Legacy System: Rise Of The Richest Man

LS: 27

Now, within the confinement of the maleficent tunnel, the crew was greeted by a putrid smell of unknown origin. The odor was so overpowering that they had to fashion a new set of makeshift nose masks to cover their noses, even though these only made breathing more difficult inside the tunnel, which already lacked fresh air.

Even with the nose masks on, they could not completely evade the strange stench. It was far worse than the smell at the feared Bridge of the South, of course, excluding its hallucinating effect.

Some of the soldiers even began to puke non-stop, delaying the journey a little bit.

It took a tremendous amount of willpower for William to stop himself from throwing up as well. He could only wonder what—and where—the smell was coming from.

William knew the scent of rotten corpses, having grown up in the trenches where people died regularly from starvation and crime. But he could swear that this smell was a hundred times worse than that—even sewage doesn’t smell this bad.

“Hmm, what are these symbols?”

Halting and waiting for the two soldiers to finish vomiting, William feasted his eyes on the walls of the tunnel, where certain strange engravings could be seen.

They consisted of scratches and sharp slashes that twisted into symbols and drawings—details that made the hero wonder. It was believed that only abnormalities existed within the Mountain of Skulls, so the engravings on the walls couldn’t have been made by a human being.

At a quick glance, they appeared like nothing but scratches and claw marks, upon closer examination, they were far from ordinary.

He voiced his confusion aloud, drawing the attention of the others, including the king.

Osborne was the most concerned. He stood beside William and studied the engravings on the wall, ones he had failed to notice earlier, his expression crumbling by the second.

“These are magical scripts,” Osborne gasped, voice trembling. “And they’re not just any scripts—they’re ancient and highly advanced. They could be the key to a hidden mystery inside this tunnel.”

“Magical scripts?”

William and the others exchanged astonished looks. The faint, ornate etchings that had seemed useless turned out to be ancient magical scripts.

“Can you interpret them?” one soldier asked, eyes bright with curiosity. Everyone in the group—even those who’d never practiced magic—knew what magical scripts were: the written and spoken components of spells.

Osborne shook his head slightly, eyes still fixed on the wall. His finger traced each intricate rune, his expression growing enlightened by the seconds.

After studying for a few minutes, Osborne brought out a weird-looking scroll and a quill pen from his spatial pouch, then began transcribing everything he saw on the wall.

The others could only watch with curiosity, wondering what mystery the magical scripts would reveal in the end.

It took the wizard only about five minutes to finish copying the magical scripts into his scroll. He gave William a signal, and they began their journey into the deepest part of the tunnel in cautious silence.

The engravings on the wall were unevenly spaced: the next one after the first appeared about ten minutes away, others appeared within five-minute intervals, and some even appeared only after half an hour.

Osborne’s odd scroll was filled with tiny, intricate magical scripts after just a few stops.

Just like that, six to seven hours went by—the end of the tunnel still wasn’t in sight. The ominous sound at the entrance had grown even louder and clearer, though still unfamiliar. The putrid smell worsened, and the engravings on the wall appeared more frequently.

At that moment, the crew stood behind Osborne, who copied another magical script onto his scroll with a serious expression.

Behind the wizard, whispered speculation spread about what the magical scripts might reveal—some believed it was a spell to open a gateway to the other side of the Mountain of Skulls; a few believed it would unlock some sort of treasure trove; while the captain feared it was a trap set by the tunnel’s former owner. Nevertheless, what mystery it truly held remains unknown.

On the other hand, William questioned the unusually peaceful journey so far. No abnormalities had suddenly sprung up to attack them—not even corrupted humans, who usually arose at night.

'The stories about the massive population of powerful abnormalities dwelling within the Mountain of Skulls—were they all a lie?' he wondered.

William had expected to slay a few abnormalities within the tunnel to raise his power to level ten and unlock his ability to use magic. But so far, there had not been a single one.

“I’m done, let’s proceed,” Osborne announced, jolting William awake from his troubled thoughts.

The hero nodded, clutched the crystal lantern even tighter, and led the way.

He strode past the towering heap of skeletal remains they’d first noticed at the beginning of the tunnel, only to be hit by an even fouler, acrid stench that clawed at their throats. The others followed behind him, cautiously observing the bones.

Unfortunately, before the last soldier at the back could walk past it, something slick and bony shot out and coiled around his ankle. He staggered, lost his balance, and pitched forward, slamming his face against the uneven stone floor.

“M-My leg—help!” he gasped, clutching at his calf as pain and panic rippled through his voice.

His cry echoed throughout the seemingly unending tunnel, turning heads toward him.

'Finally'

William subconsciously rejoiced as he turned to face the attacked soldier, pointing the crystal lantern at him.

From within the huge heap of skeletal remains, a pale, flexible hand could be seen wrapped around the soldier’s ankle and pulling it slowly toward its hiding spot.

“H-Help me! I don’t want to die! Hero!!”

Tears formed quickly and dripped from the soldier’s eyes as he pleaded for his life. He struggled to free himself from the strange hand wrapped around his leg, but it was futile.

The others froze and watched helplessly, while those who had been near the heap of remains moved backward defensively.

[ Sword Equipped ]