"Well," Lila said, pushing a cobweb out of her face, "after that epic speech, the last thing I expected was crawling through some creepy old crypt."

Justin had to agree. They'd decided to seek out the weapon, whatever it was. The level differential was simply too great to face Blackwood directly.

While navigating a stairway that descended into deeper darkness, Justin reached out with Elea's Whisper to anyone who might help—Templar Tiffany, Theric Wren, even Kargan and Ryak.

No one responded. Either they were too far away or the Vault's magic was interfering with his ability.

The stairs eventually leveled out into a vast underground chamber—a forest of stone columns stretching into shadow in every direction. Water spread before them, its surface mirror-smooth. By the light of Justin's cane and Alistair's Creator's Light, he could see the liquid was surprisingly clear, almost crystalline.

"The Belmoran Cistern," Myrelle said, her voice echoing softly through the space. "It stretches beneath the palace and throughout the entire Golden District. Built during the time of Old Serenthel."

"Old Serenthel?" Justin asked.

Eldrin answered. "The Elven Empire that once ruled this continent, before it fell to ruin and mankind inherited what remained."

"Ah," Justin said with a knowing nod. "The classic 'elven fall from grace while humans rise from the rubble' schtick. A tale as old as time."

"Does it lead to any treasure rooms?" Lila asked, pointedly ignoring Justin's commentary.

"Not that I'm aware of," Myrelle replied dryly.

The water was cold, coming to just above Justin's knees. For Lila, it reached nearly to her chest, forcing her to wade carefully. Each step sent ripples spreading outward.

"Do we have any idea where we're going?" Lila asked after several minutes.

Eldrin paused, producing something from beneath his cloak—a compass with a golden needle that glowed with its own inner light.

"The Wayfinder's Compass," Justin said. "How could we forget about that?"

"You should have said something earlier," Lila added.

"What is it?" Myrelle asked, studying the artifact with interest.

"Picked up during my travels," Eldrin explained. "It points toward what we most need to find. So far, it has never led me astray."

The golden needle swiveled left, hesitated, then pointed decisively to the right.

"Well," Alistair said, "it'll have to do."

They adjusted course, following the compass's guidance. The only sounds were the gentle sloshing of water and their own breathing. Justin's nerves were on edge. Every shadow seemed to hide threats; every column was a potential ambush point.

After five minutes of wading, the cistern narrowed. Ahead, a raised stone platform emerged from the water, and beyond it, an open archway led deeper underground. Strange flowing runes, similar to the ones at Eldareth, were carved around the arch's frame, though years of moisture had worn them smooth.

"You weren't kidding that this place is huge," Justin said as they climbed onto the platform.

Eldrin checked his compass. The needle pointed through the archway.

Alistair moved to take point, his war hammer ready. "Stay close. Be—"

A figure lunged from the archway's shadows.

Justin's first thought was zombie, but as it stepped into the light of his cane, he saw the truth. Pale skin. Red eyes burning with malevolent intelligence. Fangs bared in a predatory smile.

[Level 25 Vampire Wizard]

Four shambling forms emerged behind it—zombies in rotted clothing, their eyes vacant.

[Level 20 Zombie Thralls]

"Company!" Alistair shouted.

The vampire hissed something guttural, and the zombies spread out.

"Formation!" Alistair commanded, stepping forward to meet the nearest zombie. His hammer blazed with holy light, and the creature exploded into ash with a single strike.

The vampire's hands moved in a blur, dark words spilling from its lips. Shadow bolts materialized and streaked toward Justin.

He activated Gentleman's Sidestep, pirouetting out of their path. The bolts struck stone behind him.

[Elegance in Motion is active.]

[1 Advantage gained.]

Two zombies converged on Myrelle. She danced backward, her cane striking at grasping hands. One blow connected with a zombie's temple, but the creature barely slowed—these were stronger than the ones they'd faced before.

"A little help!"

Lila's Chromatic Knives flew in response. The first buried itself in a zombie's eye socket, dropping it. The second caught the other in the throat, giving Myrelle space to retreat.

The vampire began another incantation, longer and more complex. Shadowy energy gathered around its hands, pulsing.

"Don't let it finish that spell!" Alistair warned.

Eldrin's arrow whistled through the air, striking the vampire's shoulder. Black ichor leaked from the wound, but the creature's regeneration was already at work, knitting undead flesh back together.

The two remaining zombies pressed forward. One lunged at Lila; she barely dodged. The other grabbed for Justin's coat.

Gentleman's Rebuff sent it sprawling into a column with a wet crunch.

The vampire's burning gaze fixed on Justin. Tendrils of shadow erupted from the ground around his feet, trying to bind him in place.

Justin burned his Advantage, escaping just as the darkness snapped closed. The vampire broke away from Alistair with inhuman speed.

