In truth, Sam felt that since Old Max seemed to appear everywhere he went, they might as well get married—rather than following those romantic novel tropes where the leads constantly bump into each other by chance.
Sam's feelings branched out; his shoulders tightened as a shiver ran through him. He fixed them with a gaze that looked directly into one's foolish soul. If he had learned one thing from the "Void" other than psychological trauma, it was this: never trust the elderly, no matter what. Behind every pale, aged face, there is an ancient entity lurking.
As the five reached Sam, the two from the Prospectors' Guild and the two from Electra stared at the small figure looking right back at them.
Long, curly black hair with white strands... brown eyes that had abandoned the logic of life... and a slight build, like a boy still in his growth stage, standing there with absolute, razor-sharp precision.
He approached them as well.
When they met, he reached out to shake everyone's hand. There were three men and one woman. It was quite a sight when looking at the ranks on their chests—four and five stars for the pair from the Prospectors' Guild. As for the two from Electra...
"Welcome, Mr. Specialist. I am Hamish, and this is Leroy. We are from Electra to assist you in the excavation process."
The expressions of those from the Prospectors' Guild darkened; a hint of pure hatred flickered in their eyes. Oh, this is interesting.
Sarah had truly thrown him into the line of fire. He would have been a fool to believe he was just an "assistant"—the situation was far deeper.
"Greetings, Mr. Expert. This is the Exploration Specialist from the Prospectors' Guild, a five-star rank holder—"
Sam gestured for him to stop.
This man was clearly trying to flaunt his rank and dominate the atmosphere, but Sam wouldn't allow it.
"Pleased to meet you," Sam said. "A prospector's schedule should always be precise. We work with time, not against it."
He was here to play the part of an excavation specialist.
In the art of acting, no one could rival him. How? Simply put, he had worked in acting for three years of his life, noting every crucial detail of how actors perform and how they leave a lasting impression on the audience. He understood how they moved and spoke; he grasped that convincing acting isn't just about fully embodying a character, but about becoming, in the viewer's eye, exactly what they expect that kind of person to be.
In the world of excavation, men—especially those with practical experience—possess a certain gravity that allows them to control those around them. They are often impatient, conditioned by a work environment that relies strictly on timing.
As Sam moved through the forest with the five companions, he realized a dangerous truth: Sarah had thrown him into this situation, and he had to trust her blindly to survive.
"Mr. Specialist... I don't mean to belittle you, but frankly, I've never seen you in these circles before. Shouldn't you be at least somewhat famous? I should at least know who you are."
Sam gave him a vacant, hollow look, tilting his head back as he walked behind Old Max, who led them through the forest.
"You have a point... but you certainly wouldn't know me. In truth, I was imprisoned for an incredibly long time in a very dangerous Time Dungeon. I emerged only after an eternity... I was quite famous before your guild even existed."
Upon hearing these words, they swallowed hard. Despite his youthful appearance, his eyes held the weight of vast ages, and his hair, streaked with white, looked as though it had turned gray from the sheer time he spent trapped there.
"But, Mr. Specialist, you haven't introduced yourself. What is your name?"
Damn it... I'll definitely be exposed if I give them my real name. Even if they don't recognize my face, there must be a reason they don't know my name.
Sam searched for a powerful figure in the novel's lore—someone who had disappeared and was known only by a few. There was only one such figure, and using it was a massive gamble.
"My name... I have forgotten it. But I remember a title they used to call me... Ra's al Ghul."
The tension in the air spiked instantly. It was as if the two from Electra believed him as well. Ra's al Ghul was an ancient figure, mentioned only a few times in the ancient history of the Kingdom of Heaven, before the current Kingdom of Asgard.
"Ra's al Ghul... Ra's al Ghul... Impossible. You... No, it can't be!"
