Although the grave of this long-deceased wizard was enormous, it was obviously designed so that visitors wouldn't have to bow to the mountain itself. Even if they couldn't enter the tomb chamber where the coffin lay, the distance had to be close enough—after all, how could offerings be appreciated from dozens of kilometers away?
However, time—the ultimate killer—had disrupted the wizard's original plan. All three guardian branches vanished from history, leaving the path meant for descendants' worship as a shortcut for a team of archaeologist wizards.
Naturally, in the five-person team, the fox—who provided all the intelligence and gathered everyone—became the guide, though she, too, was only following the map.
After clearing an old warehouse that even a rat would flee from in terror, the five, their heads shielded with a "bubble head" charm, entered the hidden tunnel one by one.
This backdoor-like path was invaluable for intruders. Allen noticed countless traps along the way—some nearly overhead—but none would trigger on this hidden route.
Yet the path was winding: left turns, right turns, ups and downs, even crawling through tunnels. It was all to prevent anyone from deducing its route from the traps. Unfortunately, with the map in their hands, all prior planning was rendered useless.
The journey was smooth, aside from encountering a few traps marked on the map.
Clearly, this was a proper tomb. There would be no trials, no illusions rewarding explorers with treasure after surviving millennia of untrodden challenges. On the contrary, one wrong step down a wrong path meant facing a series of lethal traps, each one designed to kill.
"All right, this should be it. This is the endpoint on the map. Beyond here, we'll have to rely on our own efforts," the fox said, her finger glowing as she pressed the map against the wall, consulting it before nodding with certainty.
Turning the last corner, Allen and the team saw a spacious stone chamber. On the wall opposite the entrance was a long list of honorifics—tongue-twisting even to read aloud.
On the floor were three neatly arranged straw mats, with a stone tripod at the front, casting a massive shadow under the glow of the team's wands.
"This is it—the place to pay respects to the great one. Our task is to find the weakest point in the defenses and break through." The fox folded the map and raised her wand again. Though wandless casting was convenient, its power was far inferior.
A fellow wizard threw a spark, and with a whoosh, dozens of stone torch holders lining the room burst into flame. The pale green flames flickered with a delicate fragrance, illuminating the entire chamber.
Allen checked for traps or triggers, then stepped forward to examine a small basin filled with white material. Yes—this was it.
The legendary shark oil, said to burn naturally for a thousand years per pound—an extremely rare magical ingredient. Adding it to a potion flame dramatically reduced failure rates. Due to cost, only the most precious potions used it; otherwise, the cauldron itself would be wasted.
Recently, these creatures were tightly protected by Eastern magical authorities, skyrocketing the price—400 Galleons per pound, a scarce and invaluable commodity.
Allen immediately called out, gathered the remaining mats, and secretly pocketed the three primary ones while creating magical duplicates.
Though countless had sat on them, and some offerings may have left… fragrant residues, Allen didn't care—he intended to sell them. A rare ingredient like this, made into straw mats? Unforgivable! If it were a potion, it might save countless lives.
Even after the theft, no one left the torches. Such irreplaceable material captivated all, and each claimed roughly a pound and a half. A modest windfall, yes—but more importantly, it hinted at the greater treasures within.
The torches died out naturally, but no one intended to relight them. In the pitch-dark room, the five wizards began their unspeakable work.
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In the wizarding world, no defense was unbreakable. The team quickly discovered the house's magical weak point, and none sought to protect it. With their wands, they blasted the corner open.
No path? Then make one. Don't underestimate a wizard's destructive power.
Perhaps the original tomb path remained, but it was nothing compared to this convenience. After opening a one-meter-wide route, a hollow new chamber appeared. Naturally—the chamber for offerings couldn't be too far from the main tomb.
At that moment, no one spoke, but their shields glowed simultaneously—an intense drain on magic. From now on, the journey was over; this tomb, dangerous and brimming with treasure, had truly unveiled itself.