Horadric Cube

Horadric Cube

(Robbery! Leave all your tickets behind!)

Diya hurried home. Never in his life had he been as excited as he was now. He had not felt this way in fifteen years. He had a premonition that if he could truly unravel the secret of that box, it might really bring change to his life.

"Young Master, you're back," Fu Ka called when he saw Diya, then asked in surprise, "Young Master, what happened?"

"Nothing, Uncle Fu. I'm fine," Diya replied, but without even turning his head, he rushed into his room and locked the door behind him. Uncle Fu was left looking baffled, but he was not worried. A joy he had not seen in a very, very long time had appeared on Diya's face. Diya had only worn that expression long ago, when they still had some money and Uncle Fu bought him tasty things to eat. Uncle Fu guessed that Diya must have encountered something happy.

That was good. The young master had suffered for fifteen years; it was good that he had found something to make him happy. Let him be. Uncle Fu smiled faintly and walked into the kitchen.

The moment Diya entered his room, he darted impatiently to the bedside and grabbed the ancient metal box resting there. A rare flush rose on his pale face, his eyes filled with excitement, and his hands trembled slightly. Fifteen years. He had suppressed himself for a full fifteen years. Now, at last, there might be a chance to change everything.

But after a moment, Diya's eyes dimmed and calmed. Could this thing truly change his predicament as he felt it could? Could it free him from the fate of being useless and set him upon the long-awaited path of becoming strong? And would the method he had thought of really work?

At that moment, Diya hesitated. He did not know whether his idea was feasible. If it failed, how would he face it?

Thoughts raced through his mind, and Diya's expression shifted between light and dark. After a long while, he slowly let out a breath. He had endured fifteen years already; there was no reason he could not get through this time. If he failed, then he failed. He could seek other opportunities in the future. His fifteen years of experience had unconsciously left his character tinged with negativity and sorrow, but he had still endured with strength.

Taking a deep breath, his heart filled with anxious uncertainty, Diya flashed a silver light in his palm. The Flick Sword appeared between his fingers. He pressed his thumb against the blade, immediately cutting a tiny wound. Blood seeped out, and Diya let it drip onto the metal box. One drop, two drops, three drops... After ten drops in total, Diya began to feel dizzy. He quickly withdrew his finger and stuck it into his mouth to suck on it.

The ten drops of blood clung to the surface of the metal box, spreading downward in four directions. Within seconds, the blood covered every side of the box. Suddenly, a faint, hazy blood-colored glow appeared, then contracted inward. The blood color gradually faded, as though it had been swallowed by the box.

When the blood completely vanished, the metal box returned to its original appearance. With his thumb still in his mouth, Diya stared fixedly at the box. One minute, two minutes, three minutes... Nine minutes passed, nearly ten, yet the box remained exactly the same, without the slightest movement.

A look of disappointment appeared on Diya's face, but he still retained a trace of joy. Though this attempt had failed, the box had absorbed the blood, which meant blood had some effect. Or perhaps there simply had not been enough blood.

As Diya pondered whether to cut his finger again and continue dripping blood, or simply slit his wrist and let the box drink its fill, the metal box, which had shown no reaction for ten whole minutes, suddenly emitted a ring of invisible, strange ripples. They swept through Diya's body. He felt something stir in his mind, and then his vision went dark before brightening again.

"Where is this?" Diya looked around in confusion. Yet no matter how he examined it, the scene before him did not change at all. His room had vanished, and he could not even see himself. Strangely, however, he could see a scene before him, like a three-dimensional picture.

Before him was a metal panel, dark gold in color. Its edges were engraved with many strange, twisted patterns that Diya could not understand, like marks yet also like writing. At the center of the panel were compartments—twelve neatly arranged compartments, three across and four down. At the very bottom of the panel was a groove, and embedded within it seemed to be a transparent round crystal, glittering brilliantly.

The entire metal panel emanated a blend of ancient desolation and timelessness, continuously washing over Diya. It made him feel comfortable, yet also made him feel insignificant.

Among the twelve compartments, the first and second each held something. With a glance, Diya saw a bewitchingly blood-red sphere and an irregular fragment.

