Reincarnated as a Supernatural Horror Entity 139 - Broken Treasures, Valuable Junks

The crowd surged forward. A river of hopeful realm-divers eager to plumb the depths of forgotten realms.

Jack and Reina moved with them. Behind Nick and Harold. They were not quite swallowed. But certainly carried by the current.

The mansion's grand entrance was quite imposing just monts ago. Now it felt like a bottleneck. There were definitely more than two hundred people there.

The couple presented their pre-purchased tickets to the stern-faced guards. Who barely spared them a glance. Their focus was on maintaining the flow.

Inside, the opulence was obvious. Wide, polished corridors stretched before them. Adorned with intricate tapestries depicting mythical beasts and ancient heroes.

Gilded chandeliers hung from really high ceilings. Casting a soft, warm light that seed quite odd. As it was still morning outside.

Marble statues stood as sentinels in alcoves. Their eyes were seemingly following the procession. Jack walked beside Reina. She seed unfazed by the extravagance. Her gaze was practical. Assessing the efficient movent of the crowd.

They navigated a maze of turns. The muffled sounds of the city outside slowly fading. Replaced by the shuffling feet and low murmurs of the diverse group. The air inside was still. Faintly slling of old wood and floral fragrance.

Finally, the corridor opened into a massive chamber. It was surprisingly pretty much so... empty. The walls were bare stone. Devoid of decoration. A stark contrast to the mansion's preceding grandeur.

Light filtered down from unseen apertures high above. Illuminating the chamber's almost solitary feature. A shimring, swirling vortex of deep indigo and violet energy. Humming with raw power. This was the spatial gate.

Beside it, a wide stone board stood. Carved with crisp, definitive lines. It was about the rules of the realm. Jack read them. His gaze unwavering:

(1) No violence.

(2) Only take five objects.

(3) Move deeper for better objects.

Simple enough. Similar to the rules he had previously inford. This wasn't a free-for-all brawl. It was a relatively civilized scavenging operation.

Disobedience to the first two rules would result in imdiate expulsion from the realm. The first one with severe repercussions.

Nobody here was foolish enough to risk that. They paid pretty high price to enter.

In fact, the crowd, astonishingly, even honored the queue. Each realm-diver approached the gate individually. And stepped into the swirling portal. Vanishing without a trace.

The line moved steadily. Jack observed the varied individuals. Seasoned adventurers with scarred faces and worn gear. Scholarly types with thick spectacles and eager eyes. Even what looked like high-society nobleman hoping for a lucky break.

Everyone was united by the sa avarice. The sa desire for sothing broken. Yet valuable.

Finally, their turn ca. Reina went first. A fleeting glimpse of her black hair before she stepped into the vibrant maelstrom and was gone. Then it was Jack's turn.

He felt the familiar tug of spatial displacent. Not unlike his own Nine-Anchor Portal Ring teleportation abilities. But amplified here. Uncontrolled. The world warped. Colors bled. Sound turned into a distorted hum.

The world around him changed. The air was thick with the scent of rust, machine oil, and sothing unidentifiable.

He looked around. No Reina. No one, in fact. Just towering piles of scrap tal. Shattered machinery. And bizarre, unidentifiable objects stretching into the hazy distance.

Nick had been right. He had ntioned random teleportation to the outskirts of the junkyard. Standard procedure for these kinds of zones. He wasn't that surprised.

What did surprise him was the imdiate, overwhelming surge from his [Treasure Detecting Radar] ability. It flared to life.

A great combinations of pings and glows within his perception. Indicating an absurd number of 'valuable' things. Not just valuable. But greatly valuable.

The entire junkyard seed to roar with latent potential chances. Fragnted and scattered. His radar was practically screaming.

He took a mont to orient himself. The 'Treasureland Junkyard' was an apt na. It was imnse. A landscape built entirely of the broken and discarded treasures.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Jagged spires of twisted tal jutted into a twilight sky. Although it was still morning in the 'real world'.

There were mountains of corroded armor plates. Defunct energy conductors. Shattered magical implents. And the skeletal remains of colossal constructs.

They ford a chaotic, alien topography. So objects were clearly terrestrial. Others clearly human made.

A broken pocket watch lay half-buried next to what looked like a shattered piece of a starship's hull. A dieval battle-axe, missing its handle, rested against a crushed, futuristic data-core.

Jack tried to activate his Spatial Bag. Nothing. The familiar empty feeling of no connection. As expected. These realm-diving zones suppressed external storage.

One of the rules was 'take five objects'. It reinforced the practical nature of the challenge. He had to choose wisely.

He tried to use his [Eyes of Judgent]. It worked. Partially. Only appraising the object as 'broken' and sotis 'valuable'. Without specific information. The realm seed to limit it too.

Jack sighed. At least, his [Treasure Detecting Radar] trait worked perfectly.

He started walking. His boots crunching on a bed of tal shards and dust. Every few steps, his internal radar would pinpoint sothing valuable.

