Chapter 281: Vault

The words Pax had just spoken lingered in the air like smoke that refused to dissipate.

“They are watching.”

The lamp between them burned steadily, its flame quiet yet alive, casting long shadows along the walls of the small conference room. Outside, the Guild Hall pulsed with the rhythm of deep night, boots echoing on stone floors, voices drifting faintly through the corridors but inside this room, there was only stillness.

Sage stood at the head of the table, hands resting lightly against the wood, his gaze lowered as if he were studying its grain. Across from him sat Pax, his posture straight and face calm, but something had shifted, something was being held back.

Sage noticed it immediately.

“You’re not finished,” he said.

Pax didn’t deny it. He reached for another document from the thin stack he had brought in earlier but hesitated to push it forward. Instead, he held it loosely between his fingers as if weighing whether timing mattered for his next words.

“One of my men infiltrated the Church record keepers,” Pax began quietly.

Sage’s gaze lifted slowly.

“He didn’t breach the main archive,” Pax continued. “That would have been suicide. The Holy Church guards its central records like a sacred treasure. Instead, he posed as an assistant in one of the outer transcription halls. From there, he accessed secondary catalogs, routine logs, inventory rotations, ritual schedules.”

“And?” Sage prompted calmly.

Pax’s jaw tightened slightly before he spoke again. “He found something restricted, a document not meant for general clergy access. It was marked for inner circle eyes only and stored among coded records classified under cyclical divine phenomena.”

Sage remained silent, but something in his posture shifted; he straightened slightly while maintaining his calm demeanor now sharpened by curiosity.

“What kind of document?” he asked.

“Ancient,” Pax replied. “Old enough that its ink references were written in layered script. The Church doesn’t circulate it openly; it appears every few decades.”

Sage narrowed his eyes faintly. “Appears?”

Pax finally placed the document on the table and slid it toward Sage; though summarized in Pax’s own hand, its contents were clear enough to convey urgency.

“According to this record, there is an event cycle tied to the Evergreen Mountain Range not recorded in public archives but preserved within restricted doctrine.”

Sage read over the summary in silence for a few seconds before looking up.

“A Vault,” he said quietly.

“Yes,” Pax nodded on confirmation.

The word felt deceptively simple given its weighty implications.

Pax continued steadily, “Every few decades, without exact warning, something manifests deep within the Evergreen Mountain Range. The Church refers to it as a Vault. Its physical form changes each time it appears, but its location remains consistent within a defined radius. When it manifests, regional mana patterns shift; distortions ripple outward; beasts become restless; sensitive mages detect fluctuations.”

Sage listened intently, not blinking as he absorbed Pax’s words. “What’s inside?” he asked.

Pax replied matter-of-factly, “Relics, divine artifacts, lost spells, fragments of ancient power. The document doesn’t go into detail but mentions previous expeditions. The Vault opens briefly, days, maybe a week at most, then it closes and vanishes, leaving nothing but disturbed ground behind.”

The lamp flickered softly between them.

“And the Church?” Sage inquired.

“They’ve been preparing,” Pax said. “Quietly. Certain militant orders are on the move, bishops are communicating more frequently, and supplies are being redirected to the northern mountain routes. It’s subtle but consistent.”

Sage’s expression darkened. “So they knew.”

“Yes,” Pax confirmed. “They were aware the cycle was approaching.”

“And they attacked the Guild before this event,” Sage said slowly.

“Yes.”

A heavy silence settled around them. Sage walked away from the table, hands clasped behind his back as his mind raced through the implications: The Guild had just stabilized; nobles were circling like sharks; the Holy Church was watching closely and now this.

“A Vault,” he murmured to himself.

Pax remained seated, observing him carefully without interrupting.

“How often does this happen?” Sage finally asked.

“Every few decades,” Pax replied. “The timing varies slightly, but there’s a consistent pattern that the Church tracks closely enough to mobilize in advance.”

“And what about other powers?” Sage pressed.

“They know,” Pax said. “Not everyone is privy to all the details, but when mana distortions start happening, rumors spread quickly. Major houses, sects, independent factions, they always respond.”

Sage halted and turned back toward the table slowly. “A race for power,” he whispered.

“Yes,” Pax affirmed.

