The team pushed deeper into the Palace Ruins of Gluttony.
They used the same formation. Lilith and Scarlett scouted the surrounding. Melody and Serenade dictated the direction. Guided by their doll artifacts. And Ivy made sure that the Labyrinth Chart correctly charted the automatic map.
Spark walked in the middle of the group. His massive frame somehow provided the sense of possessive protection and safety toward the group.
The air remained thickly polluted. With the stench that hinted at decay and poison. Kept at bay by their purification masks.
Melody, beautiful and elegant, walked beside him. Clutching the [Witch Doll of Fortune]. Its small, stumped soft hand pointed steadily ahead. Its button eyes glowed in faint golden color.
Scarlett was several steps in front of her. She occasionally checked her [Celestial Treasure Radar]. The compass-like brass instrument glowed softly in her hand. Its needle quivered with a more impatient energy. Pointing with increasing intensity towards the same direction the doll indicated.
"Strong signal, Master." Scarlett whispered. "Something valuable, dead ahead."
Serenade was walking a few paces behind. She held the [Witch Doll of Misfortune]. Her brows furrowed. The doll's main function was for detecting danger and ill omens. And it was also pointing at the same spot.
"Danger, Master. In the same direction." She softly said.
Spark's eyes narrowed. Two dolls, one for fortune, one for misfortune, and a treasure radar, all converged on the same point. That meant a trap. Or a risk-reward scenario. He preferred the latter.
They navigated a narrow, twisting corridor. Its walls were slick with greenish moss. Until it opened into a circular stone chamber. It was wide enough. But it was secluded. And surprisingly clean compared to the rest of the ruins.
In the center of the room, sat a ornate, iron-banded chest. Bathed in a solitary shaft of light filtering through a crack in the ceiling. It looked untouched. An antique relic waiting to be plundered. No visible monsters. No obvious tripwires.
"It's too convenient." Lilith murmured. Her eyes darting around the chamber. She moved with the silent grace of her assassin training. Her Tri-Element Handgun was already in her hand.
"Lilith!" Spark commanded. His voice was low and firm. "Use the spyglass. On the chest."
Lilith didn't hesitate. She lifted the polished instrument. Its intricate lenses whirring softly as she focused. The images resolved in her vision. And her eyes widened. A slight gasp escaped her lips.
"Master!" She exclaimed. Her voice was tight. "It's... alive. It's a Mimic."
Spark swore under his breath. A Mimic. A creature that disguised itself as a treasure chest. Lulling unsuspecting adventurers into its maw. But it did have treasures within its body.
The fortune doll and treasure radar pointed to the treasure inside. The misfortune doll picked up the danger of the creature itself. It all made sense.
"Good work." Spark acknowledged. "Step back. Everyone. Keep your distance."
He didn't waste time on elaborate plans or close-quarters combat. He was Spark Nighthawk. He dealt with simple problems directly.
He reached into his Technomind Space. Bypassing the process of physically drawing the weapon. In an instant, the Hellfire Rifle, black and monstrous in size, materialized in his hands. It hummed with contained power.
He widened his feet. Shifting his weight to more balanced form. And sighted down the barrel. The chest filled his scope. Still unmoving and deceptively innocent.
But then...
The Mimic twitched. Sensing its cover was blown. A faint, almost inaudible clicking sound emanated from its hinges. It was beginning to open. Revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth within its maw.
But Spark was faster.
BANG!
A single blast of concentrated hellfire bullet erupted from the rifle's muzzle. The chamber was momentarily bathed in searing crimson light. The blast struck the Mimic head-on. A concussive wave of fiery fury.
The ancient wood and iron were incinerated instantly. The air filled with the acrid scent of burnt chitin.
A smoking, smoldering indentation was all that remained where the chest had been. An evidence to the rifle's devastating power. The Mimic hadn't even had time to fully unhinge its jaw.
"Clear!" Spark stated. Lowering the rifle and storing it back into his Technomind Space. "Scan the area, Scarlett. Confirm no lingering threats."
Scarlett immediately ordered his gu-insects to scattered and searched the room.
"Clear, Master!" She confirmed. "No more danger here."
They approached the blast site cautiously. Sifting through the charred remnants. Amidst the ash, several items lay intact.
Not really surprising for Spark. It was a common adventuring knowledge. No matter how great the damage a Mimic had, the treasures within wouldn't be damaged at all. Obviously. If that wasn't the case, he wouldn't casually blast the monster.
Spark picked them up with his large, calloused hands.
First, a handful of translucent, green-tinged shards.
"Mystic jade shards." Ivy identified. Her eyes were alight with interest. "Highly potent for alchemy and potion-poison study. Especially for purification or venom-related concoctions."
