The Hidden Heirloom

The passage was narrower than Jun had expected—barely wide enough for one grown man to squeeze through.

"Master."

Andras spoke in a worried voice.

"What is it?"

"I don't think I can fit."

"Ah."

Jun looked up at Andras.

With that enormous body of his, easily more than four meters tall, there was no way he could make it through the passage.

"Wait here."

"Understood. Be careful, Master."

Jun stepped into the passage alone.

Creak—

The sound of his footsteps echoed in the cramped space.

The corridor was far more complicated than he had expected.

Walls built from ancient stone stretched out like a maze, and strange, unfamiliar patterns were carved into them here and there.

Reliefs that seemed to depict lions glared at him from the darkness, their red eyes flashing as they watched him pass.

Click. Click.

Only his footsteps broke the silence.

Left.

At the first fork, Jun turned left.

Torches along the wall burst to life on their own, lighting the way as if welcoming a guest.

But the person who designed this place clearly had no intention of welcoming intruders.

Click—

Every time he moved, he could hear the pressure plates in the floor engaging.

There had to be traps hidden somewhere.

The traps are still the same.

Jun moved with even greater caution.

Whoosh—

Suddenly, a massive axe blade dropped from the ceiling.

Jun crouched instantly.

Crash!

The blade slammed into the exact spot where he had been standing a moment before.

What came next, again?

He advanced carefully once more.

This time, instead of the floor, he watched the cracks in the wall with sharp attention.

Swish—

Poison darts shot out from the wall, but Jun had already anticipated them and dodged with ease.

Forward.

The second fork. He went straight this time.

Right.

At the third junction, he turned right.

Forward again.

Drawing on the memory of his first run, Jun found the correct route.

Before his regression, he remembered wandering this unknown maze for more than thirty minutes.

He had been forced to turn back again and again after running into dead ends and traps.

But this time was different.

He already knew the answer.

Click, click, click.

The traps activated one after another, but Jun had anticipated every single one.

Falling rocks, poison gas jets, collapsing floors, flame launchers.

He evaded them all perfectly and pushed deeper into the labyrinth.

Of course, things were changing little by little, but with his knowledge from the previous timeline, the patterns were still more than manageable.

And then, at last—

"Got it."

At the end of the corridor stood a massive stone door.

The whole thing was decorated with golden lion carvings.

Two lions faced one another, each frozen in a roar.

Ancient characters circled the door, but they were written in a script he couldn't decipher.

Creak—

Jun pushed the stone door open, and with a heavy groan, it yielded.

Beyond it was—

A temple.

No, more precisely, it was the altar of a shrine.

The domed ceiling was painted with constellations, and the walls were covered in reliefs depicting the history of the lions.

And at the center of the altar—

Woom—

A small necklace floated in the air, radiating a golden aura.

Jun's eyes gleamed.

He walked carefully up to the altar and picked up the talisman.

Warmth flowed into his palm.

Jun slipped the talisman around his neck.

At once, warmth spread through his entire body.

Now I can use skills even if I run out of mana.

Of course, it would consume his health, but Jun's main skills had enough power to erase most bosses in a single strike.

On top of that, there was the bonus that any skill ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fueled by his health would become 1.5 times stronger.

This should make the Dark Souls section a lot easier.

Jun smiled in satisfaction.

Now that he had the talisman, it was time to go back.

But then—

"Hhhngh... sob... sob..."

The sound of a child's crying seeped through the darkness.

*

Jun stopped in his tracks.

During his first run, this place had been utterly silent. An eerie, breathless shrine where not even the faintest sound could be heard.

But now a child's sobs were rolling along the walls.

Unfamiliar. Ominous.

Something is definitely changing. The rules I knew are being twisted.

Just as the boss patterns had changed and the traps had shifted little by little, this crying was a sound that hadn't existed before his regression.

"Is anyone there...? I'm scared..."

The crying became clearer and clearer.

Jun moved toward the back of the altar.

In a corner swallowed by darkness, he found an old door hidden from view.

During his first run, this had definitely been an empty space.

"I won't hurt you. Is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠someone there?"

He spoke gently, but the inside remained silent.

Crash—!

He shoved the door open, and rotten wood scattered as the interior was revealed.

Inside, three girls were crouched together, clutching one another.

Their eyes were swollen red from crying, their clothes were tattered, and dried tears stained their cheeks.

"It's a monster!"

"Don't come closer!"

The girls screamed and scrambled farther into the corner.

But there wasn't even room to hide in this little chamber.

Jun put away his greatsword and knelt.

Meeting their eyes, he spoke slowly.

"I'm not a monster. I'm not here to hurt you."

After a long silence, the most mature-looking of the three girls finally parted her lips.

"Really...? You're not a monster?"

"Your eyes look scary..."

