Chapter 28
The air inside the hidden dome was heavy with silence. Rows of green shimmered faintly under the dim light seeping through the cracks above. Luciel stood amidst the living garden, still marveling at the miracle of it—a patch of green thriving in a dead, grey world.
He crouched beside a wilting patch of unfamiliar plants. Their stems were thin, leaves curling, their color fading fast. Life clung to them by a thread.
"System," Luciel asked quietly in his mind, "can domestication points be used on plants as well?"
A metallic chime echoed inside his consciousness.
Ding!
Plants can be domesticated.
Luciel's eyes lit up. "Well, that changes everything."
He glanced over the garden again, eyes settling on the half-dead specimens. If he could tame beasts, why not vegetation? If these plants were unique—perhaps relics of a lost age—he couldn't afford to let them die here.
"In that case," he murmured, half to himself, half to the garden, "I'll just dig the whole place out."
But there were at least a dozen varieties, maybe more, and the space was wide. Moving them all in one night wasn't practical—not without help.
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "One step at a time, Luciel. Let's deal with the valuables first."
He turned from the garden, scanning the rest of the chamber. Somewhere in this place, Bloodbeard had to be hiding something greater than plants—something worth guarding with his life.
Luciel moved toward the inner section of the dome, his boots barely whispering against the floor. He found a wooden door slightly ajar at the far wall. Its handle was polished smooth by frequent use.
With a gentle push—
Click.
The latch gave way.
He slipped inside.
A faint musky scent hung in the air—old wood, leather, and the residue of sweat and ale. A large bed dominated the center of the room, its sheets tossed in disarray. A low flame flickered in a metal lamp near the bed's edge, casting moving shadows across the walls.
Luciel recognized the setting instantly. "So this was Bloodbeard's bedroom."
He moved to the bedside table and pulled open its drawer. Inside was a bulging cloth bag, heavy and tied with a simple cord. He loosened the knot and peered inside.
A shimmer of light reflected back—beast spars, dozens of them, glinting like captured stars.
A grin tugged at his lips. "Bloodbeard, you arrogant fool. You really just left these lying around?"
Then again, it made sense. Who in their right mind would think to climb the sheer face of a mountain into the leader's private quarters? Confidence—or perhaps madness—had made the man careless.
Luciel reached into the bag, his palm tingling with the raw energy emanating from the spars. "System," he said under his breath, "absorb everything."
Ding!
Energy transformation complete. Evolution points gained: 3,866.
Luciel's grin widened. "Now that's what I call profit."
He leaned against the table, savoring the moment. Nearly four thousand points in a single sweep—it was enough to push both of his tamed beasts closer to another evolution. His plans were aligning perfectly.
After a brief moment of satisfaction, he collected himself. There was more to find here.
He searched the rest of the room meticulously. Inside a cupboard near the bed, he discovered a small wooden box filled with neatly sorted pouches. When he lifted the lid, his eyebrows rose. Each pouch was labeled in fine handwriting—seeds. Dozens of them.
"Well, now. You really were a gardener, weren't you, old man?"
He ran his fingers over the bags, noting the faint, earthy scent that escaped as he checked each one. Some were labeled with crude symbols—others in that strange, ancient script he couldn't yet read. Still, he recognized the shape of some seeds—grain-like, others round and oily.
He packed the box into his backpack carefully. "Can't leave these behind. Could be priceless."
Beside the seeds, a smaller pouch of uncut gems gleamed. Rubies, sapphires, bits of amber—none polished, but valuable nonetheless.
Luciel pocketed them absently. "Mino will have fun with these," he murmured, imagining the girl's delighted expression.
Next, he turned to a large wardrobe. It was filled not with treasure, but with neatly folded rolls of cloth—fifteen of them, in a rainbow of colors. He frowned. "What is it with people here and storing fabric?"
He dragged them out and stacked them on a table. "Eight colors," he counted, shaking his head. "And they don't even wear half of it."
A smirk played on his face. "Guess I'll help them put it to better use."
Beyond the fabric, he found weapons—dozens of them. Swords, spears, halberds, even curved scimitars. Most were simple, forged for combat, not ceremony. Luciel hefted one, testing the balance. "Not bad," he said, slipping it into his bundle. "I'll melt these down later—good iron's hard to come by."
Once he'd gathered everything, he did one last sweep. Habit made him tap along the wooden walls. On the third strike, the hollow sound changed.
"Ah," he murmured, eyes narrowing. "There's my real prize."
He felt along the paneling until his fingers brushed a hidden latch. A gentle pull, and the wall swung inward with a faint creak, revealing a narrow passageway.
