Kronos’ personal hall stretched nearly fifty ters long, built from radiant materials that shimred with an otherworldly luster. Every inch of it scread wealth and arrogance. The walls glowed faintly as if they themselves were polished gemstones, while the air inside carried a crisp fragrance, like incense lingering from centuries past. This was no simple chamber—it was a shrine to Kronos’ greed and vanity.
The hall displayed the personality of its forr master in vivid detail. Kronos had not only hoarded treasures—he had turned his obsession into art. Each shelf, statue, and pedestal was arranged to show not only his power, but his pride in displaying it. And now, all of it was about to fall into Ery’s hands. The irony of it made Ery’s lips curve faintly.
On the left side stretched a wall lined with silver shelves, each holding rows of artifacts. Ery quickly counted more than thirty on display. They were organized with deliberate precision, each artifact mounted as though it were a piece in a grand museum.
The right wall mirrored it, except here the shelves were filled with tools, tos, and glowing crystals. Between the two walls stood yet another statue of Kronos, this one carved with a torch held high, a permanent symbol of his self-proclaid brilliance.
But the true heart of the hall lay in the center. Two massive wooden chests, each nearly five ters long, rested proudly upon a raised platform.
The chests themselves were crafted from rare spiritual wood, their polished grain emanating a faint fragrance. Despite their ancient age, the color had not faded, nor had their sheen diminished—a sign that they were reinforced with preservation arrays.
Ery approached them slowly, his eyes narrowing. With a wave of his sleeve, the lids of both chests swung open with a heavy creak.
The first chest revealed a mountain of glittering spirit stones. Several hundred mid-grade stones pulsed with vibrant energy, like hundreds of glowing suns packed tightly together.
The second chest was even more valuable. Inside, stacked neatly row upon row, were boxes of varying sizes. When Ery extended his sense, he discovered they were filled with rare cultivation materials, unique herbs, and precious pills.
Hovering nearby, Vayarel let out a low whistle. "The owner must have been a faction leader, no?"
Ery gave a slight nod.
As a faction leader, Kronos had amassed resources from hundreds of subordinates. Compared to a typical grand magus, his domain was overflowing.
And yet, Ery’s lips curved again. "Still nothing compared to the Karat vault."
Vayarel chuckled, his spectral face briefly lit with mirth. "Ah, you’ve seen that one, hm? Yes... My teacher’s vault was on a different level entirely."
Ery didn’t linger on the chests. He turned toward the shelves of artifacts. His divine sense swept across them, aided by VIA’s careful analysis. Each artifact was confird as tier six—low to high grade—each worth several million spirit stones. A few artifacts were unidentifiable, their shapes strange and their energy alien, and these imdiately drew Ery’s attention the most.
However, most of these artifacts would not be of much help to him anymore. With his current strength, even tier-6 artifacts wouldn’t improve his combat power by much. Still, each of them remained valuable items he could gift to his companions or trade for things he truly needed.
When he combined the shelves with the contents of the chests, Ery estimated the hall contained wealth exceeding two billion spirit stones. For an ordinary magus, this was a fortune beyond imagination. For Ery, however, it was not the wealth itself that mattered, but the secrets hidden within.
He turned away from the artifacts, his steps deliberate as he crossed to the opposite shelves where the tos and crystals awaited. These shelves brimd not with glittering treasures but with knowledge. Ancient tos bound in dragonhide, mory crystals filled with glowing records, even fragnts of scrolls wrapped in protective seals.
Ery reached out and plucked a crystal from its shelf, channeling his spirit energy. A flood of information rushed into his mind—techniques, spells. Most of them were powerful, but only on the level of the magus realm. A few were tier seven spells, and while impressive, they did not spark Ery’s imdiate interest.
More importantly, among the stacks of crystals were detailed records of Kronos’ faction: lists of assets, business dealings, missions, and treaties. Ery flipped through them one after another, searching for what mattered most.
Information about Earth.
His heart skipped a beat when he found the right set—mory crystal labeled as logs. He poured his divine sense into them, quickly absorbing the records. They began from two millennia ago, during Kronos’ service as King Anu’s right hand, then moved through his rise to becoming Earth’s caretaker.
But the deeper Ery read, the more his expression darkened.
"This is... strange."
The logs contained nothing he hadn’t already learned. Daily reports, political dealings, notes on cultivation, even accounts of petty disputes. But there was no hidden knowledge, no classified records, and no buried secrets of Earth’s past.
It was as if Kronos had gone out of his way to ensure that nothing truly dangerous or valuable was kept here.
Could it be paranoia? Did Kronos trust nothing, not even his own domain?
Ery’s doubts deepened with each scan. Not only were there no classified details, there were no top-grade techniques, no truly high-grade treasures, no temporal spells. This wasn’t a true repository of Kronos’ wealth. It was only a facade.
The real vault had to be hidden elsewhere.
When he turned, he noticed Vayarel. The spectral grand magus had been smiling faintly the entire ti, as though waiting for Ery to catch on.
"I was surprised it took you this long," Vayarel said smoothly. "Of course, there is another room."
Ery narrowed his eyes. "Show ."
With calm confidence, Vayarel drifted toward the statue at the far end of the hall—the massive sculpture of Kronos holding the torch. The grand magus’ soul form flicked his finger and gave the torch a sharp pull.
The sound of ancient chanisms filled the chamber. Grinding stone and clicking gears echoed as the wall split apart.
A hidden passage opened.
Ery’s eyes lit up. The air inside the secret chamber was different—it pulsed with power, raw and unrestrained, like the very essence of the cosmos had been locked away.
They stepped inside.
The first thing that drew Ery’s attention were two objects mounted on the walls. They glimred with pulsating energy, radiating like stars against the dim chamber.
The first was a majestic pair of wings, stretched nearly eight ters wide. At first glance, they appeared tallic, gleaming with a silver sheen, but the closer Ery looked, the more he realized they weren’t cold and rigid—they shimred with softness, like feathers woven of light.
A floating inscription revealed its na:
[Icarus Wing]
It was a high-grade tier seven mobility artifact.
Vayarel froze in awe, his spectral form trembling slightly. "This... this is divine. Even if you could only activate a fraction of its power, you could move faster than a three-cosmos magus. And if fully activated... even a supre being would fail to catch you."
Ery’s breath quickened. He recalled his desperate battle against Talaro on the Valaryn planet and how he had been forced to retreat ti and again. With such a wing at his command, combined with his spatial mastery, he would never again need to run from a stronger foe. He could outfly them all.
Yet his excitent dimd quickly. A thought gnawed at him.
If this artifact was so powerful, why hadn’t Kronos used it?
He extended his divine sense deeper into the wings. The answer soon beca clear—it was unfinished. The artifact had not been properly refined, missing a few critical components. It also required soone proficient in both wind and lightning laws to wield its full potential.
Even so, Ery’s eyes burned with anticipation. One day, he promised himself, he would make this artifact his own.
Then he turned to the second object. It was far less grand in appearance, almost underwhelming in comparison to the radiant wings. It appeared to be nothing more than a piece of golden fabric, hanging limp against the wall. But its aura... its aura rippled with the unmistakable touch of divinity.
It was a fleece woven of golden threads that seed to glimr with life itself.
Ery took a sharp breath, reading its na.
The Golden Fleece.
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