his desperate last hope, shouting over the alarm. “Don’t listen to them! They’re conspiring to sabotage today’s event! No one is leaving!”
He even grabbed a government official, trying to pull him closer. “These plots passed inspection. Gregg himself secured them. Do I need to say more about their value?”
Gregg, still cradling Paola, stepped forward, voice calm but laced with controlled fury. “I’ve owned these plots for years. Never heard of a single artifact, let alone tombs. This is insane! They’re trying to sabotage tonight’s banquet! Listen to me—don’t panic. Let’s see if Rylie and this—” he jabbed at Brice with a sardonic tilt—”pretentious relic of a man are wrong.”
The crowd buzzed with a cocktail of fear, curiosity, and disbelief.
Silence stretched for a heartbeat.
Nothing happened.
Terrance bellowed, chest swelling with triumph. “See?! Everything’s fine! You—”
The crowd buzzed with frantic chatter. Those who had sided with Rylie and Brice edged a few meters away, yet nobody left entirely; they lingered on the outskirts, eager to see how the crisis would unfold. On the opposite side, Terrance’s supporters—primarily Detour Inc.’s key stakeholders and businesspeople eyeing profits from the Terra Games site—clustered behind him, radiating confidence.
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