Let’s Go Together

Luce Fennigan and Carlo de Inehart had just finished their tea and stepped out of the shop.

The village, built right next to the dungeon, had a peaceful and tranquil atmosphere. Perhaps because it had formed around a small market square, there were hardly any people on the rugged paths.

The two men were walking side by side, each lost in his own thoughts. Carlo was silently questioning the other man’s abilities, while Luce was inwardly grumbling about the bumpy cobblestone roads.

Just then, the sound of a horse panicking and thrashing came from one of the quiet village streets. Both men turned their heads in that direction. A horse pulling a large carriage was rearing up in fright, hooves striking the air.

“Aaaaargh!”

The coachman’s scream pierced the air.

At the same time, the horse let out a frantic whinny, and the large carriage shook violently as if it were twisting apart. With a thunderous crash, the carriage flipped over, seemingly crushing both the horse and the coachman beneath it.

“Ugh, help! Is anyone there?!”

The coachman’s desperate cry for help came from underneath the wreckage. Carlo immediately turned on his heel and rushed toward the scene.

“S-Someone’s trapped under the carriage! Help!”

The man shouted again from beneath the debris.

Carlo reached the scene in an instant and quickly assessed the situation, trying to reassure the man pinned below.

“I’m going to help you… Are you badly hurt?”

Seeing the blood pooling on the ground, Carlo clucked his tongue quietly.

There was so much of it that he could only assume the man had suffered life-threatening injuries. He slid both hands under the massive carriage, attempting to lift it. But the thing was the size of a house—it wouldn’t budge.

The Gold Dragon stopped in his tracks and watched the scene in silence.

Luce stretched out a hand from where he stood. If he left it to Carlo, they’d probably be struggling there for hours.

The dragon closed his eyes slightly, then slowly lifted his eyelids again. He drew a bit of mana from the slumbering dragon body resting within his lair. As a result, a golden gleam flickered through his warm, honey-colored eyes. The Gold Dragon twitched his raised fingers, channeling mana through them.

Clink.

One of the crushed metal ornaments embedded in the ground twitched slightly. Carlo, who was straining to lift the carriage, glanced at the scrap and thought, Why did that just move?

Clink, clink.

The entire carriage Carlo was gripping began to tremble subtly, as if an earthquake had struck. Ugh. Carlo tried to steady the violently shuddering front of the carriage, afraid it might collapse, but it was no use.

And then—it happened.

The massive, house-sized carriage began to slowly rise into the air. The shattered decorations and broken fragments that had scattered on the ground were lifted along with it. As they floated upward, the pieces gradually returned to their original positions, settling back into place as if rewinding time. Before long, a pristine carriage hovered gently above the ground, suspended mid-air.

It was magic. Exquisitely crafted and incredibly powerful. Carlo turned his head to look behind him. Luce’s pale hand was extended toward the scene. At first, Carlo felt fortunate to have found a mage. But now… it might be an even greater windfall than he’d imagined.

Nnngh—

A pained groan echoed from beneath the hovering carriage, pulling Carlo’s focus back forward. He reached out both arms. Unlike before, he was now easily able to pull out the coachman and the horse trapped underneath.

Luce lowered his hand slowly once he confirmed the two had been freed. As if responding to his motion, the carriage gave a soft thump as its wheels touched down and settled back on the ground, standing upright as though nothing had ever happened.

“Tch, the wound’s deeper than I thought.”

Carlo muttered grimly. He glanced down at the coachman, who was clutching his leg tightly, and clicked his tongue. The man needed a healer, but neither Carlo nor Luce were locals—finding one would take time.

“Luce Fennigan, by any chance—”

Remembering the other man’s identity, Carlo had intended to ask for a basic healing spell. He didn’t expect full recovery—just enough to stop the bleeding would suffice. The rest could be left to the village medic.

But before Carlo could finish his sentence, footsteps echoed across the rough cobblestones. A man approached and came to a stop right beside him.

“Move.”

A pale, beautiful hand suddenly slid between Carlo and the injured horse. Luce’s hand came to rest gently on the horse’s side, where it lay whimpering.

Heal.

