Heir of the Fog

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

The Tomb of Sethis Vauren

In my time at District 98, I had heard countless tales about places like this—some people called them dungeons—where if you touched the wrong thing, you might trigger a trap or a deadly curse. One popular story even claimed a mausoleum collapsed after its priceless treasures were stolen.

I used to think such stories were just childish fables. But after witnessing that entire Cathedral crumble just because I took its mysterious "tongue," I had to wonder if this crypt could be something similar? Yet it gave off a different feeling. There were rows of simple stone seats along one wall, and I even found a set of written guidelines posted near the entrance, describing how visitors should behave as if it were meant to be a place where people could come and pay respects.

It felt more public in nature—a space intended to inspire, not scare intruders away. To be sure, I wandered around, reading the murals that told more tales of Sethis Vauren, the legendary figure buried here. Everywhere I looked, I saw images of him wielding a colossal two-handed sword against all manner of terrifying beasts.

Some murals showed his blade slashing so far that it seemed to extend beyond its physical reach, like a sweeping arc of pure power. It made me wonder if it was just artistic exaggeration or if this artifact genuinely possessed such a power.

But all the while, I found myself brooding over another question: Why entomb such a powerful artifact alongside this captain? District 2 could not have been so wealthy that it casually buried something of such apparent value, such an expensive act of respect. The crypt's grandeur also suggested that Sethis Vauren had been revered, clearly a major figure in the district's history. No doubt the crypt was meant to honor him and his crew, who lay in the adjoining chambers.

While I explored, I double-checked for potential traps around the sarcophagi of his teammates, the other Chainrunners interred here. Each tomb told its own brief story, though time had worn away most of the details. I felt a faint pang of guilt for disturbing their rest, but if there was even the smallest chance that something here could help me complete my mission, I wouldn't hesitate to take it—even if it meant burning this entire crypt to ashes.

Besides, I reasoned, these fallen heroes had risked their lives for the district in their time. They might have approved of someone using their relics to protect people from the fog. I hoped so, at least.

Yet in all my time studying the murals, I found no clue about how they'd hauled beasts or moved food between districts. There had to be something—some secret or artifact that explained it, but I saw nothing but minor trinkets that didn't suit my needs.

Eventually, I set my sights on the sarcophagus resting at the far end of the crypt, in the locked section meant only for someone with the proper key. Would it be booby-trapped? Possibly. But I wasn't about to walk away without looking.

I checked for obvious triggers and found none. As for curses, I had no idea how to detect them, and Kara offered no insights either. She had plenty of knowledge, but the people who built her seemed determined to omit details about curses, maps, and other "dangerous knowledge."

So I braced myself and moved to open the sarcophagus on the raised platform. The heavy stone lid took me a good amount of effort to push aside, even with my strength. When it finally slid away, I stared down at the remains of Sethis Vauren—barely more than bones, or what was left of them after so many years.

Strangely enough, his skeletal hands still gripped a massive two-handed sword. The size alone made me question how a mere human had ever used it. It seemed at least two and a half meters in length, with a wide, brutal edge. Its surface was a dull metallic gray marked by faint runic inscriptions, which shimmered a silvery blue when I gently laid my hand on the blade.

Glancing at the underside of the lid, now resting on the crypt floor, I saw another mural depicting the sword and its key engravings. I read the names: Engraving of Dominion, Sigil of Severance, and Inscription of Conviction. I had no idea what these meant, but they sounded significant.

However, the sword itself was deeply rusted and looked completely dull. Just to test, I tried pulling it free, but it was unbelievably heavy—heavier than even the massive sarcophagus lid I had just moved.

"How in the hells," I muttered, straining to lift it.

I could not begin to fathom how this Chainrunner captain—human or not—could have possibly wielded it in combat. There was no doubt they had access to the same drugs that enhanced the Captains of the Chainrunners, as I had seen in both Districts 98 and 99. But even then, from what I had observed, those enhancements only brought them to the level of an onyx core beast—still limited by far less mana and significantly fewer capabilities, even if the little they had was honed to perfection.

Meanwhile, I was already stronger than most onyx-core creatures, thanks to my small yet dense musculature infused with free-flowing mana. By all logic, I should have been more powerful than Sethis Vauren had ever been. And yet here I was, unable to lift his sword properly. Was the whole thing some elaborate hoax? Or maybe that was precisely why the sword was buried, nobody else could use it anyway.

