Servants of the Dragon (3)
“The Holy Sword and the Key… were taken by Cheongrin himself.”
The elf spoke, his voice strained as if suppressing a groan.
The paladins’ faces turned grim. If what he said was true, they were facing the worst-case scenario.
The Holy Sword and the Key to the Barrier of the Rift were undoubtedly the most treasured possessions of the Order. Cheongrin’s magic and power were said to rival that of demons. If he had indeed tampered with the Order’s treasures, the consequences would be unpredictable.
It might not just be a fortress that falls.
“We must consider the possibility that this elf is lying. It’s said that Cheongrin hasn’t recovered from the injuries he sustained long ago.”
Inquisitor Fidna interjected, eyeing the elf with suspicion.
“He’s known to struggle just to take care of himself. If the elf speaks the truth, we need to find out how Cheongrin regained enough strength to meddle with the Order’s treasures.”
“That’s a valid point. Not just anyone can handle the Holy Sword or the Key to the Barrier. Even a true dragon in a weakened state wouldn’t be able to manage it.”
Deputy Inquisitor Domer agreed with her. Dalen stroked his chin thoughtfully. So, in summary, they wanted the elf to spill more information?
He looked down at the elf with indifferent eyes. The shadow elf was glancing around nervously again.
Despite his swollen cheeks and a shattered knee, his gaze was sharper than ever. It seemed the paladins’ bewildered conversation had brought him back to his senses.
With a mocking smile, the elf spoke, eyes wide open.
“Yes, Cheongrin has already recovered from his long-standing injuries. If you kill me, Cheongrin will personally sever your limbs and make sure your rabbit-like wives and children become minced meat between his teeth.”
A blatant threat. Dalen chuckled.
The night was long, and there were plenty of intact joints waiting for his attention. He couldn’t just let the elf say his piece and then shut up. Just as he was about to reach for the elf, someone spoke from behind the group.
“I have a way.”
It was Elder Mage Felber. Having meditated with his apprentice, he had regained some of his strength after a few hours.
He could now walk with the aid of his staff, without needing his apprentice’s support. Stroking his neatly tied brown beard, Felber approached the shadow elf.
“My domain’s ability is to read the memory of the earth.”
“The memory of the earth…?”
“It’s complicated to explain in detail, but think of it as being able to read someone’s past.”
Felber answered with a kind smile. At the mention of reading the past, a few paladins turned their heads slightly.
Flushed faces. Eyes subtly shifting. Well, it’s hard for anyone to be completely blameless in every aspect.
As Dalen scratched his chin, the elder mage, noticing the subtle atmosphere, burst into hearty laughter.
“Ha ha, don’t worry. I have no interest in peeking into others’ private lives.”
With that, Felber stepped confidently toward the shadow elf.
The elf, having heard everything, flinched and instinctively stepped back as the mage approached, but could do no more. Even a slight movement made her shattered knee throb, and she was acutely aware of the monstrous northern warrior standing beside her.
“Old man, are you sure about this?”
Dalen asked. Felber smiled reassuringly.
“This much is fine. Tampering with the timeline is dangerous, but just a little peek is something I’ve done before.”
If he said he was fine, then so be it. Dalen stepped back.
Felber leaned on his staff in front of the elf.
With his eyes half-closed, a low incantation flowed from the elder’s beard.
“Elle— Memento Elegus.”
A faint wave spread out.
An invisible resonance, perceptible only to those sensitive to magic.
The resonance, starting from beneath the mage’s feet, didn’t spread widely as usual.
Instead, it resonated more intricately within the area encompassing Felber and the elf, asserting its presence.
‘It’s definitely different.’
Dalen thought, arms crossed.
To his eyes, which could see through mysteries, the magic resonating around Felber appeared like golden waves.
He knew about Felber’s domain.
Reflecting on the past of the life standing on this land through the earth’s memory.
And further, predicting the future, albeit vaguely, based on countless precedents within the earth’s memory.
However, the ability, which once seemed like a fantasy version of big data, had now shed even its original limitations.
Examining the golden waves closely, he could vaguely understand.
Unlike when he saw it at the Elgaia Tower, Felber’s ability wasn’t just about reading the earth’s memory.
And his guess was correct.
Felber’s expanded domain no longer limited its reading base to the physical ground beneath their feet.
As long as the basic imagery of the earth was satisfied, there was no need to confine its limits to the current location.
In addition to the physical earth, the base was the imagery and the earth’s appearance reflected in the memory of that existence.
