The Merchant Prince's rumor spread not like a fire, but like a plague. It was a sickness of greed that infected the desperate and the ambitious. In the seedy taverns of border towns, in the hushed halls of disgraced nobles, and in the boisterous guildhalls of mercenaries, the whispers began.
"They say the new 'Sovereign' isn't a god at all. Just a powerful sorcerer who found an ancient tomb filled with unbelievable treasures."
"The Heart of the Void… a gem that grants immortality and the power to command death itself. It's just sitting there, in the deepest part of that swamp fortress."
"His strongest guardians are all with him, playing diplomat in the Empire. The tomb is practically undefended!"
The lies were potent because they offered something that the truth did not: hope. The truth was that Kaelus was an unassailable power. The lie was that he was just a powerful dungeon boss guarding a massive hoard of loot. And in a world of adventurers, nothing was more enticing than the promise of a legendary dungeon raid.
The rumor found its most fertile ground in the heart of a man named Kaelen "Red-Blade" Vance.
Kaelen was the leader of the Red Blades, a platinum-ranked adventuring team renowned for their power and their avarice. He had once been a paladin of the Church of the Sacred Light, but he had been excommunicated for his "unholy" zeal and his tendency to prioritize treasure over piety. Now, he was a mercenary with a holy sword, a fallen hero who hid his bitterness behind a mountain of gold.
He sat in a private room in a grimy tavern in a town just outside the borders of the new Dominion, listening to an agent of the Golden Hand—disguised as a drunken prospector—spin the tale.
"…and the best part is, the place is ripe for the picking!" the prospector slurred, splashing ale on the table. "The big boss is away, playing king. All that's left is a few skeleton guards and maybe a pet slime or two! A team like yours, the legendary Red Blades? You could walk in, grab the Heart of the Void, and be hailed as heroes who freed the world from a tyrant!"
Kaelen's hand tightened around the hilt of his greatsword, its pommel still bearing the tarnished symbol of the sun. He hated this new world of peace and order. It was bad for business. But more than that, the rise of Kaelus was a personal affront. It was a mockery of everything he had once believed in. A dark god was being worshipped while he, a former holy warrior, was scrambling for mercenary contracts.
"It's too risky," said Lyra, the Red Blades' elven archer and strategist. She was sharp, pragmatic, and the voice of reason in the group. "The stories of his power… they are not all lies. To attack his home is to invite annihilation."
"Think of the loot, Lyra!" countered Borin, the team's dwarven berserker. His eyes, however, held a different light. He was a refugee from a clan that had been exiled from Khaz'Modan centuries ago. He had heard the news that his ancestral home had bent the knee. His soul burned with a racial shame he couldn't articulate. "Think of the glory! To succeed where the Theocracy failed! To show the world that adventurers, not kings or gods, are the true powers of this world!"
"The intel is solid," Kaelen said, his voice a low growl. He had already been "fed" corroborating reports from three other "independent" sources, all carefully placed by the Merchant Prince. "His strongest guardians—the monk, the archmage, the maid—were all seen in the Baharuth Empire. They haven't returned. The tomb's defenses are at their weakest."
He looked at his team. "This is more than just gold. This is a chance to put the world right again. To put a 'god' in his place and remind everyone that mortals can still slay monsters, no matter how big they are."
His appeal to their pride, their greed, and their faded heroism worked. The Red Blades were in.
They were not the only ones. The Golden Hand's agents had been busy. A disgraced Elysian knight whose family had lost their lands to the Dominion, seeking revenge. A rogue wizard from the Imperial Academy, expelled for practicing forbidden magic and eager to get his hands on new artifacts. A beastman shaman whose tribe had been pushed to the brink of starvation by the new, stable borders, desperate for a change in fortune.
A motley alliance of the desperate, the greedy, and the foolish was formed. A "Heroic Coalition" with the Red Blades at its head. They numbered no more than fifty, but each one was a powerful warrior or mage in their own right. They were a force that could have threatened a small city.
They believed they were heroes on a noble quest. They had no idea they were pawns in a merchant's game, a disposable probe sent to test the defenses of a fortress they couldn't possibly comprehend.
In the Great Tomb of Nexus…
The grand scrying mirror in the throne room displayed the image of the "Heroic Coalition" making their camp in the swamps, just outside the Tomb's five-mile perimeter.
Kaelus was not present. He was deep within his new Arcane Forge, overseeing the creation of a new series of high-level golems, a task he found far more interesting than the squabbles of mortals. He had left the Tomb's defense in the hands of his most trusted—and most underestimated—guardians.
Rose stood before the mirror, her expression one of serene amusement. Beside her, Zesshi Zetsumei, the newly pardoned Knight-Commander, watched with a bored, predatory interest. She was now clad in a custom-made suit of elegant, black-and-silver armor, a gift from the Khaz'Modan forges. Her new role was as Lilliana's bodyguard, but her true purpose was to be an instrument of Kaelus's will.
"They are so… earnest," Rose commented, a hint of pity in her voice. "They truly believe they are the heroes of this story."
"They are insects," Zesshi said flatly, her eyes scanning the assembled 'heroes' on the screen. She recognized the leader, Kaelen Red-Blade. The Black Scripture had a file on him. "Powerful insects, perhaps. The paladin is near the level of a Scripture Captain. The dwarf is strong. But they are still just insects."
"Lord Kaelus's orders were clear," Rose stated. "The outer defenses are to be allowed to fail. We are to let them enter the Tomb. We are to let them feel a sense of victory, to let them believe the rumors are true."
"To fatten the lamb before the slaughter," Zesshi said with a cruel smile. She was beginning to appreciate the subtle, psychological cruelty of her new master.
"Precisely," Rose confirmed. "The first and second floors are guarded by simple skeleton warriors and mindless zombies. They will cut through them with ease. It will build their confidence. It will make their eventual despair all the more… delicious."
She turned to the two Guardians who had been left behind specifically for this occasion. They were not the overt powerhouses like Gravity or Boom. They were the specialists.
"Killer," Rose said, addressing a patch of empty shadow in the corner. "You will be their welcome. You will not engage them directly. You will be the ghost in the halls. Separate them. Toy with them. Turn their confidence into paranoia. Show them the meaning of true fear."
The shadow seemed to coalesce, and the dry, rasping whisper of the Tomb's chief executioner slithered through the room. "Their... fear... will be... my... masterpiece..."
"And you, Flora," Rose said, turning to the druidic assassin, who was happily humming to herself as she watered a plant that had writhing tentacles instead of leaves.
"Yes, Head Maid?" Flora asked, her smile bright and innocent.
"The third floor is yours," Rose instructed. "It is the 'Garden of Tranquil Repose'. After Killer has broken their minds, you will break their bodies. Lord Kaelus has requested that the leaders of the party be taken alive, if possible. They may have useful information about who sent them. The rest... are yours to 'replant' as you see fit."
Flora clapped her hands together with glee. "Oh, wonderful! I have so many new hybrids that are just famished! The Garden will be so happy to have guests!"
The trap was set. The defenders were in place. The Heroic Coalition, convinced they were about to perform the greatest heist in history, finished their preparations and began their advance on the Great Tomb of Nexus. They were walking into a carefully scripted horror story, and they were the nameless victims in the opening scene.