The Dark Mage Of The Magus World-Chapter 68: The Eye of the Vault

"A treasure vault?" Hutson’s interest was piqued. He raised an eyebrow. "Do you actually have anything worthwhile in there?"

"Of course," Count Huen replied with unmistakable pride. He had absolute confidence in the wealth of his family’s treasury.

Hutson tapped his fingers thoughtfully. "Then I hope it doesn’t disappoint me."

His words were blunt, but nobles were used to such attitudes from powerful individuals. A sorcerer had no need to feign politeness—especially one who could kill a few people without consequence if necessary.

Count Huen hesitated, then gave a small nod. He briefly glanced at the treasures stored within the vault in his mind and reassured himself. It will be enough to satisfy him.

Without further delay, Hutson extended his hand, hovering it over the count’s wounded side.

A dark vapor began to rise from the injury—the dark energy particles slowly dissipating as Hutson absorbed them into himself.

Almost instantly, Huen felt a strange relief, as if the burning, gnawing sensation within his wound had begun to fade. The constant itching and throbbing pain were finally subsiding.

Hutson had taken the job seriously. He had no intention of half-finishing the work, nor of leaving a single remnant of the dark magic inside the wound.

Joshi and the others remained silent, watching in awe and fascination. They had long believed the black corruption on the wound was merely poison, an affliction impossible to cure. They had never realized it was a malevolent force clinging to his very flesh.

For half an hour, Hutson continued his work. By the time he withdrew his hand, the black stain was completely gone, leaving behind raw, red flesh—a normal wound that could now heal properly.

"It’s done," Hutson said calmly. "From here on, just treat it as a normal injury."

The castle’s physicians rushed forward, immediately applying fresh bandages and medicinal salves.

Hutson, however, made no move to assist further. He had healing potions in his possession, but wasting them on a noble was simply bad business.

With the dark magic removed, the count’s face noticeably regained color, his breath deepening with newfound ease.

Hutson gave him a glance, somewhat impressed. Despite being an ordinary human, Huen had endured the pain of dark energy poisoning for months. Lesser men would have long succumbed to madness or death.

He even recognized the scent of anesthesia—a desperate method to numb the pain of an otherwise untreatable affliction.

Count Huen exhaled heavily, sinking back into his chair before looking up at Hutson.

"Sir Hutson," he said, his voice steadier now. "I owe you my life. And now, it is time for me to honor my promise."

With newfound energy, he rose to his feet, Kieran moving instantly to support him.

"Follow me," Huen gestured forward.

Joshi and Ruchi remained behind, making no move to follow—as if they already knew that the vault was not a place for them.

Count Huen personally led Hutson deep beneath the castle, descending three levels down into the underground chambers.

They finally stopped before a massive iron door, thick and reinforced. Two knightly guardians stood watch, both clad in full suits of armor, their gazes sharp.

Without a word, Count Huen retrieved a small wooden box from his coat, opening it to reveal a bronze key.

Approaching the vault’s lock, he inserted the key and turned it with a deliberate motion.

Clank.

A series of mechanical gears rumbled to life, their ancient mechanisms grinding together as the heavy vault door slowly began to open.

A narrow corridor stretched beyond the entrance, dimly lit by oil lamps flickering against the stone walls.

"You two, remain here," Count Huen ordered the guards. "No one enters, no exceptions."

They bowed in silent obedience.

Count Huen turned to Hutson. "Sir Hutson, this way."

Hutson followed him deeper into the corridor, the air growing heavier as they reached yet another door—smaller but made of solid metal, its frame laced with arcane runes.

Hutson’s eyes flickered with interest. This was no ordinary vault.

Huen reached for a chain hidden beneath his collar, pulling out a small silver key. Without hesitation, he inserted it into the second door’s lock.

The moment the door swung open, a golden radiance flooded outward.

Hutson stepped inside and paused.

For the first time in a long while—he was stunned.

The vault was enormous. A space so vast it could easily rival a football field in size.

Inside, mountains of gold coins, chests overflowing with gemstones, and priceless artifacts were stacked in careless abundance.

