Fire Mage-Chapter 682: Infiltration

Chapter 682: Infiltration

Is he a Seer? A strange prickle of awareness tickled Charles’s senses.

But a moment later, his mental scan provided clarity.

Rank-2 Mystic. He’s a Rank-2 [Instructor] and [Sword Dancer]. But... he also has the [Disguiser] skill ’Prevision.’

Charles’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Prevision... lets him glimpse 0.5 seconds into the future. Useful in battle—not here.

"Sir Cyrus," the Crown Prince said, setting down his quill, "you’ve arrived earlier than expected."

Charles inclined his head. "I didn’t wish to delay, Your Highness."

He stepped forward, placing a sealed letter with a golden insignia on the desk, then bowed.

"Oh? Hallie replied to my letter?" Jason asked as he broke the seal. "How is she? Any troubles?"

Charles masked his thoughts and answered smoothly.

"She asked many questions about you, Your Highness. She also urged you to speak with her father regarding your relationship."

Jason sighed, clearly flustered. "How am I supposed to casually bring that up with the Duke?"

A faint smile crossed his lips before he waved a hand.

"You may return to your duties, Cyrus. I need some time alone."

"Yes, Your Highness." Charles bowed respectfully and exited the study without delay.

After leaving the Prince’s study, Charles turned left and glanced down the long corridor. At the far end, two guards stood watch, their post unwavering.

He gave them a brief glance, then turned in the opposite direction.

He passed several rooms, moving in silence, until he reached an open garden nestled deep within the palace grounds. On the other side stood the Crown Prince’s resting chamber.

Unlike other areas, this place was heavily restricted—only the head maid, Cyrus, and other royal family members were allowed entry. Unsurprisingly, the area was deserted.

Charles approached the chamber and unlocked the door without hesitation.

Once inside, he activated his shapeshifting skill and took the form of the Fourth Prince.

Moments later, a young man—about twenty years of age—emerged from the Crown Prince’s quarters. With a calm gaze, he surveyed the tranquil garden. He stood around 180 cm tall, with a slender build, fair complexion, an oval face, piercing blue eyes, and neatly combed short black hair.

Though he appeared healthy, his slightly bent and swollen left arm hinted at an injury that hadn’t fully healed. To conceal it, he wore a formal outfit.

Prince Ricardo—Charles in disguise—was dressed in an opulent velvet ensemble. A deep burgundy frock coat with intricate gold embroidery traced the cuffs and lapels, its long tails brushing the ground. Beneath it, a crisp white waistcoat bore delicate floral patterns, while matching trousers completed the look. Polished leather boots and a silk cravat added the final touches of refinement.

Only the sword at his waist, along with the pendant and amulet around his neck, looked old-fashioned. Fortunately, such artifacts were commonplace among royalty and drew no attention.

After adjusting his outfit, Charles entered the corridor across from the garden and made his way toward the Royal Treasury.

He moved quietly, passing familiar rooms, even the Crown Prince’s study, until he neared two guards clad in silver armor, golden spears in hand.

"Your Highness!" they called out the moment they saw him approaching. Both dropped to one knee and bowed.

"I wish to enter the Royal Treasury," Charles said, wearing a grave expression.

The guards exchanged glances, their eyes drifting to his injured arm before rising to their feet.

"Elder Finley mentioned you wouldn’t arrive until evening, Your Highness," one said cautiously.

"Hmm? Is there a problem?" Charles asked, subtly touching his arm. "I’d planned to come later, but I’ve decided not to delay."

"No issue at all, Your Highness. You may enter," the other replied apologetically. "I’ll inform the Elder."

He hurried away while his companion pulled out a large metal box from his space ring and offered it to Charles.

"Please place your weapon and other artifacts inside before entering, Your Highness."

Charles nodded, speaking telepathically to Grace.

’Stay in the box for now. I’ll return soon.’

He opened the box and placed his sword, spatial ring, pendant, Ringet, and other equipment inside.

With the box secured, Charles stepped toward a massive metal door etched with a myriad of rune symbols and array circles. Activating [Mystic Algorithm], he examined the intricate magic structure embedded in the door—fifty-two array circles in total.

’I don’t know much about Rune Arrays, but even with this skill, it would take over an hour to decode everything,’ he thought. ’And I don’t have that kind of time.’

As his eyes began deciphering the runes, he stepped forward, raised his hand, and placed it on the door.

At the same time, he discreetly took a blood vial from his space ring, manipulated it with an invisible string, and rendered the vial itself invisible.

