Nimbus curled up at the door and watched with quiet seriousness. Even though she was now bound to Charles, she couldn't help but show off her dragon pride as she looked at the gifts her ancestors had gathered over the years.
These weren't just prizes. The Eternal Emberdrake took them all in life and sealed them away in death: tributes, offerings, and deaths.
When Charles stepped forward, something moved beneath the coins lying around. He stopped. There was a thud under his foot, like a heartbeat.
He reached down.
Buried under rubies and electrum plating was a ring—an obsidian band carved with concentric vortex patterns. It pulsed again in his palm. SIGMA chimed at once.
[Artifact Found: Beast Tamer's Spatial Ring – Legendary Grade
Capacity: Can hold up to five big magical beasts.
Comforts beasts, links minds, supports in battle.
Market Value: 150,000–180,000 gold coins.
Charles whistled. "Great. SIGMA can't keep things alive. This is a beastmaster's dream."
Karel blinked. "You mean you'll keep Nimbus in that?"
"Only if she agrees. Beats a cave," Charles said. "She can rest without flying or being seen."
Kael smirked. "We're adopting dragon real estate now?"
Charles grinned. "Just getting started."
He raised his palm—and a soft spatial hum rippled outward.
Dozens of items hidden throughout the vault reacted at once.
Each artifact floated in the air, sparkling like a group of old relics that had lost their way home. He could feel the magic that was hidden in the vault, called forth by his presence and will.
He heard SIGMA's voice in his head:
"All spatial artifacts have been found." Putting things in order and groups... 11,314 low-tier, 4,700 mid-tier, 2,038 high-level... 619 from rare to legendary... Confirmed mythical-grade 111. Minimum total market value: 115.6 million gold coins."
Charles flicked his wrist, and the floating artifacts swirled into beams of compressed light before vanishing into SIGMA's vault with fluid precision.
"Direct-to-SIGMA integration," Charles muttered. "No clutter, no problem."
Then, he pulled a scroll from his side—a legendary scroll embroidered with draconic gold runes.
[Scroll of Arcane Magnetism – Legendary Tier]
• Draws in all magical objects within a large area.
• Filters out ordinary trash.
• The range changes depending on the user's qi and affinity.
The scroll opened with a low chant. The runes caught fire.
The vault shook.
As the scroll activated, the atmosphere shifted, signaling the transition from the tense vault exploration to a scene of magical display. The swords danced in the air. Crystals vibrated in secret ways. Gauntlets, grimoires, enchanted books, and trinkets floated around him in a graceful circle, like stars celebrating Charles's power.
"Deposit there," he instructed, pointing to an empty platform to the left.
The artifacts obeyed, like knights kneeling before their sovereign.
Charles turned to his stunned team, the grin returning to his lips. "Alright, you maniacs. Santa Cultivators come early."
Seven loyal warriors stood before him—Kael, Karel, Borris, Wendy, Donald, Arthur, and Rob.
Kael, the earth-bound swordsman, ran his hand along a massive flame-etched claymore. "This blade… this is volcano-forged. It's worth a duchy."
Karel spun a rapier crackling with fire-lightning. "Elegant. Deadly. Fashionable. I'm naming her Scarlett. Or Dominique. Haven't decided."
Borris, silent and deadly, Unity Realm 5 assassin and master blacksmith, held up an obsidian-horned gauntlet lined with voidsteel claws. "This'll do," he muttered. Charles noticed Borris's gaze drift to an anvil shaped from celestial ore, eyes widening with intent. "I'll be at that forge."
Wendy lifted a sleek pair of twin daggers that shifted with the air, vanishing then reappearing. "Wind-callers," she whispered. "They sing with the breeze."
Arthur found a silvered glaive carved with lunar runes. Donald, ever the tactician, discovered an illusion-forged buckler that warped light and space.
Rob? Rob clutched a floating leather-bound journal with a feather quill that scribbled on its own.
"It's writing poetry," Rob said with a grin. "I shall name him Quibble."
