The echo of the impact faded, swallowed by the settling hiss of dust and the drops raining back into the rippling river.

  For a heartbeat, the cave was silent, heavy with the scent of pulverized rock and superheated vapor.

  Sokram’s body was nowhere to be found.

  One of the Tier 10 Trolls had already jumped toward where Sokram was supposed to be and found nothing.

  Then, from the opposite side of the cave, came a shout, “You bunch of retards! I’m here, you fuckers!!”

  “ROOAAARR!!”

  Sokram heard countless trolls roaring as they dashed toward him.

  He fled into the cave passage, cradling his left arm against his chest.

  Every step sent a deafening jab of pain shooting up his left shoulder, grinding the fractured bones together with a sickening crunch.

  He ran as fast as he could, taking as much distance as possible, no longer underestimating the speed of the Trolls.

  It didn’t even take three seconds before he began hearing their booming steps inside the passage he had entered.

  Taking advantage of being out of their line of sight, Sokram cast another spell, ‘Mud Golem Clone.’

  As soon as the clone materialized, Sokram teleported back under the bridge and hid in its shadows again.

  Whether driven by blind rage or sheer stupidity, the entire pack took the bait.

  All the adults stormed into the passage after his Mud Golem Clone, while the remaining youngsters stayed behind.

  ‘Hah, you’re going to pay a high price for breaking my arm, you fuckers!’ Sokram thought as his eyes swept through the infant Trolls, shining with a greedy glint.

  It only took him four minutes to annihilate over 50 young Tier 1 Trolls that stayed behind in the cave, not leaving a single one alive to tell the tale.

  Sokram ran toward the tomb. Once he found a good hiding spot, he crouched down, bit down on a few leather strips to stifle his grunting scream.

  Then he used Force to pull the bone back, and with a sickening pop, as he felt the grind of his bones, he wrenched the bone back into alignment.

  Cold sweat broke instantly across his forehead, stinging his eyes.

  But he ignored it and began to move again after swallowing a painkiller while casting a healing spell.

  Sweating profusely and out of breath, even with the air rich in mana, he still had overexerted himself for the sake of his greed.

  Still, he had no regrets, which the grin on his face proved.

  Ten minutes later, Sokram felt his connection to the golem was cut, which could mean two things: Either the spell was out of reach, or the golem was destroyed.

  Another ten minutes later, he heard a series of roars echo to his location.

  But this time the roars echoed through the tunnels, no longer the guttural bellows of rage, but high-pitched wails that vibrated in a mournful, primitive cry for the slaughtered youngsters.

  He could only hope the trolls wouldn’t look for him in the passage toward the tomb.

  But judging by the lack of tracks, it seemed the trolls actively avoided this part of the cave.

  As soon as this realization hit him, Sokram decided to find a place to sit and recover. Yet before he could, he tripped over something.

  He cursed aloud as he fell face-first on the ground, “Fuck! Ouch! Fuck!!”

  Sokram scrambled up and spun around. Sprawled on the cavern floor lay a skeleton clad in a distinctive light armor with a Sigil he recognized.

  It belonged to the Nightblade clan, a Night-Elves’ clan that ruled the greater part of the Eastern Continent.

  The bones were yellowed with age, half-swallowed by the cave's dust.

  ‘What is someone like you doing here? You weren’t here before, or maybe someone found you before I found this place? Because it looks like you’ve been dead for a long time, friend…’

  As Sokram talked to the dead elf in his thoughts, he also realized there were three spatial rings in a chain necklace.

  After running an analysis spell to check for curses, he snatched it and stored it.

  Sokram also noticed that despite the entire armor being rotten and destroyed, the boots and the sigil on the armor that it wore were intact, defying time.

  The black leather boots were still supple, and the silver sigils still gleamed faintly in the gloom, untouched by rot or rust.

  After checking them, he saw they were enchanted with auto-repair, and the boots also had the Shadow Cloak spell. So he stored the pair of boots as well.

  Especially since they seemed to have autofit enchantments.

  Finally, he noticed a mark over the bones of the skeleton’s left hand.

  A similar mark to the one that had formed on his right hand when he hid his Void Glove.

  ‘I see, so you also came after the inheritance but died here, hm?’

  Sokram injected mana into the mark, and a mitten glove similar to his own appeared.

