Let’s Go Together

Whoosh—!

The angel depicted in the mural released its arrow, and every single one struck the humans walking ahead of the dragon with pinpoint precision.

It was a flow of mana so refined and heavy that no human could ever hope to control it. The dragon groaned inwardly. Even for a dragon, it was a painfully pure concentration of mana—far too dense to move easily.

The companions who had fought through the dungeon and barely made it into the underground temple were felled in an instant by the attack. They died without even managing to scream. From behind, the dragon watched the scene unfold and rushed toward the fallen humans. The knights, including Carlo de Inehart, lay sprawled across the floor, clutching their wounds and gasping for breath. Unsurprisingly, the arrows that had struck them were nowhere to be seen.

“Fennigan! …Khak!”

Realizing that Luce was still alive, Carlo cried out his name. The sudden shout triggered a wave of unbearable pain from his fatal injuries, and he coughed up a mouthful of blood.

“…Ugh… Haa… Ha. What the hell is going on?”

“No idea.”

Luce swept his eyes over Carlo’s fatal wound. His life was steadily slipping away. This wasn’t a wound that could be healed with a simple spell—it had been caused by a formless attack made of pure mana, not a conventional weapon.

Carlo groaned in agony, clinging to consciousness as he lay flat on the floor. A single tear rolled down his cheek.

“So close! Ngh… We were so damn close…! Just a little more…!”

Luce looked down at Carlo, who lay wounded on the ground. The dragon bent his knees slightly and studied the man’s face. Then, after glancing once more at the mural on the ceiling, he tilted his beautifully sculpted face to the side ever so slightly. The entire situation fascinated him.

“Wanna make a bet?”

Luce’s eyes gleamed for a moment. His irises, shimmering like they’d been dusted with powdered gold, burned with a hunger that looked ready to devour the man beneath him. Carlo forgot to breathe in the face of Luce’s chilling aura.

“…What?”

Lying there, Carlo looked as if he’d completely forgotten how to exhale. He stared blankly into the wizard’s otherworldly golden eyes.

“I’m saying let’s bet on whether you can actually change the fate of this continent.”

Hmph. The Gold Dragon glanced over the extent of Carlo’s injuries. It was a fatal wound, no doubt.

“That shiny jewel just sitting over there—I’m wondering now if it’s just bait, or if it really can change the course of destiny.”

Luce lowered his palm over Carlo’s wounds.

“Heal.”

The short word slipped from the man’s beautiful lips. At the same moment, his golden eyes shimmered, and dense mana rippled outward like a wave. However, his magic merely swirled around Carlo’s wounds before dissipating. As expected, a simple spell wasn’t nearly enough to save him.

“I’m going to need a lot more mana than I thought.”

No sooner had the dragon spoken than he began drawing mana from the surroundings with his palm. It required a level of mana so pure that he rarely used it.

The mana within the underground temple alone wasn’t sufficient to heal such a wound.

In the blink of an eye, an immense amount of mana began shifting, stirring up sharp winds. The very power of the world seemed to be sucked into the dragon’s hand.

Centered around them, all living things quietly surrendered their life force to his call.

The knights lying closest to them froze with ashen faces, their breath halting in their throats. One by one, the dungeon’s golems crumbled back into dust and rubble, returning to their inanimate form.

And still, it wasn’t enough.

The dragon widened the scope.

Mana lamps that had barely lit the dungeon began to flicker out, one after another. The area affected by the swirling wind expanded rapidly.

As the magic reached the forest outside the dungeon, wild grasses and bushes withered in an instant, crumbling into gray powder. The trees didn’t escape unscathed either—the leaves along the spreading path of power drooped all at once and fell to the earth.

It was as if the entire life force of the forest surrounding the dungeon was being funneled into the dragon’s hand.

When Carlo opened his eyes again, it was just as that mystical wind had begun to settle.

“…This… this can’t be real.”

Blinking in disbelief, Carlo looked toward Luce and asked,

“What the hell are you?”

The dragon didn’t answer. Instead, he lifted himself from the floor, pulling his knee away from where it had touched the ground. Carlo, still unsteady, rose to his feet as well. His gaze fell upon the lifeless knights strewn across the temple floor, and his expression twisted in devastation.

He had underestimated the legends.

Luce looked at him and said,

“I saved your life. So, for a while, you’re going to entertain me.”

He motioned toward the gem resting peacefully atop the altar at the end of the temple corridor.

Carlo slowly nodded, then walked toward it. The entire reason he had entered the dungeon was to claim that jewel.

Standing before the altar, he reached out and lifted the gem into his palm.

It emitted a clear, translucent glow, lying quietly atop a bed of soft, violet silk. Luce tilted his head slightly.

Nothing happened.

The jewel said to change the fate of the continent—he had expected something to occur the moment it was lifted or possessed. But nothing did.

Carlo turned and held the gem up toward Luce, who remained standing silently behind him. The sound of the dragon’s footsteps echoed through the quiet temple.

Luce took the jewel from Carlo’s hand and inspected it closely.

This… was just a diamond.

The kind of mineral that rolled around the floor of a dragon’s hoard, kicked aside like gravel.

Worse yet, it wasn’t even pure—impurities were scattered throughout. It wasn’t even a top-grade diamond.

Carlo muttered, stunned.

“This… this is it?”

He looked at Luce and asked. All of that—risking their lives, waging war, crawling through a dungeon—was just for this diamond? Even the dragon, who had lived long enough to think he’d seen it all, was taken aback. This was a result he hadn’t anticipated in the slightest.

While the dragon was still inspecting the unimpressive, translucent gem, Carlo called out to him.

“Hey.”

He tilted his head sharply upward, staring at the ceiling.

“Look up. The mural’s moving.”

“…What?”

At Carlo’s words, the dragon slowly raised his head. Above the two of them was an elaborate, antique-style mural—still stunningly beautiful and opulent in its artistry.

But the angel was gone.

As though the mural itself were alive, brushstrokes slithered across the ceiling, shifting restlessly with an almost audible hum.

It was no longer the serene, heavenly image they’d first seen when entering the temple. The clouds within the painting moved in strange directions, chaotically rearranging themselves. It was as if some unseen artist, completely unaware that Luce and Carlo were present below, was actively repainting the scene in real time.

The sky and clouds were soon overlaid with dark green strokes. The movement of the paint mimicked the sweep of a wind-blown forest—long lines stretching out, twisting across the canvas. Then, beneath the sky, a dense, lush forest began to take shape.

The moment the forest was completed, a large, bright yellow figure emerged in its center. A few additional swipes of color, swift and sure, revealed its identity: a Gold Dragon.

Then, with a few final touches, the mural stopped moving.

Now complete, the dragon examined the new image carefully. A vast, brilliant sky stretched across the ceiling, and below it lay a deep, thriving forest.

And in that forest, painted with uncanny realism, was a massive dragon.

But the most important detail was what came next.

Beside the dragon stood a lone, diminutive human figure—wearing a crown, and draped in a long, purple cloak. Kneeling on one knee, the figure was solemnly receiving a great sword from the dragon’s outstretched claws.

So that’s it.

The jewel had just fulfilled its role. Just as the legends said, it had altered the fate of the continent.

By calling upon the power of a noble dragon.

“A prophecy?”

But by whom?

The dragon narrowed his eyes at the mural on the ceiling.

Yet no further clues could be found.