“ –you are sure?” A reverberating voice asked from the other side of the door.

“Starving Krakens!” a different voice responded. “How many times you planning to ask? I only missed a turn. One!”

“And we’ve lost valuable time for it. So pardon me if I do not trust your scrying skills” The baritone voice retorted.

An exasperated sigh filled the room as a man garbed in blue robes sauntered into view. “Tell me truly. You notice how unbloodied your weapo—”

"Oh, thank the heavens! You’re from Greendale!" Ren dropped to his knees, and burst into tears.

"..."

In the blink of an eye, a massive poleaxe materialized in the hands of the robed cultivator. The deadly weapon pointed directly at Ren, its tip ominously steady as the flickering torchlight danced along its polished edges. Ren swallowed hard, feeling the crushing weight of the aura that rooted him to the spot, while other cultivators flooded into the room.

Following closely behind the robed cultivator, a thin man with a curled mustache strolled in, his arms crossed over his chest. Two additional cultivators completed the group. All of them appeared dumbfounded at the sight of Ren in tears.

"What is a Temple crawler doing here?" the mustached man inquired, his deep baritone matching the one Ren had heard moments ago. His slender arms remained folded, and unlike the man in the blue robes, he did not let his Tier 8 Essence aura billow around him.

"A-Apologies. Junior greets the Seniors. I... I got lost, and..." Ren played his part convincingly. Tears streamed down his face, accompanied by snot dripping from his nose. He had chosen to employ a tactic from his Deception playbook. Few humans knew how to handle a weeping adult, often transitioning from skepticism and suspicion to unease and sometimes disdain. Either worked in his favor.

"Speak clearly, Kringlian!" barked the mustached Tier 8 cultivator. Ren flinched at the reprimand, but internally, he smiled, noting the growing disgust on the faces of the other cultivators.

His gambit was working.

"I... I thought this would be my grave! I got separated from my group while we fled from the Plaza of Summoning," he began. Ren didn't miss the moment when the Poleaxe Cultivator eased his stance, resting the massive weapon's shaft across his shoulders. That was a positive sign. Ren certainly didn't want these powerful individuals perceiving him as a threat.

"T-There was so much blood, and the bod-"

"Deep waters, guide me. Oi," the Poleaxe cultivator interrupted, snapping his fingers and startling Ren. "No one’s asking for ya life story. How did you get into this treasure room?"

"I discovered this building, and it seemed safe enough to hide in, so I entered. But then I grew concerned that the monsters would follow me, so I sought refuge in the Vault. I navigated through the initial trap-"

"Trap?" The Poleaxe warrior exchanged a glance with the gruff cultivator. "Ya mean to tell me ya made it all the way down here without a Rune Key?" He held up a purple shard between his thumb and forefinger.

"Rune Key?" Ren squinted, staring at the crystalline shard. "My sponsor did not provide me with one. Perhaps because I am only a Tier 1 Acolyte."

Ren noticed a subtle shift in their postures. Oh no. What had he said wrong? If a fight were to break out, Ren estimated his chances of survival to be exceedingly slim. And that was assuming he disregarded any notion of fighting and focused solely on escaping the room.

He felt two intense spiritual perceptions scanning him thoroughly. While such behavior was considered rude and contrary to cultivation etiquette, Ren welcomed it. He preferred this over a pointless battle any day.

"Well, I'll be damned! The tall lad is telling the truth."

Ren rose from his kneeling position, brushing off dust from his trousers. Clearing his throat, he bowed to the group. "I apologize for my less than favorable reception. I barely made it, but Kringle works in mysterious ways. Surely, he has guided you brave warriors to my rescue."

The mustached cultivator snorted and nodded toward the area behind Ren. "You better not have stolen anything."

"Of course not–"

A strong hand landed on Ren's shoulder. He could barely perceive the Poleaxe warrior's movement. His billowing robes depicted images of ships navigating stormy waters, revealing the leather armor beneath. A circular emblem featuring a golden trident stuck in stone was embossed on the visible portion of the armor.

“I believe ya. So I guess you won’t be minding if we have a looksie through your pockets, aye?

Such shamelessness!. Ren couldn't help but feel a surge of respect for the man. Fortunately, the only valuable items he had discovered were carefully concealed in his Trachea compartment. He nodded his consent and the Cultivator began his search.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Skilled hands bejeweled in rings roamed over Ren, thoroughly patting down his clothing and delving into pockets. “So what should I be calling you, Acolyte?”

“I am Tier 1 Acolyte Ren,” he replied, his frown deepening slightly as the man inspected his daggers, pulling one out before losing interest and sliding it back into its sheath. Then, the man reached for Ren's golden knife, but that was a step too far. Ren's hands instinctively clamped around the Poleaxe cultivator's wrist.

Raising an eyebrow, the man paused and locked eyes with Ren.

"My apologies, Senior. But that knife is a cherished family heirloom. I can draw it out for your examination, but I cannot allow you to handle it."

There was a growing sense of tension in the room. The man’s gaze remained the same, but somehow felt more sinister. Ren internally sighed, but didn’t back down in the unspoken test of wills. He didn’t like fighting losing battles, but he had his principles. If the situation broke into a fight, he was determined to fatally wound this man before dashing off.

