Hitman With A Badass System - Chapter 1192: The Legendary Thief Silvaris

After three days of preparation and gathering information, Michael and Gaya arrived at the Emerald Mountains, the designated meeting point set by Elder Derelius. The mountains lived up to their name, with the stones scattered across the landscape possessing a unique green hue, giving the entire area an ethereal, verdant glow. Gaya’s sharp eyes caught sight of figures in the distance. “Those must be the Kraken Clan guards,” she noted, pointing towards a group of individuals who were clad in armor that bore the distinctive insignia of the Kraken Clan. As they approached, the guards stood in formation, their postures rigid and professional. It was clear that they were well-trained and prepared to escort the various adventurers and explorers who had gathered for the expedition into the dungeon.

Standing tall and authoritative, the guards gestured towards a trail that led deeper into the mountains. “Follow the trail,” one of them instructed, pointing them toward the mud trail, marked by the footprints of those who had passed before. The trail snaked its way through the emerald-hued stones and dense foliage of the mountains.

“Thank you,” Michael acknowledged the guards with a nod, and they began to follow the trail. As they progressed, the presence of more adventurers, thrill-seekers, and noble soldiers became apparent. The trail seemed like a converging point for all those drawn by the lure of the dungeon and its mysteries.

Gaya observed the increasing number of people on the trail, her eyes scanning the diverse array of individuals. “Seems like we’ll have some competition inside the dungeon,” she remarked, her voice carrying a mix of excitement and wariness.

Eventually, Michael and Gaya, along with the growing crowd of adventurers, reached a point where the trail ended at what appeared to be a normal mountain wall. The area was bustling with people from various races, all clad in an assortment of armors and equipped with a variety of weapons. The air was thick with anticipation and the murmur of voices discussing strategies and expectations.

To get a better view, Michael and Gaya, like many others, leaped onto a nearby tree branch. From their elevated vantage point, they could see several armed guards surrounding Elder Derelius. The elder was engaged in a ritual, his hands moving in precise, calculated gestures as he cast several spells.

As Elder Derelius continued his incantations, the mountain wall began to transform. The stone surface started to shift and change, revealing a hidden door. Intricate runes, etched deep into the stone, began to glow with an otherworldly light, illuminating the area with their eerie luminescence.

Gaya’s keen eyes quickly spotted Lysandra and Elrion, who were standing at the front of the crowd. Their presence was commanding, drawing the attention of many around them.

Michael scanned the area, his curiosity piqued. “Where’s that old woman, Shar, and Jin?” he wondered aloud, trying to locate the other two notable figures they had encountered earlier.

It didn’t take long for him to spot Shar amidst the crowd, her dark robes making her stand out among the sea of adventurers. Jin, however, was more elusive. It was only after a moment that Michael noticed him blending with the shadows, quietly observing the door from a distance. His ability to remain almost invisible to the casual observer was a testament to his skills as an assassin.

As they watched, more guards armed with large hammers joined Elder Derelius at the stone wall. They struck the wall rhythmically, their hammers resonating with the chants of the elder. With each strike, the mountain trembled slightly, and the shape of the door became more pronounced, its runes glowing brighter.

Suddenly, the mountain quaked more violently, culminating in a blast of wind that burst forth from the door. The powerful gust knocked down many of the onlookers, sending a wave of surprise and alarm through the crowd.

As the group advanced through the dungeon, illuminated by the golden light from Elrion’s sword, one of the elves in the crowd reached out to touch the walls. “Look at this,” he exclaimed, drawing attention to the surface he had just touched.

The dungeon’s walls were dark gray, plain and unadorned, giving off an ancient and foreboding feel. The ground beneath their feet was rough and uneven, adding to the sense of age and neglect. A musty, almost earthy smell filled the air, a testament to the centuries that had passed since the dungeon’s creation.

As the elf’s hand traced along the wall, the light revealed disturbing signs — trails of dried blood, some old and faded, others seemingly fresher.

The sight of the blood trails sent a shiver through the crowd. Whispers and murmurs began to circulate, with adventurers speculating about what had happened to those who had ventured into the dungeon before them.

Michael subtly gestured to Gaya and whispered, “Look there,” nodding discreetly towards Borgin and the other beast tamers who were navigating the dungeon’s treacherous terrain ahead of them.

Upon noticing them, Gaya cracked her knuckles and flashed a cold smile, a clear indication of her unresolved feelings towards the beast tamers. Under the guiding light of Elrion’s sword, the group continued their journey through the dark, musty corridors of the dungeon. The ancient air around them seemed to thicken with every step they took, heightening the sense of unease and anticipation.

Eventually, the narrow passageway opened up into a large, spacious, and seemingly empty hall. The sudden change in environment made everyone pause, their senses heightened for any sign of danger.

“Be careful, things may not be as they seem.” Her voice echoed in the vastness of the hall, a reminder of the deceptive nature of their surroundings.

But before her words could fully sink in, the ground beneath them suddenly gave way. A hidden trapdoor opened, and one by one, they all began to fall into the dark abyss below. Shouts and cries filled the air as the adventurers plummeted downwards, caught completely off guard by the dungeon’s cunning trap.

As they tumbled through the darkness, the adventurers landed one by one on a hard, unseen floor below. The impact was jarring, and for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of heavy breaths and groans of discomfort echoing through the pitch-black space.

Suddenly, the reassuring light emanating from Elrion’s sword was snuffed out, as if an invisible force had extinguished it. The abrupt plunge into darkness intensified the sense of vulnerability and disorientation among the group.

Just as the tension seemed unbearable, a faint silver light began to emerge from the ground itself. It gradually intensified, coalescing into the form of a cloaked man with flowing silver hair.

Lysandra, her eyes widening in recognition, broke the stunned silence. “Silvaris,” she uttered, her voice a mix of awe and recognition.

The name resonated with the adventurers, many of whom had heard tales of the legendary thief and the angel of Velarix, the God of Thieves.