When I opened the sage’s door, a heavy atmosphere greeted me.
The sage extended his large, rugged hand as if he had been expecting me.
On his hand lay a glove that looked entirely different from yesterday.
The glove had a new pattern intricately embroidered in red thread over the black leather, gleaming faintly.
When I touched it with my fingertips, it felt much sturdier than before.
The sage furrowed his brow momentarily and then pulled out several vials.
Inside the vials was a thick, dark green liquid, and a pungent, fishy stench seeped faintly through the seals.
“Here, take it,”
he said curtly, his voice as emotionless as ever.
But at the end of his words, there was a subtle trace of satisfaction, like that of a craftsman who had just completed his work.
“This vial contains the blood of a troll, the venom of a hydra, and various deadly poisons carefully boiled down and concentrated. You can tell just by the smell,”
he added.
The sharp stench wafting from the vial was nauseating, and I instinctively furrowed my brow.
But the sage paid no heed and continued speaking.
“The moment you drink this, the survival instinct of a dragon will awaken, and the damaged cells in your body will begin to repair themselves at an insane rate.”
The sage paused for a moment and smiled faintly.
His smile was chilling and unnerving.
“The problem is that the repair process is a complete disaster.”
His voice resonated low and ominous.
“It’s like drunken construction workers slapping together a broken building however they see fit.
Your cells will be haphazardly stitched together. Sure, your immediate injuries might heal, but the aftermath will be horrifying. Your blood vessels will clog, your muscles will twist, and your bones will fuse in all the wrong places. If you’re unlucky, you’ll turn into nothing more than a grotesquely twisted lump of flesh.”
The sage’s voice grew quieter, and his gaze grew colder.
“And the biggest problem of all is that the repair process will eat away at your lifespan.
In the end, it’s like you’re tightening the noose around your own neck.”
The sage shrugged and let out a low chuckle.
His laugh was a cold, merciless mix of ridicule and warning.
“If you drink this, well, at least you’ll be able to move with that damned heart of yours still beating.”
He pointed at the glove and the vial with his fingertips.
“The choice is yours. I’ve already warned you plenty.”
His words were cold and indifferent, and the glove and vial seemed as enticing and dangerous as poisoned candy.
Without a word, I picked up the glove and the vial.
“May I ask for one more favor?”
I whispered toward the sage.
The sage met my eyes, curling the corner of his lips into a smirk.
“Ha, you’re really making full use of me, aren’t you? It’s clear you’re not entirely sane, but go on, tell me.”
I approached the sage and whispered my request into his ear.
As my words continued, the sage’s expression briefly twisted into a frown, only to morph into a smirk.
“That collar around your neck really is a masterpiece, I must say. It seems you’ve found quite the match for it. I wonder who’s truly holding the leash…”
The sage nodded in agreement, signaling his consent.
I turned my back to him and left the room.
The sound of the door closing echoed, and the hallway was once again enveloped in silence.
I stroked the collar with my fingertips.
The sensation of the leather tightening around my neck felt oddly satisfying, and I had the fleeting illusion of a faint rose fragrance.
And so, a month passed.
A knight in armor split an orc’s body in two with a single swing of his sword.
Another knight, armed with a spear, pierced the leg of a fleeing demon.
As the demon, now unable to escape, writhed in agony, I slowly approached with my staff in hand.
The demon, panic-stricken, tried to retreat, but there was no means of escape.
With each step I took closer, the demon’s expression grew darker and more filled with despair.
“Limping Duke…”
Having swept through the borderlands with knights bearing banners adorned with crimson rose emblems, I had already become a figure of terror among the demons.
But I didn’t care about such nicknames.
It was far better than the days when I was called a “bastard child.”
I smiled as I asked the demon,
“Do you know the whereabouts of Flora?”
The demon trembled in fear but refused to speak.
I swung my staff down onto its wound, tearing it open further.
Blood splattered everywhere, but I paid no mind.
I asked again,
“If you tell me where Flora is, I’ll let you live.”
The demon screamed in agony before finally answering in a shaky voice.
