Eldritch Assassin: Reincarnated With An SSS-Rank Devouring System
Chapter 47: A Tomb

Chapter 47: A Tomb

The quarry’s air hung heavy with the stench of blood and scorched earth, the Ironstone Crystals glinting faintly in the torchlight.

Kael’s wolf-riders moved swiftly, binding seven injured bandits with coarse rope, forcing them to their knees in a tight row.

The bandits’ faces were pale, their armor tattered, their eyes darting between the snarling wolves and the blood-soaked ground. The riders flanked them with spears lowered, their wolves’ growls low and menacing.

Kael stepped forward, his Bloodthread Mantle swaying, a faint smirk curling his lips. His silver eyes gleamed with amusement, but his voice carried a cold edge. "I’ve got to ask," he said, pacing slowly before the trembling men, "what gave you the guts to raid Wolfswood’s villages and mines? Valthorne? Valcroft? Or just plain ignorance?" His words hung in the air, sharp and mocking, his gaze flicking from one bandit to the next.

Silence answered him, broken only by the quarry’s distant drip of water and the wolves’ restless pacing. The bandits’ lips stayed sealed, their eyes fixed on the ground, fear etched into their dirt-streaked faces.

Kael’s smirk faded, his patience thinning. He glanced at the captain, the burly man whose runestone axe still dripped red, and gave a slight nod.

The captain grinned as he nodded in understanding. He whistled sharply, and three wolves lunged, their jaws snapping. The bandits’ screams tore through the quarry as fangs ripped into flesh, limbs cracking under the beasts’ weight.

Blood sprayed, pooling beneath the writhing bodies, the wolves’ growls drowning out the cries. In seconds, six of the seven lay dead, their torn remains twitching, the wolves tearing at muscle and bone.

The captain whistled again, and the wolves retreated, blood dripping from their muzzles, leaving the lone survivor trembling, his breath hitching in stifled sobs.

Kael approached the last bandit, a young man barely older than himself. His face looked pale, and his trousers were already darkened with a wet stain.

Kael crouched, his silver eyes locking onto the bandits, noting the tears streaking through the dirt on his cheeks. "You guys could’ve avoided this," Kael said, his voice low, almost gentle and soothing but at the same time laced with steel. "Tell me everything I want to know, and I’ll let you go." His words dangled hope, his smirk returning, though his eyes remained cold.

The bandit’s gaze flickered, hope sparking in his wide eyes. He nodded frantically, wiping his tears with bound hands, his voice shaking. "Y-ye-yes...I’ll tell you everything I know. We’re... soldiers from the Kingdom of Arveth. Most of us were. We disguised as thieves on orders and joined the bandits." His words spilled out, desperate to please, his breath ragged.

Kael’s brow arched, surprise flickering across his face. The Kingdom of Arveth was ranked 33rd in the Aurelian Empire and was a bold player to encroach on Valoria’s lands.

"Arveth?" he said, his tone sharp with intrigue. "Your king’s got some nerve, poking into Valoria. You’ve got richer mines back home. So, what’s the real goal?" His eyes bored into the bandit, his sharp senses catching the man’s trembling hesitation.

The bandit swallowed hard, his voice dropping to a whisper. "A Primal Celestial Lord’s Tomb."

The words hit like a thunderclap, silencing everyone within hearing range. Kael’s bloodline stirred, his heart thudding. A Primal Celestial Lord—Lvl 150 or higher—a cultivator of legend. Their tombs would be brimming with artifacts and unimaginable treasures.

The captain’s axe lowered slightly, his eyes wide. The vice-captain’s spear trembled, her wolf growling softly. Kael leaned closer, his voice urgent. "A Celestial Lord’s Tomb? Where? How’d you find it?"

The bandit’s breath hitched, his words tumbling out. "One of our Kingdom’s merchants... he saved a man near Runewood Forest. The man was running, scared out of his mind. He said he’d been looking for alchemy herbs and stumbled into a cave. He saw carvings—runes that glowed without light. Thought it was a temple at first, but deeper in, the air got heavy."

"He found a door, not made with stone or wood, but... with metal and bone. It had a crest—a lotus with flames surrounding it." He paused, fear flickering in his eyes. "The merchant checked old texts later on and discovered that It was the crest of the Crimson Veil Sect. A sect gone since the early years of the Neo-Dawn Era."

Kael’s mind raced. The Crimson Veil Sect—memories from his library research revealed a little bit of information about them. They were a sect of powerful cultivators lost to time, their power unmatched across the endless plains.

"What else?" he pressed, his voice low.

The bandit licked his lips, his voice trembling. "The man heard a voice beyond the door—it sounded old, whispering in a strange tongue, and then something moved behind the door... bones, he said. He ran for his life but managed to take a pouch."

"Inside was a finger-length shard of deep crimson jade—warm to the touch and etched with runes that pulsed with suppressed power. It was unmistakably Bloodstone. And only one kind of place created such things: the resting chambers of powerful cultivators."

Kael’s breath caught in his throat. Bloodstone was a relic of immense power, tied to cultivators beyond Primal Grandmaster. "Where’s the tomb?" he demanded, his tone sharp, his bloodline humming with anticipation.

The bandit shook his head, his voice small. "I wasn’t told because of my status as an ordinary soldier. A few miles from here, in Runewood Forest. That’s all I know..." he paused, and then added, "You might catch up with our exploration team if you make haste."

Kael’s brows furrowed, disappointment flashing across his face. A vague location wasn’t enough, but it was a start. He stood, his mantle swaying, and turned to the captain and vice-captain, their wolves still snarling softly.

"You two, come with me to search for the tomb. The rest, secure the quarry and wait for reinforcements." His voice was firm, his mind already mapping the forest’s paths.

He paused, glancing back at the bandit, whose eyes clung to the promise of freedom. Kael’s smirk vanished, his silver eyes cold. "And... kill him," he said, his tone flat, turning to mount his wolf.

The bandit’s hope shattered, a choked cry escaping his lips. "You said—!" His words cut off as the captain’s axe swung, the blade biting through flesh and bone.

The bandit’s head rolled off his neck, blood pooling as his body slumped beside his comrades. The wolves growled, their eyes locked on the corpse, but the captain’s sharp whistle kept them at bay.

Kael mounted his wolf, the beast’s fur warm under his hands. The captain and vice-captain fell in beside him, their wolves pacing. The quarry’s survivors—riders and a handful of freed workers—moved to obey, dragging bodies and checking crates of Ironstone Crystals and Blackened Steel Ore.

Kael’s silver eyes scanned the forest beyond, Runewood’s shadows stretching under the fading sun. The tomb of a member of the Crimson Veil Sect could change everything—the power to rival Valthorne, Valcroft, and even Dravalia.

But Arveth’s involvement meant competition, and the bandit’s story screamed of deeper plots and loopholes. He pushed any unnecessary thoughts aside. The tomb was his focus now, its treasures were a prize worth any risk.

The captain’s voice broke the silence, gruff but steady. "Runewood Forest is big, young lord. Could take days to find that cave." His axe rested on his shoulder, blood still dripping from its edge.

Kael nodded, his gaze fixed ahead. "Then we move fast."

The trio rode out, wolves bounding through the trees, the quarry’s bloodshed fading behind them.