About time, I think to myself as I lift my face from the ground and watch Myrthaxya sink her claws into the yeti's shoulders.

The female dragon isn't very large, but she radiates immense power. Even Vincent, who can't sense Ronan's dark magic in her though he can feel the water magic, is staring at her with a mixture of awe and respect.

Myrthaxya has her claws buried in the yeti, immobilizing its shoulder joints. The boss is thrashing around, making violent movements with its back, trying to break free.

Not a chance.

That yeti has no idea who it's dealing with.

I smile when, in response, Myrthaxya opens her jaws and immediately bites down on its head, ripping it clean off with a powerful twist of her skeletal neck vertebrae.

"Yes, that's it!" I shout excitedly.

She'd sunk her teeth in just below the eyes and nose, and near the nape at the back of the boss's head. When she tears it off, the skull is severed at that point, leaving the lower jaw still attached to the creature's neck. The massive body takes a few moments to collapse, even though it's already dead.

I'm not into gore, but my exclamation was pure excitement at seeing the quick and brutal way the dragon finished off the dungeon boss.

I watch Ronan running toward her to thank her and say hello. I approach too, escorted by Bob, Joe, and Tom. The naga releases itself from the yeti's corpse, badly wounded.

Vincent has remained seated on the ground, probably processing what he just witnessed.

The dragoness, powerful as she is, has the same black and blue mist flowing through her bones as it did when Ronan awakened her. Near her, the air is charged with electricity, like when a thunderstorm approaches.

Several system notifications appear in my vision. I wave them away; I'll check them later.

I hear Ronan talking to her, then falling silent as he listens to her response in his head. Vincent remains frozen.

"It is fortunate that it is Vincent and not Darius. I would not want him harassing Myrthaxya with demands to ride her."

The comment seems to snap Vincent out of his stupor, and he blinks in confusion.

I greet the dragon and thank her as well, then return to where the prince is and extend a hand to help him up.

"Bianca," he whispers to me, "you're both acting completely normal."

"Of course," I give him a baffled look.

What does he expect us to do?

"It's a fucking skeleton dragon."

"Oh, is that what you mean? She was buried on the second floor," I won't tell him where, "and Ronan, since he can sense death, found her bones. Come on, let me introduce you. Despite being undead, she's intelligent, like Joe and his two friends. She retains her soul."

My gloved hand gently tugs at his. I feel a flutter in my stomach when I realize how familiar I'm being with him. Whatever, Vincent has just been introduced to one of our circle's secrets; he better start getting used to it.

"Myrthaxya, this is Vincent, a friend," I tell the dragon.

She inclines her head in acknowledgment. She doesn't talk to me like she does with Ronan.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"It's an honor, powerful dragoness," he says respectfully, realizing both from her name and the way they refer to her that she's female.

"Vincent," I tell him, "you have to keep this secret. We don't want to scare the kingdom with Ronan's new acquisition. We're going to leave her here for a while."

"Where?"

"Hidden and buried in the forest."

"Bianca..." he hesitates, somewhere between bewildered and horrified, "are you keeping a dragon hidden by burying it?"

"Sure, why not?" Ronan interjects. "She has already been dead and buried for centuries. I know that a little more will not bother her."

The necromancer reaches out and strokes the bones of the majestic creature's head. The mixture of blue and black flames in her eye sockets seems to burn brighter.

She's imposing, extremely so, and with Ronan at her side, even more so. Sure, I just watched the dragon finish off a boss that was giving us trouble with its brutal regeneration in a single bite, but I've also seen my friend in action. I know that if he unleashed his full power, he could become a terrifying final boss with an army of undead at his feet.

"By the way, Ronan, now that I think about it, didn't you cast exhaust on the boss?"

Because I didn't see it.

"No, my lady. My level is not high enough to overcome its magic resistance."

Damn, the bosses in a veteran-level dungeon really are tough.

I'd try to heal the naga, but I already know from Mary that I'd only damage it more. And despite being badly wounded, it follows its master's will and heads to the chest to open it, ensuring there are no more enemies or traps. Ronan, meanwhile, resurrects the fallen trolls and collects the cores from the two golems. The trolls lift the yeti from the ground, each grabbing a limb while the fifth helps from behind.

This boss didn't have any weapons or armor to loot. A shame. I hope the chest is worth it.

Then Ronan approaches where the yeti's head fell and crouches down to pick up and store something from it—I can't see what. Next, he lifts the entire head and I hear whispers. No doubt he's trying to connect with it, awaken it from death, so he can add it to his list of creatures he can summon. Finally, he stores it in his pack.

I won't ask...

I nod toward the path ahead and we start moving. We head toward the end of the tunnel, where the chest sits on a pedestal near the wall. A nearby torch illuminates it. It's golden with delicate engravings showing the yeti, the elementals, and the wolves. The naga has left it open for us.

When we get there, I thank the warrior. The poor thing, despite the bleeding gashes on its tail and back, shows no pain. Maybe it's because it's undead, but it makes me sad. I wish I could heal it, or that Ronan could. It greets me respectfully and steps aside.

I move closer and look inside and... wow. Loot, sweet loot.

There are plenty of gold and silver coins gleaming in the firelight, some gems, mana potions, health potions, and others of a light blue color, a thick white fur cloak, metal gauntlets, several rings, and an amulet.

"Not bad at all," I smile at Ronan and the prince.

"Want me to identify them?" Vincent asks.

"Yes, please."

I can't tell him I can do it myself.

"Four of these items are magical. The rest of the rings are just jewelry."

Cloak of the Snows. +50% cold protection. +2 Con. +1 Str.

Immortal's Claws. +2 Str. +2 Con.

Frost Amulet. 20% freeze resistance. +1 Int. +2 Wis. Part of a set. With 3 frost pieces, gain freeze immunity.

Frost Ring. 20% freeze resistance. +1 Con. +1 Int. +1 Wis. Part of a set. With 3 frost pieces, gain freeze immunity.

"This is going to be complicated to divide fairly," Vincent says. "I suggest that, like we did with the desert dungeon, we appraise the value in gold coins and give each person an equivalent amount. I have no problem taking less, since I was totally and shamefully carried."

"No way. We split it three ways. Besides, Ronan contributed the most and already got more XP than anyone. He shouldn't get greedy," I say while winking at the necromancer.

"Then the two set pieces should go to the same person. Since they mainly give intelligence and wisdom, I think they should go to one of you two."

"Keep them, my lady," Ronan tells me.

This guy, always wanting to give me everything. They'd be great for him too. It pains me just thinking about it, but wisdom gives mana and right now, he's the one with the mana problem between us. Even though he's got a bigger mana pool than I do, he needs it for his zombies and doesn't have meditation.

"Ronan, you should keep them. For the mana. No, don't protest," I cut him off when I see he's about to.

"Thank you, my lady," he mutters, resigned.

He takes them and equips them. It's a snowflake-shaped pendant. And the ring also has a stone carved like that. Both pristine white. They're aesthetically beautiful but, above all, they radiate a sense of power.

Curiously, they look good on him. They don't clash with the lich's robes.

"What do you prefer from the other two items?" I ask Vincent. "Both are appropriate for a warrior."

"I use a sword, so the claws wouldn't be very useful to me. The cloak. But you also use a sword."

I stare at the cloak of the snows. It's also pristine white and seems to be made from snow wolf fur. I reach out and pull it from the chest. It's very soft. And also regal. It'll suit him well.

"A cloak befitting a prince." I smile as I hand it to him.

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