"This is it!"
The cache wasn't buried at the roots; it was in the tree itself.
He reached out, trying to sense magic like he had in the graveyard. The faint motes of color were present all around, but at a certain point in the bark, they swirled with unusual intensity. He ran his hand along the rough bark, concentrating.
There. About chest height, hidden within a deep crevice masked by peeling bark and thorns, was a distinct concentration of magical energy, far denser than the ambient magic.
He needed to get inside. He looked around, finding a fist-sized, jagged rock nearby. Taking a firm grip, he carefully began to tap at the spot where the magic felt strongest. The bark was tough, and the ancient wood underneath was even tougher. It was a slow and painstaking process.
Tap, chip. Tap, chip.
Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool morning air. His muscles, already sore, began to burn. He ignored the pain, focusing only on the task, fueled by the promise of Malakor's legacy.
An hour crawled by. His hands were bruised, and his breathing got ragged. But slowly and steadily, he chipped away the wood around the magical concentration.
Finally, with a dull thud, a small section of the wood gave way, revealing a hollow space within. Something small and dark fell out, landing softly on the mossy ground at the base of the tree.
He dropped the rock, heart pounding, and knelt down. Lying there was a ring. It looked utterly ordinary – a simple band of dull, dark metal, unadorned and slightly tarnished. Anyone else would have dismissed it as worthless junk.
But Kenji could see it. His eyes could clearly see the familiar magic which he had sensed near the graveyard.
The ring pulsed with contained power, a dense concentration of magic tightly woven into its simple form, far exceeding the feeble spark he could muster.
This wasn't just a ring; it was a storage device, a container. One of Malakor's caches with immense wealth.
Clutching the ring tightly, a surge of adrenaline momentarily overriding his exhaustion, Kenji scrambled back the way he came. He moved faster now, retracing his steps through the forest with greater agility. He could not get caught now.
Finally, heart pounding, he slipped unnoticed through the service entrance of the servant's block and found his way to the small, cramped room his predecessor had called home, collapsing onto the thin mattress.
He had the ring. The first step was taken. Now he just...
Before he could think of anything else, the adrenaline in his body ran out, and his vision blackened.
-----------
Sunlight streamed through the grimy windowpane, rousing Kenji from a deep, dreamless sleep. He sat up, blinking. For a moment, confusion reigned.
He felt... surprisingly good.
The bone-deep exhaustion and the sharp pains from the boy's injuries had faded to a dull ache, almost like the memory of a bad bruise. It felt surreal, as if the graveyard, Malakor's ghost, and the frantic search in the woods had all been an elaborate nightmare.
Then his eyes fell on the room. The cramped space, the thin, lumpy mattress, the roughspun clothes dumped on a nearby stool. This wasn't his Tokyo apartment. And resting on the mattress beside him, glinting dully in the morning light, was the plain, dark metal ring.
It hadn't been a dream.
A jolt went through him, banishing the last vestiges of sleep. He snatched the ring, its cool metal a solid anchor to his new reality. He quickly splashed some cold water on his face from a basin in the corner, the shock helping to clear his head. He needed to see. He needed to confirm what Malakor had promised.
Sitting back down on the cot, heart thudding, he slipped the ring onto his index finger. It fit perfectly. He closed his eyes, concentrating, trying to replicate the feeling Malakor had described – reaching out with his mind, connecting with the ring's stored energy.
His consciousness plunged into an extradimensional space contained within the ring.
"Oh... my... god..."
Kenji felt his mind blow when he saw the spectacle inside.
Heaps of gold coins, gleaming under an unseen light source, formed small hills throughout the space. Open chests spilled rivers of sparkling gems – rubies, emeralds, sapphires, diamonds – in dazzling profusion.
Scattered amongst the coins and gems were intricate necklaces, heavy bracelets, and stacks of thick gold bars. The sheer volume was immense, enough to fund armies or small kingdoms. It was a fortune beyond anything Kenji could have imagined.
"This... this is real? And this is just one cache? How many were there in total again?" Kenji muttered.
However, soon, it felt like a hallucination born of desperation. He needed more proof.
Focusing his intent, he pictured one of the necklaces near the 'front' of the vault – a delicate chain of platinum set with teardrop-shaped moonstones. He pulled with his mind.
With a smooth, almost silent transition, the necklace materialized in his physical hand, cool metal against his skin, the moonstones shimmering with an ethereal glow. It was heavy, exquisitely crafted, undeniably real. And undeniably valuable.
He stared at it, mesmerized. This single piece was likely worth more than he'd earned in his entire previous life.
"Looks like this life is going to be a blast!" Kenji almost jumped in happiness. This was probably the first time something good had happened to him.
"Let me see who dares stand in front of me. Lady Annelise you bitch.... just you wait for me...."
But just as Kenji was building all these fantasies in his mind, he heard a loud scream.
"KENJI! WHERE ARE YOU, YOU LAZY WORM?!"
The harsh, angry shout shattered the moment. Kenji jumped, fumbling the necklace. He instantly recognized the voice – Foreman Grum, the unpleasant, burly man in charge of the Academy's errand boys and general laborers. Grum was known for his short temper and heavy hand.
Panic flared. Kenji quickly focused, pushing the necklace back into the ring's storage space. It vanished as smoothly as it had appeared. He yanked the ring off his finger and hastily tucked it deep inside a pocket sewn into the lining of his ragged tunic, praying it wouldn't fall out.
"COMING, FOREMAN GRUM!" he yelled back, scrambling off the cot and towards the door.
The day, and its troubles, were beginning. But now, hidden beneath his rags, Kenji carried a secret weapon: the wealth of a necromancer.