Shielded by layers of thick defensive magic, the most impatient of the guide wizards finally confirmed—after several careful inspections—that there were no traps. Half excited and half nervous, he pulled open the doors of the shrine.
Yes—pulled them open.
Compared to the constant, overwhelming magical fluctuations radiating from above it, the shrine itself was so shabby it was almost pitiful. The entire structure was made of wood—and not even high-quality timber. The decorations were even more barebones. If this place were out in the open world, it would easily give people the impression that the incense offerings here were practically nonexistent.
Yet, setting aside that terrifying mass of magical power enveloping it, the mere fact that this was the only structure in the entire area that had not turned to dust over countless years was enough to ensure that no one present dared underestimate it.
As for what lay behind the doors, everyone had been speculating during the journey. That was only natural—this would be the true payoff of their archaeological expedition.
Perhaps the legendary wizard's physical body had become a divine statue, with his magical tools and wand enshrined around it.
Perhaps a massive coffin sat upon the altar, with thirty-six boys and girls turned into puppets, kneeling below in eternal offering.
…
There were countless possibilities.
But not a single person there had considered one particular option—
The moment they pushed the doors open, an old man with white hair and beard appeared before them.
And worse still—he was alive.
Yes. The one possibility no one had accounted for.
They had dug up a grave… and ran straight into the grave's owner.
Under normal circumstances, if Allen and the others apologized and begged for forgiveness, they might be able to shave a few years off their sentence in Azkaban. As for Fox and the others—Allen wasn't well-versed in Japanese magical law, but they'd probably at least die peacefully after being sentenced to death.¹
Of course, none of that was going to happen.
Because every single one of them had already prepared to fight.
At this point, hoping the tomb's owner would suddenly choose forgiveness was laughable. Put yourself in his shoes—if you were sleeping soundly in your own grave and someone barged in, and you happened to be a top-tier wizard, what would you do?
Obviously—kill them.
Since that was the expected outcome, the five intruders drawing their wands was only natural. However, before they could launch an attack, the old man in the tattered wizard's robes spoke first.
"Don't act rashly, children. This is not a place suitable for battle."
Unfortunately, by the time he said that, Allen and the others' probing attacks were already on the way.
Strike first was a truth that held up more often than not.
Five powerful spells streaked through the air, each one strong enough to send a fully grown wizard to meet Merlin. Yet, just as the spells hung mid-flight, the old man casually lifted his arm and waved it.
In that instant, the flying spells vanished—
As if they had never existed at all.
"Cough… cough…"
The coughing sounded like a bellows being pulled, his hoarse voice continuing after a brief喘息.
"Stop fooling around, children. Now is not the time for fighting. We have more important matters to attend to."
His words made Allen and the others halt their attacks. Allen was genuinely curious whether the old man could withstand his full-power assault—but now was clearly not the time. The other party had already expressed goodwill, and since there was no irreconcilable conflict between them, learning vital information from the tomb's owner was undoubtedly the optimal choice.
Clearly, the others thought the same, and the two sides reached a temporary understanding.
Since fighting was off the table, Allen naturally began to survey the shrine. If negotiations broke down and things turned violent, knowing the terrain would be useful—whether for fighting or escaping.
The interior of the shrine was just as unimpressive as the exterior. Aside from being clean and orderly, there was nothing worth praising—
That is, if one ignored the enormous greatsword on the floor and the magical tools casually tossed onto a wooden rack, as though they were worthless junk.
These items didn't look flashy, but at least half of every wizard's attention was fixed on them.
Because not only did they emit zero magical fluctuations—they were actually faintly absorbing magic from their surroundings.
Any magical item with such properties would cause an uproar if taken outside. It meant they could be passed down forever, unlike the shoddy, mass-produced invisibility cloaks that lost effectiveness after a few uses.²
If not for the old man's presence, they would have rushed forward without hesitation.
Yes—even Allen was no exception.
Because the system had practically gone insane, desperately tagging that sword over and over again.
Unfortunately, it was clear that the item had an owner—and that owner was no weakling.
Ignoring the undisguised greed in their gazes, the old man took several heavy breaths, then leaned against the greatsword planted beside him and spoke.
