For the next few minutes, a heavy silence lingered—especially for the emperor and his advisor, whose fear was written across every line of their faces. Then, at last, the DNA scan completed. A chanical female voice rang out, calm and absolute.
“DNA confird. Welco, Emperor.”
At those words, the colossal vault door stirred, beginning to part with a deep, chanical groan that echoed through the chamber. Slowly, it opened, revealing the treasure hidden beyond.
What lay past the threshold was vast—no, colossal—a grand cathedral of wealth and craftsmanship that defied imagination. Gold lay strewn across the marble floor in chaotic piles, glittering in the vault’s artificial light. There was more of it than most people could conceive of owning across multiple lifetis. And yet, it was heaped carelessly, like discarded scrap. In this place, it was unmistakably clear—gold was the least valuable of all the treasures stored here.
The four of them stepped inside, their footsteps echoing faintly against the high-vaulted chamber. Behind them, the massive door began to close with a slow, chanical groan.
“Keep the door open,” Mikael ordered, his gaze cold as it settled on the emperor.
Complying without delay, the emperor turned toward the door and spoke in a firm tone, “I want you to keep the vault door open for the entire duration of our presence here.”
The emotionless female voice responded at once. “Are you certain, Emperor? This action represents a significant breach of security protocol.”
“I’m sure,” he replied, doing his best to sound confident.
“Understood. The main vault door will remain open for the duration of the Emperor’s presence along with his current companions.”
Following those words, the vault door halted its closing sequence with a chanical jolt, then slowly reversed course until it was fully open once more.
Observing the process, Mikael gave a small nod of approval. ‘Good. If that door had sealed behind us and the main vault’s defensive systems activated, things could’ve gotten ugly fast. Better to leave an escape route open than gamble on brute strength alone.’
With that brief mont of caution behind them, both Kiara and Mikael redirected their attention toward the chamber’s interior. Beyond the mounds of discarded gold lay items of true value—artifacts and relics that radiated power, history, and rarity.
Several legendary weapons rested atop sleek pedestals, each seemingly defying gravity itself. These advanced platforms used gravitational manipulation to suspend their contents in mid-air, creating the illusion that the very laws of physics had been bent to honor their presence.
One such weapon was a titanic war hamr, exuding an oppressive sense of might. Its head, forged from an incredibly dense and likely near-indestructible alloy, was engraved with intricate runes that subtly distorted the air around it—magnifying its weight and hinting at the devastating impact it could unleash with even a single swing.
Beside it, a pair of twin war axes glead nacingly under the vault’s soft lighting. Their blades reflected the ambient glow with a sharpness that seed almost unnatural, as if they had been tempered in the heart of a dying star. Their handles, wrapped in high-resistance materials, were engineered for perfect grip and balance. These weren’t just instrunts of war—they were precision-crafted tools of execution, created for maximum lethality and seamless performance.
And then, there was the green bow, its string drawn taut with unyielding tension. Resting nearby, a quiver of arrows emanated a faint hum, vibrating with latent potential. The bow itself was nothing short of a marvel—an engineering masterpiece crafted from an ancient yet remarkably resilient material. Its curvature had been calibrated with near-supernatural precision to optimize both speed and accuracy with each pull. As for the arrows, their tips shimred faintly, each one coated in a rare substance capable of piercing through even the most formidable defenses.
Each of these weapons radiated a palpable aura of power—no enchantnts, no illusions, just the unmistakable presence of perfection in their construction and purpose. They were not remnants of so lost age of magic, but rather the living proof of the dwarves’ unmatched craftsmanship, forged to inspire awe and respect in those wise enough to grasp their true worth.
Mikael and Kiara gazed at the weapons with genuine admiration, montarily captivated by their beauty and lethality. But after a few seconds, their interest began to fade. As extraordinary as these armants were, they weren’t the reason the two of them had co here.
“I know we’re not here for these weapons,” Kiara said with a playful glint in her eyes, “but they would make a nice bonus, don’t you think?”
Mikael responded with a nod. “We didn’t co here for this... but leaving such masterpieces behind would be an insult to good taste.”
With that shared understanding, the two of them moved without hesitation. The three legendary weapons they had first spotted? Now safely stored in their inventories. The others scattered deeper within the vault? Taken as well.
Anything that bore the mark of advanced technology—whether it was weaponry, experintal devices, or tools far beyond what was publicly available—was subject to the sa fate. Of course, they hadn’t forgotten the true reason for their visit. Alongside the powerful artifacts, the two of them also carefully selected large quantities of high-quality materials, rare woods, tals, and other precious resources.
Unfortunately, even with their combined inventories and the additional space provided by several storage rings—emptied beforehand so they could be tucked away inside Mikael’s inventory—they still couldn’t take everything. Even this level of preparation had limits, and the sheer volu of riches in the vault forced them to make difficult choices.
So, reluctantly, the two of them resolved to take only the absolute best—no waste of space, no unnecessary bulk. To aid in their selection, they began bombarding the emperor with rapid-fire questions about various items’ origins, uses, and materials. But the man, perhaps too far removed from the details of his own treasury, was able to answer only a handful.
