Chapter 249. Vault (2)
Grond was greedy, and also extremely sensitive about what was his.
If someone dared to lay a hand on his belongings without permission, or if there was even the suspicion they had tried, he killed them without mercy.
He would rip off their arms and legs with his own hands, and hang them in the streets of Roafra. Whether they bled out, starved to death, or simply withered away, he never took them down until their lives were completely gone.
It was a cruel and merciless method of execution.
When Grond had just seized power, dozens of reckless criminals had died like that.
The visual terror struck with greater force, and afterward, no one dared defy Grond or attempt to steal what was his.
This was before Robert had entered Vintert.
"Hoo..."
Robert took a deep breath, and placed his hand in the very center of the vault.
The first lock. Pressing down with his full weight, the palm-shaped button sank inward. A loud grinding noise rang out.
As the outer metal slid inside, five dials appeared.
The second lock.
From here, he had to pour in all his focus. One wrong turn, and the traps meant to kill intruders would be triggered.
Of course, something like this would never kill the new king, but it could cause unnecessary suspicion. And such a misunderstanding would never be undone.
'Don't make a mistake.'
He turned the dials, aligning the numbers.
Each dial bore six numbers, but all were the same.
Naturally, there was only one correct answer.
The subtle differences between them had to be distinguished. It was a method bordering on paranoia.
Verden silently watched the process.
'Just what could be hidden here, to require such thorough measures?'
Curiosity stirred on its own.
Anticipation was an instinct impossible to suppress.
Click…!
Robert aligned the final dial.
After double-checking the numbers, he pulled out a bracelet from his inner pocket and placed it on the designated spot. It seemed to be a key in the form of an accessory.
A faint light shimmered from the bracelet.
Immediately, a heavy thud echoed from inside.
"I will open it."
Robert gripped the handle and twisted.
Creak. The door of the vault, locked tight, finally swung open. What lay beyond was truly beyond imagination.
A dazzling brilliance reflected off the magic stone lamps.
Gold bars, jewels, weapons, armor, and magical items piled high everywhere. The bundles of cash in the center were but a drop in the bucket.
'...Just how much is this?'
It was impossible to even calculate the value.
Even Verden could not hide his astonishment.
"Does this include Vintert's wealth as well?"
"No, Vintert's wealth is scattered in investments and other forms, for influence and liquidity. This is Grond's own fortune, accumulated throughout his life, as the king of the underworld."
Robert spread one arm wide, smiling.
"And now, it all belongs to Lord Asher."
He studied the king's expression.
On his once expressionless face, a deeply positive emotion bloomed. Satisfaction, without a doubt. Robert clenched a small fist behind his back.
Verden asked.
"All together, how much is it?"
"At the current market value───"
An amount beyond imagination echoed in his ears.
Verden stared into the vault, letting out a dry laugh. Even if he withdrew 2.5 billion Elk to repay the loan borrowed from Dyna Bank, there would still be more left over.
And if he added the bundles of cash already in his possession...
'It seems I won't have to worry about money for a while.'
Verden had become wealthy.
***
"You still haven't secured Asher?"
Leonil's voice rumbled low.
Heinel, First Seat of the Royal Mage Division, nodded carefully.
"Well, he suddenly vanished without a trace, so we need a little more time..."
"You've been making excuses for how long now! What in the world are Vintert and Grond doing, that they cannot capture a single young mage? And at a time like this of all times!"
Bloodshot veins filled his eyes.
The wrinkled corners of his eyes twitched savagely, and his long gray beard, grown down to his chest, shook violently.
The end of all his fervent experiments was finally at hand.
And yet, delayed by nothing more than the absence of a single trait-holder?
The Magus's patience had already fallen past the bottom, buried deep underground.
He wanted nothing more than to act personally, but the timing was wrong.
The King of Estiria's health had worsened noticeably of late. Plagued by nightmares, his mind drifted in and out, making even basic conversation impossible.
'Damn it.'
At this rate, the crown had to be passed to the First Prince to shorten the vacancy. Nobles already competed to offer their consent.
Thus, the coronation had been hastened, and of course, Leonil would have to attend.
No matter that he was the kingdom's strongest—openly disregarding the royal family and nobles, relying only on strength, was not a wise choice.
'If only I became a Transcendent, none of this would matter.'
In intelligence alone, Vintert far surpassed Leonil.
And yet, they had still failed to locate Asher.
That meant even if Leonil personally stormed into Grond's place and raged at him, there was no guarantee he could find one who had vanished completely.
There was no choice.
Leonil reined in his fury.
Clicking his tongue irritably, he flicked his hand.
"Leave me."
"Yes, Your Excellency."
Leonil was left alone.
Once he was certain the presence of others had completely vanished, he reached into his spatial bag. Soon, a blue crystal emerged, throbbing with the sound of a heartbeat.
Thump, thump, thump.
A beautiful resonance.
This was Leonil's life's masterpiece.
To him, who could never become a Transcendent, this was the 'witch's heart' that would open the path to transcendence. The realization that the impossible was now before him filled him with rapture.
At the same time, frustration boiled, that he could do nothing but gaze at it. His mood swings verged on manic.
Leonil stared vacantly at the crystal.
'Somehow, I must transplant this heart....'
To do so, he needed to find a trait-holder.
Only then could he extract their unique mana circuits, and use them as the necessary material.
But if Asher could not be found like this... Leonil's vision went dark.
