—Wow, that's very bad, Andert!
—Rejecting Her Highness! Do you know how lucky you are?
In an old pub full of wounded, some cried and others laughed. It was like a melting pot of confusion and complication. However, this division was precisely how we endured the war. We couldn't move forward if we were stuck in despair. We had to look at what we had left, not what we had lost. Then one day, while we continued like this... the war would end.
The day Natasha got drunk, which was considered rare, all the soldiers gathered in the pub, united in spirit, making small jokes to each other.
—Andert, the owner wants to take a photo. Shall we go?
I started rubbing my right arm, which had started to hurt again, and looked out the window. The moon was shining.
—Suddenly? It's intro like we're taking a drunk certification photo.
—They say it's for the newspaper article. They want to raise morale, so do something about that messy hair, eh?
—If I appear in an article like this, I won't be able to appear anywhere anymore.
After being almost dragged away, I stood at the entrance of the pub. Even Natasha, who had been talking about marriage for a while, stood next to me with a radiant smile at that moment.
—I like this city. I like the people. And I'm glad you're back...
—Everything seems fine when you're drunk.
—Andert the cold. You're a cold-hearted guy. Let's come back here when the war ends. Together. We can do it, can't we? Let's do it...
On my other side was Raphael, drinking a glass of alcohol.
—The reinforcement units have arrived, Andert. Leave as soon as you take that photo.
—Yes.
Oh, that was a relief. I thought I would have to live the rest of my life as a one-armed swordsman.
The pub owner and the soldiers discussed this and that and decided that the photos would be taken of eight people at a time. And of course, everyone had to have a glass in their hand. The image had to smell of alcohol.
—Mr. Andert, raise the glass higher!
I raised my hand higher at the owner's request.
—No.
Higher. I tried, at least, but Raphael stopped me. Instinctively, I turned my head. A large hand, covered in persistent scars, gripped my left arm.
—No, Andert. Don't reach out any further.
I was just trying to take a photo. His red eyes were so intense they gave me chills. I wanted to ask why, what the problem was, but the words wouldn't come out.
It wasn't just my voice. My ears closed and my vision darkened. The pub and the people faded. All my senses seemed to plunge into the water. In the flickering world, only Raphael's voice echoed slowly and spread.
—Don't reach out your hand under any circumstances.
When I opened my eyes again, the first thing I saw was my left hand, which was reaching towards a dirty shelf. A few inches from the tips of my fingers an old green book stuck out. If I had reached out a little further, I could have easily touched it.
—Don't reach out your hand under any circumstances.
I slowly walked back, reflecting on Raphael's warning. The confusion in my mind dissipated immediately. As the narrow field of vision expanded rapidly, I recognized the space I was in.
"This is the royal treasury vault in Westwinterre."
And I was...
—Did I fall into a mental magic trap?
Ah, that's why I suddenly got caught in the memories of the old days. I took a moment to breathe and looked around. It wasn't as dark as before. I could see furniture like desks and chairs scattered everywhere. I walked all the way here trapped in that trap.
The structure of the trap I was caught in was unusual. Unrelated to the lever or the exit, it seemed designed to submerge the target in their memories, bringing to light fragments of the past. The target, caught by nostalgia, would naturally lose control over their body. They would be drawn towards the direction the trap was taking them, probably trying to press this green book. And at the moment they pressed it... the trap would activate and kill them.
—...The smell of blood.
Indeed, in the distance, right under my nose, there were unrecognizable remains and stains scattered over the shelf. There seemed to be a method to periodically dispose of the corpses that had been kneaded like dough by the trap.
"It seems the traps developed by Mephisto's army have been modified for the protection of the vault."
This was definitely a place guarded by the sword master. At first glance it had no special traps, but that's why it was easier to be caught off guard. Thinking that death awaited me if I had taken a few more steps while I was immersed in my memories. It was perfect for dealing with intruders exhausted by overcoming difficulties. However, it seemed that Raphael in my memories didn't want me to rot away trapped in this dark and gloomy vault. Raphael had always been like that, after all.
—Thanks, Raphael.
Natasha was also a bonus.
—As expected, the answer is courage.
Perseverance can overcome even mental traps.
Next I walked along the wall, reflecting on the structure shown in the plan. Inside the display cases with iron bars enchanted with traps, there were various objects. They were so diverse that they didn't look like treasures at all. From a wooden chair where an apparently noble figure died peacefully (I don't understand why it's considered a treasure), to a garden chair favored by the founding emperor (similar case).
—This is the nail clipper used in ancient rituals... What an extraordinary item, indeed!
Passing among the bewildering treasures, I came across one that would leave anyone who looked at it speechless.
—The Leleria Meter.
It was here. The Leleria meter was a magic device that measured the combat power of the target. It was known for its precision and, since only one object remained, it was considered a treasure. Should I steal it?
—...Let's hold back.
Anyway, what's the point of measuring combat power? I didn't like it as much as Jean. I used Rue's trap dismantler to neutralize the magic detector surrounding the bars. Then I bent the sturdy bars and stuck my hand in, stealing the meter. I couldn't help it.
—It seems like it will be fun.
Now, I only had one use left for the trap dismantler. I checked the remaining treasures indifferently, fearing I would feel the temptation to steal them.
"They also have a lot of Rogue things."
And finally I reached a small, compact iron bar. The item stored in this very place was my final destination.
—Hmm?
The diary of Dian Cecht!
Why was there nothing there when it was supposed to be there? I brought my face close to the cage and examined it closely. Once again, nothing.
—It's definitely this one.
There's no way they cast an invisibility spell only on the Diary.
—As expected, the sword master got it first.
Then I didn't have to explore anymore. The agony was short-lived. Without looking at the remaining iron bars, I immediately went down the cliff. According to the plan, this vault consisted of a total of four floors, but I never went up to the upper floors.
"Staying in a space like this for too long can be dangerous in many ways."
What I felt while examining the iron bars was that the recorded locations of the treasures on the plan were slightly different. Maybe the structure was designed so that the location of the treasures changed slightly every time an intruder entered. The map itself was probably a trap.
"The diary may be kept on the second floor, but... the higher I climb, the more dangerous it will become."
Vaults were usually designed to lure intruders to deeper areas and make it harder for them to exit. Following the direction marked on the map for the exit, I moved and formulated the following plan. But actually there was no real plan for the future.
"For now, it's much better to let the sword master have the diary."
And then I would steal the diary from the sword master who stole it. Although I had found the next best solution, the current plan had ultimately failed.
I had to move relentlessly through the space behind the pillar, without any light touching me for ten minutes, and squeeze my body into the crack between the rocks, moving through the narrow gap for twenty minutes. At last I heard the sound of the waterfall. I walked towards the waterfall, enjoying the faint sunlight of the morning, with the stars melting away.
When I was passing through the water curtain, the quiet birch forest appeared. At that moment. A sword emerged, cutting through the falling water. The blade, which was in a horizontal position, passed between my left earlobe and jaw, and stopped. If my reaction had been delayed a bit, it would have pierced my lower jaw and lodged in the rock on the side.
"The numbers are..."
The sound of the waterfall made it hard for me to distinguish the presence. No, the most important thing was that the opponent was intro an ordinary person. I touched my right ear by reflex. I could feel Rue's magic tool.
At that moment...
—Agh.
A dark hand reached out from beyond the waterfall and grabbed my face. With the strong pressure squeezing my face, ice-cold water fell on my head. The Milky Way in the sky, beyond the waterfall, appeared before my sight. In the middle of all this was a large man.