Fortunately for him, his advisor proved far more useful. The older dwarf stepped forward with surprising composure and knowledge, offering detailed explanations to each of Kiara and Mikael’s inquiries as the two thodically looted the vault of everything that truly mattered.
In this manner, a few minutes passed. The main vault of the Great Dwarven Empire—once a symbol of unparalleled wealth—now looked significantly emptier. Many of its most prized treasures had mysteriously vanished, silently absorbed into the hands of their unexpected visitors.
Mikael was currently in a section of the vault he hadn’t looted yet, now ready to resu his supersonic-speed scavenging. After all, if he went at regular human speed, it would take hours to get through it all. That clearly wasn’t an option, so naturally, he relied on his incredible speed to handle the task efficiently.
Unfortunately, both of them couldn’t afford to act that freely. One of them had to stay near the dwarves at all tis, just in case they got ideas—or worse, tried sothing reckless. Right now, Kiara was the one standing guard. She still participated in the looting, of course, but she couldn’t move too far or too fast, since she had to keep a constant eye on their prisoners.
At that mont, Mikael—scouring through his end of the vault—spotted a weapon resting atop a pedestal, seemingly suspended in mid-air, as though gravity itself dared not touch it. He instantly recognized it as a legendary weapon and instinctively moved to ‘pocket’ it. But just before his hand reached the hilt, he froze.
His eyes locked onto the blade—and he truly saw it.
The weapon that captured his attention was a longsword forged from obsidian-black tal, its edge permanently stained with a faint, blood-red hue etched deep into the alloy. It wasn’t magical in the usual sense, yet it exuded an overwhelming aura—bloody, oppressive, and brutal. The very air around it seed heavier, as if the sword carried the weight of countless executions. There were no ornate flourishes, no divine blessings—only masterful craftsmanship, sharpened to deadly perfection
“Hello, beauty,” murmured Mikael as his hand closed around the hilt of the nacing blade. His gaze followed its length as he slowly raised it to eye level. For a mont, he simply admired it. Then, with casual precision, he swung the blade a few tis through the air.
“Swish.”
Each motion carved cleanly through the silence, the sword sharp enough to slice the air itself, leaving behind a crisp, cutting sound.
A small smile crept onto Mikael’s lips as the weapon settled naturally in his hand. Logically, it shouldn’t have. Like all legendary dwarven weapons, this sword had originally been forged for dwarves, whose proportions differed from humans. But these legendary weapons were crafted with an ‘adjusting’ chanism, allowing them to alter their size and balance to suit the wielder.
Of course, that function had its limits. The blade couldn’t beco a massive 20-ter monstrosity, but shifting from dwarf-sized to human-sized was well within its capabilities.
Mikael was already familiar with this feature. It wasn’t the first legendary weapon he had stol—graciously accepted from the emperor and wielded. Yet, this sword was different. It fit into his grip more perfectly than any before it. There was no rational explanation—it simply felt right, as though it belonged with him.
Lifting a finger, he pressed it carefully against the edge of the blood-hued blade. A fine cut appeared instantly, and a small droplet of blood ran down the tal before falling to the floor. He didn’t flinch. In fact, his smile deepened.
The reason was simple: the obsidian-black edge was so absurdly sharp that even with his current level of durability—where reinforced steel seed fragile in comparison—it sliced through his skin without the slightest hint of resistance, as effortlessly as a knife gliding through butter.
Satisfied with his new sword yet wanting a more thorough assessnt of its sharpness, Mikael enveloped himself in his usual aura cloak before replicating the sa motion as earlier. This ti, however, the outco was different. When he pressed his finger against the bloody-red edge of the longsword, it didn’t cut him—not imdiately, at least. Instead, he noticed that as he maintained the pressure, the blade slowly began to bite into his aura cloak.
The blade struggled considerably to break through the aura, and it was obvious that it wouldn’t be able to cut it easily or cleanly. Yet even this seemingly underwhelming result—sothing that might appear disappointing to an untrained or ignorant observer—was, in truth, remarkably impressive. In fact, it was arguably even more impressive than the previous feat of slicing through his skin as if it were paper.
After all, the difference between Mikael’s normal body and one enhanced by his aura was nothing short of astronomical. Comparing the two was like comparing a stone wall to a reinforced fortress. So for the sword to even begin cutting through his aura cloak, no matter how slowly, was an astonishing display of sharpness—far beyond ordinary standards.
In stark contrast, his usual pair of dual swords—the very ones he had relied on in countless battles—would have struggled to so much as pierce his bare skin unless he actively infused them with his aura. Without that enhancent, they would have been almost completely ineffective. The fact that this new blade could threaten his aura without being empowered itself spoke volus about its exceptional craftsmanship and lethality.
“I wonder how sharp this sword will beco once I channel my aura through it,” he murmured aloud, a note of anticipation in his voice. Unbeknownst to him, a crazed smile—one that could rival Kiara’s infamous yandere grin—had crept onto his face.
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— End of Chapter —
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