Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 6: Last Grandson of the Emperor (2)

Dragon Raja 3

The deeper Bondarev went, the more densely packed the bones became. Eventually, he saw snake bones intertwined with bear bones. The snake must have been at least 20 meters long, its bones tinged with an ancient dark-golden hue. The bear’s bones were even more terrifying—its spine split into two massive vertebrae from the waist, indicating that the bear had two heads.

It was no wonder the engineers had lived in constant fear. They were digging a mysterious tunnel, leading to a door they knew concealed something dreadful. Yet, under pressure from the authorities, they had no choice but to continue. That door was like Pandora’s box—no one dared open it, yet once it fell into human hands, who could resist the temptation to take a peek?

Bondarev remained calm, even taking photos of the bones with a miniature camera, seemingly unfazed by the disturbing scene. It was clear that everything before him had been anticipated. He was getting close to the “door,” just as the construction map had indicated.

Bondarev took a metal box from his backpack, inside of which were several laser mines arranged side by side. These espionage mines, shaped like thick pens, were designed to be inserted into the soil. They emitted an invisible laser beam, and anyone who crossed the beam would trigger an explosion. Bondarev inserted the laser mines into small holes in the walls of the tunnel—left behind from the excavation process. With this setup, he no longer had to worry about being followed.

He had already seen the final inscription: “November 21, 1963. We opened the door. We should forget everything we saw here. Soon we’ll return to Moscow, and once we’re back in Moscow, everything will be fine. The comrade secretary said that this place will be sealed again. Now is no longer the age of gods and demons; the Soviet iron fist will crush them all.”

The area ahead was no longer permafrost but a solid granite wall. The inscription was carved into the rock, and next to it were hundreds of names, each followed by their military rank. Clearly, these young soldiers had left their lives here. Over the decades, thousands of people had participated in this grueling excavation, and hundreds had given their lives in the frozen wastelands of northern Siberia. Yet when they finally found what they were looking for, all they wanted was to leave and forget.

Standing beside the inscription, Bondarev took a selfie, flashing a “V” sign with his hand.

The door was next to him—or rather, it could not be called a door, but a blocked-up exit. It had originally been a crack in the rock, which someone had sealed with tons of molten iron. Human bones could be seen embedded in the iron; when the crack was sealed, some people had been burned alive in the molten metal. One of the skeletons seemed to be struggling to escape, but only the top of its skull had emerged from the iron. Sacred words were inscribed on the white skull:

“Today, as a servant of God, I seal this place. Evil shall never prevail over righteousness. This door shall remain closed until the day God judges the world.”

Beneath this was a signature: “Григо·рий Ефи·мович Распу·тин.”

“Grigori Yefimovich Rasputin… That charlatan actually came here,” Bondarev muttered as he touched the skull.

Rasputin, one of the most notorious figures in Russian history, was a saint, heretic, libertine, and mystic. His fame had once been legendary, but during the Soviet era, his name was rarely mentioned, and over a century later, he had been largely forgotten.

He had been an ordinary Russian peasant, but as his extraordinary prophetic abilities and hypnotic powers became evident, Rasputin was eventually revered as a saint by the people. He later became a close friend of the Tsar’s family, gaining unmatched favor. He used his prophetic abilities to save the life of the Tsarevich and accurately predicted his own death. At the end of 1916, he wrote to the Tsar, saying he would be killed before January 1917. He also predicted that if he were killed by the people, the Tsar would live for a few more years, but if he were killed by nobles, the entire royal family would be dead within two years.

History proved his prophecy correct. On December 29, 1916, Prince Yusupov murdered Rasputin. During a banquet, Yusupov offered Rasputin eight cyanide-laced cakes and a bottle of Madeira wine, also spiked with cyanide—enough poison to kill five people—but Rasputin was unaffected. Yusupov then shot him in the lung. After briefly losing consciousness, Rasputin awoke and attacked the prince, trying to escape across the lawn. 

This time, he was shot three more times, with one bullet going through his head. When his body was dragged indoors, Rasputin revived once again. Yusupov had to use a dumbbell to smash his skull, but even then, Rasputin didn’t die. He was finally thrown into an icy hole in the Neva River, where an autopsy revealed that he had survived under the ice for eight minutes. He was killed by the nobles, and less than two years later, the entire Tsar’s family was executed by the Red Army.

As an infamous libertine, it was said that Rasputin had slept with nearly every noblewoman in Russia. Any girl who was caught in his blue-eyed gaze would involuntarily undress and offer herself. If he had relations with a virgin, he would keep a lock of her hair. In 1977, when the Leningrad city government demolished his former residence, they found boxes upon boxes of hair in the garden. He attended Prince Yusupov’s banquet because he coveted the prince’s beautiful wife.

The engineers never opened Rasputin’s sealed “door.” Instead, they carved a new opening in the rock wall. Bondarev used the prepared key to unlock the door in the new opening. Like the door above ground, this one was filled with explosives and had a mechanical combination lock, clearly designed never to be opened again. Behind the door was a rusty iron suspension ladder that led through a rock crevice. At the bottom was an old construction elevator.

Everything matched Bondarev’s construction map perfectly, but that was as far as it went. The final mark on the map was the construction elevator, and beyond that, the passage was shown as a dotted line. Whoever had drawn the map didn’t know what lay beyond—perhaps a treasure trove, or perhaps the underworld of hell. You’d have to gamble to find out. Bondarev climbed into the elevator and flipped the switch. The motor hummed, and the elevator began its slow descent. Remarkably, the ancient equipment still had power. The steel cables scraped against the pulleys, making a chilling sound.

Bondarev turned off his flashlight and put on infrared night-vision goggles. His KGB training had taught him that a person carrying a flashlight made an easy target. The elevator eventually stopped in complete darkness, and the sound of the folding doors opening echoed through the vast space.

Bondarev was startled, realizing he had been lowered into a massive cavern. He hadn’t expected such a large space beneath the permafrost. Without thinking, he rolled across the ground, trying to avoid an ambush in case someone was lurking in the darkness.

He slid across the floor, unable to stand. The surface was as smooth as glass—it was ice! This huge underground space seemed like… an ice rink!

“Welcome, welcome. I’ve been wondering for years whether there would be new visitors here, and finally, today, there is.”

A cold gun barrel was pressed against Bondarev’s forehead. Despite his KGB hand-to-hand combat skills, there was no way he could dodge or counterattack—the person had anticipated his roll and was waiting just outside the elevator, about ten meters away.

“Late night, and you’re still awake, Dr. Herzog,” Bondarev said.

He identified the man by the faint scent of vodka—specifically, the fragrance of Red Label vodka.