1 Chapter 1 : The Ultimate Weapon

The forest was thick, littered with overgrown grass, fallen leaves, and branches. The heavy layers of vegetation hid many secrets across the years. Bones of a bygone era rested beneath the earth, rusted broken weapons belonging to soldiers of kingdoms long fallen decorated the forgotten forest.

"here it is, I told you we were on the right track" Moren pointed to a large door on the ground, barely visible through the thick bushes covering it.

"This is old that's for sure, look at these protection runes here. Whoever built this place didn't want anyone breaking in" Feron tossed his weapons and shield to the side, enamored by the majestic craftsmanship of the old mages and what gifts those masters might've left behind. "who knows, we might find a B rank artifact this time"

Moren approaches the door "you're delusional, we're still within the capital's territory. If there was an artifact above C rank here they would've sniffed it out already" with his hands firmly gripping one of the handles, Moren prepares to open the door and explore the mystery beyond it "help me get this thing open, will you?"

Feron gripes the other handle, pulling the door open with great force revealing a long stairway that stretched into the abyss. Moren got on his knee next to the mysterious open door laying his bag on the ground, displaying the variety of items within it to "poison bolts, throwing daggers, bombs. We are ready."

Feron lights a torch and peeks into the long stairway laying beyond the door "alright Moren it's the usual setup. the other 3 are guarding the area, so there won't be any unpleasant surprises. We go in, take everything we find, and get out." His words were calm and collected, showing no sign of fear or anxiety.

The torchlight only illuminated the first few steps ahead of Feron, the yellow hue spread across the tight walls revealing long-forgotten stories itched into them, Moren looked at them intensely trying to make out what knowledge they held "you know these scribbles are probably about the war or maybe even the heroes, we should come back later and try to figure it out."

Feron let out a sigh and looked back at Moren " What more is there to know about the war, both sides lost, the gods were cowards, and the heroes and kings were greedy. They destroyed each other and left us with a barren wasteland, that's all there is to know."

Feron's words were harsh but true, he was the oldest and most experienced of the group. His hatred for both sides was blatant, although he didn't talk about it much it was obvious that he knew more than he let on.

Moren struck the wall angrily and raised his voice "we don't know anything for sure, the war ended hundreds of years ago, maybe the gods haven't abandoned this world. Why are you so adamant on…" Feron turned around and grabbed Moren's shoulder cutting him off, he wore both a sad and upset expression

"Listen carefully Moren, stop spouting this nonsense or you'll get yourself killed. There is no love for the heroes and kings, their greed and lust for power brought the war upon us, but even with all that you might be able to defend their actions. The gods on the other hand are nothing but egotistical cowards who abandoned us, there is no defending them"

The two exchanged hash looks, Moren brushed Feron's hand aside and prepared to talk back when something caught his eye. a light shining further down the stairway, it was almost too small to notice but whatever is making can't be a friend.

Feron noticed it soon after and pulled out his sword, a slender blade bearing old markings and runes that looked too delicate to be used for combat. He led the way down slowly, keeping his eyes on the light. as they got closer a door started to take shape, illuminated by the torchlight its many cracks and crevices came to view.

"Finally a way though, I'll see if I can open it" Moren ran passed Feron and rushed towards the door. As he got close, the door rumbled, and a loud screech bellowed from beyond the door causing Moren to stop in his tracks.

The door broke open with great force releasing the monstrosities held within. Two rotting corpses lunged out of the now shattered door, they wore rusted broken armor and held dull swords. One lunged at Moren throwing him to the ground, while the other rushed Feron.

Their attacks were swift and precise, they moved with grace and had exquisite technique, In complete contrast to their ghoulish appearance. Their rotten visage and decayed armor could easily foul one into mistaking them for mindless, slow ghouls.

Feron's strikes were deflected leaving him open to an attack, an opening that the undead soldier took. It slashed at Feron's exposed chest, the strike was powerful and lightning fast, even with a broken dull sword it would've been fatal. However, the undead's sword wasn't met with his opponent's unguarded chest, but with the oddly shaped gauntlet he wore on his left arm.

