After embracing the book and kissing it a few times, Norton carefully tucked it under his arm. Using the same method, he opened the mechanism door connecting to another tomb chamber and continued his exploration.
Though he hoped to strike gold once more after his extraordinary luck with the conceptual armament, reality proved that the universe doesn't often grant such fortune. The concept weapon he'd gained was already an incredible stroke of luck. Compared to this near-mythical artifact, the other treasures Norton found in the tomb were trivial, worth less than a thousandth of the "791 Knights’ Enfeoffment Code" copy. This disparity in value was initially hard for Norton to accept, but upon reflection, he understood why.
The Knights’ Code had ascended to the status of a conceptual armament largely due to its unique nature. It had evolved due to millennia of knightly tradition and development. When it was buried as a funerary offering, it was merely a book. This fortunate anomaly allowed Norton to stumble upon it.
Once he grasped this, Norton ceased dreaming of further miracles. Besides, he didn't leave the tomb empty-handed. In terms of practical value, some of what he found here was indeed more useful than the Knights’ Code.
Among the spoils, the most valuable was a 30-centimeter short sword. Over millennia, most weapons buried as grave goods had deteriorated, and even rare magical weapons had lost their enchantments, reverting to mundane materials. Yet this broad-backed short sword, in the style of the ancient empire, remained as sharp and reflective as ever.
The sword was made from expensive and durable adamantine alloy. Its spine was etched with elven magical designs, dwarven runes, and ancient imperial craftsmanship. Additionally, there were mysterious materials Norton couldn't identify. Any one of these components could craft a superb weapon, but combined, they created an edge nearing perfection—a divine weapon!
Norton never imagined someone could invest so heavily in a mere short sword. The magnitude of this undertaking was astonishing and likely possible only in the empire's most prosperous days.
Norton admired the sword for a while, then tested its edge by lightly cutting into the tomb's bluestone wall. A large chunk of stone fell away as if slicing through butter. He was startled, retrieved the stone, and knocked on the wall—it was indeed solid bluestone, with no trickery involved.
"Remarkably sharp," Norton mused, "For classical era craftsmanship, this sword should have reached its pinnacle—no, I’d believe someone claiming it used black tech. It’s comparable to my previous life’s monomolecular combat dagger… and this sword likely has other uses."
While gripping the sword, Norton felt his physical fatigue and magical depletion fading rapidly. The magic wind seeped through the crystal embedded at the sword's hilt, permeating his body, while the crystal gradually shrank and eventually vanished. Norton's magic reserves restored by about a third.
Invigorated, Norton realized with excitement: with additional magical crystals set into the hilt, he could quickly recharge in battle, dramatically extending his combat endurance. This ability surpassed the sword’s physical value.
Typically, mages used magical crystals as materials or tools, rarely daring to absorb their raw magic. Those who attempted it usually perished from uncontrolled magical surges, their bodies exploding. Survivors risked brain damage, turning them into simpletons. Even geniuses who resisted these effects faced addiction, deteriorating into helpless dependents.
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Safely consuming magic crystals without side effects had long been a mage's dream. Countless alchemists and scholars devoted time and fortune to this pursuit, to no avail.
Norton had heard his sister Juana boast repeatedly that, once she resolved this challenge, she'd ace her academy exams and spit in the face of her tutor as a triumphant statement…
In fairness, Norton thought Miss Triss, Juana's tutor, was good-hearted. Additionally, Norton believed Juana should focus on martial and knightly training instead. He envisioned her wielding maces and axes to take down unfortunate green-skinned orcs or imperial soldiers, smashing their skulls open.
He felt Juana wasn't meant to be a mage—or a pharmacist. Though her academy grades were reportedly decent, her "spirited and carefree" demeanor made Norton anxious.
Precision tasks in alchemy, like mixing 2.5 mg of this into a 73% solution of that, stirring at precise force until color change, blending freshly ground powders, and storing in absolute darkness for days, were simplified by Juana to:
"Mix this into that, give it a good stir, and mash up that thing, then it’s ready!"
The result was typically an explosive "boom." Norton had heard such sounds from her room countless times.
"The challenge that so many mages sought to conquer was solved by the ancient empire thousands of years ago… sadly, this technology vanished along with the empire," Norton thought, further elevating his appraisal of the short sword and the ancient empire. Reluctantly placing the sword down after more admiration, he noted, "This sword might have other purposes. I’ll explore that at leisure."
While acquiring a timeless divine weapon was fortunate, it wasn’t the most practical treasure Norton had gained.
During the early imperial period, transitioning from slavery to feudalism, the emperor wasn’t a saint liberating slaves. Countless workers died constructing his tomb, and many were sacrificed upon its completion.
The sword was retrieved from a skeleton clad in tattered, rusted armor—likely an honor guard who voluntarily accompanied the emperor into death. With such a sword, he was likely a trusted and powerful general in life. Yet, in death, a mere skeleton remained.
Upon entering this chamber, Norton focused on the short sword at the slain general’s waist, ignoring all else. With the sword examined, he surveyed the chamber.
The room was cluttered with thousands of remains, all robustly built, clad in Baroque black iron armor, belonging to an elite force. By any standard, they were excellent candidates for transformation into powerful undead soldiers. Norton no longer worried about reprimands for damaging his family’s crypt guards.
Though Norton knew little about creating crypt guards or wights, he could use existing materials to craft semblances of "high-level undead." He’d simply ask the black cat to help complete the necessary necromancy back home. After all, the cat let him out—if trouble ensued, she’d be implicated as well, right?
Clear on his plans, Norton proceeded undeterred, focusing on his grand scheme. Replenished by the short sword's magic, he commenced his work. As he concentrated, invisible magic wind manifested around him, transforming into searing, blue flame.
Using the skeletons' rusted, unusable armor and weapons as raw materials, Norton controlled the wind to toss them into the fire, melting them into black iron ingots. The ingots twisted and reshaped to his mental blueprint, forming complete suits of plate armor, winged helms, swords, shields, and heavy halberds—all with bat-wing motifs.
“Bat-wing crests, full black iron plate, battle halberds… Hmm, something’s missing… ah, yes…” Norton snapped his fingers, and unseen brushes painted the Castine family crest in red, gold, and silver on the armor.
The crest’s upper right depicted a blood-red sword piercing imperial plate armor, representing the vampires' eternal hatred and lust for conquest against humanity. It was also the emblem of the Sylvania Duchy. The adjacent blood-filled grail symbolized the Castine family’s pride, the Blood Grail Knights, and their sacred treasure, the Blood Grail.
As for crossbows and staves, they were difficult to craft… but that was minor, easily attributed to playful accidents. Those were trivial items, no one would miss them, and Norton would face at most a light scolding.