Justin launched a Fireball at the retreating monster. It dodged—faster even than Scarlet had been—and the flames splashed harmlessly against the archway. He had to be careful; he probably didn't have many left.

"It's fast!" Justin warned.

The vampire retaliated immediately, dark energy coalescing into a lance of shadow aimed at Alistair's back.

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But the Paladin was ready. His war hammer blazed as he spun, shattering the shadow lance into wisps.

"By Arion, you will fall!"

Alistair charged. The vampire tried to dodge, but the Paladin's hammer caught it in the ribs with a sickening crack, sending it stumbling while aflame.

Lila's song shifted, becoming more aggressive. Justin felt his reflexes sharpen.

[Bardic Inspiration is active. All party members gain +10 to Power.]

The last zombie reached Myrelle. She sidestepped its grab, drove her cane into its knee, and as it fell, Eldrin's arrow punched through its skull.

The vampire, cornered and wounded, let out a shriek and bolted for the archway.

Justin cut it off, activating Vorthak's Flame. The vampire's eyes widened in recognition.

"That's right," Justin said, activating Poison Barb. "I've already killed one of your kind today. What's one more?"

The creature stumbled, then tried to retreat toward the water by going invisible. But somehow, Eldrin had anticipated that. An arrow struck what seemed to be empty air, but the vampire screeched.

The Paladin's hammer came down like divine judgment. The blow connected with the vampire's chest, and Flames of Life exploded outward. The creature's scream cut short as it burst into golden fire, collapsing into ash.

Silence fell over the cistern, broken only by heavy breathing and the gentle lap of water against stone.

"Everyone all right?" Alistair asked.

"Bruised but breathing," Lila confirmed.

"That thing was strong," Myrelle said, still gripping her cane tightly. "If there are more like that deeper in..."

Eldrin checked his compass. "Whatever we're looking for, it's through there."

Alistair adjusted his grip on his hammer. "Then let's not delay."

They stepped through the ancient archway, leaving the cistern behind them.

The archway led them deeper beneath the palace. The passages grew narrower. They encountered more undead—zombies that emerged from side corridors, their hollow eyes reflecting the light of Justin's cane.

These were higher level, at least 20-25, faster, and sturdier, but none were above Common tier. Some even carried staves, casting ice and death magic.

Even so, the fights were brief and brutal. Alistair's hammer crushed skulls with holy fire. Eldrin's arrows found eye sockets and throats. Lila's knives danced through the air, maintaining a constant song to have them obey her voice. Justin held the line with Gentleman's Rebuff and cane strikes, while Myrelle proved capable with her cane, targeting knees and temples.

"How much farther?" Lila asked after dispatching their fourth group of undead. Her breathing was labored, and even with her potions, exhaustion was beginning to show. "Surely, the ritual will be done by now."

Eldrin consulted his compass. "Still leading us deeper."

They descended another flight of stairs, carved directly into the bedrock. The walls were smoother, covered in flowing script that Justin couldn't read. The craftsmanship was exquisite.

"This is definitely Old Serenthel work," Myrelle said, running her fingers along the carved letters. "The elves built to last."

"How far down are we?" Justin asked.

"Far enough that I'd rather not think about it," Lila muttered.

More undead met them at the bottom of the stairs—six zombies clustered in a guardroom. The party cut through them with efficiency, Justin interrupting one zombie mage's spell with a fireball.

Alistair took point, Justin covered the flanks, and the others provided support. Within minutes, the threat was eliminated. Justin supposed he should be thankful the monsters' levels weren't much higher, given the level of the Vault. Perhaps Blackwood was dragging up the average.

"I never knew this was the extent of the catacombs," Myrelle breathed.

"Maybe it's a manifestation of the Vault," Justin said.

More undead emerged from the darkness. A group of ten zombies shuffled toward them from a side chamber. The party engaged. Justin's Vorthak's Flame proved effective here, the fire spreading from zombie to zombie as they pressed together in the narrow space.

"They're getting more numerous," Alistair observed as they moved past the smoldering remains. "Either it's the Vault's magic, or the Cult has been especially busy amassing an undead army."

"We're getting closer," Eldrin said, checking his compass. The needle was pointing almost straight ahead now.

The corridor opened into a junction. Three passages branched off, each identical to the others. Eldrin's compass pointed down the middle path.

They followed it and encountered their largest group yet—fifteen zombies packed into a ceremonial chamber, all leveled in their twenties. Justin helped with the tanking. Myrelle took a nasty blow to the shoulder but kept fighting. Lila's healing kept everyone on their feet, while Eldrin's Eclipse Weaver's bow inflicted Darkness on the biggest threats, and his poisons slowed the rest.

When the last zombie fell, they allowed themselves a brief rest. Justin's arms burned from cane strikes. How many zombies had they killed? Forty? Fifty? He'd lost count.

