Chapter 92 Xavier- POV
A few minutes after a decent breakfast later. The morning mist had barely begun to lift when the horizon erupted.
A series of rhythmic explosions, the Black-Iron Ravens’ diversion, thundered from the East Gate, drawing the palace guard away like moths to a flame.
"Now," I hissed.
We didn't run; we blurred.
Thanks to the Celestial Tether from the night before, the "Sync" between us was effortless.
I caught Elena by the waist, my boots hitting the marble railing of the balcony as we launched ourselves into the Treasury courtyard.
The "Solar Eye" above us began to rotate, its golden iris glowing with a lethal heat.
"Thirty seconds," Elena whispered, her hand gripping mine.
I moved with the raw, explosive power of a man who had spent years training for a war he never got to fight. I didn't just run; I leaped, using my mana to propel us across the pressure-sensitive tiles.
Each time we landed, it was in the "blind spot" of the sweeping golden light. Twenty seconds left.
We reached the Vault door, a three-story slab of solid, enchanted obsidian. It was etched with the names of every Drakmor King, a final insult to my lineage.
"The blood-seal," I said, slicing my palm and slamming it against the center of the door. The obsidian groaned, the runes turning a deep, royal blue, but the lock held. "It’s been tampered with! The Council added a secondary mana-mesh!"
"Move!" Elena commanded.
She stepped forward, the emerald ring flaring with a violent, sea-foam light. She didn't pick the lock; she overwhelmed it.
She channeled the raw "cheat-skill" energy of the Void-Anchor directly into the obsidian. The sound was like a mountain cracking.
Ten seconds.
The door shivered and slid open, revealing a cavernous hall filled with mountains of gold, stacks of platinum ingots, and rows of glowing mana-relics. The wealth of Drakmor.
"Take it all!" I roared, drawing my heavy broadsword as the first alarm siren began to shriek across the palace grounds.
The Solar Eye above the courtyard turned red. The invisibility failed.
"Xavier, look out!"
A squad of "Silver Sun" Elite Guards—the Council’s personal killers, burst from the side corridors, their spears glowing with lightning magic. I stepped in front of Elena, my blade a whirlwind of silver steel.
"Do the work!" I yelled over the din of clashing metal. "I’ll hold the door!"
Behind me, the Treasury became a scene from a dream. Elena stood in the center of the vault, her arms outstretched.
The emerald ring didn't just shimmer; it created a literal vortex. A hurricane of gold coins began to swirl around her, a golden cyclone being sucked into the tiny green stone on her finger.
The sheer mass of the wealth created a gravitational pull that rattled the very foundations of the building.
CLANG!
I parried a lightning strike, the force of the blow vibrating up my arms. I kicked a guard back into the courtyard and sheared through the spear of another.
I was a ghost king in a dance of death, protecting the woman who was stealing the future.
"Almost... there!" Elena’s voice was strained, her face pale from the effort of the "Sync."
The floor beneath us began to crack. The sheer weight of the gold moving into the subpocket was warping the local space-time.
"The Vault is collapsing!" I shouted, cutting down the final guard of the first wave. "Elena, we have to go!"
"Done!"
She collapsed toward me, and I caught her just as the last pile of platinum disappeared into the ring. The Royal Treasury, once the proudest room in the kingdom, was now a hollow stone shell.
"Hold on!"
I didn't wait for the stairs. I grabbed Elena, tucked her against my chest, and channeled every remaining ounce of my royal mana into my legs.
We didn't run out; we exploded out, shattering the stained-glass windows of the East Wing and plunging sixty feet into the palace moat just as the first squadron of mages reached the Vault.
The cold water hit us like a physical blow. We swam beneath the surface, the chaos of the alarms muffled by the depths. When we finally surfaced in the overgrown drainage tunnels of the Lower District, I dragged Elena onto the muddy bank.
She was shivering, her charcoal-grey armor slick with water, but she was laughing. She held up her hand, where the emerald ring sat.
It was no longer shimmering; it was glowing with a deep, satisfied thrum, its light illuminating the dark tunnel.
"We have it," she panted, her eyes bright with victory. "We have everything, Xavier."
I leaned my head back against the damp stone, my lungs burning, my hand still gripping the hilt of my sword.
I looked at her, this beautiful, dangerous thief who had just bankrupted a corrupt empire in under three minutes.
"Then let the Council keep their empty palace," I rasped, pulling her into a fierce, wet embrace.
"They wanted a king with no power. Now they have a kingdom with no gold. Let's see how long their 'loyalty' lasts when the paychecks stop coming."