Chapter 219

Behind the Lines (III)

Cain snuck about carefully; after all, the central mansion was far more well guarded than the side pieces, leading to more frequent patrols, fewer places to hide and scurry, and a lot more scares overall. He had to tip-toe carefully, making sure he never made a sound, often sitting behind a pillar or a vase or a well-shaven shrubbery for minutes on end, waiting and anticipating.

However, he still kept moving further in; though he had no clue precisely where the ‘vault’ was, he suspected it was either inside the master bedroom, somewhere around it, or dab-smack in the basement.

He first visited the basement, but rather than a weapon, he saw something that made him sigh -- a whole heap of chained up people slowly expiring. It was a dark sight that, in ordinary times, would likely make the headlines and make the whole world squirm in agony. But, inside the Tower, sights like these would never cease, only grow in scale and cruelty.

Turning around, he walked away; if he was beset on saving every chained soul out there in the Tower, he’d never have left the first floor. He couldn’t be their savior, their beacon of light... nor did he ever intend to.

Climbing back up, he found stairs leading to the upper floors, carefully sneaking about as to go unseen.

“Wicked and cruel...”

The sordid winds somehow managed to howl past the thick walls as he made his way up, nearing the master chamber. Surprisingly, it was the least guarded place of the entire mansion -- with not a singular armed man or a woman anywhere near. There was only a door cast out of thick and old iron, heavy and padlocked, cold to touch.

“Wayward and depraved...”

Cain frowned, an eerie aura enveloping the finger he used to touch the door with. He contemplated leaving, as the slight alarm rang the bell inside his mind, but the curiosity got the best of him. Looking left and right and realizing nobody was anywhere nearby, he drew Mana into his fingers and quickly made a spell that strengthened his arms. He clutched the padlocks and pulled with all his might, biting into his gums until they nearly bled.

“Desolate and gutless...”

The door and the wall itself shook as he swallowed a groan; his fingers began to bleed and his bones began to creak, nearly breaking. With one, last pull, he managed to yank the doors from their frame, nearly toppling over with the sudden lightness as he the doors vanished from his hands. From within, a ghastly, frigid wind blew against his face, chilling his cheeks.

It was dusty and murky, tiny tendrils of fog lifting just barely above the wooden floorboards. He couldn’t discern anything within the room, yet could feel something within. He paused, standing at the doorstep, looking within.

“What fears ail you, effervescent Thief?” a melodic, playful voice spoke out, causing Cain to pause, his brows tightening. From within the mist, a pair of silver-stricken eyes peered, dancing playfully across the white canvas. “A cautious hero, or a coward? Always, always, always a quizzical question...”

“The fuck are you?” Cain asked, slowly stirring Mana from within himself.

“Aah, don’t be afraid, the Plunderer of Time,” the voice replied with a short-lived giggle. “I am but a prisoner, much like those you’ve turned your back to down below. Will you turn your back to me, too?”

“I’m tempted,” Cain replied. “How ‘bout you show me your real form?”

“I’m a bit shy, I’m afraid; you see, my Master is quite perverted, and though he dares not touch, he does love to watch.”

“Haii, why does this always happen to me?” Cain sighed.

“... by design, I venture,” the voice spoke after a brief moment of silence, the silent wind draping across the fog and heaving it up into a feminine silhouette with the pair of silvery eyes resting as the head’s solitary features. “You see, Time Thieves are frowned upon by the Crowned Champions. Cheaters, burglars, cowards, dogs, pigs, creepers... many-a-name decorates your title, Thief. As such, the Thieves need prove themselves worthy of the Throne -- to stand by the Champions, they must traverse trials well above the designed ones. There is no calm, no peace, no stifling nothing when you are a Thief -- there is but chaos reigned by even more chaos, juxtaposed within your suffrage.”

“Ah, to sum up your rather rotten dump--people hate me, ergo I must suffer constantly.”

“Ah, men,” the figure chuckled. “Always so... boorish.”

“Naa, I’m pretty sure that had nothing to do with the fact I’ve got a penis between my legs.”

“Mighty confident, are you?”

“...” Cain stiffened a smile at the wordplay, admiring the voice’s swift wit.

“Truth be told, Thief, there are no treasures here,” the voice continued. “And not just here -- but anywhere within the fenced borders of this... hell. This land is destitute, its owner corrupt, broken, and beyond greedy. Why do you think his paws stretched out at the holy Princess? Greed, Thief. Greed.”

“Eh? There are no treasures?” Cain looked oddly at the figure for a moment. “That’s... a strange way to keep the intruders at bay. Have a playful ghosts just say ‘no, there are definitely no treasures here, nope, true story, I swear by my life there are no treasures here’... really, really, really believable.”

“You are free to enter and explore all of me,” the voice giggled once again. “Though, I am not too sure either one of us would have fun.”

“Wait, are you a room or something?”

“... no,” a flash of silver blinded Cain for a moment as he swiftly backed up; opening his eyes, he saw a spiked, crystal crown floating midway across the ripped door’s frame. Five jagged spires arose upfront, one above the other four, a ruby gem shining dully amidst the dimly lustrous silver. “Hihi, aren’t I beautiful?”