A second later, one of the arrays activated and fired a thin needle of energy into his thumb, drawing blood.

As the droplet emerged, a force tried to pull it toward the door—but Charles intercepted it, using his wisdom power to halt its motion.

With precision, he guided the invisible vial toward the suspended droplet, tipped it slightly, and released a single drop of the real Prince Ricardo’s blood.

The two drops merged midair before the new one drifted toward the door and vanished into a specific array circle.

Immediately, the nearby runes activated in sequence, emitting soft creaks as the massive door began to open.

Inside, a vast chamber came into view—filled with hundreds of weapons, shields, ornaments like rings and bracelets, and even strange glowing crystals. Each item was encased in a sealed glass cube, and the entire floor was covered in layered rune arrays.

"You have one hour to choose your artifact, Your Highness. If you don’t exit the Treasury in time, Elder Finley will open the door himself," the guard announced from behind.

The door shut behind Charles with a heavy thud, isolating him from the outside world.

’A separate dimension, then.’ Charles looked around, noting the complex rune patterns etched across the chamber. He pulled out the royal seal and began scanning the artifacts one by one.

Most were at the Extraordinary Rank. But soon, he detected a handful of artifacts housing sentient consciousnesses.

’Seventeen pseudo-intellectuals... and five true intellectual artifacts,’ he noted.

What puzzled him was the classification: the Churches had labeled the pseudo-intellectual artifacts as Series-A, while the fully conscious ones were Series-S.

’Odd... There’s even a pseudo-intellectual among the Series-S. Why?’ His gaze rested on an eye-shaped orb covered in strange symbols.

’Perhaps the ranking isn’t based on strength... but on danger.’

He could feel some of the artifacts already aware of his presence. If not for the protective seals, they might’ve attempted to influence or attack him.

But none of them were his goal.

He continued deeper into the treasury, passing swords, spears, rings, crowns, and shields, until he reached the far end of the chamber.

His eyes fell on a massive glass cube nestled against the wall.

Inside was a colossal golden ring large enough to encircle a grown man. Strange dark patterns, resembling a spider’s web, were etched across its surface.

As Charles stepped closer, the consciousness within the ring stirred, releasing an oppressive wave of energy meant to repel him.

’Expected that.’ Charles smirked and released his wisdom power, forming a protective barrier.

He approached the cube, drew out the royal seal, and pressed it against the glass.

The cube’s rune inscriptions flared to life, scanning the seal.

Seconds later, a soft click echoed. The cube’s top layer began to fade, revealing the ring in full clarity.

Suddenly, a force tried to yank Charles’s consciousness from his body.

He focused his mind and resisted, keeping his awareness anchored. The patterns on the ring writhed and pulsed, exuding an ancient and sinister aura.

The artifact’s presence was overwhelming—ancient, intelligent, and predatory. A lurking threat wrapped in golden elegance.

"Interesting," Charles murmured, extending a hand toward it.

The moment his fingers brushed the glass, the dormant consciousness within surged. The dark etchings on the ring glowed with spectral light, illuminating the entire chamber.

Then a voice echoed in Charles’s mind—deep, booming, and ancient.

"Who dares awaken the Titan’s Circlet... Epialos?"

The voice reverberated through his very soul, nearly staggering him.

But Charles stayed composed.

He activated the spell Past Touch.

In a heartbeat, the room shifted.

He now stood beneath a stormy, dark sky before a towering figure—fifteen meters tall—with a glowing third eye on its forehead.

The being’s ebony skin shimmered beneath heavy armor. Muscles bulged beneath steel plates, sharp jaw-like teeth jutted from its mouth, and a massive silver battle axe rested in its hand. A helm shielded its head, and enchanted gauntlets covered its arms.

It stared warily at the heavens.

Then, a brilliant light like a falling sun pierced through the clouds and struck the earth a few meters ahead of the Titan.

As the golden radiance faded, another colossal figure emerged—this one around twelve meters tall. His skin gleamed pale gold, a single horn curved from his forehead, and a massive broadsword rested in his grip.

**"Astrape! ******* ******* *****!"

A thunderous, incomprehensible voice roared from the newcomer—an entity that radiated the very essence of the sun itself.

Charles only managed to recall the first word; the rest sounded strange and difficult to pronounce.

Just as the three-eyed titan was about to respond, it suddenly sensed a gaze from behind and turned.

At the same moment, the Sun Titan shifted its gaze as well, locking eyes with the direction where Charles stood.