The walk back to the entrance was quick and silent. The voices and the heavy atmosphere had vanished as if they never existed in the first place.

Lucen exited the treasury, and the king was there to meet him.

"Oh, you barely made it before the six hours were over." The king looked at his pocket watch and spoke. "So what did you choose?"

Lucen then showed the ring on his finger. The second the king saw the ring, Lucen noticed that the king had a weird expression on his face.

What made it weird was that Lucen could not tell what kind of expression it was. It was like he suddenly became stoic like his Father, but at the same time, there's this hidden feeling that the king seemed to be hiding that Lucen could not quite pick up on.

"Where did you find that?"

"It was near the end of the treasury, wrapped around in mist. Why is there something wrong?"

"I have seen all the treasures in there, but not once have I seen that one. What was it called? Was there a name written? What are its abilities?"

"All of those were said to be unknown. It only said that this was once the ring of my Ancestor, which he won from a powerful world and then gifted to his best friend, the first King, before he went to his final battle."

"..." King Ragnor did not respond as he stared at the ring. "An item from the era of the first king, no, based on what you said, Edric Thornehart winning it from a powerful warlord of that time means it should be from a much older era."

Ragnor stepped closer, his boots echoing softly against the cold stone floor. His eyes never left the ring, not Lucen's hand, not Lucen himself, but the ring.

"Edric Thornehart had defeated many powerful warriors in his time. Tyrants, warlords, and anyone who called themselves a strong warrior had challenged Edric, but none had won. There were quite a few people who could be called a powerful warlord, but the first King's time was more than a millennium ago. So it would be impossible to know who that is..."

Ragnor knew that a few of the items in the treasury were dangerous to the user, but this item was supposedly something given as a gift by Edric Thornehart to the first king.

"Do you feel anything unusual?"

"Not really, there's nothing at the moment."

Lucen decided not to tell the king about the feeling he got when he first wore the ring or about the voice he heard.

'Yeah, I don't know why, but my gut is telling me keeping what happened in the treasury to myself seems like the right move for now.'

"Is that so?... Are you sure that's the item you want to take?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Lucen answered without hesitation.

Ragnor looked at Lucen's eyes for a few seconds as a smile returned to the king's face. "Very well, I did say you can take anything. I guess that ring is quite suitable, seeing as it once belonged to Edric Thornehart."

Ragnor looked at the ring a little warily. He did not really like such an unknown thing from an age long gone out in the world. Still, he trusted Lucen, no, what he trusted was the Thornehart name, the unbreakable shield of Norvaegard.

"Well then, since you have made your choice, let us return to your men, who should be quite worried about you. First, I need to close the door. You need to move a bit further away as I do this."

Lucen moved further to the back as requested, watching carefully. Once Ragnor saw that Lucen was far enough, the king raised his hand and began speaking in the Old Tongue.

The words echoed strangely, deep, resonant, almost heavy. Not magical, but ancient. Lucen had heard this language before; most adult dragons use this language, and even the main enemy of the game that hasn't shown up also uses this language.

Based on the books Lucen had read, the humans only know a tiny portion of this language, and those wanting to learn more needed to ask ancient beings like dragons.

The difficulty of learning was high, but history and myth say that those humans who learn more about the Old Tongue and learn how to use spells with it were quite powerful. Some stories even described them as demigods.

In the game, even though many wanted to learn more about the Old Tongue, there was a limit to the information. So most people, who were mostly the linguistic majors, tried to piece together the entire language with the few they got.

Some even tried to get the information from the game developers, but no answer was given to them.

'As a player, I could not learn the language, since Alexander himself wasn't that interested, but as a living person in this world, I guess I can learn more about it.'

While Lucen was thinking about the Old Tongue, King Ragnor was nearly done with what he was doing.

The metal slab that was the so-called door of the Royal Treasury, which was engraved with runes, responded.

A low hum vibrated through the stone floor, and the metal slab closed shut.

"Alright," Ragnor said, brushing the dust off his sleeves. "Now let us head back out."

He took a single step forward, then froze.

"Ah," he blinked once, then turned around as if remembering he'd left a kettle boiling. "I forgot. Unfortunately, I need to put you to sleep again, Lucen."

"I understand, your majesty. Do what you must." Lucen raised both his hands.

Ragnor nodded once. There was no spell, no chant, no glowing aura. Only the movement of a seasoned warrior, clean, efficient, practiced.

"Brace yourself."

He stepped in, placing a single fingertip on Lucen's forehead. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then Ragnor released a sharp, precise burst of aura, not enough to harm, just enough to overwhelm the brain's ability to remain conscious. A technique used by veteran knights to subdue rampaging beasts or frenzied soldiers without injury.

The aura strike was incredibly precise. It wasn't quite right to call it a blow; it was a whisper of force, compressed to the width of a needle.

Lucen barely had time to think, 'Oh, that's new,' before his vision dimmed instantly.