“Nereus! It’s here!” The mustached man’s voice broke the looming tension. The Poleaxe cultivator's attention snapped up, and in a flash, he darted past Ren, joining the other man at the entrance of the treasure alcove. His eyes were filled with excitement as he gazed upon the room, where the Blazing suit of armor resided. The absence of a sapphire ring on one of his fingers went completely unnoticed, overshadowed by his intense fascination with the treasure before him.

Nereus erupted into boisterous laughter, his robes billowing around him as he slapped the thin cultivator's shoulder with a powerful palm. "What did I tell you, Asher? The Wavegazer Clan produces the finest Scryers in the region. We made a promise, and now we've delivered." He pointed his Poleax at the treasure. "With this, our debt to the Duskflame Family is settled."

The mustached Asher, waved off the comment, his eyes fixated on the armor and the heat emanating from it. “Of course. I am authorized by the Family Patriarch to offer you an additional Fifty Peak quality Essence stones if you can help in its retrieval,” he gestured to the Enchanted Armor. Both cultivators continued their conversation in hushed tones, but Ren's attention shifted to the other pair of cultivators who had remained silent until now.

The emblem of a burning wooden fire adorned the armor of these men, just like Asher, indicating that they all belonged to the same family. Their initial wariness towards Ren had subsided now that he had composed himself. With a sense of caution, they cast their gaze around the room, examining the other treasure arches one by one.

Ren grew increasingly anxious as one of the men noticed the tar-like residue on the floor and moved closer to investigate. Resigned, Ren closed his eyes as the man's gaze fell upon the flickering ward. He had hoped to divert the group's attention and find a way to secure the orb. However, his plans were quickly rendered irrelevant by the diligently persistent cultivator.

"Master Duskflame," the man called out, interrupting an irritated Asher who clearly disliked being disturbed.

"What?"

"This enchantment is broken," he pointed at the flickering ward. "It shouldn't be too difficult to retrieve this treasure as well."

A perfectly groomed eyebrow arched on the noble’s face, and Asher sauntered over with Neerus in tow. They arrived in front of the flickering ward and the playful Nereus tapped his boots against the tar-like remains on the floor, releasing a low whistle. “Twenty stones say this was someone’s child”

Asher glanced at the goop in disgust and shook his head. “Focus Nereus! Does your Clan’s record of the Grothluk Trial mention this Treasure?” He jerked his chin towards the Orb resting on the altar.

“Y’know we don’t. If we did, we woulda snatched this nugget o’steel a long time ago”. The man smirked, getting quiet chuckles from Asher’s retinue.

“Hmm, I can see that…” Asher ran his fingers over his curled mustache, eventually moving his gaze over to the unintelligible scribbling on the closest arch pillar. “Better yet, just go ahead and read that plaque for me. I know you can.”

The smiling Nereus froze for a second before stuttering. “U-Um, now where would ya be hearing that?”

“Oh stop it Nereus. Did you really believe my Family was unaware of your Clan’s pet project? That we truly believed your scrying ability alone let you decipher this location?”

The Poleaxe cultivator scrunched his face in unease. “... Mayhaps. If what ya say is true, y’know it's not something someone like me can be giving up…to outsiders. No offense.”

“No matter,” Asher inspected his pristine nails, giving off a sense of boredom. “I am not interested in your language research. I just need to know what this thing is. And I believe this plaque contains the information I seek.”

Ren watched the exchange intently, trying to gather as much information as possible. He watched as the sly Nereus ruminated on how much to disclose, his Poleaxe disappearing into one of his storage rings and reappearing. A few seconds later his expression relaxed as he came to a decision.

“Alrighty then. But this will cost ya extra,” Asher waved his hand in acceptance, urging the man to continue. Seeing his acceptance, Nereus’ grin widened. “Perfect! But this stays in this room. No one else can know. That means the Kringlian has to die”

He turned to Ren and nodded slightly, “No offense.”

“Hey, I take all the offense!” Ren exclaimed as he took a few steps backwards. “In fact I am so offended, I have no memory of the last thirty minutes. Who are you all again?”

Nereus actually laughed, but the ever stoic Asher snorted. “Very funny,” he said in a deadpan voice. Turning to Nereus he continued, “But I can not allow you to harm an Acolyte in my presence.”

Ren did not like the emphasis Asher put on the last word. He realized that his life was being gambled on by these powerhouses of the younger generation.

“For what it’s worth, I am but a humble Temple Acolyte. My focus is the Temple and I am here to grow stronger for the Temple. I promise on my faith, not to speak of your secrets to anyone.”

Nereus peered into Ren’s eyes for a few seconds, even squinting a bit, as if to ascertain the sincerity of his words. After an uncomfortable stretch of silence, the man smiled again and it felt like the guillotine hanging over Ren’s neck receded a bit.

“Who dragged in the doom and gloom?” Nereus questioned, looking genuinely puzzled. “Look around, lads! This room is full of bits and pieces of treasure. We should be celebrating!”

An impatient snort echoed in the room. “Enough with the theatrics, Nereus. The plaque, if you will?”

Mumbling something about lacking spirit, Nereus stored his Poleaxe in his ring and walked up to the wall. He muttered under his breath, as he slowly deciphered the message. At some point, he pulled out sheets of paper from his ring, shielding their contents from the others, as he cross-referenced symbols. A few minutes later, he put away his notes and turned to the room, a winning smile on his face.