The Crack In Heaven [A LitRPG Progression Fantasy] Chapter 19: Chapter 19: Empty Sockets, Clear Sight

Read chapter 19 of The Crack In Heaven [A LitRPG Progression Fantasy] by Adamus_Auguste on NovelPedia.

Chapter 19: Empty Sockets, Clear Sight Inside Marek's building, Kael barely took a second to exhale before his eyes danced across the furniture. Paper piled on the desk beside devices that smelled of ink. Though curious, he ignored them to turn toward shelves of thick ledgers. Likely experimental results, he thought. Crates took up the rest of the space. Not what he came for. Then... where was it? Biting his thumbnail, he checked the building again. Nothing. Or perhaps he searched wrongly. What made this place stand out compared to the others? All the pipes came out of here. He gazed at the ceiling. A lone pipe crawled down the wall, vanishing behind the thick back of Marek's chair. He charged the desk, yet squeezed his thigh to stop himself. Marek would find out, but he wouldn't help him notice he stole from him by creating a mess. Slowing down despite the urgency of witnessing Giovanni break his anchor, he circled the chair without touching anything. The pipe was there, only half of it. The other half dug into the wall. It's inside. How do I get this damned thing out? The wall was too thick for him to break, not that he wanted to nor anyone whenever they needed to get things out. Either walled up for safety, or... Hands pressed against the wall, he felt each bump on its metallic surface. No cracks or openings. Instead, the ground rose on the left side, not by much, almost an unnoticeable bit he only felt because he was barefooted. He knelt, tracing the bump in a straight line to the left foot of the desk. As he suspected, there had to be a mechanism to open the wall like the facility doors. Integrated into the desk's leg, maybe connected to a drawer. A frown creased his brow as he pulled them one by one. The first two slid open, revealing wax-sealed documents and five bottles of ink. A whole five... Kael forced himself to leave them where they were and pulled the third drawer. It rattled beneath his tense fingers, refusing to move. Locked. Of course, it had to be locked. Marek would be a fool if he didn't hide the key or even carry it on him. So what now? Giovanni could break his anchor anytime now. He couldn't waste a second on a failed theft. For a moment, he drummed on the drawer, his gaze sweeping the room. Marek can't lose what's inside. Would he risk the key every time he moves out? I wouldn't. I'd hide it somewhere safe. And where is safer than his building? That is, if he thinks like me. Two minutes. I'll give myself two minutes to search. Now, where? Going over every crate would take too long, so he ignored them. The drawers on the right side of the desk? Just more documents and pieces of metal with protruding letters smeared in dry ink. Curious, but irrelevant. He lifted a blackboard on the right wall, hoping to see the key hanging behind its frame, but found nothing except for the nail it hung from. Sweat trailed down his temples, each drop mirroring the passing of seconds he couldn't waste. His two minutes were almost gone. But there was something he could quickly check. If paper was a treasure to him, to Garrick and his men, it was just a tool for recording debts and tracking business. So perhaps... With a trembling hand, he began to lift ledgers from the shelf and shook them. Paper rustled. His breath hastened. And when he reached the sixth, something clanged on the ground, the sound exploding in the silence. He looked down, eyes wide. There, a brass key glinted softly in the torchlight. He hurriedly picked it up, slammed the ledger back on the shelf, and rushed to the drawer. A turn. A click. It slid open. Only one thing inside: a crank that Kael instantly turned. The mechanical sound of spinning cogs broke the silence before the wall rumbled behind him. It parted, sliding to the sides to form an opening broad enough to let a man through. Dozens of pipes emerged from the walls, their mouths sucking up dense smog. A gray veil concealed the rest of the room. Was it the mist that made the facilities untraceable?