He spotted ornate vases, antique scrolls, and even a massive piece of deep-sea coral, its vibrant colors standing out amid the wealth.

Huen, now fully invigorated, smiled with pride.

"This," he gestured, "is the accumulated wealth of the Banks family, gathered over generations. Some of these treasures... even I do not know when or how they entered our vault."

Hutson took a step forward, his golden eyes scanning the sheer magnitude of riches before him.

Huen chuckled. "Sir Hutson, you are a Mysterious One, beyond the realm of ordinary men. Gold and jewels mean little to a being like you. Take your time. Look around. Choose any three treasures you desire."

Hutson exhaled slowly.

For the first time since stepping into Macphir City—he felt genuinely intrigued.

Hutson’s gaze landed on a suit of armor tucked away in the corner of the vault.

The metallic sheen of its surface was unlike anything he had encountered before—unfamiliar, unidentifiable. He ran his fingers along the plating, the texture cold and otherworldly beneath his touch.

More intriguing, however, was the subtle resistance he felt when he attempted to channel a small amount of magic into it. The armor rejected the mana, pushing back against his spell.

His eyes narrowed.

It reminded him of Dino’s ship, which had been constructed from the enchanted wood of the Forbidden Forest—a material notorious for its anti-magic properties. Though this armor’s resistance was notably weaker, it was undoubtedly imbued with similar qualities.

"Where is this from?" he asked, his voice even but tinged with curiosity.

Count Huen, who had been closely observing Hutson’s choices, stepped forward with a knowing smile.

"This is the armor of Legendary Grand Knight Goodmans Graf," Huen explained. "He was a warrior of great renown, his name immortalized in history for his many feats. It is said his armor was forged with unique properties, granting him extraordinary resistances in battle. If it interests you, Sir Hutson, you are welcome to take it."

Hutson ran his hand across the breastplate once more before shaking his head.

"I’ll keep looking."

While impressive, the armor held little value for him. He rarely relied on physical protection in battle—if he required defense, it was far easier to summon a Dark Energy Shield than to encase himself in heavy metal. For a knight, it would be invaluable. For a sorcerer? Impractical.

Hutson continued deeper into the treasury.

The sheer magnitude of gold, artifacts, and ancient relics made it difficult to focus. But then—something stopped him in his tracks.

A glass container sat on a pedestal ahead.

Inside, two floating eyeballs bobbed gently within a preserved liquid, staring unblinkingly outward.

Hutson felt a slight chill crawl up his spine.

The irises were a deep crimson, almost hypnotic in their intensity. He could have sworn that the eyes were following him, though he knew that was impossible.

He stepped closer.

"...What is this?"

For a moment, something about them felt familiar, a distant memory teasing at the edge of his mind. He had read about these somewhere—but where?

"AI chip," he murmured. "Analyze this."

A faint glow flickered across his vision as AI chip’s interface activated, scanning the relic. A moment later, a detailed report materialized before him.

"Identification: 98.34% probability—belonging to the Kuruta Tribe."

Hutson’s brows lifted slightly.

The Kuruta Tribe...

"The Kuruta were an isolated people, residing in the remote mountain regions of Karag Continent. When experiencing heightened emotions, their eyes would turn a brilliant shade of crimson—one of the ’Seven Most Beautiful Colors in the World.’ Due to their rarity and beauty, noble collectors sought them at outrageous prices, leading to widespread hunts. The Kuruta people were driven to extinction." 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

Hutson read the final sentence in silence.

Extinct.

Slaughtered.

The crimson eyes before him were a remnant of a genocide, a grotesque trophy of greed.

He now recalled their significance beyond mere aesthetics.

These were not just collector’s items—they were a rare alchemical ingredient, highly valued in the crafting of powerful potions and enchantments.

I don’t need them now... but one day, I might.

Such an extinct material would only grow more valuable with time.

Without hesitation, Hutson reached forward and claimed the jar, the glass cool against his fingertips.

He wasn’t about to leave a relic of a slaughtered people in the hands of nobility who saw them only as decoration.