Charles summoned a final wave of spatial light, and from the vault floor rose seven small coin-sized pouches—each bound in dragonhide and enchanted with SIGMA's encrypted runes.
"These," Charles said, "are your expandable storage pouches. Fit for nobles, thieves, or a mad general's heirs."
Each pouch holds as much as a wagon, then shrinks to coin size.
Charles passed each of them a pouch—black, palm-sized, rune-etched.
These expand to a wagon. Fill them. Take anything that isn't divine-tier. I'll stop you if you get greedy."
Each pouch holds a small fortress's worth of goods.
He handed each team member a Beast Tamer's Amulet, shimmering with elemental compatibility. Followed by a mid-tier storage ring for each.
"Each of these will bind to a high-tier magical beast or a small legion of steeds," he said. "You'll have mounts, guardians, and status symbols in one."
Charles watched as his team stared at the items in awe.
Bind them. Only you can open them. Amulets hold a beast or several steeds—complete with feeding and supplies.
"Mounts, guardians, and status symbols in one," Charles added.
Karel whistled. "Wow, I love security."
Wendy traced her amulet. "It's more than power, isn't it?"
Charles nodded. "It's who you are. Not just fighters—signs. Things that will happen."
Borris tilted his head. "Even comes with feeding arrays?"
Charles nodded. "Also cleans itself."
Karel was about to pass out. "My horse is going to the spa."
"Focus," Kael growled. "Weapons ready, before he names desserts again."
Karel said, "I'll have you know that Toffeeblade the Third was a noble beast."
Laughter rang out through the vault.
Happiness. Pure, shining happiness.
This was unusual for a community that had been through war, lies, and darkness. A moment that shone as brightly as the jewels around them.
Charles walked to the center of the vault, marking a clear shift from the camaraderie of laughter to the gravity of command. It was a signal—the moment that friendship would yield to leadership.
The laughs stopped.
He said, "This isn't just loot." "This is power. This is the beginning."
He looked each of them in the eye.
"You're not just my guards. You are the generals of my future. My leaders. You will be in charge of cities. Soldiers. Maybe even whole continents. I don't pay people to be loyal. "I give power to those who will work with me."
Wendy put her daggers away. "You're making more than just weapons."
Charles nodded. "A dynasty."
He looked up at the ceiling, where crystals sparkled like stars.
"SIGMA."
[Yes, Master?]
"Log this."
[Entry recorded. The Dragon Vault is part of Legacy Protocol 001.]
Nimbus made a happy noise from behind, and the dragon's eyes shone with something old and proud.
The team fanned out, gathering their futures.
Charles stood at the center of it all—commander, builder, sovereign.
A conqueror reborn.
And this was only the prologue.
After Charles's decree and a final ripple of laughter, the chamber's mood shifted sharply—a cue that the next phase was about to begin for the team.
Gold clinked underfoot. Mana crystals sang in harmonic resonance from the cavern walls, bathing the group in shifting hues of violet, sapphire, and molten amber. The air thrummed—not only with ancient power, but with the pulse of new purpose, joy, and rebirth sensed by Charles.
Charles stood on a jagged platform of obsidian ore with his arms crossed. His cloak fluttered slightly even though there was no wind. A blackstone lectern with SIGMA's matrix sigils on it floated behind him. What did he have in his hand? A small brass bell that makes a lot of noise.
He rang it.
Ding.
Then, as excitement settled and the team steeled themselves, Charles lifted his voice with royal flair and mischief. "I hereby summon the Loot Draft Ceremony of the First Shadow Vanguard! Don't trip, stab, or cry over who gets the shinier toy."
Kael snorted. "Not a promise."
[Starting the categorization matrix,] SIGMA said in Charles's head. [Arranging by elemental compatibility, cultivation affinity, artifact tier, and soul resonance. Estimated output in—flashy countdown beginning—five… four… three…]
A wave of qi erupted from the ground in concentric ripples.
Weapons rose from the vault floor like spirits called to judgment. Blades sang in mid-air, hammers spun with eager hums, bows pulsed like predator hearts. Armors reconstructed themselves midair on floating mannequins—some so massive they groaned under their own enchantments. Artifacts shimmered and aligned in seven perfectly spaced arcs.
