what if I'm an undead! then so what?-Chapter 63: Acquiring fortune

The great oak doors loomed before the trio like the gates of an ancient fortress, their surfaces carved with intricate sigils that pulsed faintly with an otherworldly light. Kenji Tsukigami, their reluctant guide, paused before them, his usual brash demeanor tempered by a flicker of unease. His eyes darted to the people he led—Vaelion, Masaru, and Shougo—each standing rigid under the weight of anticipation. "I’ll have you know," Kenji began, his voice low but edged with a warning, "my father is... a bit much. If you behave yourselves, you might just survive meeting him. Especially you, Vaelion." He jabbed a finger at the half-dragon, whose golden eyes narrowed in defiance.

Vaelion’s lips curled into a faint smirk, but his posture betrayed a hint of caution. Masaru, on the other hand, stood silent, his face unreadable, while Shougo, the human swordsman, gripped the hilt of his katana, his knuckles whitening. Kenji took a deep breath, as if steeling himself, and pushed the doors open with a grunt. The hinges groaned, a deep, resonant sound that echoed through the cavernous hall beyond, announcing their arrival with all the subtlety of a war drum.

The chamber was a paradox, a blend of medieval grandeur and supernatural menace. Towering stone pillars lined the walls, their surfaces etched with runes that shimmered like liquid starlight. Torches flickered in iron sconces, casting long, wavering shadows that danced across the polished obsidian floor. At the far end of the hall, atop a raised dais, sat a single throne-like chair, its dark wood adorned with silver inlays that gleamed like the eyes of a predator. The air was thick with power, a palpable pressure that pressed against the trio’s chests, making each breath a conscious effort. It was as if the room itself was alive, watching, judging.

"You may excuse us!" a voice boomed, rich and velvety, yet laced with an authority that brooked no defiance. Kenji flinched, bowing his head before retreating through a side door without a word. The trio stood alone, exposed in the vastness of the hall, as the man on the throne leaned forward, his silhouette sharpening into focus.

Mr. Tsukigami was not what they expected. He was tall, his frame lean but radiating a strength that seemed to warp the air around him. His hair, a cascade of green streaked with black, fell past his shoulders, framing a face both ageless and ancient. His eyes, a piercing amber, seemed to glow with an inner fire, and his presence was a storm—calm on the surface but roiling with untamed power beneath. Even Vaelion, whose draconic pride usually burned brighter than any challenge, felt his confidence waver. The half-dragon’s hands clenched into fists, his claws digging into his palms as he fought the urge to kneel.

"So," Mr. Tsukigami said, his voice softening to a silken drawl that somehow carried more menace than his shout, "you three are the lucky ones to glimpse my family’s Treasury. I hadn’t budgeted for three, but I suppose I’ll have to improvise." He chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down Masaru’s spine. The pressure in the room intensified, a psychic weight that pressed against their minds and bodies, testing their resolve. Shougo’s knees buckled slightly, his human frailty betraying him, while Vaelion’s jaw tightened, his pride refusing to let him falter. Masaru, surprisingly, stood firm, his crimson eyes meeting Mr. Tsukigami’s without flinching.

"Introduce yourselves," Mr. Tsukigami commanded, resting his chin in his hand with a casual air that belied the intensity of his gaze. His fingers, adorned with rings that pulsed with faint magical auras, tapped rhythmically against his cheek.

Vaelion stepped forward first, his chest puffing out as he summoned his usual bravado. "I am Vaelion, a Ryukar, descended from the noble bloodlines of the ancient dragons!" His voice rang with pride, though it trembled ever so slightly under Mr. Tsukigami’s scrutiny. He crossed his arms, his golden scales glinting faintly in the torchlight, as if to emphasize his heritage. The gesture was defiant, but his eyes flickered nervously, betraying the effort it took to stand tall.

Masaru followed, his tone clipped and precise. "My name is Masaru Ryunosuke, a vampire of the Mikazuki family." He offered no flourish, no bravado, only the bare essentials. His almost pale skin seemed almost translucent in the dim light, and his crimson eyes held a quiet intensity, as if he were measuring the man before him. Within him, the presence of his familiar, Emerald, stirred faintly, a whisper of power that bolstered his resolve.

