I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space - Chapter 206

Chapter 206: Relicas
The ship drifted quietly across the dark sea, its sails pulling steady against the wind. The salt air was cool, heavy with the smell of brine. Razeal leaned against the railing, his sharp eyes fixed on the endless horizon, though his mind was elsewhere. For a long while he said nothing, until finally he turned slightly toward the old man sitting at the far edge.

“I heard…” Razeal began slowly, his tone calm but probing, “that Atlantis uses a completely different kind of power system. Something not like magic or aura at all.” His gaze narrowed as he studied Yograj’s expression. “Is that true?”

The old man, who had been lost in his own heavy thoughts just moments before, blinked. The weight in his eyes shifted as though Razeal’s words had shaken him from those lingering regrets. He rubbed at his temple, then gave a low chuckle.

“You’re aware of that much, eh?” Yograj said, lifting one brow at him. “Well, you are from that family… I suppose they might’ve let some scraps of knowledge trickle down to you.” His tone carried both mild surprise and the faintest trace of curiosity.

Razeal didn’t reply immediately. His eyes fell back on the ocean, its black surface broken by silver moonlight. He wasn’t about to admit it aloud, but the truth was he hadn’t found anything useful in his family’s library. There might have been fragments buried somewhere, but Atlantis had never been a focus of his studies. At that time he’d never thought it mattered. Not until now. His knowledge came mostly from the novel the fragments, the passing mentions, the small hints scattered here and there. Atlantis had never been deeply explored in those pages.

But now? Now they were heading straight into it. That meant ignorance was dangerous. He needed at least a foundation.

“Just tell me what I need to know,” Razeal said at last, his tone firm but not demanding. “We’re going there soon, and I can’t afford to walk in blind.”

The old man paused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. His gaze drifted back out over the waves, as if weighing where to begin. “That is important indeed… but where to start…” His voice trailed, quiet, almost to himself.

Razeal broke the silence. “Relicas,” he said simply. “I know ocean dwellers can’t use magic or aura, so they rely on those instead. Living artifacts. I’ve read somewhat of them.”

Yograj’s eyes sharpened at the word, and he gave a short nod. “Relicas. Yes… that is where their power comes from. Their strength, their so-called magic. Everything begins and ends with them in Atlantis.”

Razeal said nothing, simply waited.

“I’ll tell you what I know,” Yograj continued after a moment, though his voice carried caution. “But listen well. Don’t treat my words as scripture. Much of this knowledge is fragments stories, interpretations, half-truths told over by people. I never studied it deeply myself. And in everywhere, knowledge is often twisted. What you hear from one tongue may be false on another’s. So take what I say with both hands, but never close your eyes to doubt.”

Razeal inclined his head. “It’ll do. Even fragments form a picture. Just give me something to work with.”

The old man folded his arms, his voice low and deliberate now. “A Relica… is not simply an object. It is alive. Or at least, it carries life in its essence. It is born in the rarest of circumstances.. when will, emotion, and magic converge so intensely that the world itself freezes that moment into matter.”

He let that sink in before continuing. “Others describe it differently. Some say a Relica is crystallized emotion. A shard of the world’s memory, formed when a feeling burns so fiercely that reality itself refuses to forget it.”

Razeal listened quietly, his expression calm but his mind attentive. His gaze flicked toward the ocean again, the idea of crystallized emotion strangely resonating with him.

“Whole Atlantis Powers comes from those things.. Relicas. Living objects, born of moments too strong to be forgotten.”

“Well,” he admitted, “I honestly don’t know if calling it ‘magic’ is the right word. Magic, aura those belong to the surface world. Atlantis has its own way, its own laws. A Relica isn’t just some tool or charm. Every single one of them holds a specific effect, something tied directly to the moment of its birth… to the truth of the memory that carved it into being.”

He paused, gesturing vaguely with one hand as though shaping the thought in the air. “That effect doesn’t change. It isn’t like a spell you can twist, bend, or reshape. It’s fixed, immutable. And yet… when you wield it, it doesn’t always reveal itself fully. Anyone can grasp at the surface power force it to work, bend it crudely but the true strength of a Relica…” His tone dipped into something or almost reverent. “That can only be brought out through resonance.”

Razeal’s eyes narrowed, though his expression remained neutral. He could feel the weight in the old man’s words, the conviction carried by experience.

“Resonance?” he asked softly.

Yograj gave a short nod. “Yes. The wielder has to accept the emotion bound inside the Relica. Grief. Hope. Sacrifice. Love. Happyness.. Whatever birthed it… you must bear it, make it your own, let it seep into you. Only then does the Relica recognize you. Only then does it breathe with you.”

He gave a small shrug, though his voice softened, almost like he was repeating something once told to him long ago. “Once accepted, a bond forms part emotional, part spiritual. Some say even part soul. That’s resonance. I don’t really know. Since never really bothered with it,” the old man said with a shrug. It was true. Since they were living, he could absorb their abilities. Unlike the Atlanteans, who had to work hard to resonate with their relics, he could simply absorb them. And once he did, that ability was his no struggle, no resistance.

