As Leo entered the huge room, the gold engravings slowly died down. The golden light drained from the walls like liquid, sliding out through the doors like a snake retreating to its den.
Some of the golden light entered the room through the floor, following him in silent pursuit. The rest converged outside the room, settling on top of the doors. The light traced ancient engravings carved into the stone, forming a phrase.
________
Here Lies The Arcane Emperor.
________
But Leo had already crossed the threshold. He didn't see the words blaze to life behind him.
Inside the chamber, the gold light that had followed him split apart and raced across the walls. The entire room erupted in brilliance — floor, ceiling, and walls covered in engravings that shone with warm, pulsing golden light.
Leo froze.
He was too mesmerized to consider running away. His young mind gave in to curiosity and awe, drinking in the impossible sight. He followed the flowing gold light toward the center of the room, his eyes glued to the swirling patterns.
His legs kept walking forward, almost out of his control, until he bumped into something solid.
He blinked and looked down.
In front of him was a beautiful pedestal that reached the height of his chest. On top of the pedestal sat a massive book, already opened, showcasing its golden pages. The text was written in a language he couldn't read — symbols and diagrams that seemed to shift if he stared too long.
Naturally, he tried to lift the book.
It didn't budge. Not even a little. It was far too heavy for him, rooted to the pedestal like it had been carved from the same stone.
He closed the book to see its cover instead.
A green emerald adorned the center, deep and vivid, catching the golden light and fracturing it into tiny prismatic sparks. Obsidian patterns surrounded the gem in intricate, spiraling designs. The rest of the book was made of hard gold — or something that looked like gold but felt different under his fingers. The entire tome seemed so much more solid than paper. Like it was made of silk, yet as hard as diamond.
It was lavishly decorated. Almost obscenely so.
And that told him exactly what it was.
"It's a tome." He muttered to himself, his voice barely a whisper. "A bloody tome."
His heart hammered.
A tome contained magic spells — the entire magical knowledge of a magician, compressed and preserved. They were considered legendary because only powerful mages could create them. Tomes carried a residual magic power within their pages, making it easier for a successor to inherit the spells contained inside.
They were the legacy of ancient families.
And only the highest nobles — the royals — even had the chance of possessing one.
Yet here one sat, deep in an underwater cave, waiting.
As he was admiring the book, blood started creeping out of the scratch on his arm. The wound from his fall earlier had reopened. Blood gathered at his elbow, pooling slowly, and eventually a single drop fell free.
It landed on the edge of the book.
By the time he noticed, it was already too late.
"Damn it!" He cursed.
He yanked his hands off the tome and lifted the hem of his shirt, scrambling to wipe the blood away. But by the time he pressed the fabric down, the blood had already stained the pages' edges. He watched it seep in. Absorbed completely, like water into dry sand.
His stomach dropped.
He let go of his shirt and touched the book gingerly, checking to make sure the blood was truly gone. The emerald pulsed once — then shined so brightly it partially blinded him.
A flash of light engulfed the entire room.
He felt a vibration rip across his chest, followed by a wrenching pain that seized his heart like a fist. It was agony — brief and absolute.
The pain lasted only a split second.
But when it ended, Leo collapsed to his knees, gasping for air. His vision swam. His hands shook against the cold stone floor.
"What... what just happened?"
After taking a few seconds to recover, he forced himself back to his feet. His legs were unsteady, but they held.
He looked at the pedestal.
The book was gone.
The pedestal sat empty, as if nothing had ever rested on it. A searing pain in his hand jerked his attention downward.
His wrist was burning.
He lifted his arm and stared. On the underside of his wrist, just below his palm, a glowing tattoo had been seared into his skin. It was a book — intricate, detailed, unmistakable.
It was the same book that had been on the pedestal.
Now it was etched onto him.
"No way..."
He looked around the chamber. It was much darker than before. The golden light had completely vanished, leaving the room draped in heavy shadow.
But there — directly ahead — a faint glow illuminated something he hadn't seen before.
A throne.
It had appeared out of nowhere. He was certain it hadn't been there when he first entered the room. The throne was massive, carved from dark stone, and sitting atop it was a skeleton.
The bones were arranged with eerie dignity, hands resting on the armrests, skull tilted slightly upward. A king, even in death.
In front of the throne was a plaque set into the floor. Leo stepped forward, his footsteps echoing in the silence, and knelt to read the words.
__________
Here lies the Arcane Emperor. Pay your respects to your master.
Only use your knowledge for good.
Pass down your knowledge to a deserving successor.
__________
Leo stared at the words for a long moment.
Then he looked at the tome branded onto his wrist.
Then he turned to look at the skeleton.
The gears in his mind turned, grinding slowly as he pieced together the fragments of information laid before him.
The owner of the tome — this Arcane Emperor — had chosen him. His blood had been accepted. The tome had bonded to him.
He was the successor.
If this was real... if this was truly what he thought it was...
It could be the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.
Leo lowered himself to one knee and bowed his head before the skeleton.
"Thank you for this opportunity, sir. I will cherish it and uphold your values. I swear it."
His words echoed through the chamber.
When he looked back up, the throne was gone.
Nothing in the room remained as it had been. The engravings were completely erased from the walls and floor, leaving bare stone. The throne, the pedestal, the plaque — all of it had vanished.
The chamber was just... empty.
He turned around slowly and saw the waterfall right in front of him. The rushing water he had come through was barely a few steps away now, as if the room itself had shrunk, pushing him toward the exit.
He glanced down at his wrist. The tome was still etched onto his skin, proof that the encounter had been real. But the glow had faded. It was now a simple black tattoo, stark against his skin.
He flexed his arm experimentally.
His scratch was gone. The wound had completely healed.
When he took a step forward, he felt lighter than before. Stronger. A current of energy hummed through his body — subtle but undeniable. He felt more alive than he had in years.
He stretched his body, rolled his shoulders, and jumped a few times to warm up. Everything felt right. Better than right.
With one last look at the empty chamber behind him, he turned and dove through the waterfall.
A body burst from the water and splashed into the underground lake. Leo surfaced, gasping, and immediately oriented himself.
Time to leave.
He started swimming toward the shore he'd originally come from. The swim was the easy part — the run through the forest afterward would be the real challenge. He couldn't afford to tire himself out here, so he kept his strokes slow and measured.
Conserve energy. Stay calm.
But his plans shattered immediately.
A weird tremor rippled through the water near his legs.
His blood went cold.
He looked back.
A familiar shadow was gliding toward him beneath the surface. Massive. Silent. Gaining fast.
The same crocodile that had chased him into the cave in the first place. And this time, it was slightly closer than before.
"Why?" Leo hissed through clenched teeth, kicking harder. He had completely forgotten about the monster waiting to eat him. "Why is it still after me?!"