The Tome That Changes Fate

They stepped into a narrow corridor, its walls lined with sculptures that seamlessly merged into the corners, as if holding up the passage itself. The material felt neither stone nor wood but something disturbingly in between—smooth, yet faintly pulsing. Though no light source was visible, the space glowed with an eerie glow, casting restless shadows.

After what felt like hours, the passage opened into a vast hall. At its center loomed a statue of a female vampire, her sculpted form so precise that the fabric of her gown seemed to ripple. Blue, luminescent vines wreathed her head like a crown, pulsing with an unsettling energy. Her scarlet eyes, inset with shimmering gems, radiated an uncanny authority. They watched—and pointed.

Their gaze led to one of many chambers lining the hall. Each maple door bore ancient runes that pulsed faintly, as though breathing. Beside them, narrow slits in the walls revealed glimpses of their interiors—containing things, disparate and similar. A chill stirred the air, carrying a whisper that seemed to come from the walls themselves.

These were the treasure rooms—the fruit of their hard work. A single person could go in only one of them and only once. The slits were much helpful to Arin as he instantly found the room he had planned to go into.

"Choose the room you want to go into—you can only enter a single one. You must become stronger, to protect me of couse." Arin teased his subordinates as he went to a room whose interior was strangely dark.

His hands touched the central rune causing his eyes to momentarily be blinded by the intense white light that shone from the rune.

As the brilliance subsided, Arin found himself standing at the threshold of the chamber. The darkness within was not mere absence of light but something deeper—thicker—almost sentient. It clung to the air, swallowing the edges of his vision. Yet he stepped forward, drawn by the very enigma that had lured him to this door.

Behind him, the corridor remained eerily silent. His subordinates had already made their choices, their figures vanishing behind rune-marked doors. He was alone now.

The moment he fully entered, the door sealed shut behind him with a muted thud. The walls pulsed, as if exhaling, and the darkness shifted. Shapes stirred within the void—whispers bled into his ears, words slipping between languages, yet all carried the same message: You should not have passed the trial. The whispers seemed enraged and... discontent as if they loathed his very existence and being.

Arin clenched his fists, steadying his breath. He had anticipated danger, but this… this felt beyond the tangible. His fingers brushed against the hilt of his dagger as he moved forward, his boots making no sound on the unseen floor.

Then—light. Faint, but growing. A silver shimmer spread across the far end of the room, revealing something floating in midair. A book.

Bound in what appeared to be aged leather, its cover was stitched with veins of dark gold. The title was obscured, shifting as if refusing to be read. It exuded an aura unlike anything Arin had felt before—an intelligence, a presence.

As he reached for it, the darkness recoiled violently, forming a shape—a tall, faceless figure, its outline jagged like fractured glass. It loomed over him, silent but seething with unspoken warnings.

Arin didn't hesitate. He grasped the book.

The instant his fingers made contact, a surge of cold fire shot through his veins. His vision warped—the chamber shattered around him. For a moment, he glimpsed something beyond reality itself: a landscape of shifting stars, spiraling voids, and eyes—hundreds, thousands—blinking open within the fabric of space.

Then he was back. The room was unchanged, but he was not.

The whispers had stopped. The darkness no longer moved. And in his hands, the book lay still. Its title now visible.

The Tome Of Gradices' Spells

And beneath it, a single line etched in a language older than time:

Thou who possesseth this tome shall wield dominion over mana, with all beneath thy feet.

"Now that this book is in hand, even Rokaal is not as dangerous as me." Arin's face displayed a satisfied smile. This was the only time he had worked so hard and passionately for something both in this life and the previous.

This tome was one of, if not the most famous tome of magic in the entire game. Though it wasn't fully unlocked yet, even its current version was nothing less than a cheat. It was the tome of Gadices' himself, the greatest blood mage of all time. He was a vampire, one highly respected by those of his race.

It was actually the ruin's most hidden but overpowered item. It was especially beneficial for someone like Arin—who did not have any power.

A smug expression on his face, Arin went out of the room. As soon as he left the room, his gaze landed on a small white sapling in Bhavesh's hands, its entire figure was transparent and its leaves shimmered with white wisps of light. It was the plant of Solvarya, a spiritual plant.

In Devil's Playgrounds, there existed three energies: Mana for mages, Spirit Force for spiritual artists, and Gorth Essence for Warriors. The three energies actually originated from a single one, Omnith. Solvarya was an exotic plant that was very effective in converting Omnith into Spirit Force that a spiritual artist could use by meditating near it. It was so expensive that even the combined wealth of an entire duchy was not enough to purchase it.

Arin's eyes shifted, stopping on Nocterin's body which was known dressed in cerulean fabric. It looked ordinary at first but as a well-versed player of Devil's Playground knew the truth. It was the Dragonic Guardian outfit, an enchanted robe that allowed the wearer to cast large-scale defensive water spells even if they weren't a mage. However, as far as Arin could remember the ability could only be used once in a day.

The journey to the rewards had been arduous but it was all worth it.

"Now that this book is in hand," Arin said, tracing the tome's veins of dark gold, "even Rokaal will kneel." His smile didn't reach his eyes.

As Arin was about to exit the ruins through the distinct metal gate behind the vampire statue, his ears picked up a faint huff, like someone scoffing in annoyonce.

Sounds of rocks screeching against the ground echoed as the statue spun on the ground, eventually stopping as its hands performed a yawning motion.

Her already red eyes turned into glowing orbs of flame, her face evincing a pestered expression. The vines wrapped around her had turned alive just like herself, and now those very vines maneuvered in the air around her.