Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 616: Before the Door of Treasure

Before the Door of Treasure

Quietly, air moved through him, steady as a clock’s second hand, each rise of his ribs a whisper before thunder. The rhythm stayed low, unhurried, shaped by something waiting just beyond sight.

Here lay what once belonged to old Vellore, Leon whispered. Though soft, his voice clung to the walls of the narrow passage.

Stillness pressed in close. Cold draped through the space like cloth left too long on stone, carrying echoes - crowns passed down, secrets cracked open, lives given for whatever waited past the threshold. Though he’d seen wars unfold and rulers fall, Leon noticed his breath slow - not from terror, yet not quite peace either - but a hush found only where time piles up without asking permission.

One guard behind him kept his knees on the ground. The other did too, though no voice had told them to stay that way. Their bodies refused to rise, pressed down by something larger than command. Weight filled the air like breath before thunder. Stories began where moments like this took root. Ordinary people never saw what happened at such edges.

Something caught in one throat, the gulp echoing wrong inside the silence. Down on his knees, the second stayed bent, fingers bleached white where they pressed into cold rock, like stirring at all could anger what old thing still waited in the corners.

A hush settled as Leon moved ahead, one careful pace at a time. From his boots came a quiet tap, repeating like knocks from something long gone. Near the great door he paused, almost touching it, eyes tracing the thin cracks along the old rock - marks age left behind, marks spells couldn’t erase.

A hush stretched out behind Leon as he faced the towering door, still as stone himself. Moonlit eyes set in coiled serpent carvings flickered weakly, alive with quiet knowing. One breath passed - then another - before anything dared move.

Twisted together, their forms moved without end - one protecting, the other ready to strike - skin carved with marks older than words still spoken. Not quite a doorway ahead... more like facing something breathing, deciding.

Stillness held Leon first. Lines on the stone caught his eyes, fixed, motionless, almost weighing against each other - maybe even judging him. From far down the hall came a soft vibration, barely there, as though the vault sensed footsteps and exhaled slowly, curious about who had arrived.

A small tilt of his head came then, aimed at the guards.

"Open the treasury."

Quiet as it was, the order still hit hard - clean, absolute - cutting the quiet like a blade slipping free of metal.

A glance passed between the two guards. Brief, but heavy. In that instant, more was said than words could carry - obligation, dread, the burden of a sealed doorway untouched by time. One gulped down air. Spine stiffened in the second.

"Yes, Your Majesty," he replied, voice hushed, nearly solemn.

Faint tremors ran through his fingers, even as he said it at once.

A half-step backward was all it took. Giving room came naturally. Rushing had no place here. The moment unfolded on its own. Not every act demanded speed - some were meant to linger.

Frozen moments passed while they stepped apart, taking places near the huge doors, close to the paired snakes hewn from rock. As their hands lifted, fingers spread wide toward the old marking, everything dragged like thick air.

Power flared.

It started as a faint blue flicker - brittle, snapping at the edges - skittering over their arms. Yet soon it thickened, shifting toward a dense golden hue, one that carried weight, deeper than memory. That light throbbed now, steady on the rise and fall, almost breathing.

Something hung in the front of Leon’s mind. Not a sound, not quite, yet heavy like breath held too long. His ribs tightened under an invisible weight. Ahead, the mountain stood mute, full of things never spoken aloud. Around its entrance, silence didn’t sit still - it pulsed, stitched through with old forces that waited without hurry. Each layer coiled deeper than the last, watchful, unkind.

Fingers of light twisted up the soldiers’ arms, carving shapes as if fire had learned to write. Words from a tongue forgotten by nearly every spellcaster alive. Nothing taught in schools. None of today’s formulas. The ancient work - sharp, exact, unforgiving.

A shiver crept along Leon’s back as he stood still, eyes locked. Not simply a storage room underground - this space breathed distrust, built slow by rich hands that passed secrets like curses. Trust had never found a home here.

A deep breath came first, filling the pause before words followed. The guard stood firm, voice breaking the silence after a moment held too long.

A hush that moves like words breathed slow.

Out of nowhere came the whisper, soft like wind through grass, each word careful, slow. Right after, the next man spoke - his sound slipping beside the first, joining it without effort. Together they made one steady hum, so quiet you might miss it if you blinked.

Then -

Fingers met cold iron as they leaned into the barrier.

Three points each.

The spot right above where the snake thinks. That place.

A hush fell when skin met etched rock. Light crept out - thin, steady, exact - not loud, just there, slicing shadow like something sharp pulled slow from a sheath.

A twist of form rests close to the flower. Its shape curls like a question without words. Near it lies stillness shaped by motion. This presence bends beside blooming edges. A looped figure waits where petals open.

Under the touch, the old rock trembled. Waves moved out like breath on still ponds, soft and flowing, almost as if the doorway had melted into something fluid, disturbed by hidden streams below.

Farther along, the snake’s tail ended in a twist so tight it could not exist. Curves folded back on themselves without beginning or end. Stone met stone in loops that made no sense. This place bent like something dreamed but never built.

The last seal responded - not with words, but a low vibration that spread outward. Magic slipped into the doorway, winding slowly, much like life returning to frozen roots.

The heavy lock clicked open right away.

Out of nowhere, the snakes’ eyes snapped wide - shimmering silver, as if moonbeams had been melted into rock. From deep below came a growl, shaking walls and rattling ribs alike. Above, old dust broke free, spiraling downward in lazy sparkles, lit by the soft gleam of magic-lit lamps.

A hush fell when Leon stood there, his hair rising like it had its own mind, stirred by invisible force. A soft ripple passed through the strands near his brow just as energy pushed into the room. Stillness held him - motion wasn’t required - yet everything nearby seemed to tilt, as though atmosphere itself noticed he’d arrived.

One guard stepped back first, then the other, each letting go like a rope cut mid-pull. Air rushed from their lungs, sharp and uneven. The thing they’d finished pulled more than strength - it took silence from inside their bones. Shoulders sagged - just once - before training locked them upright again.

Down went their heads together, a single motion of respect. Each neck bent at once, eyes to the ground.

He spoke low, a roughness clinging to his words like dust on stone - sir, the way ahead has cleared. Step through, if you will