Chapter 66: Vera.

As he kept walking toward the Dragon Mama, Mordecai reached up and rubbed the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

Jeanette was brilliant, chaotic, and entirely unpredictable, but she had given him exactly what he needed: a foolproof, zero-EXP trap for the Chosen Hero, and the absolution he hadn't known he was desperately seeking: the crushing, suffocating guilt of the truck accident had finally been contextualized.

With his mind sharper than it had been since his reincarnation, the CEO of Ravenloft Holdings turned away from the sub-basements and began his descent into the most heavily fortified sector of Fort Blackstone.

Vault 4. The place Mordecai had never seen but knew about its existence.

The corridors leading to the treasury were different from the rest of the fortress. There were no torches here, only the cold, ambient glow of high-tier defensive runes etched into the solid obsidian walls, and the air was noticeably cooler, dry, carrying the heavy, unmistakable metallic scent of thousands of tons of raw gold, mixed with the faint, dusty aroma of ancient parchment.

He kept walking until he reached his destination and noticed the door ahead. 'Ah. A Caveau. Is there gonna be a robbery by masked people named like cities? I don't wanna know.'

As Mordecai approached the massive, circular vault door—a mechanism of interlocking gears and magical wards that required executive-level biometric clearance to open.

He also noticed that there was no one guarding the door.

'She sent them away,' Mordecai realized, his purple eye narrowing slightly. 'She wanted absolute isolation.'

He then raised his hand and pressed it against the center of the vault door. The dark mana in his palm interacted with the wards, and the runes flashed a deep, validating purple.

Then, with a deep, subterranean groan, the massive gears began to turn, and the door slowly swung open, revealing the cavernous expanse of the treasury.

The sight before him was a breathtaking testament to draconic hoarding instincts fused with corporate accounting. Mountains of gold coins, glittering gems, and priceless artifacts were stacked high toward the vaulted ceiling, but in the very center of the room, displacing millions of gold pieces, was something entirely different.

It was a nest.

It wasn't made of twigs or branches. It was a massive, circular structure meticulously constructed from shredded, voided tax documents, woven together with tapestries of pure, enchanted silk, and lined with smooth, highly polished gold ingots to conduct ambient heat.

Curled up in the absolute center of this extravagant, corporate nest was Vera.

The Head of Aviation of Ravenloft Holdings was currently in her semi-draconic form. Her massive, emerald-green tail wrapped protectively around the center of the nest.

Her usually sharp, predatory features were softened in sleep, but her body language was incredibly tense. She was curled inward, with her arms and tail forming an impenetrable physical barrier around the object resting against her chest.

It was the [Rotten Legendary Dragon Egg].

To anyone with a basic Appraisal skill, the item was classified as [Legendary] junk. It was a random drop from a high-tier dungeon cleaned by Larry, and the only thing that egg had done was to stink and pulsate.

But to Vera, whose draconic maternal instincts had been completely hijacked and amplified by the LitRPG System's tropes, it was the most precious asset in the universe.

Mordecai stepped quietly into the vault, his boots making no sound on the gold-covered floor.

Without announcing his presence, he simply stood a few feet away, watching her.

Vera was trembling slightly. Even in the depths of sleep, her brow was furrowed in deep, primal distress. She pulled the massive, mottled grey egg closer to her chest, her emerald scales shifting as she buried her face against the rotten shell.

"Papa will be home soon, little one..." Vera whispered, her voice a soft rumble that echoed in the quiet vault. "Don't worry... he's just out securing our assets... we will be a beautiful family..."

Her tail tightened reflexively around the nest, a subconscious, desperate attempt to incubate the unhatchable egg. "We'll love you so much, our precious baby..."

Mordecai stood frozen, completely disarmed by the raw, unadulterated vulnerability of the scene.

A lesser monster, a mindless beast governed by the System's code, would have reacted to the sudden vanishing of its Master’s mana by going berserk.

When Kaito had blacked out in the inn, his mana severed from the network, Vera could have easily broken out of the vault and flown to Oakhaven in a blind panic, breathing emerald fire and reducing the capital to molten slag in a desperate bid to find her 'mate'.

But she didn't.

She had stayed. She had probably endured the suffocating, terrifying silence of the severed connection, choosing to lock herself in the vault to protect her 'child'.

She was a terrifying, S-Rank Wyvern, but in that moment of absolute crisis, she had simply been a mother utterly terrified of losing her family, choosing to shield her nest rather than burn the world.

The profound, quiet tragedy of her devotion made Kaito’s chest ache. He had built this corporate empire as a mechanism of malicious compliance against a system that brought his soul into a living hell, but the entities he had summoned had taken it entirely to heart. They had started to develop real feelings. They probably loved him.

Slowly, deliberately, Mordecai released a small, controlled pulse of his dark mana.

It wasn't a command, but it was a gentle, rhythmic hum, the magical equivalent of a familiar footstep in the hallway.

In that moment, Vera’s breath hitched.

The trembling stopped instantly, and her emerald green eyelids snapped open, revealing her vertical, reptilian pupils. She inhaled sharply, her senses capturing the faint smell of ozone, dark magic, and rain.

Vera didn't scream or leap out of the nest and tackle him to the floor like Wukong had.

She simply looked up, locking her gaze onto the tall, dark figure standing at the edge of her nest.

Her vertical pupils dilated, her eyes widening as the reality of his presence sank in.

The stoic, terrifying Head of Aviation of Ravenloft Holdings remained perfectly still, her hands gripping the egg. Slowly, heavily, her eyes filled with thick, silent tears that spilled over her scales, dripping down onto the shredded tax documents.