But it definitely held some power. The inscriptions still glowed at my touch, meaning it was no mere decorative piece. Even if it were pristine, I doubted it would help me cross District 3's impossible bridge. And at just 164 centimeters tall, I couldn't imagine swinging this monster of a blade effectively even if it wasn't so heavy. So while it was intriguing, it wasn't the reason I had come.

I kept searching inside the coffin, hoping for another clue about how Sethis had brought beasts home from deep in the fog. If he and his Chainrunners had ventured far beyond the ward, they couldn't just haul heavy kills by brute force. Surely they possessed some knowledge or artifact for that task. But no matter how thoroughly I checked, I saw only bones and this oversized blade.

Determined not to miss anything, I tried removing the sword from the sarcophagus entirely. Little by little, I pried it up, the runes still flickering with faint light. Abruptly, I heard a crack as Sethis's brittle skeletal hand shattered, letting the sword finally come free. Without thinking, I dropped it onto the crypt floor, recoiling at the deafening clang. The runes went dark as it landed, the blade lying still.

A moment later, I noticed the severed bone hand rolling along with it. Then came a soft clink—something metallic hitting the ground, bouncing a few times before rolling away. Peering into the shadows, I saw a small ring tumbling toward the chamber's entrance.

It made me pause. A ring? Could it be another artifact? And if so, what might it do? The sword's size had overshadowed everything else in the coffin, so I hadn't considered the possibility of a smaller item hidden in the old captain's grip.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Watching the ring finally come to rest near the threshold of the room, I felt a surge of curiosity. Maybe this ring is the key. Maybe that sword was a red herring—just a massive relic overshadowing the real treasure.

I turned from the gigantic blade, still lying on the floor, rusted and apparently useless, and headed to where the ring had rolled. Bending down, I picked it up, feeling its smooth metal under my fingertips.

Unlike the rusted sword, the ring showed no sign of decay. It was forged from a dense, black metal that shimmered with faint violet runes, as if the metal itself held something liquid beneath its surface. Whenever my torchlight hit it at a certain angle, I swore I saw subtle ripples across the metal, like a small wave running just beneath the ring's exterior.

[Kara]

[Detected large quantities of Voidstell coming from the ring.]

I arched a brow. "Voidstell? I've never heard of that."

[Kara]

[Voidstell is one of the rare materials created by the Obsidian Order, similar to the Obsidianhide used in your bracers. It consists of fragmented leyline crystals fused with liquid shadow essence. Its main property lies in anchoring unstable energies.]

Hearing that, I felt a small surge of excitement. "So this ring is another creation of the Obsidian Order? Did they make a lot of artifacts like it?"

[Kara]

[They were widely known for crafting high-end items from leyline crystals. Although they never produced artifacts in large volumes, their work was famous throughout the golden age of Araksiun. Each piece was carefully tailored to harness mana in specialized ways.]

My gaze drifted down to the ring's softly glowing runes. "Anchoring unstable energies…" I murmured, hoping it might explain how someone wielded that massive sword. "Did this ring grant extra strength or something? Is that how Sethis Vauren handled that rusted monster?"

[Kara]

[Negative. That function is typically employed in storage rings, not in personal enhancement.]

I blinked. "Storage rings?" The term floated in my mind. I had never heard of storage rings before, but the moment I heard those words, it didn't take long for me to connect the dots. I remembered how Markus had also seemed capable of retrieving items from nowhere. This might be it—the artifact that made large-scale transport in the fog possible. Kara confirmed my suspicion soon after.

[Kara]

[Indeed. This appears to be a high-grade storage ring, capable of holding a large mass—close to five tons, based on its dimensional layering.]

A tremor of disbelief coursed through me. Five tons? That was enough to transport entire slabs of beast carcasses or vast quantities of resources. Why was such vital technology buried with a dead captain? Anger smoldered in my chest at the thought of the ring's potential going to waste for so long.

[Kara]

[Storage rings were expensive, even in Araksiun's prime. The Obsidian Order's craftsmanship demanded rare leyline crystals, and the forging process was extremely delicate. I suspect not many of these rings survived to the present, especially ones of this quality.]

