Earth's Greatest Magus

Chapter 2785: Loot

Ideas were exchanged, conclusions were reached, and soon everyone had their roles.

Kayelin would return to the apothecary to refine new recipes.

Rosia would head back to Terra and prepare a group of warriors willing to migrate.

Tessa would begin contacting the local authorities, laying the groundwork for Earth’s future faction advancement.

Annara and Nyx were assigned to survey the planet Emery had chosen, gather intelligence, and discreetly prepare the first branch of Nyx’s establishment there.

Just as Emery was about to dismiss the group, Gwen stepped forward.

”I’d like to contribute as well... let me go with them.”

Her voice was steady, but Emery hesitated. Gwen had experience managing a fief and dealing with peoples, but she had yet to break into the magus realm—and her health was concerning.

”It’s a dangerous place,” Emery said quietly.

”You need someone like me,” she insisted. ”A non-magus can blend in. I can help.”

Emery saw the resolve in her expression—the same stubborn spark she had always possessed. After a moment, he nodded and assigned Livi to shadow her as protection.

One by one, the women dispersed to begin their preparations, leaving Emery with a rare moment of quiet. He took a deep breath, stepped out of the warm lounge, and made his way around the long marble corridor toward the back of the estate.

Snow drifted lazily from the gray skies above, settling gently over a warehouse. Spread across the chamber were heaps of metal crates and piles of shimmering raw materials. Ores, crystals, spirit-infused metals, arrays of broken constructs. This was Emery’s share from Randhall’s tomb: twenty-five percent of the treasure—six hundred million spirit stones’ worth of materials.

And in the center of it all, bent over a half-disassembled bronze golem, was a slim young man working with the intensity of someone defusing a bomb.

Vic’s hands moved quickly and with surprising confidence, guiding delicate tools inside the rib-like plates of the construct. He didn’t notice Emery’s approach until the latter’s shadow fell over the metal parts.

”Ah! Sir Emery—my apologies! I didn’t see you coming.”

Vic scrambled to his feet, nearly dropping his tools. His face was smeared with grease and dust, his eyes slightly bloodshot from lack of sleep—but his excitement was unmistakable.

Emery’s gaze swept across the scattered constructs. More than three dozens bronze golems lay in various states of disrepair; some missing limbs, others cracked or warped. Nearby, four silver-tier golems—Randhall’s elite models—sat like silent giants, their chests open and their cores exposed. These had been part of Emery’s personal share. But judging by their condition, the expedition had nearly destroyed them before they could be retrieved.

”How is the work progressing?” Emery asked.

Vic brightened immediately—he had been waiting for this question.

”Very well, sir! Thanks to the schematics you provided, I was able to repair several of the bronze units.” He paused, glancing at the silver constructs behind him. His enthusiasm dimmed slightly. ”But the silver ones... those are another story.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly hesitant.

”They’re extremely complicated, far beyond anything I’ve handled before. Their spirit channels are fractured, and some internal formation plates are completely missing. I—well...” He swallowed. ”I’ll need additional parts. Rare ones. And expensive.”

He bowed his head, almost ashamed.

”If you can provide them, Sir Emery, I believe I can fix at least three of them. It will take a month or two... but I can do it.”

Emery walked past him, running his fingers along the cold metal of one silver golem’s arm. Even broken, the craftsmanship was extraordinary—flexible alloys, dense core channels, micro-runes hidden beneath plating.

”Very well. Ask Nyx for the parts you need. She will procure them.”

Vic’s face lit up instantly. ”Yes, Sir!”

Emery studied the young man for a moment before speaking.”I haven’t properly rewarded you for your contribution. Tell me—what do you want?”

Vic froze, eyes widening in panic. ”N–No, sir. I dare not ask for anything. I’m already grateful you allowed me to study Randhall’s notes. That alone is more than I deserve. I... I should be the one thanking you for the experience.”

Emery let out a long, silent sigh.

This boy... why does my daughter like someone this naïve?

Vic’s earnestness bordered on foolishness, yet Emery couldn’t deny the young magus’s dedication and talent.

Still, Emery refused to owe anyone—especially someone who was close to his daughter.

”When you’re done repairing the golems,” Emery said, his voice firm, ”you may take half of them.”

Vic’s jaw dropped. ”H–Half?! Sir, I can’t— I mean—those are—”

”That is my reward to you.” Emery insisted.

Only then did Vic allow himself a shy, almost childlike smile, excitement flashing in his eyes at the thought of having such powerful constructs. Emery almost regretted giving him toys that might get him killed.

”There is something else I need your assistance with,” Emery added.

Vic straightened immediately. ”Yes, sir. Anything.”

With a subtle wave of his hand, Emery pulled out another piles of items; parts and pieces of puppets. Vic took only a moment before he recognized them.

”These... these are Vashka’s puppets!”

”What’s left of them,” Emery corrected.

Most of Vashka’s puppets had disintegrated after defeat, but Emery had salvaged several prototypes from within her aperture domain. Along with them came dozens of documents—Vashka’s diagrams, rune matrices, and schematics—together with her most fearsome inheritance: the Thousand Strings Technique, the secret law that allowed her to manipulate an army of puppets as if they were one body.

Emery tossed him a storage ring. ”There are more materials inside—spare parts, cores, threads, and dozens of items I don’t recognize... Inspect them. See if any can be used to refine them.”

Vic swallowed hard. ”Y–yes, sir.”

Emery left him with the pile and allowed the young magus to study them. Both the golems and the puppets would occupy him for weeks—more than enough to keep the young man busy until Emery’s daughter returned to fetch him.

Only then did Emery finally have the time to turn his focus on his personal matters. He activated his domain and the world around him folded, shadows pulling him inward and arrived at the heart of the dark mountain.

A vast chamber opened before him, lit by soft ethereal flames. Rows of pedestals, display stands, and reinforced vault shelves filled the room. Dozens of artifacts shimmered in different colors—some humming with formation light, others releasing waves of dormant power.

The majestic winged artifact, [Icarus Wing], rested proudly on its own platform, its metallic feathers gleaming with a faint golden sheen. The defensive treasure [Fourfold Mirror] and spirit weapon, the [Chromacircle Ring] emitted a soft rhythmic pulse from its stand, while the mysterious [Seven Myriad Mountains Paintings] hung along the back wall, its brushstrokes shifting subtly as though the mountains themselves were breathing.

This chamber was Emery’s private treasure room.

Today, his attention was for the newest additions;

Resting on a pedestal of polished obsidian was a set of dark armor, its surface etched with faint violet runes that flickered like embers. Beside it, suspended by a formation circle, was a pendant of midnight-black metal. Interconnected runes crawled along its edges, pulsing softly like a sluggish heartbeat.

The two legacy of Randhall the Machinist.