“S-she’s… guarding the Demon King…”
I had heard the same story dozens of times by now.
I had stopped counting after the twentieth.
It was certain—she was by the Demon King’s side.
I had scoured the borderlands in search of Flora’s trail, but recently I heard news that the hero had pushed the frontlines close to the Demon King’s castle.
Perhaps because of that, the Demon King had holed up in the castle, refusing to come out.
I gestured downward with my finger to the knight beside me.
The knight grinned gleefully and beheaded the demon with a single swing of his blade.
It was behavior unbecoming of a knight, but I didn’t care.
I looked around.
Surrounding me were thirty knights clad in armor, all bearing banners with the crimson rose emblem.
But they were not real knights.
They hadn’t undergone knightly training, nor had they been formally knighted.
They were merely a collection of executioners, beggars, criminals, and lowly mercenaries— a ragtag group of brutes gathered indiscriminately.
With armor thrown on and weapons in their hands, they only appeared knightley at a glance.
But their prowess in battle was undeniable, and in just a month, they had become a source of terror among the demons alongside myself.
“Lillian.”
I called her name softly, and Lillian approached with a blank expression.
At first, she used to tremble in fear every time I summoned her, but now she had either grown accustomed to it or realized that I wouldn’t harm her.
She simply carried out her orders with an expressionless face.
“Do you have something for me to do?”
I handed her a crystal orb and gestured to a knight standing nearby.
The knight immediately unfolded a collapsible chair and set it on the ground.
Seated, I looked at Lillian and spoke.
“I’m going to sleep for a bit, so contact Fiora and prepare a teleport to the frontlines.”
With those words, I closed my eyes and let my consciousness drift away.
A familiar scene unfolded before me.
The Demon King’s castle engulfed in flames, Flora being slain by the hero, and a dragon from the White Clan that resembled me.
She had said she didn’t have a name when she was a hatchling.
I had tried to name her, but in the end, I failed.
“The vision hasn’t changed, has it?”
she said.
“…It’s not set in stone. Not yet.”
I met her gaze.
It was a strange sensation, like looking at another version of myself.
“Why are you helping me?”
It was a question I always asked.
And every time, the answer was silence.
I didn’t expect a reply this time either.
But unexpectedly, a voice broke the pattern.
“You’ll find out soon.”
It was the first time she had given an answer.
I hurried to ask more, but her form was already fading.
For some reason, it felt like the dream was ending far too quickly.
When I opened my eyes, the sight before me was of a fierce battle.
It seemed we’d been ambushed—knights were surrounded by enemies numbering more than twice their own, and several had already fallen, lifeless on the ground.
“Peridot!”
Before I could fully grasp the situation, Lillian’s shout brought me back to my senses.
I turned to see an orc charging straight at me.
Lillian was running to intercept it, but she wouldn’t make it in time.
Without hesitation, I pulled a mithril dagger from my cloak.
There was no time to waver.
Drawing power from the dragon heart through the glove, I channeled its magic into the dagger.
The blade glowed red, vibrating with energy, and the moment I swung it, the orc was cleaved in two—armor and all.
At the same time, I felt a familiar pain in my chest.
Something was rising up my throat, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.
I recalled the sage’s warning not to expect to control the dragon’s power.
I could tell something inside me was breaking, without a doubt.
But I didn’t care.
The dragon heart had been the source of my suffering for so long, but now, it was what had allowed me to come this far.
After cutting down another orc charging from the side, the skirmish came to an end.
Lillian rushed over, hastily handing me a handkerchief.
As I wiped my mouth, the fabric was stained red with blood.
“…It’s getting worse,”
Lillian said, her trembling eyes betraying her concern.
Whether she truly cared for me, I didn’t know, but it didn’t matter.
I smiled faintly and said,
“I’m fine. More importantly, is the teleport ready?”
The world appeared in shades of ash…
My hand reached for the collar.
Was it my vision that was deteriorating, or my heart?
One thing was certain—this world held no meaning without her.
Lillian, as if understanding my state of mind, nodded silently.
Leaning on my staff, I took a step forward.