Chapter 48: Imposter [1]

At the same time, outside the relic vault chamber—

While Julius Evans was inside, barely surviving against the wrath of the snow guardian spirit, a young man approached the gate to the vault.

And that young man… was Gareth Valstein.

He had come for the Enhancement Orb.

Getting into the lower levels of the estate should’ve been simple—he had the blood, the clearance, the name. But something felt off the moment he reached the chamber.

The air was tense. The atmosphere… wrong.

Gareth was already in a foul mood. A full month under house arrest courtesy of his father had done little for his temper. And now this—this nonsense from the chamber guard—was quickly becoming the final straw.

“You’re telling me what, exactly?” Gareth growled, his sharp eyes narrowing at the man blocking his path. “That I already went inside?”

Vox, the chamber guard, was pale as paper.

“I—I don’t understand it either, sir,” Vox stammered. “Fifteen minutes ago, someone came through. Looked exactly like you. Carried the master’s medallion. The vault responded as if it was… really you.”

Gareth’s expression twisted into disbelief, then something darker.

“Impossible,” he snapped. “You’re saying someone pretended to be me and got into the relic vault? While holding the medallion?”

Vox swallowed hard, nodding. “Y-Yes, sir. The medallion glowed. The enchantments opened. I—I couldn’t question it.”

Gareth clenched his jaw, a muscle twitching near his temple.

This wasn’t just some petty impersonation. The medallion wasn’t something anyone could forge or duplicate. And if the vault had opened…

“Then whoever’s in there isn’t just pretending,” Gareth said coldly. “They fooled everything—even the magic.”

Vox stared at him, eyes wide, confusion and suspicion warring on his face.

This didn’t make sense. One Gareth Valstein had entered the vault fifteen minutes ago—undeniably carrying the master’s seal. And now another stood in front of him, equally confident, equally real.

He clenched his fists.

Could it be… this one?

Could the person standing before him now be the imposter?

There was one glaring problem—this Gareth didn’t have the master seal. Without it, there was no way to open the vault. But the resemblance, the aura, even the way he spoke—it was all perfect.

He couldn’t afford to guess wrong.

One mistake could cost him his post… or his head.

Vox took a deep breath and made his decision.

“Forgive me for what I’m about to do,” he said grimly.

“What are you talking about—?”

Before Gareth could react, Vox moved. The former knight seized him in a swift, practiced motion, locking his arms and holding him in place.

“Unhand me! Do you know who I am?!”

Gareth struggled, his voice laced with fury, but Vox was stronger—and more desperate.

From his belt, Vox pulled out a thin, silver needle. Without a word, he pricked Gareth’s finger, letting a drop of blood fall onto a small piece of parchment inscribed with glowing runes.

The moment the blood touched the paper, the Valstein family crest flared to life—sharp, distinct, unmistakable.

Vox’s heart dropped in his chest.

This was

the real Gareth Valstein.

He immediately let go, stepping back like he’d touched fire.

“My deepest apologies, Young Master,” he said, bowing low.

Gareth’s face was livid, red with rage. “How dare you lay your hands on me! Do you want to die?”

“I… I accept whatever punishment comes,” Vox said, trembling slightly—but not from Gareth’s wrath. He was already thinking ahead.

If the real Gareth was here…

Then the one inside the vault wasn’t just an intruder.

It was someone—or something—dangerous enough to bypass centuries-old security. And now, it was inside one of the most sacred chambers of the Valstein household.

There was no time to waste.

Vox turned, grabbing the rope beside the chamber door.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

A deep, echoing bell rang through the estate. The sound of alarm. A signal reserved only for the most urgent threat—an intruder within the vault.

“INTRUDER ALERT!” Vox bellowed.

“Mobilize every available guard! Seal the exits! We must catch the thief before they vanish!”

He didn’t know how this would end. He didn’t know if he would live to see the outcome.

But as the echo of the alarm swept through the estate and footsteps thundered in response, Vox prepared himself for what might be his final duty as a Valstein gatekeeper.

He would not let the house fall on his watch.

The echo of the alarm hadn’t even faded when Gareth stormed past Vox.

“Get out of my way,” he snapped, brushing off the last traces of dust from his sleeve. “I’m not waiting for anyone.”

“Young Master, please,” Vox said, trying to catch up. “It’s dangerous. If that intruder could mimic your identity and bypass the seal—”

“Then that makes it my problem more than yours.” Gareth didn’t even look back. “They used my face. My name. They stepped into my vault.”

His fists clenched.

“One month under house arrest, and now this? If that bastard wants to steal from my family, then I’ll make sure they pay for it personally.”

Vox hesitated for a second. Then he bowed low.

“Understood. I’ll alert the inner guards. Do not engage alone—”

But Gareth was already gone, striding through the corridor like a blade slicing through fog.

—

Inside the Estate Hallways

Servants ducked aside as the Young Master moved with purpose, his coat billowing behind him, boots pounding against the marble floors. Knights and guards rallied from every direction, forming squads, barking orders, securing gates.

Gareth didn’t wait for backup. He reached for the ring on his right hand, twisted it once—and with a flicker of mana, the hidden blade tucked beneath his sleeve snapped into place.

An imposter… someone bold enough to walk through this estate wearing my face?

It was infuriating.

It was insulting.

But most of all—it was dangerous.

The vault wasn’t just a storage room. It held relics sealed away for a reason. Things even his father rarely talked about.

He stopped at the junction ahead. A group of elite guards from the inner ward were already gathered.

“Master Valstein!” one of them shouted, saluting. “We’re preparing to descend into the vault’s lower tier. The intruder must still be inside—”

Gareth didn’t slow down.

“Lead the way,” he said. “And if any of you hesitate down there—don’t bother calling yourselves Valstein men again.”

A silence followed, then the guards moved.

Swords were drawn. Lights ignited. And the descent into the heart of the Valstein vault began—with Gareth at the front, his eyes cold, alert, and burning with fury.

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