CHAPTER 138: COMPLETE

The Lich King’s puppet body, a construct of ancient bone and even more ancient arrogance, crumbled into a fine, black dust that was scattered by a nonexistent wind. The blue fire in its sockets winked out, and the spire was silent.

On the far side of the chasm, Mela stared, her swarm of needles clattering to the stone bridge as her concentration broke completely. Serian stood with her sword still glowing, her chest heaving, her eyes wide with a mixture of relief and absolute terror.

Nox stood on the platform where the throne had been, the black, chitinous armor flowing back under his skin, leaving him looking like himself again, only much, much more tired. The massive hole in the bridge was a stark reminder of the ridiculous, impossible plan that had somehow worked.

’Shit,’ Nox thought, a wave of profound exhaustion hitting him like a physical blow. ’That took a lot out of me. Like, everything.’

He swayed on his feet and collapsed to one knee. The world was tilting, and his new, super-efficient system was flashing low-power warnings all over his vision.

"Nox!"

Serian was at his side in an instant, her elven speed carrying her across the remaining section of the bridge. She didn’t hesitate this time, her hands grabbing his shoulders to steady him. "Are you alright? What happened to you?"

"I’m fine," he grunted, though his body was screaming that this was a lie. "Just... ran out of juice."

Mela finally unfroze and cautiously made her way across the bridge. She looked from the exhausted human to the gaping chasm, then back to the human. "You are the most reckless, suicidal, and infuriating person I have ever met."

There was no heat in her words. It was just a statement of fact, delivered with a tone of pure, grudging awe.

"But your plan worked."

"Told you it was a good plan," Nox managed, a weak grin on his face.

The air around them began to shimmer, and the sleek, black interface of his system flared to life.

[Main Objective: Clear the Lich’s Spire - COMPLETE!]

[Calculating Rewards...]

[75,000 EXP Granted!]

[+50 Unallocated Stat Points Granted!]

[1x Unique Skill Box Granted!]

[Title Acquired: Lich Bane!]

[Dungeon Cleared!]

[Returning to original coordinates in 3... 2... 1...]

The world dissolved into a swirl of gray light.

They reappeared in the graveyard with a jolt that made Nox’s head spin. The sun was high in the sky, and the clattering skeletons were gone, leaving only the quiet, moss-covered tombstones. It was over.

Nox immediately collapsed onto his ass, leaning back on his hands, breathing heavily.

"Okay," he said to no one in particular. "That sucked. Let’s not do that again for a while."

Serian knelt beside him, a waterskin in her hand. "You must rest. You used too much power."

Mela just stood there, looking at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. "That transformation... that was not your usual power, was it?"

’Here we go with the questions.’ He took the waterskin from Serian and took a long drink before answering. "It was an emergency protocol. My sponsor doesn’t like it when I almost die."

It was a stupid lie, but it was the only one he had.

Mela didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press the issue. "The mission is complete. My duty as an escort is fulfilled. We should return to the Ashen Glade and report to my mother."

"No," Serian said, her voice firm. She looked north, toward the distant, hazy outline of the mountains. "We continue our journey. I must find my sisters."

"Your Highness, after what we just endured, it would be wise to rest and regroup," Mela argued.

"We can rest on the way," Serian countered, her gaze unwavering.

Nox just listened, a new set of black-and-white windows open in his vision.

’Okay, Liona, show me the goods.’

[You have 215 unallocated stat points.]

[You have 1x Mythical Class-Specific Armor Chest.]

[You have 1x Unique Skill Box.]

’Holy shit. 215 points. This is insane.’ He didn’t even have to think about it. His last fight had made his weaknesses painfully clear. He needed more power, and he needed more gas in the tank.

’Dump one hundred into Strength, one hundred into Endurance, and the last fifteen into Stamina.’

A wave of pure, revitalizing energy washed through him. The deep, bone-weary exhaustion was replaced by a thrumming, powerful hum. He felt incredible. He felt like he could punch a mountain into dust.

"I’m with the princess," he said, getting to his feet. He felt a hundred times better than he had a second ago. "No point sitting around. We’re burning daylight."

He then turned his attention to the loot boxes. ’Open them. Both of them.’

[Mythical Class-Specific Armor Chest opened!]

[Congratulations! You have acquired: Armor of the Abyssal Monarch!]

[Description: A set of five armor pieces (Chest, Gauntlets, Greaves, Sabatons, Helm) forged from the solidified essence of a forgotten void. It is a symbiotic armor that bonds with the wearer’s soul, growing in power as its master does.]

[Effects: Massive increase to Strength and Endurance. High resistance to physical and magical damage. Passive: The armor slowly repairs itself by consuming ambient chaotic energy. Set Bonus: Unlocks the ability ’Monarch’s Dominion’.]

