Zhao let the cloak settle normally against his back.
It moved with him like ordinary cloth now — no lingering smoke, no glowing edges. Just black fabric. Practical. Quiet.
He glanced at the remaining two items still floating in front of him.
The scythe first.
He reached out and took it by the haft.
Long black shaft, curved obsidian blade. Balance felt perfect.
He swung once — short, testing.
Air parted cleanly.
He tapped the system prompt that appeared beside the blade.
Reaper's Scythe
Description: Unbreakable obsidian blade on a dark gold haft. When you kill with it the corpse is automatically marked for Raise Dead. Can be enhanced by bloodZhao gave a short nod.
Useful.
He rested it against his shoulder.
Last item — the ring.
He slid it on his left index finger.
Black band. Dull red stone.
It fit perfectly.
No warmth. No pulse.
He flexed his hand.
Nothing.
He opened the system prompt for it.
|Ring of Mortal Bonds|
Description: Bound to you alone — no one else can wear or use it. Serves as your pass to !&*%#. Function unknown.
Zhao stared at the censored part.
He tried to focus on it — nothing. Just blocks.
He muttered.
"Pass to what?"
The ring stayed silent.
He glanced at Valorn.
"Ring says it's mine only. Acts as a pass to something I can't read. No idea what it does yet."
Valorn gave a short grunt.
"Bound to you alone… sounds like a key. You'll find out when it opens something."
Zhao nodded.
"Probably."
He looked toward the cave mouth.
The Ironclaw Beasts were already dead — all six hundred. No fight. No sound. They dropped the second he stepped inside.
He hadn't swung the scythe. He hadn't cast anything.
They were just gone.
Acel walked up.
"Lord… you didn't even try."
"I know."
Zhao looked at his people.
Valorn's knuckles were tight on his sword. Lyra's archers still had arrows nocked. Balor stared at the cave like it owed him an explanation.
They weren't cheering. They were looking at him like he had become something else.
Zhao exhaled.
"Strip the corpses. Cores and hides first. We fly back tonight."
Marcus cleared his throat.
"On it."
The workers moved — steady, no chatter.
Zhao looked at the sky.
The shield had one day left.
The team worked fast.
Valorn sent two squads into the main tunnels to pull out cores. Lyra kept archers on the ridge, arrows nocked in case anything crawled out. Balor and Marcus organized the haul — hides stacked, cores bagged, bones left behind.
No one talked much.
Every few minutes someone glanced at Zhao.
He stood near the cave entrance, scythe resting on his shoulder, cloak hanging loose.
He didn't pace. He didn't speak. He watched.
Elara stayed near him, egg cradled.
The crystal was mirror-black again. No cracks. No light.
Zhao glanced at it.
"Still stable?"
Elara nodded.
"Stable. But… heavier somehow."
Zhao didn't reply.
He looked at Letum.
The Heavenly Devourer stood a few paces away, six wings folded, platinum hide catching the last daylight.
Letum met his gaze.
No words.
Just calm.
Zhao turned back to the team.
"Five minutes. Then we lift off."
The workers sped up.
Ten minutes later the haul was loaded — sacks of cores, rolled hides, a few intact claws for Kael.
Zhao gave the order.
"Mount up."
The dragons lowered their heads.
Zhao climbed onto his crimson mount.
Letum took position at his right.
Valorn, Balor, Lyra, Elara, Acel, and the others mounted the rest — ten per dragon.
The formation rose.
Wings beat once.
They climbed above the trees.
The Ironwood Hills fell away below.
Zhao looked forward.
Abyss lay one hour east.
The shield had one day left.
He gripped the scythe tighter.
The ring on his finger felt heavier than it should.
He still didn't know what it opened.
He would find out soon.