Legacy of the Tarot (Laoyon)

Leigh and Selva strolled leisurely through the skeletal-infested halls, chatting casually as if they were taking a walk in the park. Leigh's Wand of Celestial Power floated beside her, effortlessly striking down any skeleton or ghoul that dared approach—thanks to Venya's silent assistance in controlling the wand.

Dominic watched with mild amusement. "You're basically on autopilot now."

Leigh smirked. "Why waste effort when the wand can do the work?"

Arden stretched, yawning. "Feels like we're grinding low-level mobs." He kicked aside a crumbling skeleton that barely had the chance to lift its rusted sword.

Leigh, like Dominic, possessed an unending well of power—an understanding she had unknowingly grasped through their training. While Dominic's magic came from his legacy as The Magician, Leigh's power was far more boundless—she wielded the very Celestial Power of the stars, the energy of an entire universe. What made it even more astonishing? She did it instinctively, without having recovered her lost memories.

Selva, who had once struggled against the undead, was now keeping pace, the newfound strength from her Lunok Realm breakthrough allowing her to cleave through enemies without hesitation. Yet none of them stopped. The enemies fell too easily, the battlefield shifting in their wake as they pressed forward—until finally, they arrived at the Wailing Grave's Boss Room.

A massive, ornate gate of bone and iron stood before them, its surface covered in glowing runes, pulsating with a sickly green hue. A deep, guttural wail resonated from beyond the threshold, sending an eerie shiver through the cavern.

Selva, despite her recent boost in confidence, hesitated. "That… doesn't sound welcoming."

Arden cracked his knuckles, grinning. "Good. Finally, something worth fighting."

Leigh took a deep breath, her wand floating beside her, glowing with celestial energy. "Let's end this quickly. We have an auction to attend tomorrow."

Dominic adjusted his coat with a smirk. "Shall we, then?"

With no further hesitation, they stepped through the gate, ready to face whatever awaited them inside.

The moment they entered; the air thickened with the weight of death magic. An enormous chamber stretched before them, lined with twisted statues of long-forgotten kings and warlords, their faces eroded by time. A throne of bones sat atop a raised dais, and there, hunched and draped in a blackened robe, was their enemy—the Necromancer of the Wailing Graves.

His skeletal fingers curled around a staff adorned with a skull that oozed dark mist. His hollow eyes flickered with unnatural light as he slowly rose to his feet. Around him, a host of Wailing Mummies stirred from their slumber, their withered bodies wrapped in tattered, cursed cloth. Standing at the Necromancer's side was his greatest guardian, the Dreadbone Tyrant, a towering skeletal warrior clad in rusted, infernal armor, its huge zweihänder blade crackling with black lightning.

The Necromancer's hollow voice echoed through the chamber. "You should not have come here. Your souls will serve me for eternity."

Arden smirked, gripping Wyvern Blade. "You can try."

The chamber erupted into chaos.

Arden and Leigh surged forward, cutting through the Wailing Mummies with precise, lethal strikes. Selva, still getting used to her newfound strength, roared as she cut down one of the undead with a powerful swing of her blade, sending its brittle bones flying. The Dreadbone Tyrant moved to engage, its massive sword cleaving through the air with devastating force. Arden barely ducked under the first swing, countering with a brutal slash across its ribcage.

Meanwhile, Dominic stood still, his golden eyes fixed on the Necromancer.

The dark mage sneered, his bony fingers tightening around his staff. "A Magician dares challenge me?"

He raised his staff high, summoning a wave of necrotic energy, black tendrils of death magic surging toward Dominic like a cursed tide.

Dominic didn't move.

He simply lifted a hand—and the Codex Page he had bought in the Arcane Bazaar materialized between his fingers.

A golden pulse erupted from the page, scattering the incoming death magic like dust in the wind.

Before the Tarot World War, before the fall of the Arcana, and long before the Void stretched its hungry tendrils across existence, there was a tome unlike any other. It was not written with ink, nor was it bound by mortal hands. Instead, it was woven from the very fabric of magic itself, a living testament to creation and power.

This tome was known as the Codex of Creation, a spellbook that held the infinite wisdom of the Great Magician. It was said that in his hands, it could reshape reality, alter destiny, and command the laws of existence itself. But such power could not be contained within a single vessel, not even the Magician's own boundless soul. Thus, to preserve his knowledge, he did what no being before him had ever done—he poured his very essence into the Codex, binding his magic to its pages.

The Codex held seventy-eight pages, each a fragment of his creation. The 22 Major Pages, the foundation of all magic, reflected the will of the Arcana, their roles intertwined with the fate of the universe. Each page pulsed with ancient power, embodying a fundamental truth of existence. Then there were the 56 Lesser Pages, each detailing the constructs of reality—the elements, the runes, the forces that governed life and death. Together, these pages held the sum of the Magician's knowledge, a spellbook too powerful for the world to comprehend.

For eons, the Codex remained whole, its secrets guarded by its master. It was said that as long as it was intact, the Magician's legacy would never fade, and balance would remain. But balance was never meant to last.

Then came the War of Chaos—a war unlike any before it. The Arcana turned against one another, the forces of the unknown seeking to unravel the world. The Magician, alongside the Sun, stood at the heart of this battle, wielding their power against the tide of destruction. But even they could not prevent what was to come. In the final clash, when the heavens trembled and the world itself split, the Codex was torn asunder.

