In another part of the Vault, far from the ruined city where the Holy Church moved with calm precision and distant from the rocky terrain where Belmont and his elite forces advanced confidently, the world shifted once again into something entirely different, almost unreal compared to the harsh and dangerous environments seen before. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

This place was a garden, but not just any garden found in noble estates or royal palaces. It was purer, untouched, as if it had existed long before the outside world and had been preserved by some unknown force for countless years, free from time’s decay or conflict’s stain.

The ground was blanketed in soft green grass that glowed faintly beneath gentle golden light filtering through the sky above. Surrounding this serene space were flowers of every shape and color, some bright and vibrant like flames, others soft and pale like moonlight.

Each swayed gently in the breeze, almost alive and aware of their surroundings. Small streams of crystal-clear water meandered quietly across the land, forming shallow pools that mirrored the sky. In the distance, a tall waterfall cascaded smoothly down a rocky cliff into a calm lake below, its gentle sound echoing peacefully throughout.

Colorful birds flew freely overhead, their light and cheerful songs adding life to this quiet beauty. Small animals moved about without fear, hopping between flower patches, drinking from streams, or playing near the lake’s edge as if danger or conflict were foreign concepts.

The air was fresh and clean, carrying a faint fragrance of flowers and water that calmed both body and mind. For a moment, it felt as if this place didn’t belong inside a Vault filled with danger but rather existed as a peaceful land meant for rest and healing.

Even the light here was different not harsh or blinding like the golden pillar outside but soft and warm, wrapping everything in a gentle glow that made the entire garden feel dreamlike.

Standing calmly amid this beauty was a young man with relaxed posture and a faint smile on his lips. His eyes moved slowly over his surroundings without surprise or urgency, as if he had expected such a place all along.

His expression held a hint of boredom mixed with mild interest: someone who had seen much in life yet rarely found anything truly exciting anymore. He stretched slightly then said calmly, "Not bad at all... I didn’t expect the Vault to have such a beautiful place. Looks like my luck is still as good as ever."

Behind him stood about twenty people dressed variously, some in light armor, others in dark robes; some carried simple but deadly weapons. What connected them all was an aura, a heavy, suffocating presence that marked them far beyond ordinary warriors.

Their eyes were sharp; their bodies relaxed yet ready; their stance around him showed respect mixed with familiarity, as if they weren’t just subordinates but longtime followers.

Among them stood a maid dressed simply yet elegantly; her posture straight and expression gentle but her eyes hinted she was more than just a servant.

The maid stepped forward slightly, her gaze fixed on the young man as she spoke with a soft smile that couldn’t quite conceal the emotion in her eyes.

"Young Lord Isis, your luck has always been remarkable. It seems even the gods favor you. I can’t help but feel a twinge of envy sometimes."

There was no attempt to mask her feelings; her sincerity shone through without hesitation or restraint. The faint jealousy in her eyes was genuine, like someone admiring something just out of reach.

Isis turned his head slightly to look at her, a small smile growing as he listened. For a brief moment, his bored expression softened into something more contemplative.

He let out a quiet chuckle before responding in a calm and steady voice, light yet profound enough for his words to linger in the air.

"Envy is an odd thing," he said slowly. "People often see someone’s good fortune and think it’s a gift bestowed without reason, forgetting that what they call luck usually stems from countless choices made at just the right time or sometimes from daring to step where others hesitate. If you stand still and wait, it feels like bad luck when nothing comes your way; but if you keep moving forward, even blindly, you might call it good luck when opportunity arises. In truth, the difference lies not in luck itself but in whether you’re willing to reach for it when it presents itself. So don’t envy luck; what you perceive as fortune might simply be something you chose not to pursue."

The maid blinked slightly at his words, her expression softening as she lowered her gaze for a moment, clearly contemplating his message. Although she didn’t reply immediately, the faint smile on her lips indicated that she understood at least part of what he meant.

The other warriors behind him exchanged brief glances, some nodded slightly while others remained silent but none seemed confused; they appeared accustomed to hearing such insights from him.

