Chapter 5: His Achievement Would Have Astounded His Brilliant Father
"Aegis? Yet another term I've never heard before," Elias noted silently.
He continued reading, flipping through several more entries—most of them chronicling his father's investigations into the Crimson Pact and their abhorrent activities. Some of the details were so horrific that Elias almost couldn't bring himself to keep reading.
There were passages describing how his father attempted to sabotage their operations and rescue those who had been abducted. Sometimes, he succeeded. Other times, he failed—and failed utterly.
The Crimson Pact grew increasingly agitated with the unknown saboteur who kept interfering in their affairs, but despite their efforts, they couldn't uncover his identity. After all, his father was already a wanted criminal, an expert at eluding both the law and anyone who came searching for him. Uncovering information on someone so skilled at disappearing was no easy feat.
Elias struggled to decide whether he believed any of what he was reading. He desperately hoped it was all fiction—some elaborate fantasy or personal delusion. But if it was real, then the world was far more dangerous than he'd ever imagined.
The next entry caught his eye.
8/7/20XX
I have recently come upon intelligence of grave concern. It appears the organization has unearthed details pertaining to a purported magical artifact—an object rumored to possess the extraordinary ability to transcend this world's natural power threshold. They have grown increasingly desperate in their pursuit, scouring every lead with the fervor of the truly obsessed.
Whether such an artifact truly exists remains uncertain. Yet, should it fall into the hands of the Crimson Pact, I fear the ramifications would be nothing short of catastrophic. They lack the restraint, wisdom, or moral compass to wield such power responsibly.
It has been some time since I last employed my particular talents to acquire objects of significance. Perhaps it is time the Crimson Pact learned that my reputation as a phantom of the vaults is more than mere legend.
Elias held his breath. It was like reading an epic novel… except the hero wasn't a character—he was his father.
8/9/20XX
The deed is done. I have secured the artifact.
Regrettably, the Crimson Pact's leader was present during the heist—a silver-tier awakener of no small renown. My escape, while ultimately successful, was far from clean. I sustained grievous injuries, many laced with demonic energy, the kind that resists both natural healing and most conventional remedies.
In desperate need of refuge, I withdrew to an isolated island, hoping time and solitude might allow my body to recover. I expected pain, silence, and perhaps even death.
What I did not expect was company.
I awoke in the care of a young woman—an ethereal presence tending my wounds with surprising skill and even more surprising power. She, too, is a silver-tier awakener, though visibly younger than myself. Her composure and capabilities speak of training, but her demeanor lacks the cunning of those accustomed to darker paths.
She claimed ignorance as to how she arrived on the island. Naturally, I found this deeply suspect. As someone who deals in fabrications daily, I recognized the subtle tells: the stiffness in her delivery, the vague wording, the misplaced hesitations. She was lying—and very poorly at that.
Initially, I suspected she might be affiliated with the Crimson Pact, a plant sent to finish what their leader could not. But had that been the case, I doubt I would still be breathing. She had ample opportunity to end my life—or to claim the artifact for herself—yet she did neither.
Instead, she remained by my side for days, tending to my wounds, cooking simple meals, even attempting lighthearted conversation. Her name, she says, is Silvia. She is competent in healing and basic combat, but woefully unprepared for independent survival. She carries herself like a sheltered aristocrat trying to experience the real world—graceful, earnest, and utterly unsuited to solitude.
I remained wary for the better part of a week, but the evidence continued to mount: this girl is no enemy. She is, at worst, a mystery—and at best, an ally.
And so, against my usual instincts and every ounce of better judgment I possess, I brought her with me when I left the island. She had saved my life. I could not, in good conscience, leave her there alone.
Even a thief has his limits.
Elias ran his fingers over the name written on the page.
Silvia.
It was his mother's name.
"Mom…" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Were you not a regular person either… just like Dad?"
The next journal entry was dated more than a year later.
6/27/20XX
It has been some time since I last committed anything to these pages. The past eighteen months have been consumed by the painstaking effort of erasing all traces of my existence. While I may have eluded the Crimson Pact for now, my previous escape was far from elegant. I cannot dismiss the possibility that they may, in time, retrace my steps. Still, with sufficient foresight and caution, I intend to delay such an encounter for as long as humanly possible.
With any luck, should our paths cross again, I will have reached the silver tier. The leader of that wretched cabal bested me once, but I did not fall easily. Though outmatched, I left my mark. Once we stand on equal footing, he may find the contest far less favorable.
On a far more personal note… I have decided to marry Silvia.
Admittedly, when we first met, I viewed her with great suspicion. But as time passed, those doubts gave way to admiration—then affection—and now, love. I say this without embellishment: she is the most remarkable woman I have ever encountered. Gentle yet resilient, kind without naivety. Her presence has stirred in me a desire I never thought myself capable of—one not for infamy or legacy, but for a life shared, a future built.
And, to speak plainly, I now have more than sentiment binding me to her. Silvia is with child—our child. As a gentleman of some principle, how could I do anything but commit myself to her, wholly and without hesitation?
Regrettably, neither of us has family to speak of. There will be no grand ceremony, no splendid gathering of well-wishers. But even if we must marry in solitude, I shall ensure the moment is no less meaningful. She deserves at least that much.
As for the artifact… its secrets remain maddeningly elusive. I can feel its power, as though it hums just beyond reach, waiting for the correct key. Yet no method I have attempted has yielded results. Perhaps I am missing something fundamental—some ritual, some law, some truth I have yet to uncover.
In the meantime, I have concealed it within a false drawer, protected by a blood-sealed illusion array. Without knowledge of its existence and the specific nature of the seal, even the Crimson Pact would find it nearly impossible to locate—let alone breach.
Only my blood, or that of a closely related descendant, can undo the lock. As I have no surviving kin and no intention of burdening my future children with this secret, I deem the risk negligible.
After all—what are the odds my child would ever stumble upon it… and unlock it entirely by accident?
Elias's face turned a deep shade of red. "Sorry, Dad… your son has exceeded your expectations," he muttered, cringing. He couldn't believe he'd actually managed to achieve something so absurdly specific.
It was only then that Elias noticed the blood on his hand was gone. Though a fresh scab marked where he'd scraped himself earlier, there was no sign of any remaining blood.
"Was this… the result of the blood array Dad mentioned?" Elias breathed, eyes wide with disbelief. He hadn't expected any of it to be real—yet here it was, unfolding before him.
His gaze slowly shifted back to the drawer, landing on the palm-sized, swirling sphere. Could this be the magical artifact Dad wrote about?
Cautiously, he reached out to touch it—but before his fingers could make contact, the sphere shot into his palm as if magnetically drawn. It vanished into his body in an instant, without giving him even a second to react.
"What the—?!" Elias yelped, stumbling back in shock. The orb was gone—completely absorbed into him. He stared at his hand, utterly bewildered.
Then, without warning, an unfamiliar robotic voice echoed in his mind. A golden, translucent screen appeared in the air before him, displaying a buffering icon.
[Suitable host with sufficient luck value found. Requirements met.]
[System binding with host…]
[1% bound…]
[17% bound…]
[43% bound…]
[68% bound…]
[89% bound…]
[100% bound… Binding complete!]
[Welcome to the Lucky God System.]