Lawyers hope you're sued, doctors hope you're sick, mechanics hope your car breaks down, prostitutes hope you're dissatisfied with your love life, and the morgue hopes you're dead. But me? I only wish you the best in life.

~ Chester Everheart

The vault's interior was spartan, lined to the brim with chests and storage units that went up to four meters high. It was designed for dwarves, with gradual steps to compensate for their shorter legs. Unlike regular dwarven articheture, it was simply made with practicality as the primary theme. The walls had a purplish adamantine sheen, making them nearly impenetrable from inside and out. Its floors were the only exception to the rule, but it was similarly made from some type of metal as well.

KRCK

A sound could be heard escaping through the thick floors of the vault. The noise became louder and more frequent until the barest point of a metal tool poked itself out from underground.

A few minutes of digging later, the hole had become big enough for a person to fit through. Three men in hooded cloaks emerged and patted themselves clean, nodding to each other quietly and moving forward with their mission. Welton's Vault had been breached.

Their first target was a storage unit on the first floor of the vault. Like most objects in the vault, they were nearly identical in both design and shape. The only difference was in the lock, which had three keyholes of varying sizes on one chest. Each chest and storage unit seemingly had a diverse and unique combination of locks protecting them. This didn't discourage the shadowy figures, and they worked in tandem to unlock the complex security mechanisms on the chest.

Their failures were rewarded with many trap mechanisms activating. A falling anvil that nearly splattered one of them, a trap door that led to a pit of poisonous vipers while simultaneously being lit on fire, and even poisoned needles that sizzled harmlessly on the floor after missing their intended target. With their persistence and knowledge, the three watched as the first chest opened.

As the container was unlatched, a sword erupted from one of the intruder's chest and killed him instantly. A figure faded into existence behind them, clutching a blade. Wild, curly hair. Striking, brown eyes pierced through the remaining men's bewildered stares. He wore a suit of form-fitting mithril armor that made him look like a gallant knight from children's fairytales.

"Who the hell are you?!" They cried out, brandishing their weapons. Both of them were shaken, but it was clear they wouldn't go down without a fight. The mysterious assailant merely smirked, before loudly proclaiming his name and letting it reverberate in the vault.

"Chester Everheart, protector of Welton!"

What happened from then on was a battle for the ages. He bravely fought against the intruders, moving with style and grace. His mix of power, technique, and speed made him a worthy foe with few weaknesses. The enemies fell prey to illusions and clever strategies concocted within a split-second's notice. But it wasn't enough. The men proved to be far more formidable than first believed, pushing Chester back after a hard-fought battle. Amid his struggle, the courageous adventurer was knocked back right towards the open chest. He breathed heavily, noticing that his blade had been broken during battle. Blood trickled down his mouth, showing that his injuries were far from light.

His eyes turned for only a brief moment, finding a see-through jar containing an iridescent metal with untold power. The form was liquid, molding to the shape of the container, but the way it moved was ethereal. The item didn't look like it belonged to this world.

The handsome man could feel an immediate connection with the magic metal. It likely sensed his selfless intentions of protecting the vault and called out to him. Chester could almost hear its voice telling him something in a faint, melodic voice.

'Use me...Fulfill your destiny...'

His sense of morality was at war with his sense of duty. He knew theft was wrong, but Chester knew that if he wanted to have another chance at life and victory, he would have to compromise his ideals for the greater good. He uncapped the bottle and let the metal meld with his arm. Before his enemies could finish him off, Chester turned invisible.

"Search for him! He-urk!"

One of the hooded men received a flail to the torso, getting sent flying to a nearby chest and falling to the ground in agony. The illusionist had reached another level of power, strengthened by his new equipment-no, his new ally.

"Let's do this."

He won handily, finishing his enemies off and closing his eyes in respect for the dead. As he collected himself, the illusionist could hear noises coming from elsewhere. Chester followed the source outside the vault door, and he placed his ear to the cold, metallic surface to hear what was going on.