A tarnished amulet with faint arcane energy. A sword blade that seed to be filled with a dormant storm. A shattered crystal radiating a dull, continuous warmth...

All valuable. All broken. All tempting. But he could only take five. He needed to find the best five.

According to the third rule... 'Move deeper for better objects.' That was his strategy. He wouldn't waste his precious slots on the periphery.

This place suppressed him with a strange, almost tangible pressure. One that grew stronger the further he ventured. It felt like walking through increasingly dense water. A subtle resistance building with every step.

It was certainly supernatural. Likely a protective asure. Or a natural byproduct of the concentrated power within. This was the 'supernatural pressure' he'd been warned about. The barrier that screened out the weak.

He pushed deeper. Walking with difficulty over obstacles and no clear path. The air beca heavier. Thicker with supernatural energy resonance. The twilight sky above seed to press down harder.

He passed a broken siege engine the size of a small house. Its runic enchantnts were still faintly flickering despite its ruin.

He saw what appeared to be the remains of an ancient, petrified dragon. Its scales were still gleaming faintly.

His internal radar pulsed incessantly. Indicating countless objects of valuable potential. Scattered like discarded toys.

The pressure intensified. A growing buzz in his ears. A subtle ache behind his eyes. It was a pressure that threatened to break his human form. To disperse his very being if he pushed too far.

He felt this was his limit. He could guess that only those in the 'Illuminated' stage, or higher, could truly navigate the deepest parts of the junkyard. Without risking serious damage. Or death.

Jack was on the way of attempting to be 'Illuminated'. But he wasn't there yet. This was his limit. He could feel it. The very fabric of the Junkyard's core realm was hostile to him now. Pushing him back.

He stopped. Standing amidst a particularly dense cluster of high-value readings. This was it. The deepest he could go without jeopardizing his existence.

He scanned the imdiate vicinity. His internal radar honing in on the most potent signals. He had to be ruthless. Five objects. No more, no less. He needed universal utility. Potential for repair. Or raw, condensed power.

His gaze fell upon a damaged compass. It lay half-buried. Its brass casing was tarnished. The needle was perpetually spinning, wildly. It seed useless.

Yet, his 'treasure radar' indicated its value. An imnse, swirling concentration of spatial energy within. Not just common navigation. It was sothing more.

A broken tether to other dinsions, perhaps. He reached out with his hand. And it was picked. Solid and heavy. First one.

Next, a cracked shield. It was ancient. Made of so dark, lightweight tal. One that seed to absorb the sickly green light from the objects around it. A spiderweb of glowing cracks marred its surface.

His inner radar scread that it was valuable. Probably referring to its defensive and absorptive core material. He decided to pick it. Two.

Piled beneath a mangled piece of starship plating, he found a decapitated robot head. It was sleek. Alien. Its single optical sensor was dark and shattered. But the radar indicated its value even higher than the previous two he had chosen.

He didn't think it was the material this ti. Probably the complex, AI programming within. A vast knowledge base, perhaps. He needed that kind of raw data. If he could get one. Three.

Near the robot head, almost overlooked, was a bent crowbar. It looked utterly mundane. A common tool. Twisted and dusty. Yet, his radar valued it highly.

Jack lifted it. It was extrely heavy. He detected an improbable density of raw, elental force within its simple form. It wasn't just a bent steel crowbar. It was sothing else.

A key, perhaps. Or a material necessary for training unimaginable physical power. An object that defied its appearance. Four.

Finally, in a small, relatively clear patch of ground, he spotted the last one. A small headless statue. It was smooth. Made of a dark, obsidian-like material. Perfectly sculpted save for the missing head.

His radar didn't just ping on it. It resonated. Heavily. Its value was almost equal to the other four combined. An incomplete object. One that was incredibly powerful. Five.

He clutched the five objects. They were varied, broken, but each was valuable. And offered a hidden promise. Now, to get out. The way out was simple. The rules stated 'Only take five objects'. Trying to take a sixth would trigger the exit chanism.

He reached for a piece of gleaming, broken chalice. Just to test it. As his hand closed around it, a powerful, familiar tug enveloped him. The junkyard shimred. Then dissolved into a kaleidoscope of colors.

He was back in the empty chamber of Prince Galecrow III's mansion. He was one of the first to return. Only a handful of individuals had erged so far. Looking dazed. So were triumphant. So were clearly disappointed. The spatial gate still fluctuated. Waiting for more to return.

As he re-materialized fully, the five broken objects clinking gently in his hand. Suddenly...

A familiar system notification blood directly in his sight.

[MULTIPLE OBJECTS OF POWER DISCOVERED!]

[SCATTERED POWER INTENSITY. ABSORBED AND CONDENSED INTO 14 ARTIFACT SEEDS.]

[DETECTED THE HOST POSSESSING MORE THAN 8 SEEDS]

[AVAILABLE CONVERSION OF 8 SEEDS TO A PERSONAL ARTIFACT] CHOOSE ONE:

[DEATH'S ELDER WAND]

[VESSEL SPARK]

[DULLAHAN ARMOR]