  ‘Heh, now, I’m sure someone found this tomb before I did in my previous timeline. I had never found the left pair before.’

  Sokram took the glove and, after using a cleaning spell on it, he wore it on his left hand.

  Just as he injected his mana into it, the glove on his right hand emerged.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  A current of mana surged up his left arm, raced across his chest, and slammed into his right hand.

  The energy coursing through his broken arms nearly brought Sokram to tears.

  Hadn't he been feeling so elated, he might have cried.

  As he focused his senses into the void in the gloves, it felt like his veins were being rewired with lightning, connecting the two voids into a singular, abyssal expanse.

  But to his disappointment, there was only one ring in the left pair, and only one book inside that ring.

  Summoning the book, Sokram stared at it in shock. “The Nightblade Clan’s Shadow Walking Art.”

  Sokram couldn’t believe it, because this was a technique he would only obtain in the future when he met one of his wives, but now he didn’t need to wait for her to learn it.

  He quickly stored the book, retrieved the three rings he had taken from the skeleton, and stored them in the void, realizing that now, he could easily set things apart into sub-dimensional voids.

  He also stored the skeleton, knowing the Nightblade Clan would appreciate having these remains back for a proper burial. Even more so if this skeleton, whoever it once was, was influential enough to carry their secret techniques with them.

  Sokram decided to sit and meditate right there.

  While he circulated Chaos Energy through his body, he understood the real extent of the damage that the troll’s punch had done.

  Every organ on his left side except his heart was swollen, and a few ribs were cracked.

  So, instead of Chaos Energy, he focused on only circulating Vitha alone to speed up his regeneration.

  As he circulated the Vitha, a cooling sensation washed over the bruising, knitting micro-tears in his liver and soothing the inflamed tissue.

  He also drank a potion and his newly created bone-mending pill, speeding up the process even more.

  Sokram sank into deep meditation for a couple of hours, mending his wounds.

  Once he opened his eyes, the trolls could still be heard roaring in grief, which, unexpectedly, impressed Sokram because it proved that they were more intelligent than he thought, even capable of bonding and grieving.

  Sokram hadn’t fully recovered, but he knew that soon his natural regeneration would resolve the remaining damage.

  At least now, standing up and walking didn’t feel like a painful task.

  He continued to explore the cave, careful not to miss anything along the way, when he found another skeleton.

  This one was wearing an armor chest piece with runic enchantment lines similar to the ones on the gloves.

  But Sokram couldn’t understand how that skeleton would be there.

  Because unless the Night Elf had died right before he even entered the cave, there was no way he wouldn’t loot the armor piece from the set.

  Then he remembered another detail about some Night Elves, some of them were followers of Azulla, Lady of War, and Matron of the Fallen Warriors.

  Those who followed her would never disrupt the rest of the dead, not even taking their valuables outside of the spoils of the foes they had felled with their own hands.

  Not out of fear of retribution but because they considered it disrespectful.

  But Sokram had no problem with that.

  ‘Finders, Keepers…’ He thought to himself after looting the armor piece and storing it in the Void Gloves, setting it apart.

  He found another four pieces of the armor set, as if they had been carefully placed in order along the way.

  He noticed a pattern. The skeletons were carefully placed from newest to oldest, which was the skeleton right in front of the tomb’s ancient, ornamented doors.

  ‘So you sensed my arrival, hm?’

  Sokram checked the set he got so far.

  He had found a pair of gloves, upper body armor, reinforced trousers, a hooded cape, a pair of bracers, and a mask.

  Each item had its own set of enchantments.

  Still, Sokram could see that they complemented each other and became stronger when worn together.

  Whoever enchanted it was a Grand Master Enchanter, whom he would love to learn from.

  But there was little to no information about him because in Sokram’s previous timeline, he didn’t manage to get the complete inheritance, just the knowledge of Biomancy and Drokmin’s War Art.

  This time, though, he wanted it all.

  Even more so, since whoever had the boots of the set hadn’t found the tomb yet.

  After looting the last of the skeletons, looking ahead, Sokram saw a gigantic ornamented monolith, covered with the story of the Dragon Emperor Drokmin.

  The monolith towered over him, a slab of black stone so polished it reflected the dim light like a dark mirror.