The sound of screams and explosions alerted him to something nefarious happening on the outside. Chester panicked, knowing that he needed to get there now. The illusionist knew that despite all his abilities, it would take time to leave through the underground path the men had created. He knew that time was of essence and used the metal on his arm as a tool to help open the massive vault door. The keyhole was filled with an iridescent replica that effortlessly molded to the shape of the inside. He used the chain and roped it around one of the spokes on the spindle.

Chester heaved, trying to pull it open. The spindle was incredibly dense and heavy, likely requiring the strength of a dozen men to pull it properly. In an incredible display of strength, the vault wheel began to turn. And so did the door of the vault. As soon as there was enough space for him to fit through, the illusionist went invisible and entered the palace, establishing himself as a legend for years to come.

"So yeah, that's basically what happened. I don't think those guys were fully human either. Their bodies disappeared as soon as I killed them."

Alda, Prince Kent, and two other dwarves whom he didn't know the name of watched his take on the battle, courtesy of his Improved Minor Illusion skill. The three dwarves seemed content to accept it as fact, but the female half-dwarf seemed dubious about his recollection of events. She knew him personally, after all.

"You witnessed the whole thing? While they were trying to open the chest? Why didn't you stop them then and there?"

Chester didn't even blink before bullshit started spewing from his mouth. "I thought there would be a good chance of the traps just killing them off. I didn't want to risk myself until they let their guards down, and I thought it was hilarious seeing them struggle."

"Why did you follow them down the sewers instead of calling for guards?"

"The shock of seeing someone commit a crime in broad daylight was too much and I didn't think my actions through." His silver tongue was working overtime, and not a single hint of guilt appeared on his face despite the brazen lies he just told. "I thought that if I were to run off and call somebody, it would be too late and they would've made off with the Attainium instead."

"You-I...Ugh. I don't even want to ask anymore." General Bloodsong stared at the illusion placed on the table, still looping through the scene of Chester with sparkling eyes and heroically triumphing against his foes. Prince Kent had come to personally hear his tall tales and seemed both amused and in awe of his actions.

"Leave it be, General. Now is not the time to question one of our kingdom's heroes. We've confirmed the weaknesses the invaders exploited; isn't that enough?"

Alda's sighed. "Did the intruders say anything to you? We're still grasping at straws on who could've staged an attack of this scale."

Chester thought deeply, pretending to remember when he was concocting another lie to proclaim. He decided to go back to his most convenient scapegoat.

"I remember! When I took out the last guy, I heard him whisper in his dying breath."

The illusion shaped itself once more, going to the point where the last opponent lay dying on the ground. Chester himself looked slightly worse for wear, staring at his face after his hood had fallen. He looked suspiciously like the dreadhead that had almost killed Damien in the Finamore tournament, coughing out blood as he stared down at his killer without any fear in his eyes.

"Glory be to the Omen..." Those were his last words before he, along with the other two corpses, melted away into darkness with the rest of the illusion.

"Did the Omen even have a catchphrase like that? I thought they were just a bunch of insane bastards trying to summon demons and sacrifice little children." One of the dwarves muttered. Alda was deep in thought after seeing the 'memory' and wrote something down on a piece of parchment she had brought along to fill her report.

"How would I know? I'm just the messenger. But I do recall them making a ruckus in Elway. Maybe it's a sign of their operations ramping up?"

There was fervent discussion between the dwarves. Chester's crackpot theory had some validity to it. He had seen the articles about the Archmage being attacked by an alleged sleeper agent in the Tower of Magic. Connecting the dots, he simply made an assumption that the dwarves ran off with and made their own narrative.

"Please place down some orders for reinforced flooring along with whatever necessary to fortify the vault." Prince Kent said to the unnamed dwarves beside him. The noble turned his head and kindly looked at Chester once more, giving him a shallow bow. "Thank you, Chester Everheart. I hope you'll enjoy the festivities and rewards later tonight."

"Speaking on rewards..." Chester raised his hand to reveal the Attainium melded perfectly into his arm. The amount of iridescent metal was now great enough to cover his shoulders and a portion of his torso. "Can I keep this? I can hear it saying to keep me and all that."

