A few days passed, and the rumors about the treasure began to lose their bite. Sure, the mountain still stood as an unexplainable marvel—its sudden appearance was something that seemed to defy logic.
People still talked about it, but without the promise of riches to spice up the conversation, their fascination with the 'mysterious mountain' began to lose its sparkle.
The common folk—those with their heads down and their hands in the dirt—had already moved on to their usual lives.
After all, in this world where survival of the fittest was the rule, most people didn't have the luxury of chasing myths. But the whispers of treasure lingered, like a lingering odor no amount of fresh air could fully banish.
The real vultures, however, were circling: the Dark Mages, the Human Council. The Dark Mages are the people Who have contracted with Demons and do their bidding.
Their organization is quite large they are in a Neutral relationship with Black market and hostile relationship with human council and Other races.
They were the ones salivating, making their moves, crawling like hyenas toward the city lord, determined to pry open whatever was left from the city's supposed newfound riches.
Ash didn't care about any of that. In fact, he'd had a small, somewhat sadistic smile on his face whenever he heard about the mess the city lord was surely swimming in now. That was their problem. Not mine.
Ash's problem, however, was that today was the last day of his two-week stay at the inn, and he had to finish what he started. He'd come for the Rune, and he wasn't leaving without it.
He packed his things with an air of finality, slipping them into his space ring. Everything he needed was in there, and everything else—well, it didn't matter.
He wasn't staying in this city any longer than he had to. The next city will be better, he thought. No more petty distractions.
The city outside was still buzzing with the aftermath of the 'treasure that wasn't,' but Ash just smirked and made his way toward the Train station. It's showtime.
At the train station, he bought his ticket for the evening's departure, but first, there were a couple of important errands to run. The mage-link rail would get him out of the city, but his real goal was still buried in the mountains.
He made his way to a magical equipment shop and purchased two teleportation scrolls. They weren't cheap, not by any means, but he wasn't in the mood for a detour.
The scrolls would let him zip a kilometer with a flash of magic. It wasn't much, but it would be enough to get him in and out of the cave before anyone knew what had hit them.
Next, he stopped by a potion shop and bought a stealth potion. It was pricey, but worth it. The potion would conceal his mana signature, making it harder for anyone with an affinity for magic detection to spot him.
No way am I getting caught now.
With everything packed away and a near-empty coin pouch, Ash smiled to himself. Well, at least I won't need much money after this. He was ready. The plan was simple, and he'd prepared for it all.
He left the shop, stepping into the light of the afternoon sun. The city was bustling with life—people yelling to each other, merchants hawking their wares, guards patrolling the streets, their eyes constantly darting to the horizon, waiting for anything suspicious. Ash couldn't help but chuckle to himself. They have no idea.
With everything packed and bought, Ash headed for the mountains. After walking for a while, he finally saw the towering giants ahead—those mountains that had once been the source of so much chaos.
Stealthily, he moved behind trees and bushes, inching closer to the cave's entrance. He popped the stealth potion, feeling the familiar rush of energy that concealed his presence.
Thanks to the Rune of Stability, his mind remained sharp, his heartbeat steady—he felt unnaturally calm as he crept closer to the guards at the entrance.
It was his first time pulling something like this off, but everything felt strangely easy. The potion worked wonders on his nerves, and the Rune helped keep him focused. Once he was close enough, Ash used one of the teleportation scrolls.
Flash!
In an instant, he was inside the cave. A rush of disorienting magic tingled through his body. It was like stepping through a portal in one of the games he used to play—except this time it was real.
He blinked, adjusting to the sudden change in environment, then focused on the task at hand.
Time was of the essence. He moved swiftly, heading toward the room where the chest was located, his footsteps echoing in the quiet cavern. The potion's effects hadn't worn off yet, and he wasn't about to waste a second.
When he reached the room, he didn't hesitate. Ash pulled out the blood he had taken earlier and poured it onto the chest. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, the chest began to disintegrate into dust, leaving behind a simple stone.
Ash smirked, his lips curling into a smile that—if anyone had seen it—might've made them think he was a psychopath. He'd done it. The Rune was in his hand.
Without wasting any time, he placed the note he'd prepared earlier inside the chest's remnants. This was all part of the plan—leave a trace to keep anyone from suspecting what had truly happened.
Then, just as quickly as he'd entered, he used the second teleportation scroll to get out of the cave.