“I don’t have any personal experience but I’ve heard the saying passed from one Atlantean to another.”

His voice dropped lower, steady as he spoke the words with a faint gravitas as if trying to replicate the exact word and moment he heard them being said: “You don’t cast with a Relica. You feel… and it answers.”

The phrase lingered in the air, heavy, as though the sea itself hushed to listen.

“And when it answers,” Yograj continued after a breath, “you must understand that answer. Because in Atlantis, they say power is not strength… understanding is.”

Razeal tilted his head slightly, his lips twitching into the faintest of murmurs. “I see… I see.” He fell silent, lost briefly in contemplation. The idea resonated with him in ways he couldn’t quite put into words.

The old man leaned back against the railing, his eyes distant. “Atlantis is no small place. It’s cut into seven seas seven vast circles, each ruled under a Sea Lord. Each of those lords holds a mythical ranked Relica, the kind of thing that could change the course of nations. Each sea is its own kingdom, with its own laws governed under one but yeah different, its has its own dangers. Together they form the great circle of Atlantis. To live there is to live under the shadow of those Relicas.”

“Ohh? Which Circle will we enter… when entering that entrance way to Atlantis?” Razeal asked, his gaze steady as he turned toward the old man.

The old man rubbed his chin, thinking for a moment, his eyes narrowing as if dragging old knowledge from deep memory. “Ohhh you want to go to Ocean Black, right?” he said finally, tilting his head. “Then we’ve got to go to the very centre of the seven seas, to the Royal Ocean. That’s the true heart of Atlantis. It’s there we’ll find the clues you’re looking for. As I told you before, it never stays in one place. The Ocean Black shifts. But if we make it to the center, we can figure out where it is.”

Razeal’s eyes sharpened. His voice carried no hesitation. “From that entrance, can we go directly into the Royal Ocean directly?” He was mapping the structure of the journey in his head even as he spoke, seeking the shortest, cleanest path forward.

The old man shook his head firmly. “No. The entrance only takes us to the seventh the outermost sea. The gates of Atlantis. From there, we’ll have to cross each sea, one by one, before we reach the Royal Ocean.” His tone was patient but carried the kind of certainty that comes from long years at sea.

Razeal frowned. His brows furrowed slightly, the faintest flicker of irritation in his otherwise calm face. “Is there no alternative way for that? That would take too long.”

The old man chuckled under his breath and glanced at him sidelong, the corners of his lips curling. “What are you so hurrying for, boy? Enjoy the journey. There’s no other way, not unless you can rewrite the sea itself. But I’ll tell you this.. it’ll be fun. You’ll see things most people can’t even imagine.” His voice softened into something almost nostalgic, a seafarer’s affection for the mysteries of the deep.

Razeal exhaled slowly, the irritation fading into silence. He didn’t argue further. Instead, he leaned back slightly, letting the quiet stretch between them. The waves slapped gently against the ship’s hull, the gulls circling high above like drifting scraps of white in the endless blue.

Time stretched. At last, Razeal sighed again, pushing himself to his feet. He turned from the old man and walked toward the round table where Levy and the others sat. His footsteps were steady, deliberate.

The old man didn’t move. He stayed on the railing, staring out into the endless sea. His shoulders seemed heavy, burdened by thoughts he didn’t share. Whatever haunted him now, he wanted time alone with it.

Razeal reached the table and slid into a chair beside Levy. Levy glanced at him immediately, still looking worn and tired from training. His exhaustion was written across his face, though some rest had eased it slightly. His arms still ached, but he sat upright when Razeal appeared, as though presence alone demanded attention.

Aurora stiffened. She went on guarding herself in that subtle, cautious way of hers, though her expression tried to remain indifferent. Her face gave away nothing, but her body told the truth. Every muscle was quietly alert, her posture straightening unconsciously. She didn’t trust him, didn’t want to. To her, Razeal wasn’t just another boy he was the stain she had read about, the rapist, the criminal. That reputation hung around him like a shadow, no matter how calm and naunchalant he was looking all this now..

Maria didn’t tense, but neither did she engage. Sitting across from him, she turned her head deliberately to the side.

Razeal sat down, leaning forward slightly, his elbows brushing the table. His tone, when he spoke, was calm, steady, and absolute. “It might take us a very long time in there. So I want you all prepared for that. Return to land won’t be fast.” His eyes swept the three of them slowly, weighing them each in turn. “There are seven seas in Atlantis, arranged in circles. We’ll have to cross them all to get to the center and from the center, we’ll also have to leave. It won’t be simple. It will be complicated.”

He paused, letting the words sink in before continuing. “Which is why you three need to start getting along with each other. I don’t want any of you creating problems. It will be best if you learn how to behave together, and how to think of each other as allies, not obstacles. We don’t know much about Atlantis and that makes it even more important that none of you become problems. Not for yourselves… and definitely not for me.”

His voice didn’t rise, but the edge of authority in it left no room for argument.

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