Human Ancestor

The jagged black stone loomed before me, its presence oppressive yet familiar. This floor of the dungeon was a graveyard of forgotten secrets, each more treacherous than the last. But I wasn't here for the dungeon's traps or treasures. I was here for him.

I ran my hand across the cool surface of the stone, its texture coarse and unyielding. Beneath my fingers, I felt a faint pulse—life affinity etched into its core. My smirk widened.

"Still the same after all these years," I murmured.

I released a sliver of life energy into the stone. The response was immediate: the ground trembled, and a hidden passage groaned open. Darkness yawned before me, a void that promised no return for the unprepared. I stepped forward without hesitation, the floor giving way beneath me.

The descent was like falling into the abyss of time itself. The walls of the tunnel were lined with faintly glowing runes, their meaning obscured by age. I recognized some—bindings of ancient pacts and sigils of preservation—but most were unfamiliar.

Arthur always had a penchant for theatrics, I thought. A throne room hidden behind layers of life affinity and runic wards? Overkill. Then again, what else could I expect from someone clinging to immortality like a miser to his last coin?

After a minute of free fall, the sensation of weightlessness ended abruptly. I landed lightly on my feet, my knees bending to absorb the impact. The floor was cold, smooth obsidian, reflecting faint green light from the chamber ahead.

The throne room stretched before me, its vastness swallowing sound and light. Black stone walls soared into darkness, adorned with intricate carvings of battles and rituals long past. Torches of green flame lined the space, their eerie glow casting shifting shadows. At the center of the room, on a throne of fused bones, sat Arthur Valdik.

The lich's skeletal form was draped in robes that had once been grand but were now frayed with age. His eyes burned with emerald flames, their intensity magnified by the presence of a massive bone dragon coiled beside him. The dragon's bony frame gleamed, its sockets glowing faintly as it tracked my movements.

I straightened my posture, meeting Arthur's gaze without flinching. He doesn't remember me—not truly. Good. This makes my lie easier to sell.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Arthur Valdik," I began, my voice calm, deliberate. "Zhu Long of the Numbers Organization greets you."

Arthur's skeletal fingers tapped on the armrest of his throne, the sound echoing in the vast chamber. His green eyes narrowed, the flames flickering with suspicion. 'A human, unafraid in my presence? He knows more than he should. But how?'

His voice rasped like brittle parchment. "Who are you, mortal? And how do you know my name?"

I tilted my head slightly, feigning a hint of amusement. "The Numbers Organization has long been aware of your... contributions to the preservation of knowledge and power. Surely you remember Number 0, the Runesmith King? He met you three centuries ago, spoke of the calamity, and entrusted you with certain items."

Arthur's flames flickered brighter, a low chuckle escaping his bony jaw. "Number 0? That unassuming boy with lofty ideals? He lives on through this organization? Intriguing. But what does this one want?"

"Ah, the boy," Arthur said aloud, his tone tinged with mockery. "I remember. He spoke of an organization, though I never thought it would come to fruition. And you claim to be one of his... successors?"

I nodded, maintaining my calm facade. "Number 1, at your service. I've come to ensure the items remain protected until the time is right. The calamity spares no one, not even you."

Arthur leaned forward, his emerald gaze piercing. "And why should I care about the items? The items left in my care are useless to me, true, but what does your so-called organization seek to gain?"

His skepticism was expected, even welcomed. 'He'll agree,' I thought, 'because our goals align. Even if he doesn't trust me, he knows I'm right. The calamity threatens us all.'

"The items were never meant for immediate use," I explained, my tone steady. "They are part of a long-term strategy. The Numbers Organization ensures their safety and eventual deployment against the calamity. We need your help to continue safeguarding them. In return, we offer you information, and alliances."

Arthur's flames dimmed momentarily, a sign of his contemplation. 'An alliance, is it? They know of the calamity, as I do. If they have knowledge or means to delay it, I would be a fool to refuse."'

"And if I refuse?" he asked, his voice laced with a threat.

I shrugged, feigning indifference. "Then the calamity will come, and even your considerable power will not save you. But I suspect you already know that."

A long silence stretched between us, broken only by the bone dragon's low growl. Finally, Arthur let out a dry chuckle. "Very well, Zhu Long. I will humor your organization. But know this—betray me, and your fate will be worse than the calamity itself."

I allowed myself a faint smile. "I wouldn't dream of it."

***

The rest of the day was spent drafting the mana contract. Arthur's cunning was evident in every clause, each designed to ensure his safety and advantage. But I countered with equal precision, sealing every loophole he might exploit.

By the end, the contract hovered between us, glowing with the combined power of our mana. Arthur placed his bony hand on it, his voice reverberating with finality. "By this pact, I bind myself."

Arthur's emerald flames flickered as he studied me, the air heavy with unspoken questions. His skeletal fingers drummed against the bone throne, a slow and deliberate rhythm that matched the tension in the room.