"You're back," Vera whispered, her voice cracking, utterly devoid of any draconic pride.

She didn't call him 'Mate.' She didn't call him 'My Husband' or 'CEO'. It was the simplest, most devastatingly human acknowledgment of his return. 'You're back.'

Kaito didn't know what to say because his throat felt incredibly tight. He couldn't correct the misunderstanding—not now. He couldn't tell her that he wasn't her 'mate', that the egg was just a rotten piece of dungeon loot, and that their 'family' was just a bizarre glitch in the System's programming.

To shatter her delusion now, when she was looking at him with such absolute, fragile relief, would be an act of cruelty he was incapable of committing.

So, Mordecai didn't speak; he just stepped over the barrier of gold ingots and silk, walking directly into the center of the nest, and sitting down beside her on the bed of shredded documents.

Then, he reached out with his right hand, gently resting on the curved surface of the rotten egg.

"Yes," Kaito said, his voice soft, steady, and incredibly warm. "I'm back, I guess."

The moment his hand touched the egg, validating her maternal reality, the last of Vera's composure crumbled.

Then, Vera let out a soft, broken sob and shifted upward.

She rose to her knees, holding the heavy egg securely in her arms, and leaned forward, resting her head heavily against Kaito's shoulder, and burying her face into the collar of his dark coat while pressing the egg directly between their chests, holding it there as if allowing the 'child' to feel the heartbeat of its father.

Kaito didn't pull away. He wrapped his free arm around her waist, holding her close.

'I hate this. But I must endure it.'

Slowly, deliberately, Vera’s massive, emerald tail uncoiled from the nest and slithered across the silk and shredded paper, gently but firmly wrapping itself around Kaito's ankle, anchoring him to the nest.

In Wyvern's language, that was a gesture of absolute possession and profound trust, one you share with your soulmate. She wasn't holding him hostage; she was making sure he wouldn't slip away into the dark again.

During those moments, Vera didn't demand explanations about why the connection had failed or who had caused him pain. She only needed to know that the pillar of her existence had returned to the vault.

Kaito sat in silence for a long time. He simply breathed, with his hand gently stroking the rough surface of the rotten egg, providing the physical comfort the dragon desperately needed. He listened to her breathing steadily, the silent tears slowly coming to a halt as the warmth of his presence banished the lingering terror of the blackout.

Only when he felt the tension completely leave her muscles, when her tail relaxed its grip on his ankle to a soft, comforting coil, did he finally speak.

"Vera," Kaito said softly, his voice a gentle murmur in the quiet vault. "I need your help tomorrow."

She slowly lifted her head from his shoulder. Her eyes were still bright with unshed tears, but the panic was gone, replaced by the fierce, unwavering dedication of a mother. She looked at him, waiting for the directive.

"The dungeon in the Northern Sector," Kaito explained calmly. "We are setting a trap for Nick. So we'll have the dungeon populated, and the loot is being prepared right now. But we need to make him believe there is a genuine, SSS-Rank threat waiting in the depths that will give him legendary loot. A threat powerful enough to match the aura he felt yesterday."

He looked into her emerald eyes. "You are the only one who can sell that illusion, so when the time comes, I'll need you to go to the final chamber." He spoke.

After hearing his words, Vera's grip on the egg tightened. "I'm sorry... I... I don't want to risk my life, this baby will need a mother, and I..." She sniffled, probably realizing that her CEO's orders were absolute.

"Don't worry, Vera. You won't have to fight him. I just need you to unleash your aura and let out a single, terrifying draconic roar to shake the foundations of the dungeon, and then immediately teleport back here. I'll ask Nyalen to guard the entrance."

He gently squeezed her shoulder. "Just one roar. And then you come right back here. To the egg. I promise."

Vera's body softened, and she didn't ask about the operational hazards. She didn't care about the Hero at all.

She just looked down at the rotten egg resting between them, and then back up at Kaito.

"O-Okay... I will do it," Vera nodded slowly, her voice gaining a fraction of its usual draconic rumble, fueled by absolute loyalty. "For you. For our son."

Kaito closed his eyes for a brief second and remained silent, just like Speed during that Fortnite stream.

Our son.

He didn't correct her. He had learned over the time spent here that some battles against the System's tropes simply weren't worth fighting, especially when the lie provided so much genuine comfort to someone he cared about.

"Thank you, Vera," Kaito said, offering her a warm, reassuring smile.

Then, he gently untangled himself from her embrace, slowly standing up from the nest.

This time, Vera didn't try to stop him as her tail uncoiled from his ankle, allowing him to step over the gold barrier. She watched him walk toward the massive vault door, her eyes heavy with sleep now that the adrenaline and terror had finally faded.

"Thank you, my husband." She whispered before waving him goodbye and returning to take care of the egg.

As the heavy gears of the vault door turned, sealing the treasury once more, Kaito stood alone in the cold, stone corridor.

He leaned against the obsidian wall, tilting his head back and letting out a long, heavy sigh that echoed in the empty hallway.

"Another misunderstanding," Kaito muttered to himself, a wry, exhausted smile touching his lips. "I started this company to avoid getting stabbed in the back, and now I'm apparently a father to a rotten piece of calcified calcium. Without even having done anything."

He shook his head, pushing off the wall. The absurdity of his existence was something he was slowly learning to embrace.

Then, our beloved fake necromancer began the long walk toward his final destination for the night: The Executive Recovery Suite.

He had deliberately saved Pyroas for last. The Chief of Staff had literally torn her own soul in half to save him, and that required a level of attention and care that couldn't be rushed.