Subconsciously, Diya touched the fragment. He did not know why he was able to touch it. With a mere thought, he felt as if he had touched the fragment. It was exceedingly strange.

The fragment showed no reaction whatsoever. After trying twice, Diya gave up and shifted his attention to the sphere in the first compartment. The sphere flickered between bright and dim, as though it possessed life. As he observed it, he felt a strange sense of familiarity, as though he should have encountered this sphere long ago. Diya unconsciously immersed himself in it. The sphere seemed to possess some kind of magic capable of drawing in one's mind.

Without realizing it, he extended his mental power and touched the sphere. A sensation both icy clear and incomparably violent followed his mental power into his mind. Diya jolted awake and hurriedly tried to sever his mental power, but helplessly found that it seemed stuck to the sphere and could not move. He could only allow that strange energy to flood into his mind.

The sphere grew smaller and smaller until it vanished completely. Diya recovered his mental power, and after another flash of darkness and light, his room appeared before his eyes again. The box lay safely on the bed.

Diya stared wide-eyed around the room, looking left and right. His thoughts were in turmoil as he remained shocked and suspicious over what had just happened. It had felt like a dream.

Unable to make sense of it, Diya grabbed the metal box from the bed and was astonished to discover that its appearance had changed. Though it still looked just as ancient and worn as before, it gave off an extraordinarily peculiar feeling. It was like the instant a treasure buried for countless years broke free from its seal.

An ancient, weathered aura rushed toward him—

"What exactly is this thing? Why do I feel such an inexplicable familiarity with it?" Diya muttered instinctively. The changed box gave him the same feeling as the sphere from before. It was extremely strange.

"This is the Horadric Cube, because it should have belonged to you long ago." A voice suddenly rang out just as Diya finished speaking. It was loud and carried an indescribable dominance.

"Who? Who's there?" Diya was startled. He looked around, sweeping his gaze through the entire room, but no second person appeared. A chill crept into his heart. "Come out!"

"I'd like to come out, but you're too weak. So weak that you can't support my manifestation," the voice sounded again, carrying both a hint of teasing and helplessness.

"Manifestation?" Diya subconsciously swallowed. The word stirred all sorts of associations in his mind.

"That's right. I'm inside your soul," the voice said with a laugh. "Let me see... Oh my, you really are an unlucky child. For fifteen years, you were either bullied or humiliated, without even the power to fight back. Pitiful, pitiful. I never expected that after fifteen years apart, you would have fallen into such a state. How miserable."

"You're that sphere from before," Diya suddenly said, as though he had not heard the mockery in the voice. His tone was grave.

"What sphere? How awful that sounds. That was my soul. Well, it's fused with yours now," the voice continued with a laugh. "Let me see... Oh dear, how miserable. I really don't know how you managed not to die after being bullied for fifteen years. You lived on so stubbornly. You really have a cockroach's life."

Diya's pupils suddenly contracted. A cockroach's life. The moment he heard those words, distant memories, nearly sealed away by dust, surged forth. Brahma Continent had no creature called a cockroach, so naturally it had no such expression. Yet this fellow had actually said those words.

"Who exactly are you?" Diya suppressed his excitement.

"Oh, oh, oh, I actually stirred up your memories. Then do you still remember how you transmigrated back then?"

How could he forget? A bitter smile appeared on Diya's lips. At the time, he had been playing on his computer when, for some unknown reason, it suddenly exploded. Everything in the room exploded along with it, and he too had been swallowed by that blast. Even now, the agony of being torn apart in an instant remained vivid in his memory. When he woke up, he discovered that he was already in another world.

That scene often echoed through Diya's mind. It was his deepest memory, something he could not forget even if he wanted to. Besides, during these fifteen years of frequent bullying, he had often relied on memories of his days on Earth to get through each day. Otherwise, with nothing to cling to, he might have collapsed long ago.

"Who are you?" Diya gritted his teeth.

"Angry? It's good that you can get angry. It means there's still hope for you. Listen well. I am the one and only, peerless, unrivaled, invincible across the Three Realms, the being who makes all living creatures tremble in fear... Diablo, Lord of Hell!"