Chapter 11
Chapter 11
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Treasure Hunt (1)
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At just fifteen years old, he had ascended to the 2nd Circle.
It was an achievement monumental enough to turn the entire house upside down.
An unprecedented record across all swordsmanship clans, one that would never be broken.
He had left even the most renowned geniuses of the world far in the dust.
But that was no reason to be satisfied with the current situation.
Federback inwardly regretted not breaching the wall to the 3rd Circle.
'...No helping it.'
Compared to his realm before regression, he still had a long way to go.
Federback pressed on without hesitation.
Before long, a massive door came into view.
A colossal, crude gate that could pass for an entrance to hell.
The overwhelming presence told Federback he had finally reached the heart of the Secret Vault.
Meursault's sanctuary.
The greatest hidden piece of the century slumbered beyond it.
Unlike the cave interior littered with ornate decorations and murals.
A massive door leading to the innermost sanctum.
Not even a single statue adorned the surroundings.
But Federback knew that door was anything but ordinary.
It wasn't unadorned due to lack of intent to embellish—it was because they lacked the skill to do so.
'As expected.'
Federback approached the door and placed his hand on its pitch-black surface.
In that instant.
...Zing!
His body reacted.
His skin shivered faintly.
Soon, his guts churned violently inside him, boiling like molten metal in a furnace.
A shock like his bones crumbling to dust surged through his entire body.
Yet Federback did not pull his hand away.
'What a tricky metal.'
Federback knew the door's material.
Orichalcum.
A metal treated as far more precious than "Mithril," the tears of the gods.
Before his regression, a sword alloyed with even 10% Orichalcum fetched the price of an entire castle.
What if they melted down and sold Orichalcum of this sheer size?
'They could buy a small nation outright.'
To forge such a colossal door from that precious Orichalcum.
What kind of house had the Meursaults been in the past?
Federback withdrew his hand from the door.
As he slowly stepped back.
Rumble rumble rumble―
A demonic maw split open in the center of the door.
A tongue of Orichalcum extended amid rows of jagged teeth.
Federback dropped several black fragments onto it.
They were shards from the Death Knight's armor.
Not a human sacrifice, but a demon body offering.
Substituting the rite of passage by dedicating the remains of the slain undead.
A method he had discovered through trial and error.
Soon.
Crunch― crunch― crunch―
The demon's jaws chewed and swallowed the Death Knight fragments.
Grooooaaaan!
With the offering complete, the Orichalcum door began to open.
The sight beyond was nothing short of otherworldly.
"......"
Even Federback, who knew what lay ahead, couldn't help but marvel anew.
It was like a "mountain of treasure."
A landscape aggregating every desire of this world.
Under a soft glow, the relics blurred the line between reality and illusion.
Federback stepped forward.
Thud― thud― thud―
The first thing to catch his eye was a mountain range of gold coins.
Pillars of jewels and silver were driven into it like stakes.
Passing that section, lumps of Mithril emitting purple light came into view.
No phrase fit better than "rotting away in abundance."
Federback nodded at the sight.
Not as rare as the Orichalcum he'd just seen, but Mithril was still immensely valuable.
'Unlike Orichalcum, limited to weaponry, Mithril's uses are endless. From a swordsman's gear to a mage's reagents, magic circle catalysts—even materials for a castle's grand magic array. With that quantity... it might complete Garmelda's Equation.'
During the Great Demon War, mages had offered scant support due to Mithril shortages.
Ever since the vital Boboir Mines—crucial for the human alliance—were seized by a suddenly awakened ice dragon.
Thus, the emotions stirred by this sight were all the more profound.
But the ancestors' legacy didn't end there.
...No, this was merely the beginning.
As he followed the narrow central path, even more dazzling treasures entered Federback's vision.
Golden beams streamed from the vaulted ceiling high above, forming a waterfall of blinding light.
Open treasure chests overflowed with fist-sized gems.
Diamonds, rubies, pearls, obsidian, croise, garnets, topaz, sapphires, judecca, lapis lazuli, emeralds, amber...
Rare gems usable as jewelry or magic catalysts littered the ground like pebbles.
They reflected faint halos, sparkling in rainbow hues.
Those lights clashed against walls and ceilings, birthing star-like specks.
At the center of the gold and jewels stood a lake of mercury, rippling gently.
Beneath its mirror surface, rare minerals sank like stars in the Milky Way.
Ahead lay colorful reagents and mana stones the size of children's heads, while one cavern wall housed shelves crammed with ancient grimoires.
A scene that would make mages rip out their own hearts to claim.
Yet the crowning glory lay beyond the shelves, atop a small table.
A glass vial on an antique platinum table.
A liquid sparkling as if crushed from all the light in existence.
Elixir.
The legendary panacea said to revive even the dead.
And there were ten such vials.
'...Right, these were here too.'
Elixirs were priceless treasures.
Not something money alone could buy.
Holy relics crafted by beings of saintess-level divine power, at the cost of their own lives.
'Truth be told, these alone make the Secret Vault's value more than sufficient.'
Ten elixirs could restore ten lives.
If they could revive humanity's final heroes with them?
Faces of human heroes lost so tragically during the Great Demon War flashed in his mind.
Reviving even one would have drastically altered the war's course.
...Let alone ten?
It would upend the world.
For treasures of this magnitude to slumber beneath the fallen Meursault estate.
Federback felt a faint shiver at the surging emotions.
This was no mere treasure vault.
A space transcending time and dimension, steeped in ancient mysteries and legends.
The moment one entered, the boundary between reality and dream dissolved.
Master these treasures properly, and the Meursaults—demoted to barons—could leap to dukes, or even royals.
But.
'Futile. All of it.'
Federback tore his gaze from the treasures.
He ignored the ancient grimoires, the artifacts pulsing with spiritual energy, the greatsword forged from dragon bone, the chainmail cast from demon fangs, the mantle woven from angel hide—every staggering item.
Federback knew full well these were mere facades, traps in the end.
Those who once explored the Secret Vault had suffered devastating losses to these traps.
Bringing along lowlifes dazzled by petty gold coins had been their downfall.
'The triggered traps didn't just claim the unworthy—they took important people too.'
The Meursault ancestors had meticulously prepared countermeasures against tomb raiders.
Anyone swayed by such trifles wasn't worthy of being their descendants—a stubborn declaration.
Before regression, Federback had dodged the traps to barely claim the "final treasure," only for demons' subsequent raid to damage it due to his tardiness.
That half-broken treasure had clear limits.
How much regret had piled upon regret afterward.
'Not making the same mistake this time.'
Federback knew it bone-deep.
Only one thing could be taken from this dungeon.
The sole "most valuable item."
Thud― thud― thud―
Federback advanced.
He approached the small altar at the cavern's end.
Upon it sat a small, worn box.
Compared to the surrounding treasures, it seemed utterly shabby.
Federback reached for it.
All he'd seen so far were sideshows, packaging for deception.
This was the real deal.
'The very reason the Secret Vault exists. The one treasure eclipsing all others.'
Federback opened the box.
A black, crude tome revealed itself.
The swordsmanship that once dominated the North.
The demon-slaying sword style that felled the Demon King.
The house legacy lost a century ago with the disappearance of key Meursault figures.
The secret manual blood kin yearned for above all.
It now lay in Federback's hands.