As the dust settled, the battlefield was left eerily silent. The towering skeletal behemoths had crumbled into nothing, and the remnants of the Death Lich's army dissipated into wisps of dark mist. The only thing left standing was the throne, now cracked and barely holding together.
Leon stretched his arms. "Alright, loot time."
Milim rolled her eyes. "You say that like we're playing a game."
Roselia walked over to what remained of the Death Lich's throne and raised a hand, her Golden Magus Legacy activating as a golden rune appeared beneath her feet. The throne trembled before shattering completely, revealing a hidden altar beneath it.
A dark crystal pulsed in the center of the altar, surrounded by floating Lich Cores—glowing spheres of concentrated undead mana.
"Jackpot," Roman muttered, stepping forward. "These cores can be used to craft high-tier necromantic artifacts… or fuel powerful dark magic rituals."