He was a great wizard whose tales said he was a young man who lived hundreds of years ago. He developed grand magic against the invasion of the Alien Race from the Catastrophe-style portals. But while on a mission in an ordinary cave, he never returned. His fate remained unknown until Edmund found his biography and legacy in one of the dungeons he entered.
Old Max listened to the discussion, chuckling to himself as he led the way with a slow, deliberate pace.
"I actually met Ra's al Ghul once..."
What is this old man saying? That was the silent question on the faces of the four prospectors.
This was the first time Sam had heard Old Max's pale, thin voice outside the "Eternal Void"—even though the System had taken Max's form there. Sam didn't truly believe Old Max was the System, yet it was disturbingly strange to find this man everywhere he turned.
And now, here he was, claiming he had met Ra's al Ghul.
"Is that true...?" One of them directed the question at Sam, seeking confirmation.
Sam smirked.
"Of course. After all... he is my biological grandson."
Now, any sane person would wonder: How? Since Ra's al Ghul had vanished over 200 years ago, the math only worked if Sam was indeed the timeless legend he claimed to be.
Deep within the forest, they encountered dozens of representatives from the nearby ancient tribes. They guided the group, warning them of the nearby dungeon, and of the bandits and magical beasts lured by the mana. Old Max drew his sword and tore them to pieces with effortless precision.
"How old are you, Mr. Max?" asked Honson, the prospector from Prospectors' guild .
"Me? I've forgotten... I stopped counting after two hundred."
What is this? Sam wondered. Is he trying to outdo my lie? He grew increasingly curious about who this man truly was.
After an hour of marching, they spotted a dark blue portal. As they approached, it began to branch out rapidly, pulsating with an immense surge of mana. Terrifying sparks of energy erupted from the gate.
'The Lord's Mouth...' It was truly a fitting name.
"The gate is about to break! Take cover!"
The trees shook under a thunderous roar as a swarm of three Wyverns appeared in the blue sky. With their massive bodies, they terrified the forest, synchronizing their power with haunting precision. They were about to unleash a plasma beam to pierce the gate and reach the mana source.
Suddenly, the gate exploded, and hundreds of black bats swarmed out to attack the Wyverns. Seizing the moment, the team dashed toward the portal before the bats could return.
The five of them charged in—Sam carrying Old Max on his shoulder, as the old man's pace was too slow for the sprint.
On their way, they struck down dozens of living creatures... the team's magical power was already being exerted in the heat of battle. Meanwhile, Sam moved with Old Max on his back; the old man cut down any monster that dared approach with a sword that unleashed endless magical slashes.
After two minutes of sprinting, they halted at a turn. Sam scanned the dungeon's surroundings—the strange energy that seemed to pull him deeper into the abyss, and the peculiar atmosphere, thick with a scent like chalk.
"We must transmit the instructions immediately that we have entered the operation's stronghold," the two from the Prospectors' Guild said, pulling out their communication devices.
But Sam approached them instantly, snatching the devices away. He looked at the crystals around him. How much is this mana crystal worth? Infinite wealth...Why don't I just gather enough money and leave? Even if it defies Sarah's orders... the situation is too dangerous. And notifying the Guild will surely expose my identity.
"I don't feel the presence of the Blessed Mana Child here... it seems we've been deceived. Let's leave now," Sam said.
The Blessed Mana Child... Damn it. There's no guarantee we'll even survive inside this dungeon, and I have zero experience.
"But Mr. Specialist... the Mana Child is right there. I can see it..."
There, at the far end of the tunnel, stood the figure of a naked child, glowing with an intense, mesmerizing light. It was radiant... dangerously radiant and incredibly tempting.
'Wait... are they hallucinating or what?' Sam thought. This was a psychological attack—a trap. He had to get them out, and fast.
"We won't be able to leave..." Old Max said, still perched on Sam's back.
Sam froze, looking back toward the entrance. The Wyverns were on the verge of storming the dungeon. If those beasts reached them now, they would be as good as dead.
"Dammit!"