His knees buckled. The last thing he saw before the world faded was King Ragnor catching him by the shoulder.

***

While he was asleep, he saw a vision. He was on a battlefield, where there were humans, orcs, elves, and dwarves; they were fighting monsters, and not like the monster he and the others had fought in the monster wave.

The monsters they were fighting were frightening-looking, and many were gigantic. The sheer number of monsters makes it look like the end of the world.

The sky was dark due to the smoke from the battles. The humans were using magic and swords on the frontlines, fighting side by side with them were the orcs, wielding their axes, maces, and spears like a tornado of pure fury.

Behind them were the elves using bows, spears, and magic, launching volleys of shimmering arrows that exploded into bursts of starlight across the battlefield.

The dwarves were there too, with massive runic ballistae and reinforced siege crossbows, each bolt glowing with condensed earth-runic power. When the bolts struck, they detonated like miniature earthquakes, splintering monsters into pieces.

Lucen could feel the heat of explosions on his skin, the roar of monsters shaking his chest. Smoke burned his nostrils, and the metallic taste of blood hung in the air.

Even standing invisible in the vision, he felt the adrenaline coursing through him, his heart pounding in rhythm with the battle drums that seemed to echo from nowhere.

Heat washed over Lucen's cheeks as an explosion tore apart a cluster of monsters. His ears rang, muffling the screams and roars into a dull, suffocating hum.

Despite the alliance of humans, orcs, elves, and dwarves showing great power, they were still being overwhelmed by the sheer number of monsters.

It was at that moment that a warrior wearing armor that looked like it was made using molten lava appeared with a greatsword in hand. That person was wearing the same ring as the one Lucen had now.

The warrior held his sword upright near his chest as he spoke in a whisper, but Lucen could hear his voice clearly even amidst the noise of the battlefield. Despite the language being used being different for some reason, Lucen could understand it.

'This vision even has a translate function, how convenient.'

"I will stand firm on my beliefs. I will step forward with courage."

The moment the vow left his lips, the ring on his finger blazed. The warrior then charged into the battlefield. The warrior was like a beast unleashed as he massacred the monsters with overwhelming speed and power.

The molten warrior carved a path through the battlefield like a living calamity. When the tide of monsters finally broke under his overwhelming force, he paused, standing atop a mountain of steaming corpses.

Lava dripped from the cracks in his armor. His sword, half-melted, still burned white-hot. The battlefield quieted, the smoke swirling around him as if drawn to his presence.

Then, without warning, the entire battlefield dissolved. The roar of monsters vanished. The clash of steel fell silent. The sky of smoke and fire collapsed inward like ash washed away by rain.

Darkness swallowed everything as Lucen blinked. When his vision cleared, he found himself standing in a void, endless, weightless, silent.

But he was not alone. From the darkness, silhouettes emerged one by one. There were dozens of shadowy beings in the area, but there were only five of them circling him.

The air thickened around the five figures, their mere existence warping the void. They did not move, yet Lucen felt watched, judged.

Their presences felt colossal, like pressure on his chest, like memories of battles he'd never fought pressing against his mind.

Each silhouette was distinct:

One wrapped in rags, crawling but radiating an overwhelming will to survive, and an unbreakable will.

One clad in ceremonial armor etched with faint, dying runes, standing perfectly still.

One whose outline flickered like flames, wild and chaotic. The thirst for battle was radiating heavily from this silhouette.

One whose aura resembled flowing water, serene yet crushing.

And, of course, the molten warrior, his lava-cracked armor glowing as he stepped forward.

Lucen was about to say something when everything before him disappeared. He opened his eyes and saw familiar figures surrounding him: the King, Sir Thalos, and the others.

Lucen's eyelids fluttered, and for a moment the world tilted sideways. His limbs felt heavy, as though something enormous had been sitting on his chest during the vision.

"Are you alright, little leader?" Harlik asked, looking a little worried.

Lucen, who was catching his breath, looked around him, a little confused, trying to gather his thoughts. When he was able to calm himself down, a smile appeared on his face.

A faint tremor ran down Lucen's fingers. Not fear, excitement. Like a child who had just seen the world's most dangerous toy and wanted to touch it again.

'That was awesome! I actually saw a vision, like it was some kind of cut scene. That guy in molten armor was obviously a previous owner of the ring. That could mean those other silhouettes were also previous owners? Does this mean I get to inherit their power or something? Or is it like I can use their power when certain conditions are met?'

Lucen's smile grew wider. As he was getting excited by himself, the people around him looked at him worriedly.

"Young lord, is everything alright?"

When Lucen heard Sir Thalos's voice, he quickly straightened his posture and cleared his throat.

"Yes, I'm alright... I was just gathering my thoughts since I suddenly woke up in the middle of a dream."

He took a slow breath, still feeling the echo of the vision. Once everyone was reassured that he was alright, the group thanked the king and said goodbye as they headed to the Thornehart estate.