Shougo was last, stepping forward with a graceful bow that spoke of years spent honing his discipline. "I am Shougo Kurogane, a human swordsman seeking enlightenment in the way of the sword." His voice was calm, almost serene, and his white hair fell over his blindfolded eyes as he straightened, revealing a faint smile. Mr. Tsukigami’s lips curved in response, a glimmer of approval in his amber eyes.

"A half-dragon, a vampire, and a human," Mr. Tsukigami mused, rising from his throne with a fluid grace that belied his imposing presence. "What an unlikely bunch." Each step he took toward them amplified the pressure, a tidal wave of power that seemed to ripple through the air. Shougo was the first to falter, his knees hitting the stone floor with a dull thud. He gritted his teeth, ashamed of his weakness, but the force was overwhelming, like standing before a god. Vaelion followed, his pride crumbling as he sank to one knee, his golden eyes blazing with defiance even as his body betrayed him.

Masaru, to everyone’s surprise, remained standing. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, though his jaw was set with quiet determination. Mr. Tsukigami’s eyes narrowed, a spark of curiosity igniting within them. "Impressive," he said, his voice low and probing. "For a mid-ranking vampire to withstand my aura... it’s not your own power, is it? Your familiar, perhaps? What world does it hail from?"

Masaru’s lips pressed into a thin line. Emerald’s presence pulsed within him, a warm, steady hum that shielded him from the worst of Mr. Tsukigami’s pressure. "I’d rather not say," he replied, his tone polite but firm. A shadow passed over Mr. Tsukigami’s face, his smile fading into a frown that sent a chill through the room.

"I see," he said, his voice cold enough to frost the air. He raised a hand, fingers splayed as if to grasp Masaru’s very soul. "Then you’ll just have to die." The words hung like a guillotine, and for a heartbeat, the room seemed to hold its breath. Vaelion and Shougo froze, their eyes wide with alarm. But before any power could manifest, Mr. Tsukigami lowered his hand, slipping it into his pocket with a casual shrug. "Everyone’s got a secret, I suppose," he said, his tone lightening as if nothing had happened. "Follow me."

The trio exchanged wary glances but obeyed, trailing him through the mansion’s labyrinthine halls. The walls were lined with tapestries depicting battles between celestial beings and demons, their threads woven with magic that made the scenes flicker with life. The air grew heavier with each step, saturated with the residual energy of countless artifacts. At last, they stopped before a massive golden door, its surface engraved with a phoenix coiled around a crescent moon. Mr. Tsukigami pushed it open with a single hand, revealing a chamber that took their breath away. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

The Treasury was a cathedral of wealth and power. Shelves of dark wood stretched to the vaulted ceiling, laden with artifacts that glowed, pulsed, and whispered with latent energy. Swords with blades that shimmered like liquid starlight, amulets that hummed with forbidden spells, and tomes bound in leather that seemed to writhe under scrutiny—all neatly arranged, yet exuding a chaotic aura that made the air hum. The room was a paradox of order and danger, a testament to the Tsukigami family’s dominion over the supernatural world.

"Now listen closely," Mr. Tsukigami said, his voice cutting through the hum of power. "I’d normally guide you to specific artifacts, but since there are three of you instead of one, I’ll let you choose. You have twenty seconds, and whatever you touch first is yours. Choose wisely—or don’t." His smile was both an invitation and a warning.

Masaru’s mind raced. He knew nothing of artifacts or mythical weapons, his vampire training focused more on survival than lore. A sword to amplify his strength? An amulet to bolster his speed? He was out of his depth, and the pressure of the ticking seconds gnawed at him. Then, Emerald’s voice echoed within him, calm and ancient. "Listen, kid. There are only three things worth taking here. First, that sword on the far shelf—its blade can cut through anything, even energy, and it’s near indestructible. Second, the book to your left, one of the three legendary Grimoires, crafted by an ancient god. I can’t read its powers yet, but I’ll decode it if you take it. And third, that bottle of blood over there. It’s the essence of a true Phoenix. Drink it, and your power could rival even this old man’s."

