Let’s Go Together

“……What? It’s still untouched?”

The Gold Dragon was taken aback.

Anyone would be shocked to hear news about a dungeon that had appeared centuries ago still remaining unexplored. What the hell had the humans been doing all this time while the dragon slumbered in his lair? They still hadn’t gone inside? After all that chaos and commotion, not a single soul had made it deep into the dungeon.

The dragon slowly lifted his massive body, which had lain dormant for an unimaginably long time. The image of Banya had just flashed through his mind. If Banya were standing next to him right now, she would’ve said, “Captain, aren’t we going to check it out? They say the fate of the continent is at stake. You don’t think we can handle it too?”

The mercenary corps really had been a riot. A faint smile crossed the dragon’s face as memories of Banya and the others drifted back to him.

“Hmmm.”

He was genuinely curious—what on earth was so difficult about this dungeon that humans hadn’t been able to enter for hundreds of years? After all that obsessive persistence, it still hadn’t been solved? Then maybe…it was time for a dragon to step in.

But there was one problem the dragon hadn’t anticipated.

The Emental Knights. Suspicious soldiers from another continent. And the mercenary corps—slaughtered mercilessly, wiped out completely.

So many lives lost over that dungeon. The thing was, what felt like yesterday to the dragon… had now become an incident buried in the distant past.

“What? The dungeon? Oh yeah, it’s still there!”

“I heard there’s treasure hidden inside!”

“Pfft—bro, you still believe in that crap? Damn, lucky you came to me before someone conned your ass.”

The man, who ran a bar and occasionally bought and sold intel from passing mercenaries, gave the dragon a light punch on the shoulder. His face said he might as well be talking to a kid who still believed in fairytales.

“Superstition…?”

“You haven’t heard? That whole rumor about treasure in the dungeon? It sparked a damn war between noble houses. In the end, a few families just got wiped off the map.”

The bartender lowered his voice, covering his mouth with his palm as he leaned subtly toward the dragon. He looked like he was about to spill some deep, juicy secret.

“……There’s a rumor that the king used that story to get rid of nobles he didn’t like.”

“Oh? That so?”

The dragon nodded along, humoring the bartender as he listened. He casually tossed a few silver coins onto the table. The bartender, pleased by the generous tip, poured him a full glass of the house’s boldest brew on the house.

As he downed the chilled beer, the dragon took a moment to reflect.

“Well then, if you come across any new info about the dungeon, let me know.”

The dragon reached for another silver coin, but paused for a moment, tilting his head in thought. What he pulled from his inner coat shone the same golden hue as his hair. He flicked the coin toward the bartender, who caught it with exaggerated flair, slapping his palms together like a street performer.

“Leave it to me,” the bartender said with a wink.

That had been just a few days ago. The dragon had taken a room at the inn next to the bar. He’d spent the days wandering around town, strolling through the nearby forest. Dragons weren’t a species that fretted over time. Each morning, he would wake up and decide what he felt like doing, enjoying the day at his own pace. In the evening, he’d drop by the tavern for a drink. This city was the largest settlement nearest to the dungeon. If any information surfaced, this bar was the most likely place to hear it.

He was nursing a drink after another satisfying day when it happened.

A group entered the tavern—one young man and a few moderately trained knights. It was a curious mix.

The young man had gleaming silver hair, thin and silky, swaying like strands of expensive thread. He didn’t look old enough to be frequenting a place like this. Without stopping at any other table, the group walked straight to the bar where the dragon sat.

With a loud thud, the dragon set down the rough wooden mug he’d been holding. It was clear the group had business with him.

“I heard there’s someone going around asking about the dungeon.”

The dragon glanced over at the bartender. So much for buying and selling information—seemed like the guy had sold him out too. The bartender shrugged in response and went back to polishing a glass. Clearly, this young man was a more lucrative customer than a few silver coins.

They already knew exactly who had been sniffing around about the dungeon. The young man stepped forward with purpose toward the dragon’s seat, while the knights behind him stopped a few steps back and clasped their hands behind their backs, holding position.

The dragon gave the knights a bored look before turning his eyes back to his drink. Then, draining the nearly brimming mug in one go, he addressed the young man now standing beside him. The dragon needed information, and he wanted to finish the expedition efficiently, in one go.

“So? You here to tell me about the dungeon?”

He tilted the mug on the table, peering inside to see if he wanted another.

“Well. It’s not so much about giving you information… It’s more of a proposal to join forces.”

“I’ve already got a party.”

“Oh dear, then I suppose I’m late?”

With a casual air, the young man pulled over the empty chair next to the dragon and sat down.

“But… do you really have a full party?”

Thud.

Without even turning his head, the dragon calmly lifted one foot and blocked Carlo from dragging the chair any closer. Carlo seemed unwilling to pick a fight over a seat and contented himself with some distance between them. As he sat, the knights who had followed him inside positioned themselves behind him, creating a tense, watchful atmosphere. No matter how you looked at it, this wasn’t someone coming to make a friendly invitation. If anything, it looked more like a veiled threat.

“Just so you know, I’m planning to be extremely picky. You’re out.”

The dragon rejected him once again, his voice calm and shameless. But Carlo didn’t so much as flinch—clearly, that level of refusal was something he had fully anticipated. The smile never left his face.

“Now, now. You’re looking at a knight order that’s actually got a solid reputation on the continent, you know.”

Carlo rested one elbow casually on the table, propping his chin up with the palm of his hand. At the same time, he subtly gestured with his other hand, signaling the knights behind him to step back just slightly. It was clear—this wasn’t a relationship of equals.

The dragon’s eyes moved from Carlo’s face to the knights behind him, scanning them all.

“Is that so? Well, I do like your confidence.”

The dragon’s cocky tone made one of the knights instinctively reach for the sword at his hip. Carlo didn’t bother stopping him. His standards for party members would be just as exacting—anyone who’d fold from a bit of posturing wasn’t worth keeping around.

“A knight, huh…”

Carlo’s eyes flicked down to the dragon’s hands resting idly on the table. They were clean—flawless, really. Not a single scar, no calluses. Those weren’t the hands of someone who’d ever wielded a sword.

“…I don’t think so. Then what—are you a mage?”

“That’s an awfully narrow view. If I’m not a knight, I must be a mage?”

The dragon lifted both hands slowly and showed his palms to Carlo. They were soft, pale, and smooth—no signs of labor or battle. The knight who had already reached for his sword finally drew it, unable to tolerate the stranger’s arrogance any longer.

“…State your identity. Now.”

As the lead knight stepped forward, the rest followed suit, and before long, cold steel was pressing against the dragon’s pale neck. The threat was clear. Carlo gave a small, almost amused sigh and waved his hand, signaling the others to lower their weapons.

“Carlo de Inehart. And you?”

“Luce Fennigan.”

Carlo smiled as he extended a hand toward the dragon.

“And?”

In this little charade, the dragon would go by Luce Fennigan. He reached out and took Carlo’s hand. It was warm, just the right temperature. But unlike the dragon’s unnaturally smooth skin, Carlo’s hand was callused and coarse, worn from battle.

The Gold Dragon hesitated for a brief moment before introducing himself. What he chose to say now would shape the entire course of this expedition.

“…You got it. I’m a mage.”

“Perfect. We just so happen to be in need of a mage.”

The dragon could imitate just about anything, but for this particular role, he’d spontaneously decided to play the part of a mage. Judging by Carlo’s group, they had enough knights. In the dungeon, a mage would have more sway, more influence.

And once again—it was worth repeating—the dragon intended to clear this dungeon in one go.