I Wrote Trash Novels to Level Up, Now Everyone Thinks I'm the Hero
Chapter 25: Ancestral Ashes, and the Ultimate ManuscriptSylvia knelt on the floating granite platform, her trembling hands cradling a silver urn, embossed with the crest of a crescent moon and outstretched wings.
Her tears fell in clear, single drops, striking the stone and shattering into tiny motes of silver light.
Three years locked in the darkness of underground pits, three years treated like merchandise for buyers to appraise — she'd once believed the day she returned to her ancestors' tomb would be the day her own corpse was thrown onto a pile of the dead out on the borderlands. She'd never dared to dream she would walk in here free, whole, and standing tall on her own two feet.
The crystal coffin, suspended in midair, gave off a soft, resonant hum, like a welcome home for the last of a wandering people.
Directly beneath it, the pitch-black spatial vortex turned slowly. Cold gusts rose from the depths of the abyss below, lifting the hem of Sylvia's dress and her platinum hair, drifting through the hall.
Sylvia drew a deep breath and began chanting a funeral rite in pure Silver Dialect.
The moment her clear voice faded, a surge of silver light burst from within the crystal coffin. In the stillness, the remnant spirit of Elder Vael coalesced into the shape of an old elf, a beard falling to his chest, wrapped in a thousand-year-old archivist's robe.
The elder's ancient eyes looked down at Sylvia, carrying the boundless grief of someone who had watched his entire race decline.
"My child... you have endured so much."
His spectral hand reached out and lightly touched Sylvia's forehead.
In that instant, the full memory, origin, and true history of the Silver-Winged Moonkin poured into her mind. They had never been born to serve as tools of war, nor slaves bound to transport emperors across the continent. Their ancestors had been great guardians, using their power to bend space and connect trade routes across the continent, bringing prosperity and peace to every people — before humanity's greed reduced it all to ash.
From within the coffin, a thick book bound in silver dragon-hide flew out, settling gently into Sylvia's waiting hands.
The Grand Codex of Vael-Kharas — the original manuscript containing the entire body of grammar and ultimate spatial magic formulas from the pre-war era.
While this sacred, tragic transfer of legacy unfolded amid the magical starlight, in a dark corner of the tomb chamber, Lucian crouched beside a stone shelf.
His eyes shone bright, small fingers ticking off a rapid calculation on his knuckles.
Forty-two ancient hide scrolls... eight complete spatial matrix sets... plus that grand codex, thick as half a forearm.
Lucian ran the numbers in his head.
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If he hauled all of this back to the capital, had it copied, and sold research licensing rights to the Royal Academy of Magic, the bare minimum return would be three hundred thousand gold, clean. Three hundred thousand gold could buy suburban land, build maybe ten rental buildings, pull in two thousand gold a month in passive rent... His retirement would be secured for generations.
Ting! Ting!
The clear, mechanical chime of System v2.0 rang out, cutting through Lucian's financial calculations.
[ENTIRE SILVER DIALECT SOURCE CODE ACQUIRED.]
[Comprehension: 100% — MAXIMUM!]
[TITLE EARNED: MASTER OF THE SPATIAL TONGUE.]
[SKILL REACHED PEAK LEVEL:]
'Blink' reached: Lv.10 — MAX!
[HIGH-TIER SKILL EVOLUTION AND FUSION UNLOCKED!]
The flow of spatial mana through Lucian's body suddenly turned smooth as silk. He no longer felt any strain or delay when folding reality's creases. 'Blink' hitting max level meant he could now teleport across far greater distances, with cooldown reduced to a bare minimum.
Sylvia rose to her feet. Cradling the urn in her left arm and the Grand Codex of Vael-Kharas in her right hand, she turned and walked toward Lucian with steady, unshaken steps.
The cowering, frightened posture of a fallen slave had vanished completely. Standing before him now was a Sacred Archivist, her sapphire eyes shining bright, radiating the proud, composed bearing of someone who had reclaimed her people's soul and origin.
Sylvia stopped in front of Lucian, but she did not kneel. The Grand Codex remained firmly in her hands.
"Under our contract, I will grant you full study access and permission to copy the linguistic sections."
She tightened her grip on the ancient book.
"The original remains with me."
Lucian nodded immediately.
"Reasonable."
Behind her, the spirit of Elder Vael watched the exchange in silence. Then the old archivist smiled.
"The archive has a keeper again."
His gaze shifted briefly toward Lucian.
"And perhaps, this time, a useful partner."
With that, the elder dissolved into drifting motes of silver light.
Lucian watched him disappear, then glanced at the enormous codex in Sylvia's arms.
"Good. Originals are terrible assets to transport anyway. Copies are cheaper to insure."
But before he could tuck the book into his spatial ring, a violent tremor exploded up from beneath the ground.
BOOM BOOM BOOM!
With the coffin's seal broken by the transfer of knowledge, the pitch-black spatial vortex beneath it suddenly lost its containment.
It began expanding at a terrifying rate, swallowing the surrounding stone pillars whole.
A grotesque, ear-splitting roar — like ten thousand pieces of metal grinding against each other — tore up from the depths of the abyss.
The space throughout the entire tomb chamber twisted into a massive vortex. From deep within the endless dark, a colossal entity of shadow rose, dozens of meters tall, hundreds of silver crystal eyes across its body snapping open at once, locking onto the only two living creatures in the room.
The mist surrounding the dungeon tore apart.
The System's deep-red warning panel exploded into view before Lucian's eyes, flashing at a frequency he'd never seen before.
[NATIONAL-LEVEL THREAT DETECTED!]
[DUNGEON BOSS: INVERTED VOID WEAVER (RANK B — NATIONAL).]
[ESTIMATED COMBAT POWER: 32,500,000!]
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