Chapter 221: The Golden Treasury (2)
Chapter 221: The Golden Treasury (2)
Sherpa Gold furrowed his brow.
"The Orc, Sherizik."
"You know my name?"
"It would be harder not to know it."
Whish.
A sword manifested in Sherpa Gold's hand, its blade gleaming with a brilliant, radiant light.
"The hero of the Armand Alliance. The hope of the Orc race."
The blooming golden light soon transformed into a suit of ornate golden armor. As the plate encased his body, Sherizik stomped her foot, the ground trembling beneath her.
"The Green War God, Great Warrior Sherizik."
Clang—!
Glaive met golden sword. The two blades collided in a shower of sparks.
*
The dragon flight had been divided into three wings.
The first and second wings had crossed the sea. The first served as a decoy to draw the attention of the Black Archipelago fleet and the Swordmaster Martina Gold. The second wing acted as the 'main force' led by Dragon Charlotte. Their mission was to retrieve the Great Land’s expeditionary army and the Machine Empire Magic Corps, who were currently isolated on the Southern Continent, and land them on the Central Continent.
And the third wing?
"They're all dead?"
"Yes. I just confirmed it through the spiritual realm. The spirits all said the same thing. Every dragon that headed toward the Dwarf Kingdom has perished..."
The raid on the Dwarf Kingdom.
It was the group sent to tear open the 「Golden Treasury」.
Charlotte had intentionally assigned the weak, the young, and the cowardly dragons to the third wing. Why? Because unlike the first and second roles, which carried significant risk, the third was supposed to be an entirely safe mission.
Did the dwarves enlist an outside force?
No matter how superior the dwarves' technology was, they shouldn't have been able to create a weapon capable of opposing a dragon. Their weapons were forged of iron and fire. And no iron or fire on this continent could ever harm a dragon—never. Had their technology advanced so much over the ages that they had created a Dragon Slayer? No, that was impossible. The era when dragons were most active was the dwarves' golden age. Their technology had peaked then, and under the dragons' watchful eyes, it had been suppressed, prevented from advancing beyond a certain level.
Even in their most brilliant days, the dwarves couldn't touch a single hair on a dragon. Dragon Charlotte simply could not understand. Had they brought in the Elves? No, not even a High Elf, the oldest of their kind, could kill a dragon. Then who...
The Heavenly Army? Yes, they could harm a dragon. But why would the legions of the Sky Empire attack us? The Empire has no reason to do so. The Armand Alliance? No, they wouldn't either...
A variable.
It was an unforeseen variable.
The identity of that variable was soon revealed.
"Steel."
"Steel?"
"They say the Last Caravan cut them down. With a single strike."
Dragon Charlotte was momentarily speechless.
The warnings of the Ancient Dragons—the words telling her to beware of the Caravan—came flooding back.
She remembered the terrified whispers that the young dragons, those who hadn't lived through history, didn't understand. The voices of the most powerful dragons, who had lived since the Mythical Era, had been laced with dread. Those voices now began to grate on Charlotte's nerves.
And so.
"Send the Great Dragons."
"If you mean the Great Dragons..."
"The dragons who inherited the most powerful bloodlines."
Charlotte decided she could no longer leave this variable alone.
"Send those with their own distinct colors to the Dwarf Kingdom. Command them to bring me the head of the Caravan who slaughtered our kin."
"But they have other roles—"
"Now is the time for them to act."
The Great Dragons.
The Red Dragon, the Blue Dragon, the Gold Dragon. Dragons possessing special 'soul' colors. Charlotte decided to draw her trump card. It wasn't a weapon she had intended to use yet.
But Charlotte felt it.
"I can feel it. This is a critical moment."
"..."
"Nothing must go wrong with the Golden Treasury. The Ancient Dragons trembled in fear of a bygone era. Yet, even when those Ancient Dragons were fearless and great, they never touched the Golden Treasury. Perhaps their fear wasn't in vain. Now that everything is proceeding smoothly, there's no need to leave a variable behind."