The room transformed from a hoard to a divine showroom.
And the seven chosen?
They stood wide-eyed, slack-jawed in awe, glowing like children in a confectionery. Even Borris, ever-practical, blinked twice and muttered, "...By the Void's forge." Charles hid a smile at their stunned wonder.
Charles cleared his throat with theatrical pomp. "Ladies, gentlemen, Rob—welcome to the rest of your lives."
Kael: The Forest-Leveler
Kael stepped forward first, stoic as ever, with the poise of a man whose claymore could cleave mountains and still be back in time for afternoon tea.
One item hovered toward him, pulsing with earthen dominance.
"Gravemeld, Claymore of the Titan's Pact," Charles announced. "Forged in the pressure chasms beneath Mount Myrr—legend says the core iron was pulled from the bones of a continent-sized wyrm."
Kael grasped the massive claymore with both hands. The moment his palms touched the hilt, the earth beneath his feet resonated with seismic pulses. A slight tremor echoed in his stance.
A smirk broke his stony expression. "Feels like home."
Next floated toward him: Titan's Bound Boots, Tome of Earth's Will, and the Pendant of Unyielding Might.
"The more grounded you are, the harder you hit. Literally," Charles said, crossing his arms. "No more slipping during storm battles, please."
Kael just grunted in satisfaction. "Now I can hold the line... for real."
Karel: The Flaming Peacock
Karel spun into his lane like a firework in human form. "And now, for the show!"
A longbow flew through the air and landed perfectly in his outstretched hand with a musical twang.
Charles said, "Sunpiercer Longbow." People say that its arrows can bend through space and time. Or maybe they just missed.
"Perfect," Karel beamed. "I can finally hit people behind walls."
Then came Emberkiss Rapier, Phoenix-Feather Boots, Tome of Solar Fury, and Flameheart Amulet—each more flaming and fabulous than the last.
Karel struck a pose, one foot pointed, cloak aflame with heat mirage. "I am become fashion, the destroyer of doves."
Even Charles chuckled. "Try not to incinerate the banquet hall."
Wendy: The Gale in Waiting
Wendy walked forward silently, her daggers already humming as if jealous of what awaited her.
Two weapons, almost shy in their silence, floated toward her. Whisperfang and Galecrux—paired wind daggers, curved like crescent moons, vanishing briefly in the wind with every pulse.
"They go invisible when thrown," Charles said. "Perfect for someone who moves like a whisper."
Wendy caught them midair with a sharp shhk. She disappeared from sight—completely.
"Oh," said Rob. "She's gone feral."
When she came back behind Charles with a knife at his collar as a joke, he didn't flinch. "I knew you would test me. I also poisoned your tea."
Her lips curled into a rare smile.
Her Windweaver Boots, Tome of Zephyr's Grace, and Amulet of Silent Gale floated into place.
Wendy bent down a little. "Thank you, Lord Charlemagne."
Charles just smiled. "Take the wind, Wendy. And if they insult the dress code, cut up a few nobles for me."
Borris: The Fortress
Heavy armor groaned as if forged from the weight of ancient oaths. Borris, massive and gruff, eyed the gear with the trained eye of a craftsman—and the suspicious glare of a man who'd once beaten a golem with a spoon.
"Stoneward Bastion Set," Charles narrated. "Deflects everything short of divine wrath. Also comes with built-in snacks."
Borris smirked, stepping into the armor with practiced grace. It wrapped around him like stone returning to earth.
Crumblebane Shield followed—a slab of condensed mountain core with veins of gold and runes etched in seismic patterns.
"Immovable," Borris murmured. "Even time would crack first."
His gear was completed with Titan's Ironclad Boots, Tome of Earth's Embrace, and Pendant of Grounding.
"You're the wall," Charles said softly. "The one enemies break upon."
Borris grunted. "And the one who sharpens everyone else's gear."
Charles winked. "Forge me a crown someday."