Wizard: Starting from the Skill Tree

Chapter 848: Chapter 766: Vera_2

In just a few seconds, all the wall niches were empty.

He counted them: sixty in total, twelve of each attribute.

If these Gemstones were brought back to the Wizard Plane, they could be traded for a sizable fortune, or kept for his own use. Whether for assisting spellcasting or for refining Witchcraft Artifacts, they were excellent materials.

Duke turned and walked out of the room, continuing forward along the passage.

The forks ahead grew more and more numerous, spreading out in all directions like a spiderweb.

At every junction he paused for a moment, using his Spiritual Power to probe the depth and aura of each passage, then chose the direction most likely to yield results.

Some passages ended in dead ends, only a cold stone wall; some ended in empty rooms, with nothing left but scattered pottery shards and rotted cloth.

Others ended in traces of battle, the floor littered with shattered bones and strips of cloth—clearly someone had been here before him.

He turned another bend, and voices came from up ahead.

Not the roars of combat, but conversation—people talking, with a hint of dissatisfaction in their tone.

"...Nothing at all, what a waste of a trip."

"At least those Gemstones weren’t taken. The wall niches on this side are all empty, which means someone’s already been here."

...

Duke stopped, pressed himself against the wall, and condensed his Spiritual Power into a thin strand, probing past the bend.

Two people, both wearing the dark red Magic Robes of Blood Rose.

One was tall and burly, holding a silver-white Longsword; the other was thin, a Magic Wand in his hand, the Crystal Stone on its tip still glowing faintly.

They were just coming out of a room, their expressions rather ugly.

The thin Wizard shook his head and turned, about to say something, when his gaze swept the edge of the bend and he saw Duke’s shadow.

"Who?!"

Duke stepped out from behind the bend.

The two of them froze at the same time, then their faces changed.

The thin Wizard recognized him, his lips moved, spitting out two syllables: "Duke."

The tall swordsman didn’t waste words.

He drew his Longsword, fiery red Fighting Spirit blazing along the blade, and charged at Duke.

The thin Wizard raised his Magic Wand at the same time, the Crystal Stone at its tip bursting into a dazzling blue light. An ice spike formed in midair and shot toward Duke.

Duke’s expression was utterly calm as sand surged out around him, condensing into a sand shield in front of him.

The ice spike slammed into the sand shield and shattered into countless tiny ice crystals that scattered in all directions.

The swordsman’s Longsword then slashed down; a strand of sand split off from the shield and coiled around the blade, halting its momentum.

Duke lifted his hand, and another stream of sand surged out from the side, turning into a razor-sharp Sand Blade that slashed toward the swordsman’s neck.

The swordsman twisted aside, the Sand Blade grazing his shoulder. His Magic Robe tore open and blood sprayed out.

The thin Wizard was shocked and tried to cast another spell.

But Duke didn’t give him the chance.

Sand surged up from under his feet, wrapping around his entire body in an instant, like a gigantic hand of sand squeezing tight.

The thin Wizard struggled a few times, his bones creaking, and his Six-Ring Badge suddenly flared with golden light, signifying his elimination.

The swordsman’s face went pale, and he turned to run.

Sand rose from the ground, blocking his path.

He clenched his teeth and swept his Longsword in a horizontal slash, trying to cut through the sand wall.

The sand wall didn’t budge an inch. The blade was buried in the sand and couldn’t be pulled out.

Duke walked up to him, raised his hand, and sand surged in from all directions, swallowing the man whole.

Golden light flared again.

Duke finished all this as if he had just casually disposed of two little mice. Completely composed, he turned and continued forward.

...

After walking for about another hour, the passage gradually widened, and the vaulted ceiling grew higher and higher.

Murals reappeared on the walls on both sides. This time they were not scenes of battle and sacrifice, but a series of continuous narratives.

People were building this tomb; people were hauling giant stones; people were carving those complex runes.