’Symbiotic armor? Monarch’s Dominion? Hell yes.’

[Unique Skill Box opened!]

[Congratulations! You have acquired a new paradigm ability!]

[Ability Acquired: Monarch’s Dominion (Active)]

[Description: Project your will onto the battlefield, creating a temporary zone where your authority is absolute. Within this zone, you can manipulate void energy with far greater precision and power. The size and duration of the zone are dependent on the user’s mana and willpower.]

He almost laughed out loud. It wasn’t just a skill; it was a territory--a declaration that for a short time, in a small space, he was the goddamn king.

He looked at the two elves, who were still arguing about the merits of resting versus walking.

"Hey," he cut in, his voice full of a new, unshakable confidence. "Stop arguing. We’re going north. And we’re going my way."

He didn’t wait for a response. He just started walking, a new, powerful stride in his step. The game had changed. He wasn’t just a kid with a lucky power-up anymore.

He was a monarch, and it was time to start building his kingdom.

Serian looked at the back of the human walking away from them. ’He is hiding something again, I know it.’ She was worried, the cold, efficient killer she saw in the spire was not the reckless, angry boy she had grown to care for. ’I hope he has not lost himself completely.’

Mela just let out a frustrated groan. "Fine! We will do it your way, human! But if we are attacked by another army of the dead, I am blaming you!"

She stomped after him, and Serian followed with a quiet sigh, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword.

They walked for three days. The rolling green hills slowly gave way to the rugged, stony foothills of the mountains. Mela and Nox bickered constantly, their arguments a familiar background noise to the journey. Nox would do something reckless, Mela would call him an idiot, he would call her a pointy-eared stick-in-the-mud, and Serian would sigh and tell them both to behave. It was their new normal.

On the evening of the third day, they made camp in a small, sheltered cove at the base of the first true mountain. The air was thin and cold, and the peaks above them were shrouded in mist.

"So," Nox said, poking the campfire with a stick. He had ’won’ the daily argument, so Mela was once again on cooking duty, this time managing to produce something that was only slightly burnt. "This is it, huh? The big, spooky mountains. Where’s this magical sanctuary of yours?"

Serian looked up at the mist-wreathed peaks, a worried frown on her face. "I... I am not sure. I thought I would feel it when we were close, a pull from my sisters’ soul-link. But there is nothing. Just... silence."

Mela looked up from her food, her own expression grim. "The air here is thick with a strange, oppressive mana. It could be interfering with your connection."

Nox felt it too. It was a heavy, ancient power, completely different from the Rot or the Lich King’s necromancy. It felt... old. And tired.

He was about to make a sarcastic comment about their magic GPS being broken when he felt a strange, rhythmic pulse from inside his own chest. It was a soft, warm beat, like a tiny heart.

’The egg?’ he thought, his hand instinctively going to his chest. ’What’s it doing?’

[The hatchling is resonating with a powerful, localized energy source,] Liona’s voice reported calmly in his mind. [The energy signature is draconic in nature.]

’Draconic? Like, a dragon?’ He remembered the cosmic monster that had given him the brand on his hand. ’Is it her? Is she here?’

[Negative. The signature is different. Weaker, but of a similar origin.]

The pulsing in his chest grew stronger, a clear, insistent pull toward one of the higher peaks. It wasn’t a voice in his head, but it was an undeniable feeling. Go that way.

"I know where to go," he said, getting to his feet.

Serian and Mela just stared at him. "How?" Serian asked. "You cannot sense the sanctuary."

"No," he said, pointing up at a jagged, mist-covered peak. "But I can feel something else. And it’s coming from up there."

The two elves exchanged a worried look. "Nox, we do not know what is in these mountains," Serian warned. "We should proceed with caution."

"Caution is for people who have time to waste," he said, already starting to walk toward the mountain path. "I’m going. You two can stay here and talk about it if you want."

"Wait, you idiot human!" Mela yelled, scrambling to her feet. "Do not just wander off! We are a team, remember?!"

He just grinned over his shoulder. "Then try to keep up."

He started climbing. The path was steep and treacherous, but the strange pull from the egg was a constant guide, leading him higher and higher into the mist. He could feel the draconic energy getting stronger, a deep, ancient power that made the very rocks hum.

After an hour of climbing, they came to a massive cave entrance, half-hidden by a frozen waterfall. The air flowing out of it was warm and smelled of sulfur and old magic. The pulsing in his chest was almost a continuous thrum now.

"It’s in there," he said, staring into the darkness of the cave.

"Nox, this is a lair," Mela whispered, her voice tight with fear. "Something powerful lives here. We should not be here."

"I have to go in," he said, his hand on his chest. "I think... I think this is what I’ve been looking for."

He took a step into the cave, and a voice, ancient and powerful and very, very tired, echoed in their minds.

"Who dares disturb my slumber?"