Feron clamped down the sword with his gauntlet as the runes etched into it shined with a faint blue light, revealing its true nature as a magical artifact. The undead struggled to get his sword out of Feron's grasp with no success. The hand holding its sword tightened its grip eventually breaking the old sword into pieces and causing it to stumble backward.

Feron sized the chance. striking the undead with his sword, and swiftly ending the monster's miserable life. As the light faded away from his gauntlet and his breathing steadied he rushed to help Moren, who was struggling in his own battle.

Moren's sword dance with his opponent was as brutal as it was captivating. The two swordsmen dodged each other's strikes perfectly creating a beautiful lightning-fast flow of movement, however, it was clear that Moren was losing the battle to the undead.

He landed strike after strike with his dagger, but his hits were shallow. Against an opponent that feels no pain, doesn't bleed nor tire, his attacks were completely useless only draining him of his stamina. The undead was gaining the upper hand on Moren more and more as their battle raged on, his sword coming closer to landing a decisive strike.

As the battle continued and Moren's movement became increasingly dull, the undead finally managed to land a slash on his sword arm forcing Moren to drop his weapon out of pain.

The undead seized the opportunity, raising his sword to deliver the final blow. As the sword descended, however, Moren pulled out an old piece of parchment from his pocket. It was withered and torn in places, and adorned with unrecognizable symbols.

The old paper burned with black fire engulfing Moren's hand in the flames. The fire and ash distorted and took the shape of a black round shield leaving his hand unharmed. The shield blocked the undead's blunt sword with a loud thump and enough force to send the monster staggering backward, just to be met by Feron's sword before it regained its footing.

The two powerful undead were slain, the dark stairway turned silent again, and the once closed door was now wide open for the first time in hundreds of years. Beyond the door was a massive table surrounded by 5 chairs, each of which was a work of art by itself.

Moren got up to his feet, his breathing still heavy from the battle he just won "alright, let's head in. this better be worth it, I can't believe I had to waste my one scroll on that thing, that was no regular undead that's for sure." He looked back towards Feron, who was examining the undead's body.

Feron looked at the undead's armor with a shocked expression. anxiety was obvious in his voice as he spoke "you're right, these things aren't regular undead. The undeath curse placed by the gods on humanity's soldiers causes them to live in a nightmare inside their heads, to them the war never ended. They retain all their skills and technique but they see everything that moves as an enemy, even family and friends. Truly a horrible curse..." Feron grew silent, his gaze cloudy and distant as if he was living in his own head, not unlike the monster he slew.

Moren got closer and started examining the body as well. He looked at its rusted armor, blunt sword, and hollow eyes and shrugged. "I don't understand, it looks like any other undead to me. I know what the curse does, but how the hell did these ones get so strong."

Moren's words made Feron snap out of his trance. He cleared his throat and proceeded with his explanation "look at the chest armor and sword hilt." Feron pointed at a barely visible crest of a winged lion "This crest isn't for your regular, run-of-the-mill soldiers, but for the elite knights who served to protect high-value targets or locations."

Feron stood up slowly and looked at the now broken door with a conflicted expression. "oddly, these guards had no artifacts on them, even if they were placed here at the latter half of the war they were still elite knights, so why is their equipment so bad."

"does it matter?" Moren answered immediately. "we used too many resources to go back empty-handed, and the others are counting on us. If there were any more undead in there they would've attacked already, so the place looks safe enough to me." He started walking towards the broken door and the odd table that lay beyond. followed by Feron who still had a displeased look on his face.

They walk through the door, looking at the massive stone table and the thrones surrounding it with awe. The craftsmanship of these structures would make the most talented artists and most wealthy of lords jealous, even though time took its toll on them. The table was littered with papers and parchments, most of which were too withered to read.

Magical torches, infinitely burning with a bright blue hue surrounded the massive room. The source of the magic was a mystery, but it was obvious that whatever it was, it was powerful enough to keep those torches lit for hundreds of years.

The excellent craftsmanship, the lack of any weapon racks, armor stands, or food bags confirmed Feron's suspicions. "This is no bunker or garrison. It looks more like a royal meeting room." His displeased expression turned to one of concern and fear. A fear that Moren, who was too busy trying to discern if any of the parchments were magic, wouldn't understand.

