Chapter 29
The Deeprock Vault
The first light of dawn had barely touched the horizon when Adom stirred awake, his mind already buzzing with the day's agenda. Despite the early hour, a sense of purpose fueled his movements, a quiet anticipation for what was to come. Bennu, nestled comfortably on Adom's bed, was a small bundle of warmth and soft, rhythmic purrs, his feathers gently rising and falling with each breath. The phoenix, usually so vibrant and curious, now embodied the epitome of peace in sleep, undisturbed by the world's whispers.
Adom couldn't help but smile at the sight, the corners of his eyes crinkling with affection. "Time to get going, little one," he whispered, though not expecting any reaction from his slumbering companion. True to form, Bennu merely snuggled deeper into his cozy nest, a soft chirp escaping him as if to protest the morning's arrival.
Shaking his head with a chuckle, Adom turned his attention to preparing for the day. Today's task was of utmost importance - depositing the cheque at the Deeprock Vault, the dwarven-led bank renowned for its unassailable security and unwavering privacy. Even in his previous life, Adom had trusted the Vault with his hard-earned wealth, reassured by its formidable reputation and the intricate protections that shrouded its operations.
As Adom made his way through the quiet streets of Mandrake, the city was just beginning to stir, its inhabitants slowly awakening to the promise of a new day. The journey to the Vault's local branch, one of many that dotted the eight continents, was a familiar one. Yet, each visit filled Adom with a sense of awe, a reminder of the dwarves' unparalleled craftsmanship and the intricate magic that safeguarded the institution.
Upon reaching the Vault, Adom was greeted by the sight of its formidable entrance, a masterpiece of dwarven architecture blended seamlessly with the natural contours of the land. The entrance was guarded by elite warriors and arcane constructs, each more than capable of deterring any ill-intentioned visitor. But to Adom, and to those with legitimate business, the path opened as if welcoming an old friend.
Guarding the entrance were two dwarves, clad in armor that seemed to blend the ancient tradition with modern magic, their presence both welcoming and imposing. As Adom neared, their eyes appraised him, a mix of curiosity and amusement in their gaze.
"What business does a young lad have at the Vault, eh?" one of the guards jested, a broad grin spreading across his bearded face. "Looking for lost treasures, or perhaps a secret passage to the land of giants?"
His companion joined in, his laughter echoing off the stone, "Or maybe he's here to deposit his life savings from mowing the lawns of Mandrake!"
Adom couldn't help but smile at their banter, the dwarves' jovial nature disarming and familiar. "Actually," he responded with a light chuckle, "I'm here to open an account. I believe I have an appointment with one of your account managers."
The change in the guards' demeanor was immediate and striking. The laughter died down, and they straightened up, the teasing glint in their eyes replaced by a sharp professionalism. "An account, you say?" the first guard remarked, his tone now reflecting the gravity of their responsibilities. "Well then, young master, you've come to the right place."
The second guard nodded, stepping forward to open the massive door, "Deeprock Vault takes the business of its clients very seriously. Right this way, please."
As Adom passed between them, he couldn't help but marvel at the swift transition. It was a testament to the dwarven dedication to their craft and duties, a stark reminder that beneath their hearty exteriors lay a fierce commitment to excellence and security.
Inside, the Vault was even more impressive. The air was cool, the atmosphere suffused with a sense of timeless stability. The walls thrummed with latent energy, the ancient runes carved into them a silent testament to the layers of protection that enveloped the place.
Guided by a Vault attendant, Adom made his way through the labyrinthine corridors, each turn revealing more of the dwarven mastery over stone and magic. The sounds of the city faded away, replaced by the soft echoes of their footsteps on the stone floor.
Reaching the heart of the Vault, Adom was ushered into a private chamber where the account opening would take place. The room was austere yet comfortable, the furnishings simple but crafted with the unmistakable precision of dwarven artisans.
The account manager, a dwarf with a keen eye and a welcoming smile, greeted Adom warmly. "Welcome to Deeprock Vault," he began, his voice imbued with the unmistakable pride of his kin. "We're honored to serve you today. My name is Andri Ironbeard. I will be assisting you today, sir. Let us ensure your assets are as secure as the bedrock upon which we stand."
The private chamber of the Deeprock Vault, bathed in the soft glow of enchanted lamps, was a sanctuary of silence and confidentiality. Andri prepared the necessary documents with the efficiency and precision that were hallmarks of his trade.
"So, young master, how much will we be securing for you today?" he asked, a friendly twinkle in his eye, fully expecting a modest sum from the young sorcerer before him.