Even if someone with a special trait existed in the kingdom, he had no means of identifying them.
In the worst case... the experiment might only be completed years later.
Leonil could not afford to simply wait that long.
"In that case..."
Leonil's gaze settled on the seat where Heinel had just been.
She was the only trait-holder in the Royal Mage Division. With that ability, she had long served as Leonil's hands and feet, providing great assistance.
That much, he readily admitted.
Honestly, she was too valuable a talent to make into a sacrifice.
'Still, I should make preparations.'
Yes, just in case.
Of course, using Asher would be the best outcome.
But having insurance was not a bad thing. With transcendence within reach, drawing a line at human lives was no longer rational.
Leonil chuckled quietly.
In that laughter, there was not the slightest trace of guilt.
***
Verden had fully secured Grond's vault, but with the capacity of his spatial bag, he didn't even dare attempt to haul it away.
Liquidating it into cash would take a tremendous amount of time. Inevitably, for the moment, he left the vault as it was.
Two artifacts, and the vault of the king of the underworld.
The windfall, far exceeding his initial expectations, was very much to his liking.
After that, he spent short days resting.
When he was about to move in order to contact Calia, Gail stepped forward instead.
"Lord Asher, please remain here. I will personally go and bring them back."
There was no hostility.
Even if there was, Calia's group could not be taken hostage.
If any tricks were attempted, Karans, the elf who despised humans, would sever heads without hesitation.
The problem lay elsewhere.
Even if Verden wrote a letter and sent it, the chances they would believe it were slim. They might well suspect it to be a trap.
'It would be simpler for me to go myself.'
There was work to be done in Roafra, but, well, it could only be postponed.
Just then, Galliark appeared.
The butcher, wrapped in bandages all over and hobbling on crutches, wandering the corridor. His body itched too much to stay in bed any longer.
The butcher, Galliark.
He was acquainted with Samwell and the siblings. In other words, sufficient to act in Verden's stead.
"Yes, you will do."
"What the hell are you babbling about?"
Hearing the explanation, Galliark bared his teeth.
"Hey, can't you see my state right now?! I can't even run properly, how the hell am I supposed to go that far! Just fly over there yourself!"
"There is work in Roafra. And since you will use an airship, there will be no problem."
"Am I your subordinate? You son of a—"
"Armor."
Freeze.
Galliark stopped dead.
His armor had been utterly ruined in the battle with Draken, beyond any hope of repair.
"There were plenty of usable armors in Grond's vault. If you need one, I could sell it to you."
"...How much?"
"Cheap."
He had no use for them anyway.
He had no intention of searching for a buyer just to sell them at a high price. He had enough money already.
It was better profit to sell them off at a reasonable price. For both Verden, and Galliark.
"Damn, you should have said that first."
Galliark departed with Gail, leaving Roafra behind.
With a small airship, a round trip to Rines would only take a few days.
Verden, meanwhile, headed into the underworld with Robert.
The streets, twisted by
And rightly so.
Still, thanks to that, the nuisance had disappeared altogether, which was convenient enough.
Now that his objective had been achieved, leaving Roafra in ruins was not a good choice.
"So, it must be restored."
"...Yes?"
Verden glanced back at Robert.
He activated his mana circuits to the fullest, and spread his magic widely with
Soon, the entire terrain from the plaza to the Ashen Castle became Verden's domain. Next, he quickened his mental calculations.
Analyzing the space, he calculated precisely the range to manipulate.
Coming to a conclusion, Verden's eyes gleamed. His mana-laden blue eyes blazed.
Rumbleeeee...!
Roafra stirred once more.
The shattered land fused together, then split into multiple branches. Like a puzzle being assembled, the whole terrain rejoined.
'This is insane.'
Watching the destroyed ground recover in real time, Robert felt his mind go blank.
Only after dozens of minutes did Verden subdue his magic.
Having spent far more mana and concentration than before, his mana circuits ached.
If the ground were to collapse even slightly, it would be disastrous.
'This much should be enough.'
Roafra had regained its former appearance.
Only the collapsed buildings were beyond even Verden's power. With ordinary
He didn't even know the building designs to begin with.
Instead, he gathered the debris into the plaza.
Sorted neatly by material. Since it wasn't reduced entirely to dust, it would be easy to reuse.
The problem was manpower to rebuild.
"Leave that to me. I will begin the restoration immediately."
Robert promised with confidence.
About an hour later, thousands gathered.
From large to small, every organization in Roafra assembled. Among them were powerholders who had once hunted Verden and Galliark.
'Now is their only chance.'
To remain hidden would be a fatal mistake.
They had come seeking survival, to atone for past errors. Honestly, Verden had no particular intention regarding them.
Vintert's members distributed city blueprints.
Those with knowledge of architecture were placed in charge as leaders, while powerholders with external connections handled the supply of materials.
With no one opposing, progress was swift.
'It's like an army.'
Verden stood atop the roof of an intact building, watching.
A harsh atmosphere formed around Robert.
Though his strength was weaker than leaders like Slay or Draken, compared to ordinary powerholders, he could easily kill one or two on his own.
Robert clasped his hands behind his back.
Black hair, pale skin. With his intellectual appearance, one might mistake him for a librarian. But his gaze turned razor sharp.
In the silence, his cold voice rang out.
"Finish this as quickly as possible. If you want to return alive."
"Y-yes!"
In this city, persuasion and unity were useless—here in Roafra, threats were far more effective.
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