[You have reached Level 56!]
[War Beast Transport Tool No. 1 – Devour Growth activated!]
[Level +5.]
[Level +5!]
[All attributes +20%.]
[All attributes +20%!]
A Saint Lord-Class fire dragon devoured.
The aftermath?
A sea of dragon blood, piles of rare materials, and a haul of top-tier loot.
ROOOAR!!
Crimson Lizard King burst from the cavern, soaring into the sky, unleashing a victorious roar that echoed for miles.
[Ancient Shadow of the Dragonbane – Level 67]
[Domain Lord-Class War Beast]
[HP: 280 million]
[Attack Power: 25,200]
[Critical Rate: 65%]
[Skills: Doom Dragon Breath, Body Domination Regeneration, Awakening of the Ancient Will (Lv.1), Blazing Meteor Shower, Devour Growth, (Slot Available)]
Seated on the ground, Orson activated [Meditation], restoring his mana as he glanced up at Crimson Lizard King gleefully tearing through the sky.
Its stats had skyrocketed, with Devour Growth now reaching 70% efficiency.
This beast had already surpassed most Saint Lord-Class dragons of the same level.
Its wingspan had expanded to a monstrous 500 meters, transforming it into a floating island of darkness.
Faint golden runes shimmered across its scales, before slowly absorbing into its body.
Its form became leaner, sleeker, yet still menacingly powerful.
Even its once coarse, brutal features had shifted—there was something elegant, almost sinisterly refined about it now.
Orson blinked.
“…Weird. Why do I feel like this thing is starting to look… good?”
Then it hit him.
Shit.
This was the collapse of his aesthetic standards.
Too much time in the game…
At this rate, he’d lose interest in real women and start admiring dragons.
“Nope. Nope. No way. Not happening.”
He shook his head hard, trying to snap himself out of it.
“Enough flexing. Get down here and collect the loot.”
His voice was impatient as he waved Crimson Lizard King back down.
The massive dragon let out a low, reluctant growl, before its eyes dimmed slightly, the clarity in them fading.
In its place?
That same, dumb yet vicious expression—as if it had momentarily forgotten everything and gone back to being a killing machine.
It lowered its massive head obediently, crouching before Orson in submission.
“Before the Fire Dragon King died, it called out to something. Who was it talking about?”
Orson’s tone sharpened as he studied Crimson Lizard King’s reaction.
A flicker of panic flashed in the dragon’s blood-red eyes—so faint it was almost unnoticeable.
Its scales bristled slightly.
Orson raised an eyebrow.
And then—he just shrugged.
“Forget it. Don’t know why I’m even asking you—your dragon-speak is practically preschool-level.”
Crimson Lizard King’s vocabulary was limited to:
“Invincible!” “Eternal!”
That was about it.
If it had anything useful to say, Orson would have been shocked.
Ignoring the matter, he returned to the cavern’s depths to sweep up the battlefield.
[You have obtained: Divine Dragon Heart x2!]
[You have obtained: Dragon Crystals x2!]
[You have obtained: Saint Lord Dragon Horns x4!]
[You have obtained: Dragon Scales x50!]
…
A mountain of top-tier dragon materials.
It was true—every part of a dragon was valuable.
These resources alone were enough to craft two full sets of Forbidden Magic equipment.
Yet, with [Archaic Star Iron] in his possession, standard holy-tier materials were no longer all that exciting to Orson.
He scooped up everything, then checked his inventory.
[Forbidden Magic Weapon – Level 90: Thief Saint – Che Guevara’s Dagger of Greed!]
[Class: Rogue]
[Item Unidentified – Attributes Unknown.]
“…Huh?”
Orson froze.
Holy shit.
A Level 90 Forbidden Magic weapon?!
Even for a Saint Lord-Class dragon, the drop rate for something this insane was ridiculously low.
The fact that he actually got one?
Pure. God-tier. Luck.
A mischievous grin spread across Orson’s face.
Opening World Chat, he watched as people spammed their latest loot sales.
World Chat:
HighHeelsGirl: “Legendary gear from a Level 50 dungeon! Selling [Frost Spirit Enchanted Armor] for Archers—flat price: 30,000 gold! Avoid auction fees!”
Player1: “WTF?! Legendary armor from a six-man Level 45 dungeon?! Damn, what kind of luck is that?”
Player2: “HighHeelsGirl, hold it for me! Check your DMs!”
Player3: “I’ll take it! Meet up for direct trade!”
Player4: “Nah, I’m buying. Back off.”
The Imperial Auction House charged steep fees, so players often traded directly in World Chat.
A Legendary Light Armor at a reasonable price?
Instant bidding war.
Orson bit back a chuckle—and casually dropped a bomb.
Orgod: [Thief Saint – Che Guevara’s Dagger of Greed]
For three whole seconds, the chat froze.
Then—
A FLOOD OF “??????” SPAMMED THE CHAT.
Millions of players were hit with psychic damage.
“Wait… what?! A Forbidden Magic rogue weapon?!”
DemonEmperor: “Price?”
ShatteredCrown: “Name a number. Make me regret my life choices.”
Player5: “Are you guys insane?! It’s a Level 90 Forbidden Magic weapon! Are you planning to pass this down to your grandchildren?!”
Player6: “And it’s unidentified. Only a Master-Class appraiser can even glimpse the stats. Just getting it ID’d will cost at least 50,000 gold.”
With that single revelation, Orson’s DMs exploded.
Yet—surprisingly, few were actually asking for the price.
Most wanted to know where he got it.
Could they form a raid party and farm it themselves?
Orson, ever the honest businessman, sent out a mass reply.
“Killed a Saint Lord-Class dragon. It dropped by accident.”
World Chat:
“GTFO.”
“Stay away from me, you RNG-abusing freak.”
“I HATE YOU.”
Orson snickered, watching the sheer, collective salt flood chat.
Private DM:
Blank: “Sell it to me. Next time I see you, I’ll kill you two times less.”
Orson: “…You say that like you could actually kill me.”
Blank: “Where are you? I need to talk to you in person.”
Orson raised an eyebrow.
“She’s acting serious? That’s new.”
Orson: “Secret dungeon. You can’t get in, and I can’t leave for now.”
Blank: “Sell it to me. You have one minute to decide.”
Blank: “Otherwise…”
Blank: “I’ll come to your place for a long, deep conversation.”
Orson blinked.
This chick was straight-up blushing through the screen.
She refused to admit she was basically threatening him with seduction.
Orson laughed.
“Try it, and I’ll make sure James never walks out of Pondenorlin City again.”