Their pupils trembled.

Jun gave a small nod.

Only then did the girls' shoulders ease a little.

But fear still clung to them, and the tears still wouldn't stop.

As time passed, fragments of their story began to spill out.

Their mother had been the curator of the Reversing Clock Tower.

In the Dark Souls world, those who governed a specific region were not simply leaders or boss monsters.

They were the last noble bloodlines left in this ruined dimension, descendants of the old imperial family.

That meant the girls before him were not just ordinary children, either.

They were the curator's blood, heirs to royalty.

The most precious seeds in this land, and at the same time the most expensive sacrifices.

The girls' words came in fragments, broken and uneven.

"A monster came... and killed Mom..."

"It killed Mom... and everyone else too..."

"H-hhhngh..."

The monster's name was Chronos.

The one who overturned time.

He had torn everyone in the clock tower apart while they were still alive, and even the curator had been dyed in blood.

But the children alone had not been killed.

Not spared.

Left behind.

They had been preserved to be offered up at the feast of the Lion King, Laugar.

"He said he'd eat us when we became adults..."

Jun felt the air around him turn cold.

This wasn't simply about eating flesh.

The laws of Dark Souls were always ritualistic.

The moment a child's pure blood began to cloud.

The blood spilled on the threshold of adulthood.

That was the rule that made it the most valuable, the most fragrant of sacrifices.

So they had been left alive, not rescued.

They were being waited on—waiting for the day they would gleam most brilliantly on a monster's table.

Disgusting.

The reason Jun hated the Dark Souls floors ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wasn't just because of their grotesque difficulty.

It was because there were always hidden stories like this underneath—filthy, ugly stories.

He looked at the girls for a moment, then spoke quietly.

"What do you want me to do?"

The original plan was simple.

Now that he had obtained the Lion's Talisman, he would head straight for the 19th floor and break through the next segment.

But the three children before him were not mere NPCs.

Jun knew that.

They were beings forcibly bound here by the Tower's administrator, reduced to NPCs against their will.

They were not just data, but living souls who had once breathed and existed in their own worlds.

So-called captives.

Then—

"I want to bury Mom..."

"Please find Mom's keepsake..."

"Hhhngh..."

The girls' desperate voices overlapped and echoed through the room.

Jun's gaze ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wavered.

There were countless zones in the Dark Souls world.

The Lion King's fortress, the Reversing Clock Tower, the endless underground mine tunnels he'd already cleared—each one stood as its own kingdom, and every curator who ruled them carried the blood of royalty.

The girls' mother had been one of them.

The curator of the clock tower, a descendant of the imperial bloodline.

And the children standing before him were the last remnants of that blood.

Jun closed his eyes for a moment.

Since his regression, he had always moved according to the shortest possible route.

Unnecessary exploration was a waste of time. If he could climb quickly, that was enough.

But now—

Well, there is plenty to gain here anyway.

The words might as well drifted through his mind.

Every zone in Dark Souls had its own unique items and rewards.

Ritual tools that raised stats, rare gear above B-rank, even new companion items.

Leveling itself was limited, but opportunities to raise his stats directly could only be found here.

Besides—

---------Pasia, 13 years old

---------Presentia, 12 years old

---------Pasia, 12 years old

---------Presentia, 10 years old

---------Pertra, 9 years old

---------Pasia, 10 years old

Faint words had been scratched into the wall.

Roughly carved names, and beside them, numbers etched like tally marks.

It was evidence that the children had been recording their own heights and ages.

Line by line, they had scratched those marks with tiny hands, as if confirming the time they had survived in this place.

Looking at the traces, Jun silently steadied his breathing, then slowly closed his eyes.

They've been trapped here for... more than three years already.

Each number was both a record of these children's growth and a death sentence pointing toward how much time they had left.

That realization pressed even heavier on his chest.

...Maybe I really did arrive too late in the previous timeline.

When he had visited this place in the former run, the room had definitely been empty.

An empty, cold chamber with nothing in it.

But what if—

What if the room hadn't been empty from the start, and the girls had already been offered up as sacrifices before he arrived?

Jun's brow furrowed deeper.

To him, the little words carved into the wall felt like the children's last will and testament.

Clench—

"I definitely will."

In truth—

"I definitely..."

Jun was rather sensitive.

"I..."

And he had a soft heart.

Drip, drip—

Especially when it came to children.

I was the one who was late. I was.

Perhaps in the previous timeline, by the time he arrived late, the children had already been offered up as sacrifices.

Jun blamed himself for all of it.

"M-Mister Dragon Eyes is crying..."

"Why are you crying...?"

"He's crying... hhhngh..."

Even though the children in front of him had not experienced such a tragedy,

because he felt sorry for them—

Drip, drip—

tears fell from his eyes.

42