In the near future, those adventurers who thought they had escaped death would spread the Red Dragon's fearsome reputation throughout the North, building momentum for Ember Nest's next moves, drawing the attention of every race across Anzeta, and sparking widespread discussion in human cities such as North Wind Fortress.
And at Keosius's instruction, that bard would tirelessly write catchy poems day and night, extravagantly praising the Red Dragon's might, and spread them across the entire North.
...After all, it was the bard's own request, so Keosius would satisfy him thoroughly.
Keosius was not afraid of others coming for him. He now had immense confidence in his own strength. At least on the barren Anzeta Great Wasteland of the North, he could act almost without restraint.
And among this party of twenty, half of the high-level professionals had become Keosius's experience fodder.
Keosius lay lazily in the cave, idly examining the many pieces of Magic Equipment stripped from Bennett.
The Dimensional Door Necklace was no more than a tiny ring in the Red Dragon's massive claws, barely fitting around one of his thick knuckles. The Shield Cloak looked like a handkerchief, while the hollow Openwork Staff looked exactly like a toothpick.
Meanwhile, the chest beside him contained over a hundred pieces of equipment glimmering with magical light.
There were swords, shields, staves, amulets—every kind imaginable. Many were still stained with blood.
But in Keosius's eyes, none of them were particularly valuable. Most were merely the lifeblood of ordinary adventurers, and on the panel, they would at best be rated "Rare."
For example, the Whispering Greatsword might count as godly early-game equipment in a player's hands, but to the Red Dragon, it was little more than a tasteless burden.
These were all the benefits Lang Pu had scavenged from adventurers over the