He burst out in raucous laughter, which the thief hoped was a good sign. Prince Kent wiped a tear from his eye, collecting himself before he could speak.

"Of course! The extent we'd have to go to remove the bond between the metal and you are far too great. Besides, it was Arber's least favorite metal to work with out of all them."

"Is there a reason why?"

"Blacksmithing is an art. You enforce your will upon the metal; shaping, forging, and bending it to the desired shape. Arber is the greatest blacksmith of all time, but even he can't impose his will on a metal that has so much freedom. It simply goes against the nature of blacksmithing as we know it."

Chester knew that Attainium wasn't the only thing stored within the Vault. But the primary reason he had gone for the Attainium was that he could sense it lurking within the chest. His connection to the iridescent metal seemed to attract him to anything which contained more of the magic metal. The only reason he hadn't run off with double the amount was because of how long it took to unlock one chest, and the subsequent invasion he got dragged into.

"Would you mind giving me some more, then?"

Alda slapped him over the back of the head. Despite the fact she was in civilian clothing, her strength would've been enough to shatter a human's skull. Chester's head slammed into the table and he glared at her. "What?! It was just a question!"

"Unfortunately, it is still a national treasure. We can't part with it so easily. We've made a pact with Wisperium and Pernatia, you see. The time for the vault to open its doors is yet to come." Prince Kent said imperiously. His expression became completely serious for once, and the gentle face he once had become like stone.

"When is that time?"

The prince shrugged. "I have no clue. Our family's been holding that promise for centuries, and likely for many more until you and I are long gone."

Chester's shoulders slumped. He supposed it was worth a try, but even his status as a hero didn't make much of a difference.

'At least I get to keep all this.' He thought optimistically.

Soon enough, the interrogation wrapped up and he was walking back to his quarters in the palace, not even a two-minute walk from where he originally was. Alda had claimed she was too busy with work to hang out but promised to meet again during the feast later that night.

Despite the short walk, multiple people recognized and clamored towards him with reverence and awe. They asked him many questions and gave him many compliments, all of which he took in stride. Within less than a month, he had gone from 'servant of Damien' to the savior of the kingdom. Some female dwarves had even asked him about his relationship status, but none compared to Alda and he politely declined their advances. He made his way to the room, closing the door behind him and asking for some semblance of privacy as the people tried to hound him.

He glanced at the Attainium on his body, admiring just how large and versatile it was. Chester's gamble had paid off.

'Administer lies with a hint of truth, and it always works for the best.'

If anybody had known Chester for a long period, they would realize his story was sketchy at best, and an outright lie at worst. But Chester hadn't lied about certain parts of the story, making it even doubly accurate than if he completely fabricated every detail. The traps which activated after every failure were completely true. An anvil had nearly crushed him. A pit of poisonous snakes lit on fire opened beneath his feet, barely catching himself thanks to the grappling hook gloves from the pink-bearded blacksmith. He was thankful that Attainium could resist poisoned needles, remembering just how easily the projectiles sizzled through the floor.

The illusionist had employed every trick in the book trying to open up the three locks, but he wasn't perfect. He had almost died several times trying to open the chest, and it took him almost forty-five minutes to realize all three locks had to be opened simultaneously.

The man had seen some of the other container's defenses. Others didn't even have a keyhole for him to pick through, and it was a lucky break his were completely composed of pickable locks. He supposed it was the ultimate defense, and there was zero chance of someone being able to come out with a massive amount of loot from the vault in the first place. Chester wondered whether anybody knew the types of locks, what the defenses were, and which keys were required to go in for every single chest. It would be a puzzle nightmare.

Chester felt sad, however. He didn't have anybody to confide in. The true story of his crime was to be kept secret forever.

'Man, at least I had bragging rights in prison. But then I had nobody to brag to when I escaped that as well! Bummer.'

Laying flat on the top of his luxurious bed, he thought that Damien could be a person to confide in. He supposed it would have to wait when the events weren't as fresh in both their minds. After all the events over the past week, Chester rewarded himself with a well-deserved nap.