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Chapter 38 - Chapter 38 — Echoes of a Forgotten Throne

Ji-hyeon sat in silence beneath the ancient arch, his breath still unsteady. The vision had vanished, yet its weight lingered—like a phantom pressing against his chest. The memories that flashed before his eyes weren't fragmented dreams or illusions. They were real. Pieces of a life he had once lived.

So it's true... I wasn't just imagining it.

A low hum emanated from the stone ruins, and Ji-hyeon could feel magic coursing faintly through the mossy bricks. He stood, wiping dirt from his robes. The ghostly illusions of the ruin's past had vanished, leaving behind the crumbling stones and empty wind once again—but he knew now that this place was more than just abandoned architecture. It was a remnant of his past reign.

And something was still buried here.

Ji-hyeon reached into his satchel and pulled out the strange fragment of obsidian he had found in the valley. As soon as it was exposed to the ruins, it pulsed with a dull crimson light. Symbols lit up along the stone walls—ones that hadn't been visible moments ago. Not random markings—instructions.

"Only the one who once ruled shall pass."

He traced the glyphs with his finger. They rearranged under his touch, recognizing something within him. A seal was unraveling, not through brute force—but through blood memory. Magic born of identity.

Suddenly, the ground trembled softly. A section of the floor crumbled and revealed a spiral staircase descending deep into the earth.

Ji-hyeon hesitated. The energy below was heavy, ancient, and overwhelming. But he didn't step back. Instead, he lit a faint orb of light with his mana and began the descent.

Step by step, he reminded himself. The truth will not be rushed.

The stairs seemed endless, spiraling into darkness. He finally reached a chamber—a massive underground hall. Pillars lined the sides, cracked and worn, but still exuding power. And at the very center, atop a stone pedestal, was an old grimoire chained shut.

He approached carefully. His heart pounded—not from fear, but recognition.

That book… it had once been his.

The Codex of the Abyss.

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