The murals were far more refined than the previous ones. The expressions of the figures, the folds of their clothes, and the details of their tools were all clearly discernible.

Duke was studying a mural depicting a sacrificial scene when he suddenly sensed someone ahead.

It wasn’t the aura of battle, but a familiar presence: natural, gentle, with a hint of coolness.

He quickened his pace, turned the corner, and saw a white figure.

Vera.

She was standing at a crossroads, head lowered, looking at something on the ground.

There were a few stains on her Magic Robe, but her aura was steady—clearly she wasn’t injured.

Hearing footsteps, she raised her head, saw Duke, and gave a slight nod.

"You made it here too." Her voice was as calm as ever.

Duke walked up beside her and lowered his head to look at what she was staring at.

Several lines of text were carved into the ground, in the same ancient language as the inscriptions on the main gate.

He couldn’t read them, but Vera was clearly studying them.

"What is this?"

"The structural diagram of the tomb." Vera straightened up and traced a simple outline in the air with her finger. "It’s divided into three levels. We’re on the first level now, the bottom one. Above is the second level, and above that is the top level." She paused. "The higher you go, the rarer the treasures. On the third level..."

She stopped for a moment.

"What’s on the third level?"

Vera shook her head. "I don’t know. But that word appears over and over in the inscriptions—’Legacy.’ It should be the final boon left behind by the master of this tomb."

Duke was silent for a few breaths. He recalled the sentence Leon had relayed: "Those who enter bear life and death themselves; those who obtain it may inherit the Legacy."

"How do we get up there?" he asked.

"We find an entrance leading to the second level." Vera pointed into the distance. "According to what the inscriptions record, there are multiple entrances on the first level that lead to the second, but each entrance requires certain conditions to open. Some require defeating a Guardian, some require gathering enough offerings, some require solving a puzzle."

She paused and looked at Duke.

"I found a suspected entrance nearby, but it’s blocked by a seal. I haven’t figured out much yet. Why don’t you come take a look—maybe you’ll notice something else."

Duke nodded. "Lead the way."

Vera turned and headed down one of the passages.

Duke followed behind her, their footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.

The way ahead grew darker and darker, the lampstands sparser and sparser, leaving only their own light to illuminate the ground beneath their feet.

In the distance, there was the faint sound of wind blowing through cracks in the stone, like someone whispering.

Vera led the way, passing through several winding corridors and around a few collapsed stone walls, until she finally stopped in front of a massive stone gate.

"Here it is." She stepped aside, revealing the sealed stone gate behind her.

The stone gate was very tall, over twenty meters, carved from a single block of bluish-gray rock.

Its surface bore no patterns or carvings—only a thin film of energy that glowed pale blue, rippling slowly over the stone like water.

The membrane was very thin, almost transparent, but the instant Duke’s Spiritual Power touched it, it was gently bounced back.

"I’ve tried several methods." Vera’s voice echoed in the empty corridor. "Physical attacks get absorbed by that film, Magic attacks are reflected, and even Spiritual Power probes are severed. Forcing it open isn’t impossible, but it might trigger the warding and bury this entire passage."

Duke didn’t respond immediately.

He walked up to the stone gate, raised his hand, and held his fingertip an inch from the light film.

He could feel the membrane pulsing slightly, like a heartbeat or breathing—not dead, but alive.

Its energy source wasn’t the surface, but deep underground, flowing steadily up from the core of the tomb.

To break it by force would require power beyond what ordinary Level 1 and Level 2 Mage could provide.

Duke shifted his gaze from the stone gate and swept his eyes around.

On the left wall was a vertical round disk, about three feet across, cast entirely from some dark, dull metal, its surface covered in intricate patterns.

Those lines were densely packed, like a spiderweb or veins, radiating from the center of the disk outward, then folding back at the edge, layer upon layer, enough to make one’s eyes swim.

Duke walked up to the disk and bent down for a closer look.

This was no ordinary decoration.