That’s exactly what it was, a Vault that appeared out of nowhere filled with artifacts and lost spells; it opened only briefly while causing mana distortions across the region and attracting every ambitious faction’s attention. And now the Holy Church had already begun its preparations.

“How close are we?” Sage asked sharply.

Pax didn’t hesitate this time. “Based on their movements, inventory shifts, and coded schedules,” he said calmly, “it should appear within days.”

The weight of those words hung in the air, within days not months or years but days.

The room felt smaller again as Sage returned to lean against the table with both hands flat on its surface. He processed a collision of factors: political tension with nobles; a hidden faction within the Church eyeing the Guild; and now a Vault poised to manifest in nearby mountains.

If it appeared, there would be chaos in Evergreen Region: Guild members would want access; nobles would mobilize; the Church would deploy forces; anyone with ambition would converge on that singular point.

Sage’s thoughts raced, but they were clear. “If the Church orchestrated the attack on the Guild,” he said slowly, “it might be to weaken us before the Vault appears.”

Pax nodded in agreement. “That’s a strong possibility.”

“Essentially, they want to take us out of the race,” Sage continued quietly. “Or at least make sure we enter it damaged.”

“Exactly,” Pax confirmed.

Sage let out a slow breath. “And if they failed, they won’t just sit back and do nothing.”

“No,” Pax replied firmly.

For a moment, silence enveloped them. The low hum from outside felt distant now, as if it belonged to another world entirely. Below them, Adventurers laughed and drank, blissfully unaware that in just days, the mountains could erupt with power and attract every predator in the region.

Sage straightened up. “Has word spread beyond the Church?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Pax answered. “The distortions haven’t started. Once they do, rumors will follow.”

“Then we have a window,” Sage said quietly.

“A small one,” Pax noted.

Sage’s expression hardened slightly as he considered the implications: political tension, church conspiracies, ancient powers, everything was on a collision course.

He locked eyes with Pax. “Keep monitoring the Church closely,” he instructed.

Pax rose immediately and nodded respectfully. “Understood.”

“Any unusual movements,” Sage added firmly, “I want to know before it reaches the mountains.”

“You will be informed,” Pax assured him calmly.

He gathered his notes quietly and turned toward the door but paused for just a moment before leaving. The lamp’s flame cast his shadow long across the wall, an ominous silhouette stretching beyond what should have been merely light and dark.

Then he opened the door and stepped out, allowing it to close softly behind him.

Left alone in the conference room, Sage remained focused on the single lamp flickering at the center of the table while faint sounds from below drifted upward, a reminder that within days, Evergreen Mountain Range could tear open and unleash a storm of power across the entire region.

Sage lingered in the conference room for a moment after Pax stepped out. He stood beside the table, the lamp casting a dim glow, while the faint sounds of activity from the Guild Hall below drifted upward like distant waves against stone.

The Evergreen Mountain Range loomed quietly beyond the city walls, unaware that it was about to reclaim the spotlight. In just days or perhaps even sooner, something ancient would emerge there. The Church was already mobilizing, nobles were circling like vultures, and while the Guild maintained its stability, that meant little when the very ground beneath them was on the verge of upheaval.

Sage lowered his gaze briefly not out of hesitation but calculation. This wasn’t a time for public displays or reckless haste. If a storm was brewing, he intended to face it fully prepared. After taking one last glance at the scattered reports on the table, he extinguished the lamp and stepped into the corridor.

The night air outside carried scents of cooled stone and faint smoke wafting from the Smithy across the yard. Behind the main building stood the Mana Cultivation Tower, tall and imposing, its surface etched with channels that pulsed softly with contained mana.

Opposite it glowed a low red heat from banked coals in the Smithy; even at this hour, metal striking metal echoed through the night. The Guild never truly slept, there was always someone awake amid training sessions, missions, repairs, and preparations.

Sage crossed the open yard calmly, hands resting loosely behind his back. A few Adventurers noticed him and instinctively straightened up, offering quiet bows or nods of respect.

He acknowledged them with a simple look or slight incline of his head but didn’t stop to converse. Murmurs trailed behind him as he reached the entrance of the tower; its heavy door opened smoothly as he stepped inside.

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