Chapter 12: The Master Key

It was a golden key that looked ordinary at first glance, but he could see a dense mass of golden mana threads coating it, as if inviting him.

A legendary key that could lock and unlock any physical or magical structure across any realm: The Master Key.

A long, quiet sigh of absolute satisfaction escaped his lips.

He placed it safely into his spatial pouch.

"Not bad," Silvester said softly, a genuine smile appearing on his face. "Not a bad vault at all."

Silvester turned around and looked out toward the open archway of the vault.

"Now," Silvester said to himself. "Let’s go see what the rest of the world has locked away."

Little did he know that the imprisoned, conscious evil mana had escaped the vault and slipped into the darkness.

Leaving the last floor was surprisingly easy once he had the key to anything.

Silvester found a private maintenance shaft behind the vault. It was not a dark and dangerous dungeon filled with monsters, but a fiery spiral staircase made of solid granite with a smooth gold handrail and air vents that blew fresh air all the way down from the surface.

It took Silvester fifteen days of steady walking and a little rest to climb all the way back to the top of the world.

He didn’t care about the long walk. His boots were dry, his coat was clean, and his food and his magic pouch with the Master Key inside were all he had on his journey.

Every few hours, he would sit down on a stair, eating his hard biscuits and trying to use the Master Key. The vault left no hints or records about the key except for its name.

He discovered that he could cast golden mana keys from the Master Key and exponentially enhance his Close and Open skills.

He could rip open a large space and step through it using the key. He could also lock and unlock living things. Earlier, he had tried using Close on glowing moss while mana flowed into it, causing it to decay. When he used his Open skill on it, it came back to life.

It was too dangerous to use, and he didn’t want to take any risks since this was all new to him.

On the morning of the fifteenth day, he reached the end of the granite stairs at a heavy copper hatch hidden behind a clump of green bushes on the side of a grassy hill.

Silvester pushed the hatch open and stepped out into the bright sunlight.

The sky above was blue with white clouds floating toward the north. Warm air carried the fresh smell of trees and wildflowers.

"Finally, sunlight," Silvester said while shielding his eyes with his hand. "No lava, no spatial glow, and no glowing crystals. A fucking day of daylight."

He stretched his small arms and looked down the valley.

Stretching across the horizon seven miles away was the greatest kingdom in the human world: Primgard, the capital city of the Kingdom of Novaria.

It was a stunning sight. The city was surrounded by high walls of shining white limestone. Gold banners with the crest symbol of the mighty kingdom fluttered in the wind. There were thousands of red-tiled roofs, along with high-towered stone cathedrals and tall clock towers that rose near the clouds.

In the very center of the city, high up on the mountain, stood Novaria Palace—a giant fortress of polished white marble with a gilded glass dome.

Silvester’s eyes didn’t focus on the pretty palace or the golden banners. He looked straight at the city gates.

From seven miles away, he could see the massive iron doors—heavy, bronze-reinforced doors—and the guardhouses towering over the main northern road.

An eager smile appeared on his eight-year-old face.

"Primgard," Silvester said to himself, stepping onto the dirt road. "The place where the richest mages, nobles, and guilds spend millions of gold coins on security. Finally, some challenging locks."

He expected great things. After dealing with ancient dwarven vault doors, he was excited to see what modern human master locksmiths in this world had created.

Four hours later, Silvester arrived at the North Gate of Primgard.

His disappointment began to show on his face. The sight up close was far less impressive.

The North Gate was crowded with hundreds of people. Long lines of merchant wagons were loaded with cabbages, corn, and even tropical fruits. Some covered merchant carriages carried armor and weapons from mercenary guilds. Tired travelers stretched nearly half a mile back down the dusty road.

Armored Novarian guards in blue and gold uniforms stood at the gatehouse. They were shouting orders, checking travel papers, and collecting taxes.

Silvester joined the back of the pedestrian line. He tucked his hands into his pockets and looked up at the giant outer gate.

The huge iron door was thirty feet tall. It was made of thick oak wood reinforced with heavy, polished dark iron. In the center of the gate sat a massive copper lock housing shaped like a roaring lion—the official royal crest of Novaria.

Silvester closed his eyes halfway and activated his spell.

Locksmith’s Eye.

The heavy copper lion dissolved in his vision, revealing the internal mechanism of the front door.

Silvester’s hopeful smile vanished instantly. His eyebrows pulled together in pure disgust.

"Are you kidding me?" he muttered under his breath.

The lock was terrible.

The shiny copper lion on the outside was purely decorative. Inside, the actual mechanism was made of cheap iron pins resting on soft iron coil springs. The worst part was that the gate was exposed to rain and dust, and the guards had to dump liters of animal fat into the keyway to keep it turning. The fat had rotted and turned into a sticky green paste that permanently jammed the main pins.

"So cheap," Silvester grumbled softly to himself. "Soft iron springs exposed to rain, and they lubricated it with lard? An invader with a hair clip could pick the front gate of the kingdom in four seconds."

He shook his head, feeling deeply disappointed.

"If this is how they protect the capital, I dread to think what other noble mansions look like."

The line moved at a slow pace.

After forty minutes of waiting under the sun, the crowd ahead suddenly came to a complete stop. A loud, angry voice echoed from the front of the gatehouse.

"What do you mean it won’t open?!" a wealthy merchant shouted. He was a fat man wearing a rich purple velvet coat and three gold rings on every finger. "That chest holds twenty thousand gold for the Duke’s trade tax! The Duke’s carriage leaves at noon!"

"I’m telling you right now, Lord Stanley, the key won’t turn!" a kingdom customs captain replied loudly. The captain was a tall man with a mustache, wearing a silver-plated breastplate. "The internal mechanism is jammed! My guard tried to force the iron key with a pair of pliers, but it snapped in half inside the keyway!"

Silvester poked his head out from behind a wagon wheel to see what was happening.

In the middle of the customs inspection area stood an iron tax chest: the Novarian Royal Chest. It was three feet wide and built of reinforced steel plates, held closed by a heavy locking mechanism on the front. A small amount of blue-threaded mana was coating the lock—a magic seal.

Four Novarian Royal Guards stood around the chest, visibly stressed. A clerk stood by silently holding a ledger, beside the furious, fat merchant and the inspection captain. What a mess.

One of the guards stepped forward holding a heavy sledgehammer.

"Stand back, my Lord!" the guard shouted, raising his sledgehammer over his shoulder. "I’ll break it off!"

"Stop, you moron!" Silvester’s high voice rang out across the chaotic inspection area.

Everyone fell silent.

Everyone turned around.