Spark simply gave them to her. She was the only one among the team who could make use of them.
Next, a small pile of shimmering, amber coins. They were larger and thicker than standard currency. Bearing an intricate, almost alien script.
"Ancient amber coins." Spark mused. Turning one over. "Collector's items. Rare. Not much practical use. But worth a fortune to the right buyer. Nice ones."
Then, a bluish metallic chunk that Spark recognized immediately.
"Mithril ore." He grinned. Weighing it in his palm. It was surprisingly light for its apparent density. Yet, it was incredibly strong. "Excellent. Good for refining and runecraft. I'll make good use of this."
Finally, beneath the coins and jade, lay a single item that truly caught Spark's attention. An ancient tome.
It was surprisingly well-preserved. Its covers were made of a strange, dark-green leather. One that felt almost alive beneath his touch.
The pages, though yellowed, were intact. Filled with sprawling, elegant script he couldn't decipher. It looked like something out of a forgotten library. A relic that defied the ruin's decay.
"An ancient book." Spark murmured. "In Ancient Nujavean. Interesting."
Spark put the tome within his Spatial Belt. "Alright everyone. This chamber is strategically sound. Secluded at least. We can make this our temporary base."
The women exchanged glances. It made sense. The ruins were vast and dangerous. Setting up a secure retreat early was logical for extended exploration.
"Let's get the tent up." Spark declared. "And all the arrays."
Within minutes, the secluded stone chamber began its transformation. A huge, luxurious, dark blue tent, with silver line patters unfolded. Its silken walls was shimmering in the light of its internal lantern.
It was spacious enough to comfortably house all of them. Once the tent was erected, they set to work on the defenses.
The women, working efficiently under Spark's direction, deployed the newly acquired runic arrays.
First, the Array of Sanctuary... a protection array that shimmered into an invisible dome around the tent. Designed to repel any unregistered entity trying to enter the dome.
Then came the Array of Mirage... an illusion array that made the entire camp blend seamlessly with the surrounding stone, making it virtually invisible to casual observers.
Finally, the Array of Purity... a specific purification array that actively cleanse the air within their perimeter from ambient toxins and decay. Making it truly breathable and fresh.
These were the latest models. Purchased at an extremely high price from Grandpoint City. Their previous set had been utterly annihilated by the rampaging Evil Trent on the Ancient Island of Glory.
Spark didn't believe in cutting corners when it came to defense and comfort. Especially given the inherent dangers of their expeditions. This new setup was robust, reliable, and invisible. Perfect.
They spent the rest of the day cataloging their loots. Resting. And planning the next phase of their exploration.
The ancient tome lay dormant in Spark's Spatial Belt. A puzzle for another time.
...
The next morning, Spark was the first to stir. He rose from the ridiculously soft bed. Feeling utterly refreshed. His powerful physique hummed with revitalized energy. The effects of a comfortable night.
Around him, his women were still deeply asleep. Sprawled across the plush bedding. Their naked bodies tangled in an incredible view. Their exhaustion had been profound. A sweet surrender to the quiet intimacy of the night before.
He allowed himself a moment to survey them. A possessive satisfaction curling in his gut Before his professional instincts kicked in.
He silently, efficiently, stood up. And dressed. His movements were fluid despite his size. Leather clothes, bracers, boots... Everything snapped into place.
As he reached for his [Mask of Purification], a faint, almost imperceptible sound reached his ears. It was distant. Muffled. But distinct. Conversation.
Spark froze. His head cocked slightly. His hearing, enhanced by his framepath monster integration, was incredibly sharp. The voices were too far to make out words. But they were definitely human.
Other adventurers? Not impossible. But highly unlikely in this desolate, poisoned labyrinth.
Spark moved with practiced stealth. He slipped out of the tent. And out of the base. The illusion array making his departure seamless.
He scanned the shimmering dome of the protection array. Confirming its integrity. Before melting into the shadows of the chamber. He wanted to scout. To understand. Before he acted.
Dark, thick fur and draconic scales rippled across his skin as he shifted. His bones were grinding and reforming with a faint, internal sound. Within a few seconds, he stood as the majestic Draconic Werelion.
The transformation was swift, silent, and seamless. Ever since he had assimilated the Shadow Chameleon's essence, this form now possessed the [Supernatural Stealth] talent.
He moved like a ghost. His immense bulk was utterly silent. His scent, heat, and even his faint magical aura were suppressed to almost zero. The jungle's poisoned air seemed to flow around him. Never touching him. Never betraying his passage.
He followed the faint murmur of voices. Deeper into the ruins. Towards the source.