Masaru’s eyes widened. Kenji’s strength was said to rival Akane’s, a noble vampire, a hundred times stronger than him. If Mr. Tsukigami was stronger still, the Phoenix blood could make Masaru a force to be reckoned with. Without hesitation, he moved toward the bottle, its bright green contents glowing faintly within a plain glass vial, overshadowed by gaudy golden artifacts. But as his fingers brushed the glass, a firm hand clamped onto his wrist.

Mr. Tsukigami’s face was a mask of concern, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of something darker. "I wouldn’t do that," he said. "That’s just demon blood. It’ll corrupt your soul—might even kill you." His tone was grave, but Masaru sensed the lie, a subtle shift in the man’s aura that Emerald’s presence sharpened his perception to detect.

"You’re right," Masaru said, feigning agreement as he pulled back. He waited, feeling the tension in Mr. Tsukigami’s grip ease, then lunged for the bottle again. "If it’s that dangerous, it’ll make a fine poison," he said, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart. He braced for resistance, but Mr. Tsukigami merely stepped back, his expression unreadable.

Then, a heavy hand landed on Masaru’s shoulder, stopping him cold. "Wait," Mr. Tsukigami said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "That bottle is vital to my family. It stabilizes our bloodline, ensures our offspring survive. Without it, we’d fade in a thousand years. How about a deal? Forfeit the bottle, and I’ll let you choose two artifacts instead of one."

Masaru hesitated. The sincerity in Mr. Tsukigami’s voice was compelling, and the man’s power was undeniable. Refusing could mean death. "Fine," he said at last, setting the bottle back on the shelf. "But don’t stop me from my next choice." Mr. Tsukigami nodded, a faint smile returning.

Masaru moved to the sword Emerald had mentioned, its red blade gleaming with an otherworldly sheen. Its design was intricate, a swirling pattern of curves and edges that seemed to defy human craftsmanship. He lifted it, feeling its weight settle perfectly in his hand, as if it had been forged for him alone. Mr. Tsukigami’s eyes narrowed, a mix of surprise and suspicion flickering across his face. That blade, was a relic of legend, capable of cleaving through any substance, even the ethereal energies of spirits and gods. It had been in the Tsukigami family for generations, discovered by Mr. Tsukigami’s grandfather, yet never used, as their clan prided itself on fighting without weapons.

Masaru’s gaze drifted to the Grimoire, its worn leather cover unassuming amidst the Treasury’s opulence. He reached for it, his fingers brushing the ancient binding. The book pulsed with a subtle warmth, as if alive. Mr. Tsukigami’s expression darkened further. That Grimoire, one of three crafted by a forgotten deity, was coveted by the Seven Witches’ factions, its secrets locked within pages only a worthy bearer could unlock. For Masaru to claim both the sword and the Grimoire—two of the Treasury’s most potent artifacts—seemed too precise to be luck.

"Tell me, boy," Mr. Tsukigami said, his voice low and probing. "What made you choose these two?"

Masaru shrugged, forcing a casual grin. "Just a gut feeling they’re special." He wasn’t about to reveal Emerald’s guidance, not when Mr. Tsukigami’s emerald eyes seemed to pierce through him, searching for truth.

Vaelion and Shougo had made their choices as well. Vaelion held a jagged, bone-like fragment that pulsed with draconic energy—a dragon bone, Mr. Tsukigami confirmed, his tone laced with amusement. Shougo cradled a silver-bound book, its pages etched with ancient script. "It’s a manual of cultivation," Shougo explained, his voice steady despite the lingering ache in his knees. "Written by a human who transcended mortal limits, tempering body, mind, and soul. It could complement my weaknesses."

Masaru’s jaw dropped. Dragons, Phoenixes, and now cultivators? The world was far stranger than he’d ever imagined, and today had shattered every boundary he’d thought existed. As they left the Treasury, the weight of their choices—and Mr. Tsukigami’s watchful gaze—followed them, a silent promise that this encounter was only the beginning.