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Chapter 22: The Chosen Relic
As Elias stood in the treasure hall, Arkhael observed him with a mixture of pride and curiosity. The young man’s transformation had been nothing short of extraordinary. The lingering mana of Elder Kaelith had not only stabilized Elias’s body and mind but also made him detectable to the ancient relics, even if only temporarily.
"Young master," Arkhael began, his voice steady but firm, "the mana from Elder Kaelith now residing within you is why you can feel the artifacts. They recognize his power, though faint. Without it, you would remain unseen to them, as you are an anomaly to this world’s natural laws. This is a rare opportunity—make the most of it."
Elias nodded, determination flickering in his gaze. He closed his eyes and concentrated, attempting to sense the relics.
The air around him seemed to hum with energy. For the first time, Elias could feel the faint whispers of the countless treasures in the room. Each relic told its story—a tale of power, glory, and a will that refused to fade.
The sheer weight of these echoes bore down on him, threatening to overwhelm. Visions flooded his mind: battles fought by wielders of the artifacts, empires risen and fallen, and masters long forgotten.
Beads of sweat formed on Elias’s brow as he struggled to maintain focus. Arkhael, noticing the strain, offered quiet encouragement.
"Do not falter," Arkhael urged. "They test your worth, seeking to see if you can withstand their stories. Show them your resolve."
Elias clenched his fists, grounding himself. The chaotic images began to slow, and amid the cacophony, one presence emerged above the rest.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
From the far side of the hall, a faint glow illuminated a decrepit-looking bow. Its worn and battered frame seemed out of place among the polished artifacts, yet it carried an undeniable air of strength. Slowly, the bow floated toward Elias with deliberate grace.
Arkhael’s eyes narrowed as he watched. "Interesting," he muttered. "That bow belonged to a Magic Emperor of the Lockheart family. Though its appearance may seem humble, its power is anything but. The Lockhearts were famed for their mastery of archery, capable of felling enemies from dozens of miles away."
The bow stopped before Elias, hovering as if scrutinizing him. Then, in a blinding flash of light, it began to assimilate with his body.
Elias gasped as a torrent of information poured into his mind—fragments of the bow’s history, glimpses of the Lockheart family’s legacy, and whispers of battles fought long ago. When the light faded, he staggered, visibly disoriented.
"It… it showed me things," he said, his voice shaky. "Bits and pieces of the Lockheart family. The battles they fought, the empires they toppled… It’s overwhelming."
Arkhael nodded solemnly. "That bow, despite its appearance, is far superior to most modern weapons. The Lockheart family’s techniques and craftsmanship were unparalleled, even in their era. You should consider yourself fortunate."
Elias examined the bow in his hand, feeling a deep connection to it. Yet, Arkhael’s expression remained tense, his eyes scanning the room as if anticipating something more.
"What’s wrong?" Elias asked, sensing his unease.
Arkhael’s gaze shifted to a dimly lit corner of the hall. "The elder’s mana is fading," he murmured. "And with it… something else is stirring."
As if on cue, the room began to tremble. The faint glow that had once filled the space dimmed, replaced by a pulsating light emanating from the shadows. The relics around the hall seemed to recoil, their energies retreating as if bowing to a greater presence.
Elias instinctively clutched the bow tighter. "What’s happening?"
Arkhael took a cautious step forward, his voice tinged with both awe and dread. "The elder’s mana served as a seal, suppressing certain relics too dangerous to be left unchecked. Now that it has dissipated, one of them is awakening."
The pulsating light grew brighter, casting the hall in an ominous glow. A deep, resonant hum filled the air, growing louder with each passing second.
"This… this isn’t supposed to happen," Arkhael muttered, his voice barely audible. "That relic has remained dormant for centuries, bound by the elder’s will. For it to awaken now…"
Elias felt a shiver run down his spine as he turned toward the source of the disturbance. From the shadows, an ancient presence began to materialize, its form shrouded in an aura of power.
"What… what is it?" he whispered, his voice trembling.
Arkhael didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stood frozen, his eyes fixed on the dimly lit corner. "If it’s what I think it is," he said finally, "then you’ve just awakened one of the most dangerous relics in this hall."
The tension in the room was suffocating as the relic’s presence continued to grow. Elias braced himself, clutching the decrepit bow, as both he and Arkhael prepared for what was to come.
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