Chapter 81 - 79 — Rod
"Demorian Calderalth."
Zephyrion’s eyes narrowed slightly.
’The third head of house.’
The same figure said to have been born with the complete metal rune... just like him.
A Runeborn.
He moved on to the other names inscribed above each compartment. They all belonged to previous heads of Calderalth, ending with the last one.
When his gaze caught the years etched beneath them, he gave a faint nod.
’Tombs.’
This was most likely their final resting place. Zephyrion let his gaze linger on the compartment bearing Demorian’s name.
The third head of house was his only lead to learning more about what it meant to be a Runeborn.
He had searched through every record he could find on the man, yet found nothing of substance. However, Demorian’s final resting place should be different.
’He didn’t restrict my movement.’
Since Kastor hadn’t specifically forbidden him from entering the tomb, then it should be fine.
Zephyrion stepped up to the steel door and brushed his palm across it. Instantly, he was reminded of Ferravyr’s metal. From touch alone, he could tell how absurdly strong it was.
’I won’t be able to move it.’
For a moment, he considered tearing down the structure around it. But the thought died the instant his arm brushed the wall.
Though the outer layer was brick, he could feel thick metal buried beneath it.
Zephyrion frowned, studying the door in silence. A moment later, his eyes narrowed as a thought surfaced in his mind.
"Hmm..."
He stepped closer once more and placed his palm against the metal. Letting out a slow breath, he steadied himself, then dipped into the WorldPulse and reached out to it.
A moment passed, and nothing happened.
’Was I wrong?’
Just as he was about to withdraw his focus, the metal flared in a sudden flash.
Zephyrion’s eyes narrowed as countless letters ignited across its surface, coursing through it before converging at the center into a sphere of brilliant light.
He stepped back instantly, watching as the sphere spread across the length and breadth of the metal. Its glow intensified, swelling in brilliance until it burst outward.
Zephyrion lifted an arm to shield his eyes from the blinding radiance.
As the light faded, he lowered his arm. The metal door was gone, replaced by a hollow expanse of darkness.
’I see.’
As he had suspected, Demorian being a Runeborn meant their resonance would be somewhat similar. What the metal had responded to wasn’t his intent, but the resonance itself.
The door hadn’t been made to be opened forcefully, but through a specific resonance. The resonance of a Runeborn. Which meant...
’He expected this.’
Zephyrion stood before the darkness for several seconds, his gaze growing cautious. Then, settling his mind, he stepped forward and entered.
Unfortunately, every conclusion Zephyrion had drawn remained in his mind. Though Kastor and Garrick watched from the shadows, they heard none of it.
All they had was what unfolded before their eyes.
By now, both their eyes had widened to their limits.
"What the hell..."
Every one of those tombs had been crafted by a head of house before their death. Each had designed their own, reinforcing it with their strongest metal, runes, and defenses.
The purpose was simply to leave something behind for the next head of house, provided they could open it.
Regardless, over the past centuries, each of those tombs had been opened and their contents uncovered, all except one... the third head of house.
Every generation of heads, even Kastor himself, had tried, yet none had managed to make that metal so much as shift.
Yet, a child barely at the Vessel rank had opened it.
"...you see what I mean? If we’d stayed outside, we would’ve missed this." Garrick spoke with a wide grin.
Kastor had yet to recover from the shock, his gaze fixed on the now open compartment, silent.
"...yeah."
"...let’s move. Before he does another crazy shit."
...
The darkness that swallowed Zephyrion’s vision lasted only a second. The next, he found himself standing within a small room.
A faint glow from above cast a soft light across the space. The room was completely empty, save for a black statue of a grinning man positioned at its center.
Zephyrion frowned.
For the tomb of a head of house, he had expected something more, an array of powerful rune arts, relics, at the very least something that reflected the fear they once commanded at their peak.
’Did someone get here first?’
The thought faded as quickly as it came. The air carried a stale, moldy scent, and cracks ran across the surfaces.
There were no traces of shelves or storage, nothing to suggest anything had ever been kept here. Only the statue remained.
He stepped closer, studying it. His gaze sharpened as something embedded in its chest caught his attention.
It was a metal rod.
"Hm?"
He suddenly sensed a faint hum emanating from the metal rod. It was almost as if it were trying to... communicate.
’Let’s see.’
Zephyrion reached out, his hand brushing lightly over the rod. Seconds passed, and nothing happened.
A faint sense of déjà vu crept in, and he dipped into the WorldPulse and focused on it.
The rod ignited instantly, flaring with brilliant light as countless letters spun across its surface.
Zephyrion instinctively tried to pull back, only to find an overwhelming force locking him in place.
His eyes narrowed.
"Wha—"
Before he could react, the world collapsed around him in a storm of light and darkness. Just as the thought of what was happening crossed his mind, the sensation vanished.
He stood at the summit of a towering cliff.
A violent wind tore past him, whipping his clothes and hair into a frenzy.
A broad, grisly man stood with his back to him just a few meters away. His attention was fixed on a large boar roasting over a fire, his posture relaxed as one hand disappeared into his loincloth, scratching idly.
"...."
"Come on, baby... cook already. I’ve been waiting forever to dig into that juicy flesh of yours. I’ll suck every bit of those juices out and fill myself up with—"
"...hey."
"Huh—what!?"