"You said you've come to uphold the work of the Runesmith King," Arthur began, his voice rasping like dry parchment. "But you have yet to explain what became of him. The last I heard, he was on the brink of something… extraordinary."

I clasped my hands behind my back, stepping closer to the throne. The bone dragon beside him stirred, its glowing sockets tracking my every movement. "If I'm to gain his trust, I must feed him just enough truth to satisfy his curiosity without revealing my past life."

I bowed my head slightly, as if paying respect to a hero of legend. "The Runesmith King gave his life to end the calamity. He faced the Twelve Zombie Kings—each a monstrosity of unfathomable power. Alone, he fought them for three days and three nights, using every ounce of his skill and ingenuity."

Arthur leaned forward, his flames burning brighter. "And he succeeded?"

I nodded solemnly. "He destroyed all twelve, but at a great cost. The battle drained him entirely. His body, his mana, even his soul—consumed in the process. The calamity's most dangerous leaders were eradicated."

The lich's flames flickered with something akin to admiration, but his voice remained steady. "And yet, the calamity persisted."

"Briefly," I continued. "Without their leaders, the lesser zombies descended into chaos. Mindless and uncontrollable, they turned on each other. Within weeks, they were no more than scattered remnants, destroying themselves in their frenzy. The calamity ended, but the Runesmith King's sacrifice ensured it was not in vain."

Arthur sat back, his skeletal frame creaking. His bony hand waved toward the pedestal where the rune-covered orb rested. "And the cure?"

I hesitated, ensuring my next words were measured. "He created it before the final battle. He entrusted it to a group of survivors and instructed them to find shelter here, with you."

Arthur's flames dimmed, the memory clearly stirring something in his ageless mind. "Ah, yes. They arrived on the brink of death. A pitiful group of mortals clutching a vial of hope. The cure was effective, but incomplete. Its effects were temporary, and I had to adapt it into a vaccine to ensure their survival."

The lich's voice grew colder, the bitterness of his actions bleeding through. "They were... frightened. Weak. Unable to comprehend the significance of what they carried. After vaccinating them, I erased their memories of the calamity. Humans are fragile creatures, after all. Their fear would have destroyed them faster than any undead plague."

I arched an eyebrow. "A calculated mercy?"

Arthur's flames flared, the green light casting long shadows across the throne room. "Do not mistake me for a sentimental fool, Zhu Long. They were a liability. Their knowledge of the calamity would have caused unforseen variables, as they were too weak."

I folded my arms, allowing a moment of silence to pass. "He hides it well, but there's pride in his voice. He knows the role he played was pivotal, even if he'll never admit it outright."

"They owe their lives to both of you," I said at last. "To the Runesmith King for his cure, and to you for safeguarding them."

Arthur chuckled, the sound echoing like brittle bones. "And yet, humans forget. Perhaps that is their greatest strength. Forgetting allows them to rebuild, to move forward. Even if it means erasing the sacrifices that made their survival possible."

I stepped closer to the pedestal, gesturing toward the rune-covered orb. "The Runesmith King knew you were the only one capable of such foresight. That's why he trusted you with this."

Arthur regarded me in silence for a long moment. His skeletal fingers finally tapped the armrest of his throne, breaking the stillness. "And yet, here you stand, claiming to represent his legacy. Tell me, Zhu Long, do you truly understand the weight of his work?"

I met his gaze, the emerald flames unyielding. "I understand far more than you realize, Arthur. The calamity has not been defeated. And I will ensure that neither his sacrifice nor your actions are forgotten. Even if it means lying to the world to keep the truth buried."

Arthur's flames dimmed, his voice lowering to a whisper. "Then perhaps you are not as naive as I first thought."

The pact between us now felt heavier, a bond forged not only in necessity but in shared understanding. As I turned to leave, I allowed myself a faint smile. "The truth of my past life remains my own. For now."

***

Before I left, Arthur gestured to a pedestal near his throne. A small, rune-covered orb rested atop it, radiating an aura of restrained destruction.

"The runic bomb," he said. "A gift from Number 0. You will not take it yet?"

I shook my head. "Not yet. But I've brought something in return."

From my spatial bag, I retrieved a small, blue pill, its surface swirling with ethereal clouds. Arthur examined it, his flames flaring with interest.

"A pill?" he asked. "What purpose does it serve?"

"It allows the user to temporarily ascend a rank for five seconds," I explained. "At great cost, of course. Life energy depletion, potentially fatal. A last resort."

Arthur let out a rasping laugh. "Fascinating. Mortals and their desperation. Very well, I will safeguard it alongside the others."

As I turned to leave, I cast one final glance at him. 'For now, Arthur, you are an ally. But should the need arise, I will destroy you without hesitation."'

"Until next time," I said aloud, stepping into the tunnel.

Arthur watched me go, his flames flickering with something close to amusement. 

The darkness swallowed me whole, the path to my kingdom waiting beyond.