The memory of the earth within that imagery, through contrast and resonance with the original earth’s memory, allowed them to glimpse timelines of areas previously unseen.
Getting a little closer to the fragments of omniscience was thanks to such conceptual expansion.
“Hmm…”
The elder mage let out a small groan. Perhaps realizing something was amiss, the elf’s eyes began to waver.
Felber then fully opened his half-closed eyes. He spoke, golden light streaming like mist from his eyes.
“Cheongrin has made a pact with the dark god. I can’t tell what he offered Enaxagus in return. But it’s clear he’s planning something new with the knowledge and vitality gained from that deal, using the Holy Sword and the Key to the Barrier.”
“Something new…?”
Maug asked. Felber, after a brief pause, continued.
“He plans to bring down the Order himself and kill the commander with his own hands.”
The next day, a messenger set out for the main headquarters.
The purpose was to report the progress of the mission and to warn them to prepare for a possible invasion.
The remaining twelve members continued with their mission as planned.
Four set up a temporary base at the ruined Estra Fortress, while the other eight proceeded along the river into Cheongrin’s territory.
However, the mission’s objective had slightly changed.
Instead of retrieving the Holy Sword and the Barrier Key, the main goal was now to observe the enemy’s movements.
With the true dragon having taken the two treasures himself, a direct confrontation with their current forces posed significant risks.
It was a better choice to infiltrate Cheongrin’s territory, observe his plans, and return with their forces intact.
The group selected a boat at the dock in front of Estra Fortress. Most were damaged, but a few remained.
A small sailboat began to move slowly along the river, and Dalen stood on the deck, lost in thought.
Observing the realm beyond the imagery had become a habit during his free time.
The familiar snowy mountain landscape he had seen for longer than he had lived on this land.
Rumble.
Watching the slowly changing scenery helped calm his mind, which had been complicated by numerous variables and possibilities.
Whoosh.
A cold wind brushed his cheek. It was a wind that blew year-round from within the rift.
Dalen opened his eyes at the sudden presence he felt. A blond youth, approaching cautiously, stopped in his tracks.
“Oh, you’re awake?”
The elder mage’s apprentice, Tommy Valentino.
Just a few months ago, he was a reckless youth who had narrowly escaped death in the sewers. Now, after many experiences, he had become a seasoned mage.
“Where’s your master?”
“He’s meditating alone in the cabin. I came up because I felt seasick and cramped inside, and I thought I might join you if you were meditating…”
“I’m not meditating. I don’t know how to do that.”
Dalen replied casually, stretching his stiff back and shoulders.
He was a bit hungry. They had set off from the dock at noon, and the sky was already darkening.
It didn’t seem like dinner time yet. Should he go below deck and grab something to eat?
While he was pondering, the blond mage, who had been hesitating beside him, simply plopped down.
Dalen stopped stretching and turned his head slightly. What now? What does he want?
“Are we going to fight the dragon?”
The young man mumbled, his head hanging low.
“Who knows.”
Dalen thought his snack was out of the question and looked up.
The boundary leading into the depths of the rift, the lower reaches of the Estra River, was a peculiar terrain.
A dizzying cliff over ten kilometers high. A massive waterfall cascading from above, marking the river’s beginning.
The Estra River, which served as the border between the Empire and the Kingdom of Noria on the surface, continued to play a similar role after plunging into the rift.
Flowing slowly along the rift, it delineated the realms of humans and monsters.
The land up to the waterfall, where the river began, belonged to humans. Beyond that, the tangled web of valleys, like a spider’s web around the flowing river, was the domain of monsters.
Occasionally, patches of land appeared on either side of the wide river, marking the entrance to one of those valleys.
Inside, tribes of gnolls, frogmen, or goblins likely thrived.
“The valley leading to Cheongrin’s territory appears after about a day’s journey downstream.”
Going downstream was easy, just following the current. On the way back, they could hoist the sails and ride the wind. There was hardly any need for a rower.
“I heard that true dragons are immortal.”
The young man murmured, breaking through Dalen’s thoughts. Dalen slowly lowered his head, which had been tilted back. He replied, “Dragons can die.”
“Then why are they called immortals?”
“Because they don’t age and die like we do.”
“Then how can they be killed?”
Dalen scratched his chin. Dragons could be killed with swords and spells, but it required more effort and power than with mortals.
Instead of explaining this, Dalen posed a question to the young man. “Are you scared?”
”…Yes.”
The answer came as if it had been waiting. Dalen nodded. The young man glanced up and asked, “How did you know?”
“When we interrogated and killed the shadow elf yesterday, your expression wasn’t good. Were you thinking that might be your future?”
