Mummy Evolution-Chapter 84: The Boy who Died

"You still won't relent?" The veins in Jean's forehead pulsed, his grip tightening. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Have you forgotten how it feels to be beaten into submission, little brother? Have you forgotten how I used to 'enjoy' you?"

Egrith's jaw clenched, his entire body tensing with fury.

"YOU!" He snarled. "Do you think I am still that—"

"Stop."

A voice cut through the searing heat of their confrontation, calm and commanding, yet heavy with an authority that demanded obedience.

"Egrith. Jean. Show your faces at the castle—now. And do not harm the boy in your hands."

The crowd rippled with murmurs.

"It's the Pharaoh!"

"Long live the Pharaoh!"

"His Majesty is using that outsider's magic!" someone gasped. "That outsider he captured yesterday! The one who could make his voice reach anywhere!"

Jean and Egrith exchanged a glance.

Their father was watching.

Now or never.

With cruel, unrestrained strength, Jean yanked the young boy toward him, a smirk ghosting his lips. But Egrith's grip, unyielding in surprise, held fast. Then—

A sickening rip.

A scream. A wretched, bloodcurdling scream that tore through the air, louder than any decree, louder than the Pharaoh's voice itself.

The boy's arm had been wrenched from his body.

Blood splattered in hot, crimson arcs across the stone ground. The scent of iron was suffocating. A child's sobs turned into ragged shrieks, his small form writhing in agony.

The Second Prince distanced himself from Egrith.

Egrith's eyes widened, blood dripping down his face. "You monstrous bastard, that was a child!"

The Third Prince, Egrith, might have threatened the boy. He had even used harsh words, unlike his brother Jean. But Egrith would never tear the hands off of a boy that young. He wouldn't make the boy sacrifice himself for him either.

That was what a monster would do.

He could threaten anybody, blackmail anyone, but he was not the kind who could do it in reality.

He was all talk—no bite.

And he knew that was the case.

Even wanting to capture the boy had just been an impulse.

He hadn't wanted to give the boy away to Jean.

"Ghh…"

The blood of the boy felt warm against Egrith's skin.

Jean only laughed. And with a casual toss, he hoisted the boy into the air by the back of his neck. A broken doll, limbs trembling, body slick with his own life spilling out of him. A little face full of fear.

"You're still the same, Egrith," Jean said, his smirk widening. "Still that sniveling boy who begged me for mercy in our little backyard. Look at this boy, Egrith." He shook the boy slightly, making him whimper. "Look at his pain. His fear. Doesn't he remind you of someone?"

Something cracked. Not in the air. Not in the stone beneath them.

Inside Egrith.

"You are still that weak boy Egrith. Still that boy. No change."

Jean looked at the boy in his hand.

The floor around Egrith's body cracked like a vase.

He moved.

But when Egrith moved, so did Jean.

They were both so fast, even Zarah could only see them when they stopped.

The little hissed in fear at the sight of everything happening, her skin curling.

"I'd die in a second in there…"

Zainah squinted, looking at the people in the scene one by one. She felt a sense of disgust that came from the very bottom of her heart.

This is not how a family should behave.

Her senses were even worse than Zarah's.

But she could still make out what was going on to some degree.

Soon, Jean and Egrith stopped—facing each other grimly, standing straight.

The bloody boy clung to Jean's chest, already frothing in pain.

"Look, I told you," Jean said with a smile. "You are still that Egrith, the little boy who didn't like his elder brothers."

Egrith held firm. But then—

A cough. A wet, thick sound. Blood bubbled up his lips before he collapsed to his knee, his body betraying him.

Jean exhaled, turning his gaze to the barely-breathing child in his grip. "Now. Use your magic. Your Axiom."

The boy's small frame trembled violently. A noble child. Raised in silks and perfumes. Now drowning in his own blood, trapped in a nightmare.

That was how entering a Tomb changed a person's life. Inside a Tomb, status or childishness didn't matter, only strength did.

"Do it." Jean's voice darkened, dripping with finality.

Choking on sobs, the boy raised a trembling hand.

He only wanted this to end.

The world trembled with him.

Reality fractured before their eyes, as though a great mirror had shattered midair. A doorway appeared—a jagged wound in space itself, leading not to the endless void, but to a world beyond.

Jean looked on with a face full of glee as reality broke down in a small area.

Zainah and Zarah reeled.

That was the desert region outside the once Burrhen City!

This was a gateway to the real world!

Axiom of Cracked Space—Dimensional Escape.

As the crack appeared, the unmoving Egrith moved like a flash towards the crack. He had a venomous expression as he reached closer and closer—but before he moved further, Jean, as skilled as ever, simply kicked him aside.

"Only one person can leave, so let that person be your elder brother. Don't worry, if I ever find a way, I will return."

With that, Jean stepped into the crack, his body slowly melding away.

Egrith gritted his teeth and stumbled towards the boy.

The boy was truly dead.

This ability of the boy, Dimensional Escape, had a limitation. It would kill him if he used it even once—but it also had an incredible potential. It could let him open a crack in any sealed space, and a Tomb, as expected, was a sealed space.

Feeling his hopes die, Egrith then looked at the crack that was slowly vanishing. Jean was already on the other side—almost. And Egrith found no reason to try and stop him anymore.

He just watched.

And finally, Jean reached the real world.

His foot crunched on real sand. He smelled the real world.

It felt different. It felt freeing.

Jean inhaled deeply.

"Ah," he exhaled, voice full of triumph. "How good it feels to breathe the—"

Then—

Nothing.

Jean's body turned colorless. His flesh disintegrated like sand blown into the wind. One moment, he was there, smirking, victorious.

The next—he was gone.

The desert beyond the crack remained, eerily silent.

Then, slowly, like a wound healing, the cracks in the air sealed shut.

Gone.

Someone whispered, their voice shaking.

"What happened to the Second Prince?"

"He… vanished?"

Egrith did not move. His body trembled.

Zainah and Zarah remembered an old saying in Ehyut, one that even old women used to say.

The men in tombs knows not they are dead.

A person who was born in a Tomb cannot leave the tomb.

Even if they did, nothing good awaited them.

Sometimes, ignorance was bliss.

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No.

Most of the time, ignorance was bliss.