The word left Luce’s lips in a flat, indifferent tone—and with it, a low hum vibrated through the air.

Moments later, the mana in the atmosphere began to stir violently around him. The spell required only ambient mana from nature itself, and so, after a brief swirl of motion, the energy calmed.

Ssshhhhh— The breeze conjured by mana gradually died down.

Luce’s golden hair—like threads forged from melted gold—floated lightly with the wind before falling back into place. He swept his fingers through the tousled strands, neatening them with practiced ease.

The black horse, which had been lying limp on the ground, twitched suddenly.

As the Gold Dragon withdrew his hand, the black-coated horse blinked slowly—almost as if it had never been injured—and then sprang to its feet in one swift motion. Luce casually ran his fingers along its coat, checking for any remaining injuries.

“…I was asking you to heal the coachman.”

It was the first thing Carlo said once he snapped out of being utterly entranced by the man’s beautiful magic. The coachman was still clutching his leg, groaning low. Judging by the blood seeping between his fingers, it was a deep wound.

Caught off guard by the unexpected situation, Carlo was momentarily flustered. Mages were typically quick to weigh benefit versus cost—they rarely used their mana on anything that didn’t serve their interests. That’s why he had assumed Luce would only use the bare minimum of mana, just enough to help the coachman and nothing more.

With his usual aloof expression, Luce withdrew his hand from the horse’s flank.

“I know. But the damn thing’s wound was worse.”

You can’t bring back the dead. Luce replied curtly, throwing a glance at Carlo. Humans—always so predictable. They were quick to fuss over each other, always placing more value on an injured man’s leg than a dying horse. Luce didn’t bother saying any of this aloud; there was no point. The moment he spoke, a human would just start rambling on with some incomprehensible logic a dragon could never be bothered to understand.

With the horse now healed, it was time for the next.

Luce walked toward the coachman, who was slumped on the ground. A soft, pleasant voice slipped from the golden-haired man’s lips. As always, the healing incantation carried the rhythm of a song.

Heal.

The pale palm of Luce’s hand came to rest on the coachman’s leg. Gradually, the groans that had filled the scene faded into silence.

Carlo brushed his fingers through the golden particles of mana drifting past him. To be able to see the mana with the naked eye like this—it meant Luce was an exceptionally skilled, refined, and powerful mage. The kind of man you could trust your life with inside a dungeon.

“Perfect.”

It had been a stroke of luck, getting to witness Luce’s ability firsthand. A wide smirk stretched across Carlo’s lips. He’d always trusted in his luck—and Luce was a total jackpot. And a capable one, at that.

De Ruels would kill to have someone like him. Carlo scoffed inwardly at the idiots. Always so full of themselves, yet they couldn’t even recognize talent when it was right under their noses—instead bickering among themselves.

With just a single healing spell from Luce, the coachman’s leg was completely restored. He stood up at once, testing the limb by bending and straightening it, then bowed repeatedly to the mage in gratitude. To commoners, healing magic was something they’d only ever heard about—an elite kind of spell—so he had no idea how to repay such a favor and fumbled over his thanks. Luce, completely uninterested in the man’s attempts, simply told him to go on his way. But the coachman insisted he couldn’t just leave it at that and blocked the two men’s path.

Then—

“Lord Inehart.”

From a distance, the knight who had disappeared earlier—likely the head of the knight order—called out to Carlo. It meant that the items Carlo had ordered were all secured.

“Perfect timing. And now we’ve got a skilled mage too…”

At the words skilled mage, Luce lifted one shoulder in a subtle shrug. He wasn’t sure what qualified as “skilled” in their eyes, but he wasn’t particularly fond of the phrase. Carlo’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

“Everything’s ready.”

He turned to Luce. It was finally time to enter the dungeon. Unlike Carlo and the knights, who had arrived on horseback, Luce had been staying alone in the village. In the end, the coachman stubbornly insisted on assisting with transportation to the dungeon.

Not interested in wasting energy on a pointless argument, Luce got into the fully restored carriage and followed behind Carlo’s knight order. On the way, the coachman chatted on, saying the carriage felt even newer than before. The unsociable mage simply nodded a few times—then pretended to fall asleep.