Divine Mask: I Have Numerous God Clones

Elder Thalnor—or rather Lucas under the flawless guise of Thalnor—was escorted by a group of stern-faced guards through the dimly lit corridors of the Malachor Clan's estate, each step echoing in the silence.

As they neared the legendary vault, Lucas could sense the growing discomfort and tension from the guards. Their dislike for Thalnor was palpable, almost radiating from them, but Lucas reveled in it. The corners of his mouth curled ever so slightly as they approached the vault.

At the entrance, the vault keeper stood waiting, his sharp eyes narrowing as he spotted Thalnor. He didn't bother to hide the disdain in his voice. "You're quite fortunate to be allowed access to the vault, Elder," he sneered, the word "elder" rolling off his tongue with thinly veiled mockery.

Lucas, in Thalnor's form, raised an eyebrow, his lips twisting into a calm, arrogant smile. "Yes," he replied smoothly, his tone dripping with false humility, "I do consider myself very fortunate."

The vault keeper's face tightened, clearly irritated by the response. His eyes flicked briefly to the guards, perhaps hoping for some shared sense of superiority, but they remained silent. Despite his obvious frustration, the keeper maintained his professional demeanor, albeit barely.

"Rules are rules, Elder," he continued, his voice clipped. "Hand over your spatial pouch and ring. You're not permitted to take anything from the vault directly. You'll write down your choices, and the guards will deliver them to your lab later."

Lucas, still smiling, nodded as though unbothered by the man's tone. Slowly, he reached into his robes and removed both his spatial pouch and ring, handing them over without so much as a blink.

"Of course. I trust you to follow protocol, as always," he said, his voice laced with a subtle edge of mockery.

The keeper's eyes narrowed further, but he remained silent, taking the pouch and ring with stiff hands. He inspected them meticulously, his gaze flickering with annoyance as he found nothing suspicious.

Finally, the vault keeper gave a sharp, almost dismissive nod to the guards, who immediately moved to operate the massive mechanisms that sealed the vault.

The grinding of gears and shifting of ancient locks echoed throughout the corridor. Slowly, the heavy vault door began to open with a deep, resonating creak, like the groan of something ancient being disturbed.

The enormous door revealed the legendary treasures of the Malachor Clan: shelves upon shelves of rare materials, shimmering artifacts, and countless resources that could be used to fuel unimaginable power.

It was a sight few were ever privileged enough to witness. The dim light of the hallway barely penetrated the vast space within, casting eerie shadows that danced over the endless rows of treasures.

Thalnor—or rather, Lucas—paused for a moment at the threshold, his eyes sweeping over the incredible wealth that lay before him. His face remained expressionless, but inside, Lucas was already calculating. "All of this... and yet they have no idea how easily it can slip from their grasp."

The vault keeper's voice broke the silence, sharp and businesslike, with a hint of lingering contempt. "You have one day, Elder Thalnor. Choose what you need, and write it down. The guards will retrieve it and bring it to your lab. No exceptions."

Lucas, still in his Thalnor disguise, turned his head slightly to acknowledge the vault keeper with a calm, almost indifferent nod. "Of course," he replied, his voice measured and composed. "I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise."

The keeper, clearly unimpressed, folded his arms. "Make your choices wisely. This isn't an opportunity to be careless." His voice held a note of warning, though the thinly veiled disrespect remained.

Without further acknowledgment, Lucas stepped forward, the echo of his boots on the stone floor the only sound in the still air as he passed through the towering doorway into the vault.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, the colossal door began to close behind him, its weighty thud reverberating through the silence like a finality.

Once inside, Lucas took a deep breath, relishing the stillness. There were no prying eyes now, no vault keepers watching his every move, just the vast collection of rare and valuable resources laid out before him, free for the taking.

From behind the door, the vault keeper's voice called out once more, though now it was muffled and distant. "One day, Thalnor. Don't waste it."

Lucas paused just inside the vault, his back to the massive doors that had sealed him in. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Out of sight from any prying eyes, that smile slowly widened, transforming into something far more sinister. His expression darkened, and his eyes gleamed with barely concealed ambition.

"One day is all I need," he thought, his mind already racing with plans as he surveyed the wealth of treasures before him.

"Now… let's begin," he whispered, his voice low, almost a hiss of anticipation. The vault was vast, and the dim lighting barely reached the far corners, casting long, eerie shadows. The air was thick with the scent of ancient power and forgotten secrets.

Lucas began to walk deeper into the vault, his steps slow and deliberate, taking in the endless shelves of rare and precious resources. His expression remained calm, but beneath that façade, he was calculating, planning every move.

"First, the materials for the Nether Puppets," Lucas mused to himself. His eyes flickered over the rare items displayed in the vault, each one labeled with the type of mana it possessed. He knew exactly what he needed.

He reached the section where the pure Death Mana-infused materials were kept, an area few dared to approach. Most people avoided it, fearing the deadly energy that emanated from these resources.

But to Lucas, this was exactly what he sought. As he scanned the shelves, he spoke softly, almost as if in conversation with himself.

"The bones of a Nightshade Beast, rare enough to create a strong puppet base." He grabbed a set of dark, sleek bones that radiated a faint glow of death energy.

"Soul-imbued gems… perfect for containing the resentment I need to power the puppet." His fingers traced over the cold surface of a translucent gem, pulsing faintly with trapped souls.

He continued to gather the rare components, all necessary for crafting his next Nether Puppets. "This should be enough to craft several at once," he muttered, his voice calm but filled with purpose.

As Lucas moved deeper into the vault, his eyes caught sight of a large, blackened vial filled with what could only be pure, undiluted Death Mana. "Ah, here we go," he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

He carefully placed the vial aside with the rest of the materials he had collected and paused for a moment, surveying the riches around him.

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