"Whatever's at the end of this compass," Lila said between gulps of water, "it better be worth all this."

They pressed on, descending one final staircase that curved in a tight spiral. At the bottom, the passage opened into a wide corridor with a high ceiling. At the end of that corridor, bathed in an eerie glow, stood a massive door.

It was easily fifteen feet tall and made of dark stone that seemed to drink in the light. Intricate carvings covered its surface—Serentheli runes that flowed in spirals and geometric patterns.

Eldrin's compass needle pointed directly at it, vibrating slightly.

"This is it," he said quietly.

They approached the door slowly, weapons ready. No undead emerged to challenge them. The silence was oppressive after the constant combat.

Myrelle stepped forward, studying the runes with concentration. Her fingers traced the flowing script, her lips moving as she worked through the translation.

"Can you read it?" Justin asked.

"Some of it," she said, her brow furrowed. "Unlike the rest, it's old Aranthian. Barely readable unless you're educated in the older forms of our language." Finally, she stepped back. "Amazing. This is the tomb of King Harland I, one of our most famous monarchs."

"Great," Lila said. "Does he have a famous weapon?"

"Not that I can think of. The lines are a rhyme. A riddle, even."

Justin was getting flashbacks to the catacombs of Highcliff. "What does it say?"

She cleared her throat and recited:

Here lies King Harland of Old,

Entombed beside Friend Most Loyal—

Lord Reginald the Bold."

This stone yields only to Blood Royal.

"Blood Royal," Alistair repeated, his gaze shifting to Lila. "Time to see if our theory holds true."

Lila stepped forward, placing her hand flat against the cold stone. She pushed, then tried different hand positions.

Nothing happened.

"It's not responding," she said, frustration creeping into her voice.

"The stone yields to Blood Royal," Myrelle repeated thoughtfully. "Perhaps that's literal."

Lila's eyes widened in understanding. "Blood. Not just lineage." She drew one of her Chromatic Knives and, without hesitation, made a shallow cut on the back of her hand.

She pressed her bleeding hand against the door.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the runes began to glow. The blood on Lila's hand seemed to flow into the stone. The door shuddered, a deep grinding sound echoing through the corridor.

Lila pulled out a healing potion with her good hand and downed it in one gulp. The wound began to close immediately. She grimaced. "Everyone, take a new evasion potion before we go in. I have a feeling we're going to need them."

They complied without question. Justin felt the familiar warmth spread through his body as the potion took effect, his reflexes sharpening.

The door continued its slow grind open, revealing the chamber beyond.

It was circular and vast—easily a hundred feet across. The ceiling soared overhead, supported by columns carved to look like intertwined trees.

At the far end of the chamber, perhaps eighty feet away, stood an altar of white marble. Upon that altar sat a large idol of pure amethyst, perhaps two feet tall, carved into the likeness of a rooster—proud, fierce, with its head held high and its tail feathers spread in a magnificent display.

As they neared, the true craftsmanship revealed itself. Every feather was individually carved, and the amethyst seemed to glow with an inner light, shifting through shades of purple and violet. Clearly, no expense had been spared.

"By the gods," Myrelle breathed, her voice barely a whisper. "It's here. It's actually here."

"The Rooster Rampant," Alistair mused. "Buried with his king."

"Now what?" Lila asked.

As if her voice were a summons, the stone door slammed shut behind them with a thunderous boom, locking them in.

"Predictable," Justin muttered.

But the thing that happened next was anything but predictable.

A sound pierced the air—not a human voice, not a scream, but the unmistakable, bone-chilling crow of a rooster.

A very angry rooster.

The amethyst idol's eyes began to glow with a malevolent purple light.

"Oh, that's not good," Justin said.

"You don't think—" Myrelle started.

"That we're about to fight a magical rooster?" Lila finished.

"It can't be that hard," Justin said. "I mean, Princess Eleanor the First managed to kill it in single combat, right?"

The crow came again, louder this time, filled with an unmistakable note of indignation.

"I think it heard you, Justin," Eldrin said flatly.

"Oh good," Justin muttered. "I just insulted a magical chicken. If I die to this, I probably deserve it."

That was when the amethyst cracked open, sending out a shockwave that pushed everyone back.

When Justin righted himself, there on the remains stood a massive rooster glowing with a violet aura. It was easily twice the size of a normal rooster, with purple plumage.

But it wasn't these details that struck Justin the most, but its bearing. It was practically royal; breast puffed out, a golden ring on one of its claws, and glowing violet eyes that glared at Justin with what could only be described as wounded dignity.

"About earlier, Reginald..." Justin said.

Reginald's eyes narrowed.

Then, with an indignant squawk, the rooster hurtled through the dust cloud directly at Justin's throat.

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