”…Yes.”
The young man’s head drooped again.
Dalen chuckled softly. It was understandable to be scared. How could it not be?
To become the apprentice of an elder wizard, the young man must have had some talent. But that was all. He was an extraordinary wizard, but not special in a world full of magic towers.
Yet somehow, through various journeys, he found himself among superhumans, venturing into a rift teeming with monsters.
And it wasn’t a smooth journey.
Just days after a siege against five thousand gnolls, they were ambushed by a dragon’s minions in the dead of night.
Now, they were about to march into the dragon’s lair, the mastermind behind it all.
It must have been maddening. The other superhumans could fend for themselves, but he couldn’t.
To make matters worse, his trusted mentor had been ailing recently. It wouldn’t be surprising if he broke down and begged to go home.
But he didn’t, likely because he couldn’t bear to tarnish his mentor’s reputation as his only apprentice.
“Hey, demon brat.”
”…Yes, master.”
“Bring out that piece of cloth we got from the ruins.”
When Dalen reached into his coat and called for Arbor, the demon stirred, opening a small space to hand him a neatly folded cloth.
Dalen handed it to Tommy. The young man took it, bewildered, and asked, “What is this?”
“A cloak of invisibility.”
The cloak of the old crone, Olga.
It was an item retrieved from the ruins of the Sandstorm Dynasty, capable of concealing a person completely when worn.
The downside was that it was too small for Dalen. It might barely cover his upper body.
He could use it if he had to, but it would be more useful to the young blond man.
Seeing the young man glance between the cloak and himself with confused eyes, Dalen added in a flat voice, “If you’re really scared, you can always put it on and run. You choose where you die.”
”…”
The young man didn’t respond.
After a while, he quietly stood up.
He bowed slightly and slowly walked toward the cabin entrance.
His steps were heavy with contemplation. His hands clutched the cloak tightly.
Left alone again, Dalen gazed blankly at the sky. The young man’s question echoed in his mind.
“Are we going to fight the dragon?”
“Who knows.”
Another question surfaced in his mind, but it wasn’t the young man’s voice this time.
“If you fight the dragon, can you win?”
”…”
“You’ve never fought Cheongrin before.”
The voice in his head was sharp.
It was true. Unlike most bosses, the true dragon Cheongrin was more of a background legend, not someone you were meant to face.
A true dragon, once among the strongest of its kind, known as the Left Arm of the Dragon God.
Facing such a being meant this round had gone awry in unprecedented ways.
“If you’re not careful, you’ll die. Do you want to end it all so meaninglessly?”
The voice in his head spoke, a tone of concern, a sweet temptation.
Could he win? He didn’t know. He barely managed to defeat lesser dragons. If he lost, he’d die, that was certain. Could he run away now? He might survive. Yes, he could wait for another chance.
The internal debate continued, a chain of logical and seductive reasoning. Familiar comfort seeped into his mind.
Dalen felt a headache coming on. He took a slow breath.
Cold air filled his lungs, and the dragon’s blood in his veins pulsed with heat.
He spoke.
“Are you going to run away your whole life in this world too?”
”…”
“I don’t want to live like that.”
The voice didn’t answer. Dalen grinned.
Every game has a turning point. This one was no different.
A choice between avoiding the fight or charging headlong into it.
Perhaps the former was the more rational and strategic decision. The latter might be the reckless bravado of a barbarian.
If it were truly a game, he might have chosen the former.
Step back, observe how things unfold, and if it didn’t work out, there was always the next round—such was his attitude.
The thirty-something man in his head, who prided himself on being a veteran of this game, wanted that.
“Sss—”
But the cold air filling his lungs was reality.
A one-time opportunity. A mistake meant the end.
In this reality, the muscular, golden-armored mercenary Dalen wasn’t a coward hiding behind the shield of reason.
He acknowledged that rational judgment might indeed save his life. It could be a strategic retreat for future advancement.
But what if stepping back even once led to an endless abyss? Hadn’t all his battles been like that?
Moreover, the stakes of this game weren’t just his life.
The bonds he’d formed in a short time.
Relationships deeper than any fate the thirty-something man had ever experienced.
Those bonds had grown too heavy to weigh on the scales of rational judgment.
“Ugh.”
Dalen stood up. Somewhere, a delicious aroma wafted through the air.
It was already evening. Judging by the smell, today’s menu seemed to be some kind of roast.
He suddenly craved Lucia’s burrow rabbit roast, and with that thought, the large mercenary ambled across the swaying deck.