Adom, unfazed by the routine question, reached into his satchel and produced the cheque with a casual flick of his wrist. "1 million Cauris, please," he said, his tone light but firm, as if discussing the weather rather than a fortune.
The dwarf's laughter filled the room, rich and hearty, convinced the boy was indulging in a bit of jest. "Ah, to be young and dream so grandly!" he chuckled, reaching out to take the cheque, still in the throes of amusement.
But as his eyes caught the figures and the official seal emblazoned on the paper, his laughter died in an instant, replaced by a stunned silence. He looked from the cheque to Adom and back again, his experienced eyes scanning the document for any sign of deceit. But there was none; the cheque was as real as the stone walls that surrounded them.
Regaining his composure, the dwarf's demeanor shifted dramatically. The casual air was replaced by a respectful formality, a recognition of the magnitude of the transaction before him. "I... I had no idea you were an invitee of the Olympiads," he stammered, a newfound admiration in his tone. "My sincerest congratulations, Master Adom."
Adom, observing the dwarf's transformation with a smile, simply nodded. "Thank you," he replied, amused by the dwarves sense of priorities.
The account manager worked swiftly to process the deposit, the clacking of keys and the hum of magical verification filling the room. The Vault's enchantments, designed to detect and deter any form of deception, confirmed the cheque's authenticity, allowing the transaction to proceed without a hitch.
"Your account has been credited with 1 million Cauris, Master Adom," the dwarf announced, handing over a set of enchanted cards that would allow Adom access to his funds. "And, if I may suggest, you are now eligible for our Golden Card, a credit service reserved for our most esteemed clients."
Adom, considering the offer, appreciated the gesture but declined. His journey had taught him the value of simplicity and caution, especially in financial matters. "I appreciate the offer, but I'll have to decline the credit card for now," he said, his decision firm yet gracious.
The dwarf, though insistent, respected Adom's choice. "Very well, Master Adom, but should you ever change your mind, the offer remains open to you."
With the business concluded, Adom took his leave, his mind already racing towards the next step of his journey, 'The Boundless Bazaar,' a renowned establishment within Mandrake known for its exceptional selection of dimensional bags. These were not just mere storage solutions but marvels of magical engineering, capable of holding vast amounts of gear and treasures within compact, manageable spaces. Their reputation for quality, albeit accompanied by steep prices, made them indispensable for adventurers and sorcerers alike.
As he navigated through the vibrant streets of Mandrake, Adom's anticipation was abruptly cut short by a brewing altercation. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a distressing scene—an older man, fueled by anger, was on the verge of attacking a young boy, no older than Adom himself. From the looks of it, the boy, who clearly seemed to be a beggar, had stolen a loaf of bread, his actions born out of necessity rather than malice.
Distance and time were not in Adom's favor. His mind raced as he watched the man's threatening advance towards the boy, the gleam of a knife in the assailant's hand signaling imminent danger. Knowing he had to act quickly and discreetly, Adom scanned the streets for anything that could aid him. Spotting a small, loose cobblestone a few feet away, he knew what he had to do.
With a swift, subtle movement, Adom extended his hand towards the cobblestone, his fingers twitching in the precise pattern required to weave a basic kinetic spell. The incantation was simple yet effective, designed to harness Essentia and manipulate the physical world without drawing attention to the caster.
As the spell took effect, the cobblestone stirred, then shot through the air like a bullet, guided by Adom's focused intent. The trajectory was meticulously calculated, ensuring the stone would strike the man's wrist just as he was about to harm the boy, deflecting the knife away harmlessly.
Then as the knife veered off course, clattering harmlessly to the cobblestones, the assailant's head whipped around, his nostrils flaring as he seemed to scent the air. Adom, hiding, watched in disbelief as the man's gaze locked onto him with unnerving precision. How did he...? Adom wondered, momentarily puzzled by the man's ability to identify him so quickly. It dawned on Adom that the man might have sensed his Essentia signature on the cobblestone, a skill that marked him as no ordinary thug.
Realizing subtlety was no longer an option and his involvement unmistakably detected, Adom grabbed a piece of cloth and draped it over his face to mask his identity. With determined strides, he emerged from the anonymity of his hiding spot to confront the man directly.
The boy, still rooted to the spot in shock, clutched at the remnants of the bread, a pitiful symbol of the commotion's genesis. Adom's approach did not go unnoticed, and as he neared, the man's hostile glare intensified.
"Looking for me?" Adom inquired, his tone laced with a challenge he felt compelled to issue, even as he understood the risks.