Isis then turned his attention back to the garden, scanning the area once more before casually lifting his hand and pointing in a random direction without hesitation. "Let’s go this way," he said simply, his tone relaxed as if he had made this decision without much thought.

The group behind him didn’t question him; they shared knowing looks, a few smiled slightly as if they had anticipated this choice and nodded in agreement. Without wasting any time, they began moving forward through the beautiful garden, Isis leading them with steady and unhurried steps as if unconcerned about what lay ahead.

—

In another section of the Vault, the serene beauty of the garden gave way to an entirely different scene, one that felt oppressive and stifling even before stepping inside.

This was a swamp, a vast expanse of murky land filled with dark waters and thick mud that stretched endlessly, interrupted only by patches of uneven ground and gnarled trees rising from the depths like skeletal remains.

The air was heavy and humid, carrying an overpowering scent of decay that made it difficult to breathe comfortably. Each step in this place produced a soft, unpleasant squelch as boots sank into the wet earth before being pulled out with effort.

Unlike the clear streams of the garden, this water was dark and cloudy, concealing whatever lurked beneath its surface. Occasionally, small ripples would disturb the stillness without any apparent cause, hinting that this swamp was far from empty.

Tall, spindly trees grew haphazardly throughout the swamp, their branches twisted and bare. Some were draped in hanging moss that swayed slightly with even the faintest breeze, enhancing the eerie atmosphere.

Insects buzzed incessantly in the background, a low but persistent hum, while an occasional strange croaking echoed from deeper within the swamp, its source impossible to pinpoint.

Above them loomed a dim gray sky devoid of any clear light source, casting a dull pallor over everything below as if even light struggled to survive in this dismal place.

Amidst this unwelcoming environment stood a group of about fifty warriors, all visibly frustrated as they navigated through the swamp.

Their armor was already caked in mud; each step caused their boots to sink deeper into the ground than they anticipated. Their expressions revealed disappointment, this was not what they had envisioned when entering the Vault.

At the center of this beleaguered group stood Lord Pellian, a figure who immediately caught attention not for his strength or commanding presence but rather for how utterly out of place he appeared in such surroundings.

The once-confident nobleman now found himself knee-deep in muck, struggling to maintain his balance while flailing his arms in panic. His face flushed red with exertion; breath coming heavily as he shouted in anger and fear.

"Get me out of this!" he bellowed, arms waving wildly as he attempted to move forward but only succeeded in sinking further into the mud.

"What kind of cursed place is this?! Why am I here?!"

The warriors surrounding him wore expressions ranging from irritation to helplessness; some clearly annoyed yet unable to voice it openly while others focused intently on helping him without worsening his predicament.

"Careful, my lord," one warrior said through clenched teeth as he reached out to steady Pellian’s arm. "If you struggle too much, you’ll sink deeper."

"I don’t care!" Pellian shouted, his voice nearly cracking with frustration. "Just get me out of here! Why is my luck so terrible?! Of all the places, why this one?!"

Another warrior stepped forward, grasping his other arm to help pull him free. His face was set in a grim expression as he tried to remain composed. "Please, my lord, hold still for a moment. We’ll move you step by step."

Pellian gritted his teeth, anger twisting his features as he surveyed the filthy swamp around him. "Damn it... damn it all... this isn’t how it’s supposed to be! Others must have landed in better spots, cleaner spots... places filled with treasure!"

He paused, breathing heavily as he glared into the distance, resentment etched across his face.

"I hope those other old bastards are suffering just like I am... no, worse! They should be buried in something even more wretched than this!"

The warriors surrounding him remained silent, their expressions revealing that they were just as displeased with the situation as he was.

As they slowly dragged him forward through the muck, Pellian continued to vent his frustrations. His voice echoed through the swamp as he muttered curses under his breath; every movement of his large body made the ordeal feel both exasperating and absurd.

And so it went, while some traversed landscapes of beauty and others navigated ruins, Pellian struggled through filth. The Vault continued to unveil its many faces, testing each individual in its own unique way.