The Glass Warrior [Weak to Strong LitRPG]

The ritual had taken far longer than anyone had expected, and whatever excitement had come from discovering something new had long since faded.

It wasn't that the ritual itself was particularly complicated or full of intricate steps, rather it was the elven mage's inexperience slowing everything down. Every time he attempted a part of the process, he had to check his book to make sure he was doing it correctly, and more often than not, he had gotten it wrong.

It got to the point where the goblins grew restless, their grumbling and curses directed at the "stupid elves" only serving to delay the process further. The mage would stop everything just to complain about the pressure, berate them for their ignorance, and demand the respect due to his noble status.

Lucas supposed he could have been impressed by the fact that these elves were nobility, perhaps even related to Aysha in some way, but at this point, he just wanted to be done with it. He couldn't bring himself to care about anything else.

And it wasn't just the elves that were getting on his nerves, the goblins were even worse. They scurried about like overexcited children, jumping, yelling, cursing, making a mess of the place. More than once, Lucas caught himself seriously considering smacking one of them over the head. He had to rein himself in, though, because he knew that the moment he acted on that impulse, it would devolve into a chaotic brawl. And considering how packed together they all were, it would be a disaster.

Finally, finally, the ritual came to an end. The mage, after painstakingly following the book's instructions correctly for once, succeeded. The stone tablet glowed faintly.

Lucas narrowed his eyes, trying to understand the nature of the glow, but nothing stood out to him. The mage, however, remained fixed on the object. A few moments later, he began shifting the runes, slowly at first, then picking up speed as he went.

Thankfully, this part didn't take nearly as long as the last, and within a few minutes, he placed the final rune in its correct position. The tablet glowed even brighter.

Somehow, they all felt it had worked. Every head turned toward the tomb. Since the barrier itself had always been invisible, there was no clear sign that it was gone, but something else had changed.

The ground.

It was darker. Dustier.

Lucas frowned. Is that dust? He wasn't convinced. He didn't remember seeing it before. And now it was everywhere, covering the ground in a thin black layer.

"As agreed, we go first," the elven warrior announced, his voice steady, though his expression betrayed a hint of unease, they had all seen the change, after all.

Lucas had no objections. That was the deal.

He glanced at the goblins, expecting them to be annoyed, but they weren't. In fact, they looked quieter than they had been all day. That, more than anything, told him people were still wary.

Lucas turned his attention back to the elves as they moved forward. The mage strode toward the tomb with confidence, while the warrior advanced cautiously. They crossed the threshold with no resistance.

The mage let out an excited laugh and started running toward the tomb, only for his pace to suddenly slow. A few steps later, he staggered. His knee hit the ground, his breath coming in sharp, labored pants.

Behind him, the warrior also struggled, though he pressed on a few more steps before his own legs gave out, forcing him to kneel.

Lucas's frown deepened.

"Hey, what's going on?" Alex, the leader of the Hive group, called out. He and his men had been about to follow, but now, everyone hesitated.

Neither elf responded. Instead, they gritted their teeth and attempted to push forward, only for the dust on the ground to stir.

A collective tension ran through the gathered onlookers as the black powder twisted and rose, shifting into shadowy figures flanking the elves.

"What the hell is that?!" one of the Hive members yelled, pointing at the apparitions.

The elves saw them too. The mage's breath hitched. Panic overtook him. Instead of trying to stand his ground, he turned and attempted to flee, only to realize that something was terribly wrong.

His steps were sluggish, like he was wading through deep water. No matter how much effort he put in, he could barely move. And as he struggled, the shadow at his side mirrored his movements, staying perfectly in step with him.

Meanwhile, the warrior gritted his teeth and took a different approach. With a sharp breath, he forced himself up and swung his sword at the nearest shadow.

His blade passed right through it. The figure didn't flinch, it simply remained there, standing at his side. The warrior's grip on his sword tightened. He stepped back.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

The mage, still trying to move, suddenly froze. A realization dawned on his face as he noticed something. The figure wasn't attacking. It wasn't doing anything at all. It was just… there.

They watched the same scene play out again and again as the pair struggled to move forward, only to fail each time. Eventually, Lucas decided he had seen enough.

Without a word, he stepped back, making his way toward a nearby tree, careful not to draw any attention. All eyes were fixed on the scene unfolding ahead, so slipping away was easy.

Once there, he made the hand seal to close a gate he had left behind earlier and began forming a new one near the tree.

If I'm walking into a trap with my eyes wide open, I'd better have a way out.

He had no intention of being buried alongside some ancient lord who had died gods knew how long ago.

He took his time with the seal, opting for the long version since he still didn't fully trust the quicker one. Even so, he managed to return to the group without anyone noticing he had left.

Instead of stopping beside them, Lucas kept walking toward the tomb. Watching from a distance wasn't going to help. This felt like something he had to experience firsthand to understand.