The man's response was a snarl, venom dripping from every syllable. "Mind yer fuckin' business. I won't tell ya twice, y'hear me?"
Adom, unfazed by the threat, couldn't help but remark on the absurdity of the situation. "And why's a big man like you taking on a little kid?" The irony of his own words didn't escape him; physically, he and the boy were peers. Yet the circumstances and Adom's old soul set them worlds apart.
Adom's gaze shifted to the boy, concern etched across his features even as he maintained his composure. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice steady.
The boy, his eyes wide with fear, nodded frantically, unable to articulate his distress. He stammered, trying to explain to the man, "Pablo, I-I don't understand, the deadline's not over yet, I—" But his plea was cut short by a violent slap from Pablo, the force of the impact leaving the promise of a darkening bruise. "Shut yer trap, freak!" Pablo bellowed, his voice echoing ominously through the marketplace.
Adom's response was calm, yet tinged with disapproval. "Now now, you're beating a kid like this in plain sight? That's not good behavior for an adult," he chided, his words carrying a weight that seemed to momentarily unnerve Pablo.
Pablo's fury, however, was quick to resurface. His hands began to glow with the imminent threat of a punch, his anger fueling his actions. "I warned ya," he spat, his eyes locked on Adom with lethal intent. "And yet, yer making this difficult. You could have just gone about yer day."
Adom nodded, acknowledging the truth in Pablo's words. Generally, he did prefer to remain detached, to not entangle himself in the affairs of others. But this situation, the sight of a child, vulnerable and scared, struck a chord within him. Adom recognized a reflection of his own struggles in the boy's frightened eyes, a mirror to his past when life had been anything but kind.
Adom's nod was one of pragmatic agreement, an acknowledgment of the precarious situation at hand. "True. Tell you what then, I'll leave or not, depending on what he's done," he stated evenly, his tone leaving room for either outcome.
Pablo's reaction was a manic laugh, a sound that seemed to ripple with derision and disbelief. "Are you normal?" he jeered, eyeing Adom with amusement and scorn.
Adom's response was laced with sarcasm, his voice steady, "Definitely not." His confidence wasn't unfounded; a prior assessment of Pablo's level had revealed him to be a level 9—a formidable opponent, but not beyond Adom's capabilities.
The tension between them was palpable, a charged atmosphere that hinted at the inevitable clash. And it came sooner than expected, with Pablo launching a sudden, brutal attack. His massive fist, aimed directly at Adom's head, was a clear intent to incapacitate, if not outright kill.
Adom, however, was prepared. Time seemed to stop as his anticipation of Pablo's move allowed him to react with precision, channeling a concentrated burst of Essentia to form a barrier around his head. The barrier, invisible to the untrained eye, was a potent shield, crafted from the very essence of magical energy.
The moment Pablo's fist collided with the barrier, the outcome was instantaneous. The force meant to crush Adom's skull instead met an unyielding wall of Essentia, the impact reverberating through Pablo's arm. The man's fist, once a weapon, was now a ruin of flesh, sinew and bone, the damage catastrophic.
Pablo's scream pierced the streets "My hand, aaargh! What have ya done, ya fucking monster! Me fucking fingers!", a raw sound of agony and disbelief as he cradled his mangled hand. His curses, laden with pain and rage, filled the air, but Adom remained unfazed, his attention already shifting to the boy.
Turning to the frightened child, Adom extended his hand, a silent offer of safety and escape. "Get up, run with me," he urged, his voice a calm command amidst the chaos. The boy, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe, hesitated only for a moment before placing his hand in Adom's.
Together, they ran, darting through the streets, leaving behind a scene of stunned onlookers and a man nursing the consequences of his actions. Adom, with the boy in tow, navigated the labyrinth of stalls and alleys.
Pablo, driven by pain and rage, reached for the absent knife, his threats laced with venom. "You freaks, I'll kill you both," he howled, his words a harbinger of retribution.
Adom urged, "Run!" Their flight was desperate, the distance between them and Pablo widening with each step.
Pablo's threats followed them, a chilling promise of vengeance. "I know where ya live, Eren! The hounds will find ya, and we'll fucking massacre you and your mother!" The words hung heavy, a dark cloud on the horizon of their escape.
Eren, terror etched into every feature, ran as if the very hounds of hell were at his heels. The bread, probably the cause of this entire ordeal as Adom assumed, lay forgotten in the dust of their flight.
"Keep running, we must get far away from him!" Adom's voice was a beacon, urging Eren onward, away from the imminent danger that Pablo represented.