"..."
"Stop them from opening the Golden Treasury. You may tear down the Dwarf Kingdom and bury every last dwarf beneath the earth. I don't care what it takes—unleash our most certain hunters so that no more variables arise."
If left alone...
Things would go terribly wrong.
That was her intuition as a Watcher.
*
"The Golden Treasury is where the treasures of the dwarves are gathered. It is a place that holds the history of our people, where the artifacts left behind during our most brilliant era lie dormant."
The King of the Dwarves, Jerome Stone, willingly led the way to the Golden Treasury. Dwight could not join them. The Golden Treasury was a place only those of royal blood and the bloodline of Steel could enter.
"It is an honor to be able to open this treasury during my reign, Descendant of Steel."
The Golden Treasury was not a specific physical space.
It was a 'World's Boundary.'
A continental mystery.
Much like 'Ernest,' which existed in the middle of the sea.
"The Sky Mountain Range is the first mountain, the place where all mysteries dwell. It is a mountain where a great will slumbers. And the Dwarf Kingdom is the lowest kingdom, built beneath the mounds of earth by excavating the sacred land halfway up the Sky Mountain Range."
The path to the Golden Treasury lay beneath the foundations of the Dwarf Palace. Perhaps because it hadn't been maintained for a long time, the underground passage was musty and smeared with mud. Torches were hung at regular intervals, and murals were painted wherever a torch was placed. They depicted dwarves, engraved with illegible hieroglyphs.
"Below the lowest kingdom, at the ley line that supports the Sky Mountain Range, lies the door to the Golden Treasury. That is why no one could ever find it. An artificial world created beneath a mountain imbued with the energy of the sky. It is said to be a treasury forged by ten dwarf craftsmen in the distant past, who tempered their own souls into its creation. It was made with such painstaking care to evade the eyes of the dragons, and the eyes of the Seven Chief Gods and Nine Goddesses."
Jerome Stone came to a sudden halt.
At the end of the underground passage was a large cavern. Ten statues modeled after dwarves stood in a circle, and in the center was a statue of a man with a long beard sitting on a throne made of swords. I recognized the man's face immediately.
Master...
Liam Caravan.
A statue modeled after the First Caravan stood there.
I glanced sideways at my master. He looked slightly different, but it was clearly the same person. Liam Caravan in his youth. The statue had definitely been made in his likeness.
「Tsk. They should have put that in front of the palace. Then no dragon would have dared to enter.」
"..."
「Seeing my face from my younger days brings back memories. All the women on the continent used to follow me around back then, haha.」
Hmm. He didn't really have that kind of face.
"Descendant of Steel, please take this."
Jerome Stone held out a piece of old iron to me.
"What is this?"
"The key."
"The Golden Treasury is a crack in the world. To enter, one must have the blood of Steel flowing through them while also harboring the soul of the Dwarf Royalty. Only when the two pieces are matched as one can you enter."
"Matched as one?"
"Use the Authority of Steel, Descendant of Steel. If you devour the will of the Dwarf Kings contained within, the Golden Treasury will call to you. This is the reason why no one has been able to open the Golden Treasury until now."
Ah. So that's how it works.
A structure where the souls of the Dwarf Kings are stored in a blade through the generations, and one can only enter by absorbing them with the Authority of Steel. It's insanely thorough.
It was a method that only a 'Caravan' could use.
I took the key from Jerome Stone. Its old, rusted appearance made me genuinely reluctant to eat it. I felt like the moment I put it in my mouth, it would reek of iron and age. Of course, I didn't hesitate. I had eaten plenty of terrible pieces of iron until now. If I heated it up and swallowed it, it was all the same.
「Young descendant.」
I briefly heated the tip of the key in the torchlight. As the heat spread, Liam spoke.
「Do not be swayed by the words of your ancestors.」
Do not be swayed, Liam had said.
