Aganon waited for Vlad’s response but did not harbor high hopes. He knew that Runic Masters were often protective of their techniques, especially if they had achieved a high level of expertise. However, to his surprise, Vlad rely smiled and nodded in agreent.
"Sure," Vlad said. "We can settle everything once we reach the fortress." A trace of a grin spread across his face as he spoke. While the Inferno Cot Runic Set was indeed a remarkable creation, Vlad did not feel the need to guard it jealously.
He understood it was nearing the upper limit of its potential, and he was already planning to develop newer, more powerful runic sets. If he could earn both wealth and the favor of a Graecian noble in the process, so much the better.
Aganon’s eyes lit up, and a hint of excitent—tinged with greed—sparked there. His gaze flickered across Vlad’s armor, taking in the way it channeled lightning and fire so seamlessly.
"By any chance," he asked, "are you also an Artificer?"
Vlad gave a short laugh and shook his head. "No, I’m afraid I’m not. Just learning runes and keeping up with my own cultivation has already pushed my limits. There’s simply not enough ti to master another profession."
Zalasar, along with the surrounding soldiers, nodded as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. Professions were undoubtedly valuable, yet one’s personal power was paramount in a realm as dangerous as this. Only those who had reached their limits or failed to understand the importance of raw strength would neglect their cultivation entirely.
"The one who crafted my armor isn’t ," Vlad continued, pointing to the small yellow cat with white stripes perched on his shoulder. "He’s the genius behind it."
Aganon turned to Jormugandr in genuine surprise. During the recent battle, he had witnessed the cat’s formidable combat prowess, yet he had never imagined that the creature also possessed advanced crafting abilities. Typically, magic beasts who excelled in battle did not devote themselves to intricate professions, especially not in such a specialized field.
Jormugandr noticed the fleeting prejudice in Aganon’s expression and raised his feline head, his voice taking on a faintly imperious tone.
"Kid, be careful with your assumptions—especially when speaking to your elders."
Vlad nearly burst out laughing. Jormugandr was very young, no more than thirteen, but cat years wet faster than human years, so in a certain way, he was right to refer to himself as an elder. Of course, a debate could arise above that, but Vlad refrained from comnting and allowed his companion to continue.
"I craft the armor the ’Boss’ carries," Jormugandr said, flicking an ear in Vlad’s direction, "but I’m not an Artificer. I’m a Rank 3 Alchemy Master."
With a casual wave of his paw, Jormugandr summoned two items into the air: a small tallic sphere the size of a child’s fist and a vial of red liquid. Aganon’s eyes widened in astonishnt. He sensed the intricate magical matrix inside the sphere and could tell it was designed to detonate with enough force to kill weaker Guardians in an instant. While the sphere held limited value for soone of Sage-tier strength, it would be an extrely potent trump card for a High Champion.
As for the vial of red liquid, it was even more impressive. Aganon picked up on an amalgam of different devil bloodlines swirling within, and he guessed that if a Sage-level cultivator consud it, they would recover from wounds at a terrifying pace. The synergy of advanced alchemy was evident in that concoction.
Aganon wasted no ti bowing with respect. "Thank you for the lesson, Master Cat. I’ll be more mindful of my prejudices in the future."
Zalasar, riding a short distance away, watched with a gentle smile. He felt pride at Aganon’s maturity. A noble who could acknowledge his mistakes and learn from them without letting arrogance cloud his judgnt would go far in the future—sothing even a grizzled commander could appreciate.
In response, Jormugandr’s whiskered face spread into a smug grin, though his eyes glead with cunning. "You have a good head on your shoulders, kid. Speaking of my talents, if you want to buy the recipes for my alchemical creations, I’m willing to sell them. But my knowledge is far more convoluted than the Boss’s runic diagrams, so I’d require a seventy-five percent markup above market value."
Aganon nearly laughed out loud at the cat’s unabashed greed but did not dismiss the offer. On the contrary, he nodded eagerly. "Seventy-five percent above market price. Agreed." Wealth was sothing Aganon had in abundance, and he was not about to let this opportunity slip away.
With that arrangent established, the journey resud in a more relaxed, cordial atmosphere. Over the next several hours, the caravan pressed on through rolling hills streaked with ash, the powerful warhorses thundering along at speeds exceeding a thousand kiloters per hour. The shifting skies—filled with crimson-tinged clouds and sporadic lightning—served as a constant reminder that the Land of the Three Calamities was never truly safe.
As they continued, the travelers’ attention gradually shifted to the horizon. Towering walls ca into view, rising to a height of nearly three hundred ters. Intricate magical matrices and runic lines flickered across the fortress ramparts, suggesting layers of defensive wards formidable enough to obliterate even high-level combatants should they try to force their way in. Jormugandr’s eyes went wide at the sheer scale of it.
"That wall alone could flatten a small army," he muttered to Vlad telepathically. "And that’s before we consider the rest of its defenses."
Vlad silently agreed, his A.I. Chip already scanning and estimating the fortress’s dinsions. Judging by the circumference of the outer ramparts, the structure likely encompassed an area comparable to the entire Xaos Country back on Terra.
More intriguing was the phenonon above the fortress—the sky was illuminated by a radiant golden fire so intense that it banished darkness from the imdiate region. Though it was night, the fortress grounds shone as brightly as midday.
"They call this Golden Sky Fortress for a reason," Vlad murmured, awe creeping into his voice. "It’s no exaggeration. The sky literally glows with golden flas."
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