That made sense. But if District 2 had so few, burying one with Sethis Vauren felt almost criminal. I could understand the sword being here if nobody else could wield it, but the ring…

No Chainrunner run—no run at all that I had ever heard of—had moved anything close to the amount that was effortlessly stored in this ring. And yet, here it was, wasted. Out of spite, I decided I would take both the ring and his sword with me. The sword itself might be worthless for my immediate mission, but it felt wrong to leave it here.

It took a long time for Kara to teach me how to use the ring. It had multiple activation methods for those with a deeper understanding of mana. She explained that Markus likely had a similar ring but could use it far more freely than someone like me.

However, this particular ring was made for humans with no magic. Its runes were crafted to activate through a simple retrieval system, deeply linked to the user's intent. The most basic function allowed me to trace a retrieval rune in the air with the finger wearing the ring while mentally visualizing the item I wanted to retrieve.

To my surprise, the ring was empty. There was nothing left inside.

I practiced the rune motion a few times. It wasn't hard to visualize the steps, but I could see how it would be tricky in the heat of battle. Kara confirmed that an "emergency recall" function existed to retrieve the last stored item with a simpler gesture, but it was far less precise.

I decided to test it on the legendary sword, newly identified from one mural's inscription as Doomcarver, while the ring itself seemed to be called an Obsidian Vault. Unfortunately, when I pressed my hand to the blade and tried the store rune, nothing happened. The sword refused to vanish.

"Is this ring broken?" I asked, frustrated.

[Kara]

[Negative. Many storage rings manufactured after major thefts were inscribed with anti-theft runes. If an item carries a magical owner-mark, enchantment, or a preexisting mana bond, it cannot be stored inside an Obsidian Vault. Machinery is also excluded, and living creatures cannot be stored either. Weapons in active use are sometimes blocked as well, to prevent assassins from hiding crime weapons.]

I let out a sigh and glanced at the open sarcophagus. "Well, of course, they wouldn't make it this easy, right, Sethis?"

Silence, of course, greeted me. The crypt's stale air felt eerie, as though it might respond at any second. I gave a half-smile at my own foolishness.

It felt daunting to realize this was the closest I had come to human interaction in quite a while.

"I'm still going to take your sword, don't worry," I muttered, half-expecting a reply. This fog was so strange that I couldn't be completely sure I wouldn't receive one.

Yet, no reply came.

[Kara]

[I doubt seeking conversation with a corpse is psychologically beneficial.]

I barked a short laugh. "Probably not," I said. But in that moment, I still felt oddly relieved. I tested the ring again with a few smaller objects—a chunk of rubble, a broken piece of an old scabbard. Each vanished into the ring's interior when I traced the storing rune. It was astonishing to witness.

My excitement soared. A storage ring of this capacity could be a game-changer for the districts. With it, I could potentially haul huge quantities of food or supplies between wards, eliminating the need for bulky carts in the fog. We could work alongside Chainrunners, using my ability to survive the fog's to safely transport the materials people needed to survive. It wouldn't replace them entirely, of course—if I vanished in a long sleep, that would be disastrous. But it was a significant start.

Kara also guessed that Markus's ring was an older model lacking these anti-theft measures, hence his ability to store almost anything. She floated the idea of me studying advanced runes to break the ring's restrictions, but that felt too risky. The last thing I needed was to cripple the ring entirely.

Then a thought sparked in my mind: this ring might help me handle District 3's endless narrow bridge. I could store my anchors, tethers, and other gear, proceed inch by inch, and each time I died, I wouldn't have to go all the way back to retrieve lost equipment. Everything would remain safely in the ring. On the other hand, the risk of falling into that chasm even with the anchors still loomed large. It's not like the tether is indestructible—I've come close to having one ripped apart many times during fights.

I had set out on this mission in search of lost artifacts, hoping to find a way to end the hunger in District 98—to uncover something that would allow us to produce food within the safety of the districts. Yet, along the way, I had grown stronger, forged a core, claimed powerful artifacts, and fought against beasts that few could hope to face and survive.

Perhaps I had found an answer—not the one I originally sought, but something just as valuable.

Maybe one day, I would return to District 3, press onward to District 4, and finally recover the artifact I had been searching for. But for now, my mission was complete. It was time to report back.