"Though the situation is urgent, I still have time to explain the full story. I've suppressed it for so many years—this little bit of time is nothing."
"I trust you all already have a good idea of who I am."
His gaze swept over the group. The shameless ones among them didn't show even a hint of embarrassment.
"Back when this mutated magical creature was at its most violent, countless wizards died at its hands. I exhausted every method, using potions to put it into deep slumber. Then I extracted the bones from its tail and forged this greatsword, using it to pin the creature here."
Pinned? The group was slightly taken aback.
"That's right—pinned. Even after its head was severed by spells and sword alike, even after its body was destroyed, the creature still did not die. All I could do was seal it with magic. This place is both its grave—and mine."
"What's laughable is that I once arrogantly believed the seal to be permanent. I even diverted that power to build this so-called divine kingdom of mine. Here, I extracted its magic to create artificial sunlight, and moved the village that once worshipped me inside. No disease, no disasters. They worked at sunrise and rested at sunset. Compared to the chaos of the outside world, I believed this was the greatest protection I could offer them."
"But water can carry a boat—and also overturn it. I underestimated that thing. While I was draining its magic, it was eroding my seal. While I was researching a spell, it quietly slaughtered all my followers. And while my mind was in turmoil, it destroyed most of the seal. Now, it and I are locked in a stalemate—but it already has the upper hand. If the seal is not reinforced, then in a few decades… or a few centuries at most, it will break free and be reborn."
"So, children, please help me. Go down and reinforce the seal. As payment, each of you may take one magical item with you."
As he finished his tale, coughing violently, the old man raised an arm and pointed toward the items that made everyone's eyes burn with desire.
With that motion, the wall behind him collapsed with a BOOM, revealing a stone stairway leading downward.
"This is the sealing magic. You only need to follow it."
A silk scroll floated over at his gesture, inscribed with an ancient magic circle drawn in the oldest runes.
The group nodded. After reinforcing the wall with magic to prevent their retreat from being cut off, they entered together.
"According to the diagram, there are five sealing points," the lead wizard said with a smile. "How about one per person?"
The proposal to split their forces was accepted without objection.
The five of them headed toward their respective paths—
And a single feather fell from Allen's body.
Hiyori let out several dissatisfied chirps at him in a low voice. I was extremely unhappy about being cooped up for so long.
"Behave. Be good. Keep an eye on the leader," Allen said, pulling out a bag of dog food. After swallowing a few pieces, Hiyori vanished into invisibility and flapped away.
Good. With someone watching, Allen felt reassured.
Allen turned around and headed back the way they came, walking at an unhurried pace while scattering various seeds along the way.
Eventually, he returned to the main hall.
"What is it, child? Do you have any questions or concerns?"
Allen put on an extremely awkward, embarrassed expression. After a long pause, he finally spoke:
"Sir… could you give me a map? I got lost down there. If not for the markers I left on the way in, I almost didn't make it back out."
...
The answer stunned the old man into silence.
This was the most unreliable, most absurd—yet somehow completely reasonable—request he had heard since his birth.
A wizard strong enough to be brought here by several other old monsters… had gotten lost.
Anywhere else, this would have been massive gossip. But right now, the old man couldn't laugh. He still needed this kid to reinforce the seal.
So he personally set up several layers of magical barriers and motioned for Allen to come closer.
"Look—"
He had barely begun drawing the first line of the map on the silk when the sound of rock shattering rang out.
Then—
A heavy greatsword thrust straight at him, forcing him to leap aside. The sword wind shredded the tatami mats on the floor, revealing an enormous crystal coffin embedded beneath them.
The greatsword Allen was holding—
Had originally been stabbed right beneath the feet of the person inside that coffin.
Just as I thought.
This guy was the problem.
No wonder. Whether it was "water carrying and overturning the boat" or all that talk about sacrifice—it didn't sound like something a tomb owner would say at all.
You thought you could fool him just by writing on silk?
Allen tightened his grip on the greatsword, clearly sensing the system's desperate hunger for it.
Unfortunately—
Now was not the time.
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