“Eh?! What an ugly spirit!!” Cain, who once again had completely forgotten about him, looked down only to see Te glaring at the crown with utter disgust in its shining eyes.

“Ugly?! Ugly?! Your mother is ugly, fake Tiger!” the voice’s playfulness while it conversed with Cain vanished completely, turning into maddened anger as it addressed the cat. “Your entire lineage exists because one of your ancestors was so bad with women of his own species he was so depraved as to fuck an ordinary, house cat! Disgusting!!”

“Liar!! Liar!! Shameless, shameless liar!” Te’gha, not to be outdone, cursed right back. “You are filthy! A stain accidentally put on a precious object! Greedy for life!! Grr! Te’gha is great! You is shit!”

“... eh? When did you learn that word?”

“From you,” Te’gha replied simply as something dawned on Cain at last -- nearly every kid who ever cursed since the dawn of time... most-likely learned a good deal of it, at least, from their parents first and the world later.

“You--”

“Alright, alright, pipe down before you alert some other ghost haunting these halls,” Cain sighed; what was at least a somewhat suspenseful atmosphere before just... vanished. He felt like he was a part of some lame skit in which a talking cat has a cursing contest against an old, mother-in-law-like spirit stuck inside some wretched princess’ crown. “Anyway, it was a pleasure to meet you, ug--I mean, o’ ye’ such a beautiful spirit yo yea, but this cat and I will be on our way.”

“Tiger!! It’s Tiger, not a cat!! Tiger!!”

“Ye, ye, ye, good job, tiger...”

“Ah, I find myself interested in you more and more, Thief,” the voice suddenly stopped him again. “Though that thing you hold can barely qualify as, well, a thing, it is still usually reluctant to replace its Origin Master. So, what is it about you, then? I feel the only way to learn is to join you on your--”

“No.”

“--advent--wait, what do you mean no?!! I’m a grand Spirit, you know?! I’m really strong!”

“No!” Cain refused even more adamantly. “I already have enough weird shit and weird people orbiting me! I refuse to believe I’m genuinely a magnet for just the most bizarre things in the world! Who else, huh?!”

“H-huh?”

“Who else walks into a completely random fucking mansion in search of a treasure or two and stumbles upon a talking crown out of nowhere?! No build up, no clues, no mysterious legends and riddles about the place, just... boo! I opened some random doors and boom, there you were! Fuck, I need to run away from here before a random broom turns out to be a very enthusiastic closet-boy-lover or something. Cheerio!”

¸”Ah, at least look at my stats! Yes, look at my stats before you! I’m sure you’ll change your mind!”

Cain paused; his internal monologue was screaming ‘No, no, no, no!’ but his greed... was still beating strong. He gritted his teeth as he battled his demons, eventually succumbing. I’m only a human... yup... I’m only a human, and I’m curious, and I’m just gonna look... I’m just gonna look. Just like her wretched master--just lookie-lookie, no touchie-touchie....

//Evermoon, the Crown of Foreborn Syra the Effervescent(Spirit)

Level: N/A

Requirements: Spirit’s Approval

Passive--Spirit’s Touch-- the Spirit within the Crown will continuously drain the wearer’s Mana as to remain alive. The amount is based on the wearer’s total Mana, Mana regeneration, and the Spirit’s mood. Note: the Spirit cannot absorb more than 10% of your maximum Mana within a short amount of time.

Passive--Evermoon’s Touch-- the Spirit can temporarily possess any other inanimate object, retaining all its powers and faculties. This action consumes appropriate amount of Mana from the wearer, and can only be done twice a day. The charges do not stack.

Passive--Conduit-- as the Spirit’s beholder, the Wearer of the Crown inherits a % of the Spirit’s stats. Currently, the Wearer will obtain: 80 Agility, 40 Stamina, 180 Wisdom, 220 Intelligence, and 8000 Mana. However, these stats can be withdrawn by the Spirit at its will.

Passive--King’s Crucible-- as the Wearer of the Crown, you become a Kingly Entity. Whenever you are wearing the Crown, red-blooded will defer to you greatly, but blue-blooded will immediately treat you with hostility.

Passive--King’s Guard-- as the Crowned, you are allowed to assign people to your personal Guard; the number raises along with your reputation. At the moment, you are allowed 4 personal Guards. Each assigned Guard will receive a 15% boost to ALL their Stats, and an additional 15% boost to their Primary Stats. Furthermore, whenever fighting within your presence, they will be entirely immune to Charm, Fear, and Terror effects. The longer someone is a member of your Personal Guard, the more benefits and options will there be present.

Passive--Inheritor-- as you have not Commanded a new Crown but inherited one, you also inherited the burdens of it; the Crown’s past grudges and enmities will transfer over to you.

Passive--Novice-- more options will unlock the more trust the Spirit shows toward you.

Note: Evermoon was crafted by E’shal, Graddal World’s Moongod, upon the request of Emperor Araqin for his daughter, Syra. The latter’s life was extinguished during the Kydel’s Uprising, and the Crown has been missing ever since. It is considered the absolute requirement to inherit the Ardid Empire.//