CH273 · Rewrite
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Chapter 273: God’s Stone of Retaliation

Roland surveyed the cavern roughly — maybe the size of a football field, he decided, though it was difficult to hold the scale in his head. The walls were sheer. A narrow stone staircase cut into one of them descended from the tunnel entrance to the floor below.

He crouched at the head of the stairs and brought his torch close to the stone.

The marks were unmistakable: knife and axe, fine chisel work in the notches, old grit packed into the cuts.

“I assume you didn’t carve these,” he said.

“Of course not, Your Highness.” Carter shrugged. “When we found the cave, the steps were already here. They’ve been here for decades, at minimum.”

“Or centuries,” Anna said quietly.

Lightning nodded. “Border Town is only seventy years old. Whoever made these stairs has nothing to do with the town or even the kingdom.”

“But Graycastle didn’t even exist back then,” Carter said. “Who was living in the Western Territory four hundred and fifty years ago?”

Roland stood and patted the knight’s shoulder. “A people history has mostly forgotten.” He raised his torch toward the floor below. “Let’s go down.”


Twenty or thirty First Army soldiers already stood at the center of the cavern. Roland led his group to the nearest column of God’s Stone of Retaliation and stopped at its edge.

It was only standing here, close enough to touch it, that its true scale registered. He spread his arms. He could not span a tenth of the column’s circumference. Above him the prism climbed — smooth, flawless, shining with its cold purple light — to a height of nearly thirty meters. Eight or nine stories. A small building standing upright in the ground.

He tried to reason through the light. Radioactive decay? The ionization glow from radioactive materials brightened with shorter half-lives; soldiers had been down here for several minutes without consequence, which ruled that out. Fluorescence required an external source, and there was none. No light source had been brought down this deep before they arrived.

The light came from somewhere else — or it came from nowhere, which was the honest answer.

He also noted that the stone’s surface, though it had a crystal prism’s geometry, lacked the characteristic striations of ordinary crystals. It was as smooth as glass.

“The Church sells thumb-sized chips for several gold royals,” Carter said, staring upward. “Something this size — you couldn’t pay for it by emptying all four kingdoms’ vaults.”

“So you want to give it to nobles to kill witches with?” Nightingale said.

Carter stepped back, out of her line of sight. “That’s absolutely not what I—”

“I’ve never seen it glow like this,” Lightning said, circling the column slowly, tilting her head. “Usually it’s transparent. White.” She looked at Roland. “Could you take some of this home and skip the candles at night?”

“I would rather have a room so full of candles it’s stuffy,” Nightingale said, both hands pressed flat against her chest. “For witches, this is a prison. Shackles the Church holds. If there were no God’s Stone of Retaliation in the world, the world would be better for it.”

“Sister Nightingale, you can’t read in the evening anyway,” the young girl pointed out, licking her lips. She bent, picked up a small rock from the floor, and looked at Roland. “Can I take a piece as a souvenir?”

Roland nodded.

She raised the rock and swung it hard at the edge of the nearest prism. A sharp ring — and the rock in her hand cracked apart. The column was unmarked.

Carter stared. “What — shouldn’t God’s Stone of Retaliation be fragile?”

“Maybe these shine differently,” Lightning said. She threw away the broken chips and drew her dagger. She tried cutting, scraping, prying at different angles. Nothing. Not a scratch.

Roland looked at Nightingale. “You try.”

She drew her revolver, aimed directly at the column, and fired. The shot cracked through the cavern’s silence and the echo came back from every wall simultaneously. Sparks leapt at the impact point. When the smoke cleared, the column’s surface showed nothing — a small dark smear, no deeper than soot.

The durability of these columns exceeded homogenized steel plate.

“Even the gun is useless?” Carter frowned. “How does the Church manage to cut pieces off to sell?”

No one had an answer. The silence afterward had a particular texture.

Roland had broken God’s Stone of Retaliation before — the necklace he’d taken from around Anna’s neck, two or three pulls and it had crumbled to white dust between his fingers. But that was ordinary stone. What stood before them was something else.

Then Anna, who had not spoken since they reached the floor, said:

“Your Highness. Do you remember the treasure map Ferlin Eltek drew?”

Roland’s memory surfaced slowly. A triangle. Three edges, each pointing somewhere: the Holy City of Taqila, the stone tower in the Concealing Forest, and — he followed the third edge in his mind until it touched ground. The foot of the Northern Slope Mountain.

Not the foot. Here.

“Don’t tell me—”

“I don’t think it was pointing at the foot of the mountain,” Anna said. “I think it was pointing here. Underground. To where there is a great deal of God’s Stone of Retaliation.”


They searched the entire cavern.

Beyond the columns themselves — towering, immovable, impervious to blade and bullet — they found nothing. No tools. No remains. No ancient books, no writings scratched into the walls. Only the stone staircase, old beyond reckoning, its chiseled notches packed with centuries of grit.

This troubled Roland. The staircase alone represented an enormous effort — cutting into sheer rock, maintaining footing on a steep descent, the constant risk of falling, of losing equipment. Accidents should have been frequent. Yet the floor was clean. Not clean as in swept, but clean as in empty, as though whoever had last used this place had carried everything out with them when they left.

Back at his office, he called for Scroll and had her reproduce the Knight’s drawing in her Book of Changes. The result matched his memory exactly. The southernmost vertex of the triangle rested at the foot of the Northern Slope Mountain.

If Anna’s guess is right, this was a map left by the Church — marking the location of a natural deposit of God’s Punishment Stone. But then why go to the effort of building a stairway to the bottom, only to abandon it? If the Church had maintained a presence here four hundred and fifty years ago, Border Town today would look nothing like it did. Given what they charged per thumb-sized chip, they would not willingly walk away from a deposit of this magnitude.

Taqila was a forbidden zone — no one reached it now. The stone tower in the Concealing Forest remained the only other point on the triangle. Perhaps the answer was there.

Or perhaps it would remain unknown. That too was a possibility, and Roland had learned to hold it without flinching.

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