The air inside was still, undisturbed. Luciel slipped through.
The hidden room was small—barely large enough for a table, a shelf, and a single chair. A study, of sorts. On the table lay several pieces of stretched animal hide, each inked with intricate symbols and illustrations.
Luciel approached cautiously and spread one out.
The markings weren't random. They formed shapes—drawings of plants, beasts, and something like recipes or instructions. His gaze froze on the writing. The script was unlike anything he'd ever seen before—angular, pictorial, as though each word was a small drawing.
Recognition hit him like lightning.
"This… this is Oracle script," he whispered. "Hieroglyphs."
For a long moment, he simply stared. "How is that possible? This world shouldn't have… this kind of writing."
He flipped through more hides—each one more puzzling than the last. One showed diagrams of seeds being planted under strange moons. Another detailed an alchemical process mixing beast essence with plant sap. The more he read, the more questions bloomed.
"What kind of world is this?" he muttered. "Cabbage, tomatoes, now ancient hieroglyphs?"
A thought occurred to him—a wild, impossible thought. "Could this be a parallel world? A world that once mirrored our own?"
He leaned against the desk, running a hand through his hair. His mind spun with possibilities, but there wasn't enough evidence yet. "Forget it," he said at last, exhaling. "I'll figure it out later."
He rolled the animal hides carefully and packed them into his backpack. Even if he couldn't read all of it now, the information might prove invaluable later.
A final glance around confirmed there was nothing else hidden. Luciel slipped back out, sealing the secret door behind him.
Only one more room remained unexplored.
He crossed the main hall and stopped before another wooden door. Its hinges creaked when he nudged it open. Unlocked again. Bloodbeard had truly believed himself untouchable.
The moment Luciel stepped inside, he was hit by a faint, damp smell.
Barrels. Dozens—no, hundreds—lined the room from wall to wall. Their surfaces glistened faintly with condensation.
"Storage," he murmured. "Probably water."
He gave one of the smaller barrels a shake. It sloshed audibly, confirming his guess. But in the center of the room, one barrel stood out—larger, thicker, at least one and a half meters tall. Unlike the others, its lid was weighed down by several heavy stones.
Luciel frowned. "Why the special treatment?"
He approached slowly, removing the stones one by one. He didn't open the barrel outright, instead prying a narrow seam with care.
At once, a small jet of water spurted through the gap—and with it, something clear and glimmering shot out, splashing onto the floor.
"What the—?"
Reflex took over. Threads of spider silk shot from Luciel's fingertips, wrapping around the object before it could escape.
The thing thrashed violently, scattering droplets everywhere. Luciel squinted in the dim light—and then his breath caught.
Inside his silk webbing was a fish. A long, slender creature—its body entirely transparent, like glass. Even its bones shimmered faintly, refracting the lantern light like crystal.
"The crystal fish…" he whispered. "The one that woman mentioned."
It looked like an arowana from Earth, except carved from living quartz. It glowed faintly, each movement scattering rainbows through the air.
Luciel crouched to study it more closely. "Beautiful. I wonder how it tastes—"
Before he could finish, the creature shuddered violently. Water coalesced around it, forming a swirling sphere that enveloped its entire body.
Luciel blinked. "What—?"
The sphere hovered in midair, perfectly round, suspended as if defying gravity. Tiny droplets spun lazily around it, catching the light like diamonds.
For once, Luciel was speechless. "That… shouldn't be possible."
He watched as the crystal fish floated calmly within its water cocoon, its fins waving gently. Not a drop of water spilled to the floor.
"So that's how Bloodbeard did it," Luciel murmured slowly. "This fish produces its own water. That's the thieves' secret supply."
He lifted the creature slightly with his silk, testing its resistance. The water sphere stayed perfectly intact, shifting but never breaking.
Luciel chuckled softly in disbelief. "A living spring."
He found a small wooden bucket nearby, filled it partially, and gently lowered the crystal fish inside. The sphere merged seamlessly with the water, keeping the fish alive and calm. Luciel tucked the bucket carefully under his arm.
"No wonder the Moon Lake Tribe would offer a bounty for one of these," he muttered. "In a world where water's rarer than gold… this thing's worth more than a kingdom."
He glanced toward the doorway, the faint light of dawn just beginning to seep through the cracks above. "Bloodbeard, you hoarded treasures that could have rebuilt the world."
Luciel turned toward the exit, the weight of the bucket solid against his side and his mind already racing with plans.
Tonight, the thieves' base had given up its secrets.
And for Luciel, it was only the beginning.