"THIS ONE IS MAGIC" Moren's loud voice filled the room. He smiled and handed the old piece of parchment to Feron "that sigil there is definitely magic, but I've never seen anything like it. what do you think?"

Feron grabbed the magic scroll and attempted to read the old sigil and inscription on it, which proved difficult due to its age. "It's hard to read but I believe it's a mimic scroll, and a high tier one that. It can mimic the appearance of any item you want perfectly for a short period. A high-tier one like this will even copy the item's magic aura if it has one." He handed to scroll back to Moren who quickly put it in his bag with a smile, already thinking of the price it'll fetch him.

The two of them went through the other papers and parchments but found no additional magic scrolls. All that remained on top of the table was a small locked box at its center. "ill do the honors" said Moren as he opened the box slowly, his look went from excitement to confusion as the contents of the bow came to light.

An odd weapon made of wood and what seemed to be black metal. It was too blunt and small to be a weapon, and it wouldn't be a piece of armor or a magic amulet. Moren picked it up and examined it. "it has a handle and trigger like a crossbow, but that's about it, I can't see how this thing can shoot bolts. What do you think Feron?"

Moren looked over to Feron just to see him staring at the artifact in complete shock, His eyes wide open in disbelief. "I can't believe it, this is one of the hero's weapons" He grabbed it out of Moren's hand, examining it in disbelief.

"wait, you mean that thing was used by one of the heroes? Are you serious?" Moren, who now shared Feron's shocked expression, replied.

Feron spoke in an excited tone, so fast it made him stumble over his words. "no, no, not exactly. Well, they might have used it but that's not the point. When the heroes were summoned into our world, they brought some of their personal belongings with them, some of which were made of metal. Later in the war, the kingdoms and heroes got desperate enough to start melting the otherworldly metal and experimenting with it." he put the hero's weapon on the table and signaled Moren to get close.

Feron sat on one of the chairs, took a deep breath, and continued. "the otherworld's metal was far weaker and more brittle than our own, however, it could store and utilize more magic than anything we had access to." Moren's eyes were glued to the artifact on the table while he listened to Feron's explanation.

"the amount of magic that the metal could withstand meant that it could be enchanted by thousands of spells without denigrating." Feron picked the artifact up by its handle and looked at it deeply before handing it to Moren "only a few were made due to its rarity, based on weapons from the heroes' original world. If we hand this to the capital as a tribute we'll gain access immediately"

Moren took the legendary artifact and hid it in his bag quickly "let's hurry out and tell the others, I can't believe we're finally going to leave the outskirts." Excitement took over him as Moren led the way up the dark stairs.

In his mind visions of the great eternal capital surfaced. A safe haven that every man, woman, and child living outside its massive walls dreamed of entering, yet only so few made it.

The price for getting into the capital is an A or higher rank artifact. A price far too steep for anyone living on the outskirts, but not anymore. Fame, fortune, and adventure awaited Moren and the others.

These thoughts flooded his mind as he descended the stairs until the light of the outside shone on his face, only for his excitement and happiness to be replaced with shock and confusion in mere seconds. "Moren, why did you stop?" Feron who just reached the exit questioned the frozen Moren, before witnessing the odd scene himself.

Outside, amongst the dead, thick forest an old man stood motionless. He wore ragged clothing and carried an oddly shaped sword on his waist. His hair and beard were white, long, and disheveled, yet still conveyed a sense of pride and honor.

Feron opened his mouth, preparing to signal for reinforcement, only to be stopped by the old man who finally decided to speak "apologies, but those 3 you left guard are already dead." His ridged and calm voice sent shivers down Feron's spine.

The old man reached for his sword, causing Moren and Feron to pull out their weapons as well. He stared at the two as they prepared for battle with a smile "you're strong. The others weren't bad, but you two have talent." His voice carried a hint of sadness and maybe even remorse. "it would be a waste to kill such promising warriors, so ill make you an offer. Give me what you found down in the vault, and I'll let you go."