The Silent Moon’s Shadow (1)
Name: Dalen
Level: 52
Attributes:
Skills:
Unique Skills (33)
The translucent letters filled his vision, written not in the familiar common tongue of the medieval lands, but in Korean—a language he hadn’t used in so long that it felt foreign now. The nostalgia for his homeland was a distant memory. Dalen chewed on his jerky, trying to shake off the thoughts.
The wind howled over the ruins, cold and unrelenting. Once the stronghold of the holy knights who had sent forces to vanquish demons, the place was now a wasteland. Not a single building stood intact, and the tallest structure in the vast fortress city was a pile of rubble, several meters high.
From the remnants of the grand church, where departure ceremonies were once held, the city lay split open, its devastation laid bare.
“You’ve grown stronger,” came a sudden voice, the peculiar resonance of a high-level spellcaster’s presence.
“Your physical abilities have surged. Even unconsciously, you’re bending the flow of magic around you with your enhanced control.”
Dalen said nothing, continuing to chew his jerky. The ancient dragon, Bourbon, dressed like a tavern bartender, chuckled softly.
“It seems Sienna’s theory was correct. Are you gathering the outcomes of other worlds to fuel your power?”
“Who knows.”
“Don’t worry. I haven’t told anyone. It wasn’t her choice to share it with me; it was part of our deal.”
“Isn’t it illegal to include personal information in a contract without consent?”
“Perhaps. But what does it matter?”
Indeed, it didn’t. Bourbon had aided him, maintaining a semblance of neutrality, and that had led to their victory.
Dalen shrugged, continuing to chew. Lucia’s jerky was tough, but it retained its flavor. The rich, savory taste, spiced just right, paired well with the view of the ruins below.
Bourbon seemed to agree, judging by his reaction.
“Is it good?”
“Quite.”
“Words don’t do it justice. Let me try a piece.”
“It’s dragon meat.”
The outstretched hand hesitated. Dalen smirked, tearing off a piece and popping it into his mouth, a random thought crossing his mind.
“Do dragons eat each other?”
“In battles to the death, we might consume the heart of our foe.”
“So you do eat each other.”
“Not as jerky.”
That would be odd, Dalen thought, wiping his hands on his clothes.
“Who left meat on my head…?”
He wrapped the remaining jerky in paper and stored it in his spatial pocket. Lucia had made a substantial amount during their campaign against the dragons, enough to fill several carts.
Fortunately, Arvor’s spatial pocket had room, as many of the relic weapons it once held had been used up in countless battles.
“The smell of meat… in this cramped space…”
Of course, that didn’t mean Arvor’s space had expanded. Dalen had filled it with new spoils, half from the holy knights’ armory, with Edgar’s permission, and the rest from the Sandstorm Dynasty’s ruins.
With the pharaoh gone during the battle with the dragon god, the treasures were ownerless.
“The Sandstorm Dynasty’s pharaoh… it’s been ages. Khafre Nehakara Ahashepsut. We didn’t even get to exchange greetings.”
“You knew each other?”
“We worked together for half a century, exchanging cultures while expanding the tombs of the ancient kings. That’s when Tatenkhat Parzium formed ties with the Sandstorm Dynasty.”
“Interesting.”
Half a century as acquaintances. For beings that lived millennia, a few decades was just a brief encounter.
While Dalen pondered, the ancient dragon sat on a nearby pile of stones, gazing at the ruins.
“Tatenkhat was so pure back then.”
He murmured the name of the earth dragon.
“The White Sword. The Breastplate. The Helmet. The First Breath. The Right Shoulder Guard. The Greaves. The Cloak… They were all unique and powerful. Of the thirteen who united for our race’s prosperity, less than half remain.”
His words carried a hint of regret.
Dalen wondered about the dragon’s true feelings. He scratched his chin and asked, “Do you regret fighting on my side?”
“No. I knew the outcome when I accepted the deal. But still…”
“But still?”
“If there’s regret, it’s not about today’s battle, but our foolishness in creating the dragon god.”
