Chapter 15: The Nameless Sovereign’s Tomb [3]

Doran’s smile didn’t fade. If anything, it deepened, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and danger.

“So, you do know me, huh.”

I didn’t answer right away. My heart was still hammering in my chest, but not from fear.

From recognition.

The name Phantom Thief wasn’t just some urban legend whispered in taverns or plastered across bounty boards. He was real. And I’d seen the signs: no footsteps despite the dusty floor, not a single creak in that old armor, and somehow sneaking up on me—me—without triggering any alerts.

“But really, my name is Doran. That’s the truth.”

I narrowed my eyes, not buying it.

“I heard you were caught by the Duke of Voss.”

He gave a smug little shrug. “Escaping from their clutches was easier than you’d think. You, too, should learn how to slip out of a full-body restraint. Comes in handy—more often than you’d expect.”

He escaped from the Duke of Voss’s facility?

Even in the game, that place was infamous—one of the most twisted, labyrinthine escape routes ever designed. Most players just gave up and restarted their runs. And yet here he was, standing in front of me, smiling like he’d just strolled out the front door.

I didn’t want to believe it—but it was hard to deny when the evidence was right there.

“Since fate has brought us together,” Doran continued, sweeping a slight bow, “why not trade introductions? I mean, I’m famous enough not to need one… but it’s nice to be polite.”

He extended a hand, friendly smile still plastered on his face.

But I didn’t move.

A faint glint caught my eye—thin as spider silk, coiled just around his wrist.

A droplet of something viscous clung to it, almost shimmering in the low light. Silvery-gray… too specific to be anything natural.

A system prompt blinked in the corner of my vision:

[You have detected the ’Black Viper’ poison.]

I stepped back.

“Move that hand away.”

He blinked in surprise. “Wow. Cold.”

“And you’re not exactly subtle. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

He chuckled, shaking out his hand like he’d just been mildly scolded.

“Fair enough. You’ve got sharp eyes. Not many can spot that kind of thread.”

I didn’t bother answering. My expression was enough.

“Relax,” he said, raising both palms in mock surrender. “It wasn’t an attack. Just a test. You passed.”

“Sure. And I suppose next you’ll tell me you’re not here for the artifact either?”

“Now that’s a good question,” he said with a smirk. “But no, actually. I’m not.”

“Forgive me if I find that hard to believe.”

“Understandable,” he said, clearly amused. “I mean, who walks through half a cursed dungeon not to snatch a priceless artifact?”

“My thoughts exactly.”

He grinned and pointed toward the far end of the chamber, where the double doors had cracked open.

Through the gap, I could see it—a massive stone throne, and upon it sat a giant human skeleton draped in tattered royal robes. A golden crown gleamed atop its skull, untouched by time.

Above it, in unmistakable red letters:

[Boss Monster: Nameless Sovereign]

I felt my stomach clench.

“That thing,” Doran said, his tone suddenly quiet, serious, “isn’t just some mid-tier dungeon boss. It’s… way beyond that.”

I didn’t say anything. The pressure radiating from beyond the door already told me enough.

“No wonder the Duke of Voss kept this place under wraps,” Doran muttered. “If word got out… the whole western region would lose its mind. The guilds, the churches, the nobles—they’d all go to war over this place.”

“Then why are you here?” I asked, still suspicious. “If not for the artifact, not for the crown… what’s the point?”

He looked at me, and—for once—his smile faded.

“…To see it.”

“See it?”

“You ever stare at something you weren’t meant to? Something ancient? Something the world forgot on purpose?”

He paused, then said more quietly, “There’s value in that. Even if it’s just to walk away and remember it.”

For a moment, we stood in silence.

Then he clapped his hands. “Anyway! You’re clearly here for the artifact. No judgment. Just… don’t die trying to take it.”

“And what, you’ll cheer me on?”

“Hardly,” he said with a grin. “But I’ll be watching.”

He started walking backward down the hall, waving as he went.

“I might not want the crown—but I’m very curious to see who wears it next.”

—-

Phantom Thief—better known these days as Doran—watched silently as the black-haired boy strode toward the boss room.

He clicked his tongue.

“What a shame,” he muttered under his breath. “He would’ve made a fine heir.”

Everyone, in their own way, wants to leave something behind—a legacy. A mark on the world that says, I was here.

For Doran, that mark was supposed to be a successor. Someone worthy of inheriting his techniques, his skills, his shadowy name.

After all these years, he hadn’t expected to find one deep inside a forgotten dungeon, of all places. But fate had a twisted sense of humor.

The kid was sharp—too sharp for his age. Lean frame, eyes constantly scanning, always alert, as if expecting someone to snatch the ground out from under him.

He didn’t just spot the nearly invisible thorn. He recognized the poison on it.

Black Viper Posin.

A thief’s tool. A killer’s edge. The kind of knowledge only the underworld—or the most paranoid—knew.

That alone was enough to pique Doran’s interest.

And then there was the fact that the boy had even found this place.

A hidden ruin buried beneath layers of secrecy, one Doran had only uncovered after infiltrating the Duke of Voss’s own estate.

The more he saw, the more convinced he became.

This boy—this unknown shadow—had potential. Real potential.

But then…

He watched the boy push open the door to the throne room, walking straight toward the monster seated within.

The Nameless Sovereign.

Doran let out a low sigh.

So close.

“As perfect as he was…” Doran murmured to himself, “he still doesn’t know his limits.”

There was a fine line between ambition and foolishness—and the boy was walking it blindly.

Tsk.

“Excessive greed always bites back.”

Doran leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, though his eyes remained fixed on the slowly widening door.

Was it youth? Or arrogance? Maybe both.

He wasn’t sure whether the boy’s recklessness came from not knowing the difference in strength… or from refusing to acknowledge it.

But courage, when it crossed into ignorance, often ended in death.

Still, a small smirk tugged at the corner of Doran’s mouth.

“…Maybe he’ll surprise me.”

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