Earth's Greatest Magus Chapter 2692: Golden Fleece

"What is this...?"

The golden fleece shimred faintly in Ery’s hands. At first touch, it felt impossibly soft, like silk, yet beneath the surface was a durability that rivaled divine tal. What truly caught his attention, however, was the pulsating divine energy radiating from it—like a steady heartbeat of so ancient, forgotten power.

VIA’s voice chid in his mind, tinged with reverence.

[Identified: Golden Fleece. Origin—divine beast species: Golden King Ram.]

Information scrolled into his thoughts. The golden King ram—though not the fiercest of godly beasts—was one of the rarest in existence. Gifted with an innate ability of fortune, it was notoriously elusive, slipping away from hunters through twists of improbable luck. Those who pursued it often suffered misfortune themselves—accidents, failures, even death. The rarity alone made its fleece a treasure of unimaginable value.

[Classification: Tier 9 material.]

"Tier 9..."

Ery frowned, his thoughts racing. Luck was one of the most elusive and mysterious laws of the universe. Entire cults existed, claiming thods to asure and manipulate it, but most people revered fortune as one of divine blessings. Materials infused with such essence were priceless—especially to factions devoted to gods. The Nephilim, for example, would pay unimaginable wealth for even a scrap of this fleece, refining it into divine artifacts of blessing and protection.

"I see... so Kronos was keeping this to bargain for favor with the Nephilim."

That was Ery’s first assumption. But as his gaze lingered, he noticed sothing unusual. Faint markings etched across the inner side of the fleece, hidden beneath its golden shimr. Ancient script, almost completely eroded by ti.

"VIA, analyze the pattern."

[Initializing scan... Processing...]

He waited. The markings were fragnted, much of it ruined, but VIA slowly pieced together a conclusion.

[Confird: Temporal-based spell. Function: regenerative.]

Ery stiffened at the revelation. That description imdiately reminded him of Kronos’ most terrifying ability—the power to rewind his form in an instant, undoing wounds as though they had never existed.

Could this fleece have been the key to that secret?

Excitent surged in his chest. He gave VIA more ti to carefully reconstruct the spell. Even fragnts of such knowledge would be invaluable.

Ery looked around the secret room one last ti but found nothing more. It seed Kronos had truly left none of his deepest secrets behind in these vaults. Ery couldn’t help but let out a sigh, his thoughts already turning toward the greater mysteries of Earth that remained hidden from him.

After a mont of reflection, Ery realized that if such knowledge was truly dangerous, it would most likely be contained within one of the three remaining ssages from his future self—those he had yet to unlock. His anticipation burned; he could hardly wait to uncover them all.

Exiting Kronos’ vault, Ery stepped into the golden courtyard. At once, he felt the intense light energy suffused with temporal law washing over him. The spectral grand magus hovering at his side projected a calm thought into his mind. Since they had not forcefully broken the domain, Ery could actually absorb and cultivate this energy to deepen his comprehension of temporal law.

Calculating the rate of degradation, VIA estimated that the domain would hold for approximately forty days before it finally collapsed.

That was more than enough ti to consu and refine most of the cosmic energy it contained.

Ery did not forget to express his gratitude to the grand magus who had made this all possible.

Vayarel gave a faint smile. "Don’t mind ... You helped and my teacher. This is rely returning the favor."

As the grand magus turned away, Ery noticed the spectral form flicker and weaken. Vayarel must have spent a great deal of his remaining essence to lend him such aid.

The thought stirred a quiet resolve in Ery—he would find so way to repay him. Yet for now, other matters pressed upon him.

Ery returned to the Khaos Hub to et the newest guest of his domain.

Where once there had been only two intersecting chambers, now three distinct halls sprawled outward, each radiating its own ominous aura.

Waiting at the entrance was Morgana. She remained bound to the hub’s vicinity, yet even in that restriction, her presence was commanding. Her crimson eyes glimred in the gloom, and the faint trace of her cosmic fla lingered in the air around her.

"He’s willing to talk yet?" Ery asked as he approached.

Morgana gave a curt nod.

A faint smile tugged at Ery’s lips. "Thank you for softening him up."

With a flick of his hand, the heavy door of bone groaned open. Beyond it lood the colossal figure of Daurgothoth, the Dracolich—guardian of the Death Gate.

The massive skeletal dragon lifted its skull-like head, hollow sockets blazing with ghostly blue fire. Frost poured from between its jagged fangs with every breath, coating the stone floor beneath it with a thin sheen of ice.

"Are you comfortable with your new residence?" Ery asked evenly.

The dracolich’s answer ca as a thunderous snarl that chilled the chamber.

Ery smiled faintly, unbothered. "Well, I think she did an excellent job. You’ll be seeing her often."

The dragon’s hollow chest rattled with a sound halfway between a growl and a laugh.

Ery let out a quiet sigh. He knew this would not be easy. The guardians of the gates—Killgragah, Chututlu, and now Daurgothoth—were all proud, ancient beings. Possessing their gates did not an possessing their loyalty. Without their acceptance, the true power of the gates could never be wielded in full.

But Daurgothoth was proving far more difficult than the others. The reason was clear: Ery had slain his chosen champion. The dracolich has been refusing to talk to him since.

That was why Ery had turned to Morgana. Her cosmic fla, bane to the undead, was uniquely suited to subduing the dragon’s arrogance. Still, even with her efforts, the dracolich remained obstinate.

Ery stepped forward, eting the cold blaze of the dragon’s eyes without flinching. "You should give us a chance to know each other."

The response was not words but action. The dracolich reared back, its skeletal wings unfurling, and unleashed a blast of frost that filled the chamber with deadly shards of ice.

What followed was not a conversation but a clash.

Ery summoned his strength, weaving spells and darting across the icy floor, while the dracolich’s talons and breath assaulted him relentlessly. Unlike Killgragah or Chututlu, this guardian did not test him with restraint—it sought to crush him outright.

Minutes stretched like hours as the chamber shook from their battle. At last, Ery found himself pressed to the ground, his defenses shattered by the sheer ferocity of the dracolich’s onslaught. He exhaled heavily, frost trailing from his lips.

"Alright... good fight," he admitted, forcing himself back to his feet. He t the dragon’s stare once more and gave a determined nod. "Let’s do this again tomorrow."

The dracolich’s jaws clamped shut with a sound like grinding stone. The blue fire in its eyes flickered with sothing between disdain and grudging recognition.

Ery turned away, already planning his next action.