"Hey, what are you doing…?" His acquaintance from the Hive, whose name was Frank called out, but Lucas ignored him.

The moment he crossed the barrier, he noticed a shift in the deathly aura surrounding the place. It wasn't overwhelming, but it was definitely stronger than before.

That was when he suddenly remembered the orb in his ring and when he went to take a look he saw the thing practically jumping inside, pulsing wildly.

Can it fell the aura here? Lucas wondered. Maybe it knows here is the best place to find what it wants.

It was a reassuring thought, though it didn't change his course. He walked straight toward the four frozen figures ahead, determined to test things for himself.

Before his own shadow could take form, he attempted to outrun it. With a burst of speed, he sprinted forward, aiming to break past the phenomenon before it could fully manifest.

For a few feet, it worked. Then, just as he passed the warrior, the pressure hit him. It was sudden. Crushing.

His legs buckled, and he hit the ground, panting.

Lucas's gaze flicked to the side.

The shadow had appeared the moment he started running, but it wasn't until he had put some distance between himself and the others that the weight became unbearable.

Am I just not strong enough?

The sensation was difficult to put into words, it wasn't simple exhaustion, nor was it merely an invisible force pressing down on him. It felt… connected to the shadowy figure itself.

Before he could think about it any further, a string of curses erupted behind him. Lucas turned his head, only to see that the others had followed. Every single one of them now had a shadow standing at their side.

Lucas frowned, thinking. If this was a matter of pure strength, there was nothing he could do about it, not immediately, at least. He only had three spare attribute points, and he doubted dumping them into Strength would make enough of a difference.

After a moment's consideration, he placed the points into Magic instead. It was his lowest stat aside from Toughness, and something told him he'd be relying on it more often moving forward.

His gaze flicked back to his shadow. For a brief moment, he wondered if the issue was speed. Maybe he just hadn't been fast enough to outrun it.

But that didn't make sense. If speed was the requirement, that would mean only the fastest people could enter the tomb, and why would that be the case?

No, he reasoned after a moment. This shouldn't have anything to do with stats or raw ability.

If it was anything like the runes on the stone tablet, then it had to be a puzzle, some kind of hidden rule. Something that, once understood, made everything simple. That way, anyone who knew the secret could pass through.

It was a logical conclusion, but it didn't tell him how to move forward. Behind him, the others were still struggling. He caught bits and pieces of conversation as he listened in.

The elven mage was mumbling something about "residual death magic" permeating the area, which he claimed was the reason they couldn't move properly.

Lucas had his doubts. The so-called "residual death magic" the mage referred to was likely just the natural death aura of the place—something Lucas was intimately familiar with. That alone shouldn't have been enough to physically stop someone from walking, at least not at that level of concentration.

Meanwhile, the goblins were taking a more straightforward approach: brute force. They threw themselves forward, clawing and dragging themselves inch by inch. And, surprisingly, they were making progress. But the process was slow, painfully so, and the effort drained their stamina at an alarming rate.

Then there were the Hive members. They had tied themselves together with rope, trying to distribute the weight and help pull each other along. It was a clever idea, but it failed miserably. The moment one of them struggled, it only made things harder for the rest.

Lucas, still furthest ahead, thought back to what had happened the moment he stopped moving. He had sprinted forward as fast as he could… then the shadow caught up.

At first, he had assumed his speed and strength were what had carried him farther than the others. But now, he wasn't so sure.

He tested his theory. Taking a slow, deliberate step forward, he immediately felt the weight pressing against him. But he didn't stop—he pushed through. Yet every time he took another step and paused, the force grew heavier again.

It wasn't about speed. If it were, I wouldn't have been able to move at all. Then what…?

A sudden realization struck him.

Could it be about rhythm?

Before, he had tried to outrun the shadow, but it had always been right behind him, until he could no longer keep increasing his speed. The moment his acceleration stopped, the shadow lagged for an instant, then lurched forward all at once, slamming into him with unbearable weight.

What if I could keep accelerating, even just slightly? Would I be able to reach the tomb? Worth a shot.

He took a single step forward, then paused. The pressure spiked, then stopped. He let the moment settle, then took another step, and another. Again, the pressure only surged when he stopped.

A smirk tugged at his lips. He had been right. It wasn't about speed but momentum.

Now, with a clearer understanding, he resumed his advance, keeping his movements smooth, deliberate, but never completely steady. As long as he maintained a continuous acceleration, the pressure remained stable.

After moments of trial and error, he found his stride. His pace increased.

A chorus of shouts and protests erupted behind him, but Lucas didn't stop until he reached the door. Only then did he glance back at the furious mob.

"Well? What's taking you so long?"

"You idiot! We agreed that we'd go in first—"

"And you did," Lucas cut in with a grin. "Not my fault you got distracted by the scenery." He gave a casual shrug. "Anyway, since I'm already here, I'll be heading in first. Catch you guys later!"