The price of ignorance has led our race to its twilight. Bourbon added bitterly.
The battle with the dragon god had been fierce.
Most of the dragons involved had perished, leaving fewer than a hundred survivors. The dragon race was nearly extinct.
“And with the dragon god’s demise, the seven great dragons, who were one with it, also perished.”
After the dragon god’s death, the seven great dragons returned to their original forms, but they were already lifeless.
In that context, Bourbon’s sigh was understandable.
In a single day, their race was pushed to the brink of extinction, and their most powerful leaders were gone.
The great dragon council, the core of their race, had collapsed, and the dragon god’s powers were lost.
Bourbon’s spell had temporarily transferred some of that power to Dalen, but it too faded with the council’s fall.
All that remained was the new name given to the spear.
It was as if they had returned to a time before the dragon god existed, thousands of years ago.
“If only we had listened to the spear’s words sooner. Your third mate was always wise. Heed her advice.”
Dalen let the old dragon’s ramblings wash over him, reflecting on the past.
Since arriving on this continent, he had fought tirelessly to prevent the apocalypse.
After two years of a grueling tutorial, he resolved the issues of the labyrinth city, moved south with the holy knights, then journeyed to the northernmost reaches, defeating the avatar of Suum, and finally reached the empire and vampire territories in the south.
He thwarted the blood lord’s war preparations and returned to the holy knights’ base, where he finally defeated one of the five evil gods.
“This is the first time the dragon god has died.”
This was a turning point.
For the first time, he had achieved something never accomplished in countless iterations—a clear fracture in the wall of apocalypse.
The success of this cycle depended on surpassing the results of the past.
Hope, once a distant glimmer, was now within reach. Just a few more steps remained.
“So, what’s your next move?” Bourbon asked, breaking through his thoughts.
Dalen gathered his thoughts and replied, “I need to obtain the Stone of Wishes. I must act quickly, before the next war begins.”
“The next war?”
“Even with one gone, four remain. And among them is one who will never give up.”
The god of fate and defiance. The most cunning adversary he had faced since arriving on this continent.
[The master of the Celestial Throne has been silent for far too long.]
Bourbon remarked, and Dalen nodded in agreement.
That cunning devil, always scheming in the shadows, was still a mystery to them.
But one thing was certain.
He would make his move soon, and when he did, his target would be singular.
“The next battlefield will be the labyrinth city of Falcion.”
The last bastion of humanity, a city of countless heroes and superhumans.
Before the seven walls fell, they had to traverse the seven layers of the labyrinth and reach the Stone of Wishes.
Three days had passed since the demise of the Dragon God. During that time, the group had been dealing with the aftermath of the battle that had split their base in two.
No matter how decisive the victory, the cleanup after a battle was always as grueling as the fight itself.
Yet this time, things were surprisingly manageable.
All the injured were top-tier superhumans or transcendents, and there were no walls or cities left to repair.
There were no prisoners. The dragon corpses were stripped of bones and hearts and left behind.
With preparations complete, the group stood divided before the split wall.
Heading north were Edgar Reinhardt and the ancient dragon, Kylebercus Arburn. Dalen and the rest would venture into the southern rift.
“May the War God’s blessing light your path,” Edgar said, extending his only hand for a handshake. As Dalen clasped it, Edgar leaned in to whisper.
”…It’s been a long time since the map of the fourth layer of the labyrinth, the Silent Sea of the Moon, was drawn, but it’s still nearly impossible for even veteran explorers to navigate.”
“I know.”
“Perhaps it’s my age, but I have to ask. Have you been there before?”
“No. But I’ve memorized the path perfectly, traps included. You needn’t worry.”
Edgar’s expression tightened slightly. He asked cautiously.
“I’m not doubting you, but how could you memorize it without having been there?”
“After dying about forty-six times, you just naturally get the hang of it.”
”…What?”
What do you mean, ‘what’?
I got lost so often I had to delete forty-six characters.