  The carvings weren't just etched; they were infused with intent and mana, the ancient draconic words seeming to shimmer and breathe within the rock face.

  The tale began with how he and the younger generation of every race in his home planet were sent to this planet to colonize it and form their kingdoms more than twenty thousand years ago.

  And how, when the great calamity struck, they lost all 10 arks of knowledge and the means of communication with their home worlds.

  They had to start their civilizations from scratch with the little knowledge they had.

  It also told how the Northern Continent became divided, turning into a land of war and strife.

  And finally, the tale of how he, the famed and feared Dragon Emperor Drokmin, united the land under his rule.

  But the monolith also told the end of his tale.

  Betrayed by his adopted son and first disciple, he was forced to flee and hide in this cave after being mortally wounded.

  At death’s door, he sacrificed what remained of his Core to create this tomb, leaving an inheritance for future generations.

  Looking beyond the monolith, Sokram saw a plated wall that appeared to be either Platinum or Adamantium, with an enormous ornamented double door engraved with the design of his family's Sigil.

  Sokram planted his feet and shoved against the massive doors with all his might. They remained immovable as an iron mountain.

  Instead, a ghostly voice resounded from inside, “Know that by entering this tomb to take the trials of inheritance, if you fail, which you definitely will, you are also willingly forfeiting your life.”

  The voice didn't come from the air. It vibrated from the walls themselves. It was deep, imposing, and carried the authority only an ancient dragon could muster.

  It reverberated inside Sokram’s skull as if spoken directly into his mind and echoed through his blood.

  Sokram smirked, already expecting this to happen, and answered firmly, “The Path of Evolution is full of perils, but every one of these dangers is also an opportunity. Only those with the bravery to leap when an opportunity presents itself are worthy of the reward that follows.”

  The ghostly voice laughed heartily, “Hahaha, it’s good to be brave, child. But don’t confuse bravery with stupidity. The opportunity presented itself, and you leaped toward it already. The set of armor I used to wear should be enough reward for someone as young as you. Don’t let the greed in your blood lead you toward death.”

  But Sokram insisted, pushing the door once more as he spoke, “Only cowards run away with scraps and pity-givens. Those will meet their end in the Path sooner than others. By hiding from challenge, their hearts will wither, and they will stop walking and stagnate. But to me, who wants to reach the pinnacle of this galaxy and the Star Palace, stagnation means…”

  “DEATH!” The ghostly voice boomed as if it had found new life, and the doors opened magically, snapping open and causing Sokram to stumble into the tomb.

  “Congratulations, child. You’ve passed the test of the Heart. It’s good to know that there are still brave and ambitious people like you in this future that I did not live to see. Hahaha.”

  Looking ahead, Sokram saw a golden astral form that materialized from the ambient mana in the chamber.

  He was a 2-meter-tall dragon in human form, with a muscular yet lean body.

  Dressed in an outfit resembling the official attire worn in the current age. Yet, it also gave an ancient feeling.

  But even though Sokram couldn’t see the color of this man’s skin or eyes, it was easy to tell he was a black dragon as well.

  Sokram took in the sight, the dimly lit chamber resembling an archaic, ancient throne room.

  But empty of any other seats besides the large throne where the astral form of the Dragon Emperor stood in front of.

  On the floor, three arrays were carved, and in the center of each array stood obsidian pillars with names written in ancient draconian.

  The pillar on the far right of the chamber, engraved with the word Heart.

  A purple flame danced atop the pillar. It produced no heat and cast no shadow, flickering with a silence.

  Its hypnotic rhythm and enchanting sparks seemed capable of entrapping any soul that stepped closer.

  The one on the far left had the word Blood but no flame.

  The one with the word Power, also unlit, stood in the center, close to the throne.

  Sokram also noticed many lines of runic words written on every wall of the chamber.

  Just being in that place would be enriching and magically educational, as much could be learned from the three arrays and runic lines on every wall.

  However, Sokram knew that the knowledge behind it would be among the inheritance.

  “Thank you, Ancestor.” Sokram looked at the dragon in human-astral form standing before him with great admiration and respect.

  Not only because they shared the same family name, but because Drokmin’s research in Biomancy allowed Sokram to take his first step toward the pinnacle of power in his previous timeline.

  As their gazes met, they both knew this encounter would change the fate of the land they loved.