「No ancestor has pleased me as much as you. No ancestor possessed a heart as hard as yours, nor walked as straight a path. So do not be swayed. No matter what you hear.」
"You have nothing to worry about."
I meant it. I had overcome countless temptations until now. What was there to worry about at this point?
「Yes, I trust you.」
"Phew—!"
I took a deep breath. Then, I gulped it down.
Immediately, a wave of dizziness hit me, and heat surged from my head to my toes. My vision was stained red, and in the next moment, the world I was looking at was engulfed in flames. The fire chased away the darkness of the underground passage and filled the vast cavern with golden light. I closed and opened my eyes against the brilliant radiance, and in the next moment, I was standing in a space filled entirely with gold.
Everything—from the floor to the walls to the ceiling—was gold. Chandeliers made of transparent crystal hung everywhere. And from each chandelier, long blades were thrust downward. Swords, and more swords.
There were swords on the floor, the walls, and the ceiling.
"You've come."
I was momentarily overwhelmed by the shining scenery. Then, I heard the sound of footsteps from afar.
Thump. Thump.
"It's been a while since the Small Land of Swords."
"I didn't expect you to arrive so soon."
"It's been a long time, child."
Familiar faces. The three other ancestors I had seen in the Small Land of Swords, which I had visited with Bermartin's help in Blade City Cherny. The old man, the young man, and the beautiful woman. The three Caravans were walking toward me.
And.
"Is that him? The Last Caravan."
"A fledgling. But his heart is solid."
"So he really is the final Caravan."
"He's handsome. Unlike a Caravan."
I felt numerous presences from the walls and the ceiling as well. Every single one of them was a Caravan.
"Welcome to the Golden Treasury, distant descendant."
I even felt a sense of tenderness. It felt like returning home.
But the warmth didn't last long.
"...Welcome?"
A voice like scraping iron—a chilling sound—echoed through the space. Simultaneously, all other voices ceased.
"How ridiculous, welcoming someone."
Creeak.
With a bizarre sound, a vibration felt from deep within the golden world. At the source of the vibration was a pitch-black sword. A blade made of black iron, just like Dwight's. That sword was plunged into the golden floor, radiating an ominous aura like a cursed object.
The black sword trembled.
Suddenly, with a thud, my body was jerked upward. I felt like I was being strangled. Gasping, I looked down to see a man gripping my throat. He had seized my neck with one hand and lifted me up. I tried to shake off his hand, but it wouldn't budge. It felt like a massive mountain was holding me down. It didn't feel like a living creature; it felt like nature itself was standing there.
"The First Caravan chose you?"
The man's eyes were hollow. The area around his eyes was sunken and dark, and his cheeks were hollowed out like a sick man's. His entire body was emaciated, his skin clinging to his frame, revealing his bones. He looked like a walking corpse. Yet, the soul felt within that ruined body was unbelievably powerful. It was like looking at a legendary sword of the century sheathed in a tattered scabbard.
"Has that old man gone senile?"
The man glared at me while still gripping my throat. The darkness in his hollow eyes was as deep as the abyss. Terrifying eyes that seemed to have gathered all the darkness of every night in the world. They were so empty that if I kept staring, my soul felt like it would be sucked in. Amidst the overwhelming pressure, the man released my throat. His grip loosened, and my body tumbled to the floor.
"Or has he grown soft in his old age?"
"... Cough, wheeze."
"Why... such trash?"
The man looked down at me as I lay there, his eyes as indifferent as if he were looking at garbage on the side of the road.
"You tell me, Last Steel."
This man was different from the other Caravans. He carried an ominous atmosphere like a ghost, a gloomy energy that seemed to have collected death itself.
"The oldest soul in this tedious Golden Treasury, the Second Caravan and the one who inherited the thickest bloodline of Steel, the ancient Caravan Leon Caravan, asks you."
A rotten rope hung around the man's neck, tied into a noose. It looked like the mark of someone who had hanged himself.
"Why did the First Caravan, Liam Caravan... why did my loathsome father choose a piece of trash like you as his successor?"