Chapter 30: Treasure

When a devout follower is put to rest, they are ordained with possessions so that they may continue their fight in the next realm.

A sword of the oathsworn, so that they may fight that which haunts death.

A ring of the reapers, so that their connection to the divine is never severed.

A shield of the builders, so that they may protect the weak from evil.

A cloak of the guides, so that they may find their way through the coldest of nights.

• Introductory Handbook Of Angel Kiri’s Order, – Read by Leo at a young age.

I stare at the Undead, my brain blanking. I ask the first question that comes to mind, “How did you find us?”

The Undead stands, towering over me as he motions towards the stone casket. “You rest neareth mine place of eternal slumber.”

Well, that’s remarkably unlucky. Or lucky, considering how things were going so far. I’d never heard of a kind undead before. Usually their hunger for the flesh of the living overrides any soul they once held.

I glance at Keve, who still holds his swords at the ready.

I look back to the undead, who’d stood eerily still during the lull in conversation, “How are you still… sane?”

The undead lowers his head, then raises his hand, revealing a ring.

I identify it.

My breath leaves me as I read the description. At the very least, that eases my mind that there’s some kind of trick that the undead is attempting to pull.

“You can lower your swords, Keve.”

He hesitates for a second, then sheathes both swords.

“Your companion holds great trust in thine words.” The Undead remarks, as he sits on his tomb. “It is heartening to know you are a Paladin worthy of such trust.”

I don’t correct the paladin statement. I haven’t joined any of the Oathsworn Orders, where classes can transform into the Paladin general class, similar to how reapers gain the Reaper general class. The Oathsworn Orders were few and far between, with the lack of demons that their oaths swear them against, and the disappearance of the Angels, not many find themselves called to the ancient Orders, instead fighting for the reapers who face the greater threat of the necromancers and their undead.

I shake my head, bringing my mind back to the issue at hand. There are so many questions I have, many of which he might know the answer to, but first things first.

“Why did you fight the other group?”

“The Demon worshippers have long sought entrance to the exalted rooms of Angel Kolas. I would never let one of their corrupted into those sacred halls.”

Demon worshippers. That confirms they aren’t necromancers, even back when this guy lived, there were strong distinctions between the two.

I look into the dead eyes of the Undead Paladin, “An Angel wants me here, why?”

He stares for a long moment, the smiles with the half of his face that still holds flesh. “The knowledge warms me, that the angels have not completely abandoned their faithful. There is a room. I suspect that your mission lies beyond it. This one will lead you there, but this one will not follow. If I roam too far from my burial place, I lose mineself. Instead, this one will guard your backs, for with the moving of the Angels, so too shall the Devils move.”

I share a look with Keve, then look back to the undead. “Thank you.”

The dead paladin rises from his tomb and motions for us to follow him. Our pace through the catacombs is much more measured, and my gaze catches on ancient words carved into the archways of different rooms. My mana detector goes off like crazy, making me think that there might be more in the sarcophagi than bones. Heroes were often buried with the weapons they used in life, which made them all the more dangerous when they were raised as undead.

“Are you the only undead here?” I ask.

The undead turns towards me, his bones creaking before he looks forward again, “The grace of the Angels prevents many from rising, and for those who do, I have been tasked with returning them to their graves.”

He kills any undead that rise.

I look away from his back, instead studying the walls. We’re not standing still long enough for me to read any of the symbols, but I catch glimpses of pictographs depicting ancient stories. Long dead paladins, priests, saints, and reapers. The faith back then was even stronger back then than it is today, and the sheer number of honored graves is a testament to that.

The man stops at a large wooden door. “I cannot accompany you further. May the Angels bless your path.”

I turn towards him and bow my head, “Thank you, Paladin Akashir. Your name will not be forgotten.”

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Keve follows my movement, and says something in his native language.

The half of the paladin’s face that still has flesh smiles. Then he turns and walks away.

I look up at the door. Despite the passage of time, the wood looks fresh. Dark, as if it had been freshly stained. A large shield has been carved into the middle of it, wood shooting away from the shield like beams of light.

I put my shoulder against the door, expecting some resistance. As I push forward, it opens without trouble.

On the other side, I’m greeted by a serene pool of water, a natural cave surrounding it. A path has been made just above the pool, the material of the path a silver metal that I’ve never seen before. The room itself is lit by a calm blue light that the pools themselves emit.

As I step into the room, I peer down into one of the pools. It’s completely clear, letting me see into its depths, where large fish languidly swim through glowing plants.

Shar jumps off of my pack, and lands in her cat form. She languidly walks along the path through the pools, untouched by the passage of time. Keve and I follow her.

The longer I stare at the pools, the more I start to sense the mana within them. It’s concentrated in some way that my mana sense can’t define.

The path leads to a large archway, silver script carved into it in spirals traveling up and down its length.

At first I think it might be runes, but my identify skill returns nothing. The energy radiating off of the archway is different from mana, more similar to the energy I feel from my waist or during the fight with the Warlock.

Divine energy, and stronger than I’ve ever felt.

Shar steps through slowly, her paw testing the archway before fully walking past. I follow through the structure, and I feel as some kind of barrier passes over me.