The whole thing had gone far smoother than he could've imagined. If the guards had been stronger, things might've gone differently, but who would've believed that a Rune was hidden in such an ordinary-looking chest? It made his task so much easier.
Back in the city, Ash grabbed a quick lunch, then boarded the mage-link rail for the next city. The moment the train pulled away, he let out a long breath, finally able to relax. Everything had gone exactly as planned.
For the first time in days, Ash let himself smile. It was done. The Rune was his. And now, he could finally begin the next phase of his journey.
***
Edrim stood in the center of the City Lords room, sweat beading on his forehead as he tried to explain himself. His once-sturdy confidence was crumbling with every passing moment.
The council members and the elves alike were waiting for answers, and Edrim had none that would satisfy them. He had nothing but frustration boiling beneath the surface.
"There's was no Rune," Edrim snapped, his voice laced with exhaustion. "It was a damn setup from the start. A B-rank dagger. A healer's skill book. That's all that was inside that damn chest." He slammed his fist against the table, the sound reverberating through the tense air.
Velmond, one of the council's SS-Rank leading members, slammed his palm down, eyes wide with disbelief. "Do you hear yourself, Edrim? You discovered the chest, and you're telling us there's nothing valuable in it?"
"I'm telling you the truth!" Edrim growled, pacing back and forth, his mind on fire with frustration. " I don't know what kind of sick game this is, but there was no rune. Nothing of importance was ever inside. I've been trying to tell you that for days now!"
But the council was having none of it. They exchanged skeptical glances, whispering amongst themselves.
The elves, who had been standing in their own corner, looking like they were above this entire farce, now glared at him with cold, accusatory eyes.
"How convenient," one elf muttered, his sharp gaze piercing through Edrim. "You want us to believe that there was no treasure? We all know that whenever there is a fusion of worlds and dungeons, there's a Rune, and you're saying there was nothing there. You've hidden it, haven't you?"
"No!" Edrim barked, his eyes flashing with anger. "I swear on everything I hold dear, there's nothing there! You've been played! You've been manipulated by someone smarter than all of you. This whole thing was a setup. It was never about the treasure—it was about stirring chaos, about dragging all of you into this mess."
The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of Edrim's words sinking in. The elves were glaring at him, their hands twitching at their weapons, while the council members whispered among themselves, their faces contorted with suspicion.
But before anyone could speak, a loud knock echoed through the room, breaking the tension.
"Enter," Velmond called, his voice barely above a whisper.
The door creaked open, and a guard rushed in, his face pale and his breath shallow. "My Lord," he panted, "There's—there's news from the cave. The chest—it's gone. Disintegrated. It's all gone. And there's a note left behind."
Edrim's stomach twisted. His heart sank. His worst fear was that someone had gotten to the chest before him, but now, this? His blood ran cold as the guard handed Velmond the note.
Velmond read the words aloud, his voice trembling with disbelief, each syllable more damning than the last:
"Thank you. It was absolutely fun playing with all of you. Don't forget me—Shadow Reaper ,I'll be back, be ready to cover your sorry butts again."
The room went deathly silent.
The council members and the elves alike stood frozen, their faces draining of color. The words from the note hung in the air like poison, the sting of realization settling in.
"You idiot," Velmond hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "This was never about the damn treasure, was it? It was a game. A sick joke."
Edrim's hands clenched into fists at his sides, his mind racing. Whoever had written that note had just played them all, had toyed with their greed, their suspicions, and now, they were left in the wake of their own failures.
The chest—disintegrated, the rune gone, and now this mocking note. The room felt like it was closing in on him.
Velmond slammed his fist onto the table again, the force of the impact sending a tremor through the room. "You're right. Someone played us. But it's you, Edrim, who failed us. You let this happen."
Edrim opened his mouth to retort, but the words stuck in his throat. He couldn't defend himself. Everything he'd done, everything he'd tried to protect, had been shattered in an instant. He had no answers, and the council wouldn't listen anymore.
"Get out of my sight," Velmond spat, his eyes burning with disgust. "We'll handle this from here. You've already done enough damage."
Edrim stood still for a moment, the weight of it all crashing down on him. The elves, the council—they had all turned against him. They had all lost trust. He wasn't just a failure to them. He was the scapegoat.
As the door slammed shut behind him, Edrim stood there for a moment longer, his thoughts a tangled mess of rage, guilt, and desperation. But in the pit of his stomach, something else stirred—an ominous feeling that whoever had orchestrated this had just begun.
***