Ten Lucky Draws: I Became OP - Chapter 350: The Vault of Paid Truths

Chapter 350: The Vault of Paid Truths

The door didn’t so much open… it was more like it split apart—iron jaws sliding away with a slow, grinding hiss.

Inside, the dim light came from floating orbs glowing a deep red.

The air carried the scent of ink, aged parchment, and a faint metallic tang.

Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, crammed with scrolls, crystal tablets, bound tomes that shivered like living creatures, jars of murmuring smoke, and tiny cages housing softly glowing insects.

At the far end sat the broker—a tall, thin figure draped in a hooded robe that seemed to ripple with shadow.

Beneath the cowl was no face, only a smooth oval of darkness.

Long, jointed fingers rested on a ledger that appeared to be bound in tanned skin.

“Welcome to the Vault of Paid Truths,” The figure spoke, “Here all knowledge can be known… but it all has a price. Blood, secrets, memories, favors… we accept many currencies.”

The two women stepped forward as they head this. Isis was first as Aurora only hung back with a curious gaze.

Coming here, Isis only needed information to help her move around the First Heaven of the Mars Plane.

However, hearing the currency they took… such information may change depending on the price.

With narrowed eyes she spoke,

“I need the layout of the Mars Plane’s First Heaven. Any places for rapid growth… the major factors of this place… and any information on this woman.”

As her words ended, she waved her hand and a small projection displayed, as it captured a beautiful woman with long white braids, blood red tattoos, and pointy ears.

Seeing this woman, the hooded figure tilted its head.

“Information on the major powers…. realms for rapid growth… and on the Herald herself, huh?”

The figure leaned forward, “That’s expensive knowledge… Tell me, what are you willing to offer?”

Aurora spoke before Isis could answer.

“Does the different forms of currency hold any more weight than the other?”

The hooded figure leaned back slightly, long multi-jointed fingers drumming once against the ledger of tanned skin.

The motion made the pages rustle as though breathing.

“Yes, different currencies carry different weights here,” it said, voice dry, patient, almost amused.

“Blood is the heaviest coin we accept. A single drop of your Origin blood—your truest lineage, not some diluted stock from your factions.”

“Such a thing lowers the rank of your bloodline by one full tier permanently. In exchange you will receive all information you want for the session. Many pay this price once…. Few pay it twice.”

Its head tilted toward them

“Memories are lighter… but more intimate. We take anything important: a lost technique, the location of a hidden vault… The deeper the secret, the more valuable. We do not return what we take. It becomes part of the Vault forever.”

A pause. The bruise-colored orbs floating overhead pulsed once.

“Favors are lightest of all… and tend to be dangerous. A simple IOU. We call when we wish. The debt can be anything—information, a death, a betrayal, a night of service. You will not know the price until we collect. Some debts are never called. Most are.”

The figure’s fingers stopped drumming.

“There are other forms, of course. Such as missions. Ranked from White to Abyssal.”

The ledger flipped open on its own. New ink bled across the page in neat columns.

White missions are simple errands—fetch a scroll, deliver a message. Low risk, low reward.

Red missions dealt with spilling blood—taking out a rival or robbing a guarded vault.

Gold missions need cleverness— things like undermine a minor power or spreading a false prophecy.

Crimson missions call for sacrifice—lives, territories, even the fall of civilizations. And then there are Abyssal missions…

The voice dropped to a whisper. “Abyssal missions, each and every one of them are life and death. Fail, and you cease to have ever existed. Succeed, and the Vault owes you.”

Isis’s brow rose hearing this, she glanced at Aurora who completely tuned it all out. Even though she was the one who asked. Seeing this her lip twitched before speaking,

“How many missions to pay for everything I asked? The layout, the growth spots, the major powers… and information on her.”

The figure tapped the ledger once.

“Eight Red-and-Gold and three Crimson missions… or four Abyssal.”

Isis’s slitted crimson eyes narrowed.

’Hmm, are you sure?’ Aurora asked mentally.

[Of Course, Rora, why waste time on those lowly missions? Besides you will find someone interesting during your journey.] Elysia said

Aurora spoke as her attention shifted back before the silence could stretch.

“We’ll take the four Abyssal missions.”

Isis whipped her head toward Aurora as her eyes narrowed.

“Wha— Are you’re serious?!”

Aurora smiled and shrugged.

“Well, I trust you to keep us alive,” she said simply. “And I trust myself to make sure we come back.”

The hooded figure chuckled—a dry, papery sound.

“Then it is decided.”

The ledger flipped to a new page. Four crimson-black seals appeared, each one pulsing like a slow heartbeat.

“Four Abyssal missions. Complete them all, and every secret you asked for becomes yours. Fail even one… and the Vault claims your existence retroactively.”

Isis stared at the seals for a long moment.

She reached out, hand steady, and pressed her palm against the first one. The seal flared briefly, searing a sigil into her skin before it sank beneath the surface and disappeared.

Aurora stepped up next, pressing her hand to the seal without a hint of hesitation. The same flash, the same sinking imprint followed.

The hooded figure leaned in a little, the orbs above dimming as if the room itself strained to hear.

“First mission,” it said, “Bring back the Heart of the Hollow Prince from the Seventy-Ninth Heaven. It must still be beating… no matter what, don’t let it stop.”

A second black seal surfaced on the open page, pulsing with a slow rhythm.

Without hesitation, Isis pressed her palm against it, and Aurora followed right after. The figure spoke on without breaking stride.

“Mission two… Harvest the Stillborn from the Eighty-Sixth Heaven. It must still drip black light when you deliver it—don’t let it dry.”

A third seal emerged. The ledger’s pages flipped on their own, fresh ink bleeding into new lines.

“Mission three… Steal the Shattered Vows from the Ninety-Third Heaven. They must still mirror every lie ever told upon delivery. Break even one reflection, and the debt turns Abyssal.”

Fourth seal.

“Mission four: Retrieve the Blade of Eternal Famine from the Ninety-Eighth Heaven.”

The figure leaned back, long fingers lacing together beneath the cowl.

“Four Abyssal missions. Finish them all, and every secret you’ve asked for will be yours.”

It paused briefly.

“Given your rank…” The voice softened to something almost casual. “It’s clear there’s no time limit. The Vault never rushes the dead. You have until the end of your natural lives… or until the debt is claimed in some other way.”

The iron jaws of the door hissed open behind them again.

Isis caught Aurora’s gaze for half a heartbeat—slitted eyes meeting golden ones.

“Ready when you are,” Aurora said.

Isis exhaled through her nose, the tip of her tail flicking once in resolve.

“Then let’s go steal a heart.”

They stepped into the crimson-black streets of the Mars Plane—two women now burdened with four Abyssal debts.

Behind them, the Vault of Paid Truths fell silent once more.