The 22 Major Pages were ripped from its core, their immense power scattering across existence. Some vanished into the Void, lost to time, while others drifted through the realms, waiting to be claimed. The 56 Lesser Pages were pulled into the currents of fate, finding their way to different lands—one of which was Laoyon, a world unknowingly shaped by their presence.

For 50,000 years, the Codex remained broken. The scholars of Laoyon stumbled upon fragments of its power, mistaking them for relics of forgotten civilizations. Some pages were locked away in the halls of the Magic Academy of Ravenloch, studied but never understood. Others were displayed in arcane shops, dismissed as indestructible curiosities, their true significance unknown to all.

But the Codex was never truly lost. It watched, it waited, and when the time was right, it called.

Then, after millennia, something stirred. A presence. A familiar resonance. The soul of the Great Magician, reborn once more into the world.

It was no coincidence that Dominic found that single, seemingly worthless page in the Arcane Bazaar. The Codex had found its master again.

The Necromancer's expression contorted in sheer horror, his skeletal frame trembling as his glowing eyes flared with unnatural panic. He staggered back as if the force radiating from the page in Dominic's hand had physically struck him. "Impossible…" His voice, once dripping with arrogance, now quivered with disbelief.

Dominic smirked; golden eyes gleaming. "Oh? You recognize this?"

The Dreadbone Tyrant froze mid-swing, its massive blade quivering in the air as though an invisible force had seized control of it. A deep, guttural groan rattled from its hollow chest, its flickering soul-light frantically pulsing as if trying to resist an unseen terror. The Wailing Mummies convulsed violently, their decayed bodies twitching in agony before their screams were abruptly cut off—as though something had ripped their very existence away. Their lifeless husks crumbled into dust, leaving only brittle bone and tattered cloth behind.

Then, the chamber itself went still.

The cursed air, once thick with death and malice, became heavy and suffocating, as if the entire room had been gripped by an unseen force beyond mortal comprehension. The flickering torchlight shrank, not from lack of air, but as if something vast and unseen had turned its gaze upon them. Even the shadows recoiled, twisting unnaturally as if in fear of what had been awakened.

A low, ominous hum resonated from the Codex Page, its golden light pulsing like a heartbeat, growing brighter—as though it had been waiting for this moment.

The Necromancer stumbled back, his bony hands shaking as dread overtook him. "That page… it's dangerous… It shouldn't exist—NO!" He turned, an overwhelming urge clawing at him—he had to escape.

Dominic, unbothered, twirled his Arcane Magnus lazily, his smirk widening. "A Magician dares to challenge you, huh?" He took a step forward, his voice dripping with amusement. "Tell me, then—how great are you?"

The Necromancer didn't answer.

Because at that moment, he realized the truth.

He wasn't the hunter in this battle.

He was the prey.

The golden runes on the Codex Page flared to life, detonating into the air like celestial chains, spiraling toward the Necromancer in a blinding surge of power. The bindings coiled around him, searing into his decayed form like divine fire, etching ancient markings onto his very bones.

The Necromancer screamed.

"Wait—! STOP!" He thrashed against the bindings, his essence cracking, splintering, unraveling beneath the overwhelming weight of true arcana.

Dominic tilted his head, eyes glowing with golden brilliance. "Nah."

With a flick of his wrist, he raised Arcane Magnus.

And unleashed the full power of the Codex of Creation.

The entire chamber detonated with golden radiance, a blinding surge of pure, primordial energy swallowing everything in its path. The Necromancer's shriek was drowned beneath the celestial onslaught—his form disintegrating, his soul torn apart, his existence completely erased.

When the light faded, nothing remained. Not even ashes.

Silence fell.

Arden dusted off his coat. "Well. That was dramatic."

Leigh crossed her arms. "So, the 'indestructible trash' you bought was actually part of a legendary spellbook?"

Dominic spun the Codex Page in his fingers, smirking. "Not just any spellbook. My spellbook."

Selva blinked. "Wait. Your original spellbook?"

Dominic shrugged. "What can I say? Some things just find their way home."

Arden let out a breath, shaking his head. "Figures you'd casually own an artifact powerful enough to erase a necromancer from existence."

Dominic smirked, adjusting his coat. "Oh, I let the shopkeeper scam me. Poor guy had no idea what he was sitting on."

Leigh crossed her arms, exhaling sharply. "Unbelievable."

Arden clapped her on the back with a grin. "You get used to it."

Dominic stuffed the Codex Page into his magic space, his golden eyes gleaming with satisfaction. The air still crackled with the remnants of power, as if the very fabric of the Wailing Graves had been disturbed by something far greater than the horrors they had just vanquished.

"Alright, let's loot the place and get out of here," he said, his voice casual but laced with something deeper—excitement, maybe, or the weight of something long forgotten. "We've got an auction to attend."

Leigh cast one last glance at the ruined chamber, her fingers brushing against the Eyegor Warlord's Crest as if sensing an unspoken omen. Selva exhaled, gripping her sword a little tighter, the weight of her newfound strength settling in. Arden, ever unreadable, sheathed his Wyvern Blade, but there was a flicker of amusement in his gaze.

As they gathered their spoils and made their way out, the silence of the cavern felt too still—watchful. Somewhere in the darkness beyond, something had stirred.

And though they had won this battle, Laoyon's true secrets were only just beginning to awaken.