He looked up at the moon, now fully visible in the night sky, and froze.
Oh.
Oh.
Nero's eyes widened. Of course. A leprechaun's treasure wouldn't just be sitting in some obvious cave. These creatures were infamous for their deceptive magic, hiding things in plain sight through complex enchantments.
They'd been known to conceal entire castles as pebbles, or turn forests into single trees that only revealed their true nature under specific conditions.
And now that he thought about it, that guy had found it at night, hadn't he? Chasing his goat under moonlight...
"If I was a leprechaun," Nero muttered, "what kind of magic would I use?"
He activated [Identify], scanning the cliff face systematically. The system's descriptions appeared in his mind:
'Natural rock formation'
'Common cliff moss'
'Cave entrance (shallow)'
'Thorny brush, indigenous to Xerkes'
'Cave entrance (15 meters deep)'
'Weathered limestone deposit'
'Ancient ru-'
He blinked. Wait, what was that? He'd looked away too quickly.
"What was that last one?"
He turned back, focusing his [Identify] on that specific spot again. There - almost hidden among the natural patterns of the rock:
[Ancient runic array (purpose: concealment), estimated age: 537 years]
As soon as he deactivated [Identify], the rune vanished completely - invisible to the naked eye. He activated it again, studying the intricate pattern.
Runes were the architecture of magic - geometric patterns that shaped and directed mana flows like riverbeds guiding water. Each symbol was a command, each connecting line a channel, each intersection a transformation point. The truly fascinating part was how they could tap into the natural mana currents that flowed through the world, creating enchantments that could sustain themselves for centuries.
This concealment array was a masterwork. The primary sigil spiraled outward in the Pattern of Endless Return, sacred to leprechaun runecraft. Secondary marks branched off at spirit-angles, creating a cascade that bent both light and perception around it. But the true genius lay in the lunar resonance marks woven through the pattern - tiny runes that shifted the array's power with the phases of the moon.
Nero had to admire the craftsmanship. These were the kind of runes you only saw in museums or old ruins. Modern runesmiths used much simpler arrays, more efficient, built on centuries of streamlined magical theory. But these old patterns... they had an artistry to them that modern runecraft had lost in its pursuit of practicality.
Knowledge of runes had survived since the time of Law, the Farmer Mage himself, who was said to possess natural runes - something Nero had never seen in his long life. Not much was known about natural runes, but they had helped Law create the foundations of artificial runecraft that mages used today.
But admiration, Nero realized, wouldn't get him inside. He needed to figure out how to disable it - or at least work around it.
Nero studied the rune carefully. Different runes responded to different triggers - some needed blood, others specific words, many just raw mana. But this one...
"If it's tied to moonlight," he muttered, thinking aloud. "Then entrance would only show under moonlight, so the rune must use it too. And if leprechauns made it..." He remembered something from his magical theory classes. "Leprechauns always built redundancies into their magic. They never relied on just one key."
The pattern seemed to flow toward a central point, currently obscured by centuries of vine growth. Working carefully, keeping [Identify] active to ensure he didn't lose sight of the rune, he cleared away the vegetation. Each time he exposed more of the pattern, new details emerged - smaller runes branching off the main array, all converging toward that center point.
"Okay, so moonlight's one component," he reasoned. "The rune needs to see it directly." He stepped back, making sure the moon's light fell squarely on the newly exposed pattern. Nothing happened, but the lines seemed to shimmer slightly.
"And if it's using moonlight, it's probably designed to channel mana the same way." He traced the pattern with his eyes. "Look at how all these lines spiral inward - like a funnel. It's not just blocking magic, it's... directing it?"
He placed his hand on the central point and channeled his mana carefully, trying to match the flow suggested by the pattern. For a moment, nothing happened. Then he felt it - a subtle resonance, like two tuning forks harmonizing. The rune began to glow faintly, moonlight and mana interweaving through its ancient lines.
"That's it," he breathed. "It's not about forcing it. It's about matching its rhythm..."
The rune flared with silvery light, matching the moon's pale glow perfectly. The illumination spread through the pattern like liquid mercury flowing through glass channels, until Nero no longer needed [Identify] to see it.
Then came the transformation - it started at the edges, the ancient geometric patterns beginning to flow like water, yet somehow maintaining their precise mathematical beauty.
The lines twisted, curved, and reformed themselves in a hypnotic dance. Where rigid angles had been, now flowing scripts emerged. The transformation rippled inward, each ring of runes morphing in sequence, like watching a language being born.
What emerged was... writing? Yes, definitely writing, but in no script he immediately recognized. The letters - if they could be called that - had a certain angular quality to them, each character precise and purposeful. He squinted at them, trying to make sense of the flowing shapes.
Wait. He'd seen something like this before, in the books about the outer kingdoms. The way the characters were constructed, each one built from straight lines meeting at sharp angles...
"Dwarven?" he muttered in disbelief. "Why would there be Dwarven writing on a leprechaun's treasure cave?"
Something wasn't adding up. And how had that shepherd managed to get past this? This wasn't the kind of puzzle you solved by accident - it required knowledge of ancient languages, understanding of complex magical theory, and...
Nero ran his hands through his hair, sighing deeply. The writing seemed to mock him with its incomprehensible angles. He could decipher it, but the idea of going back and get the documents he'd need felt daunting. Then a thought struck him - perhaps... perhaps [Identify] could give him some insight?
He did not think the skill could translate things. It was a long shot, but at this point, what did he have to lose?
[Identify] displayed its findings:
'Writing style: Late Second Era Dwarven Common Script
Origin: Mountain Holds of Khahazad
Approximate dating: 2,847 years old
"Great. Very helpful," Nero sighed, turning to climb down. Then new text appeared in his vision:
[Would you like to translate this language?]
"YES!" Nero practically shouted, then caught himself, grinning like a child. "Oh system, I love you, I really do! Actually, wait - are you a he or a she?"
[This system does not possess gender]
"Well, I can't keep calling you 'system.' That's so... impersonal. What about a name?"
[You may designate any title you prefer]
"How about... Sir Blue the Magnificent?"
[No.]
"Wait, do you have sentience? Because that was a pretty definitive 'no.'"
[This system does not possess sentience]
"Right... we're definitely coming back to this conversation later," Nero said, his curiosity piqued. But the moonlight wouldn't last forever. "For now, let's see what this writing says. Please translate."
The ancient Dwarven script began to shimmer and shift, each character dissolving and reforming in Common before his eyes. Like watching ink bleed through paper in reverse, familiar letters emerged from the angular shapes:
"What dies each night but rises anew,
Never the same yet always true,
Marked forever by what came before,
Yet clean as dawn upon the shore?"
It was a riddle.
"Huh."
Nero hated riddles.