Mikhail stared blankly at the sword strapped to Fellen Deeps’ waist.
It wasn’t exactly the best time to be distracted—especially with the oppressive aura of a dragon bearing down on him—but he couldn’t help it. The sword seemed to call to him, pulling at his attention with an almost magnetic allure.
Then, as if responding to his gaze, Fellen Deeps’ sword let out a clear clink, a metallic sound that rang sharply through the air, as if saying, “Go ahead—look closer.” Mikhail slowly reached for the hilt.
The moment his fingers brushed against it, the sword began to glow—starting precisely where he touched, as though affirming his choice.
“W-What the hell…?”
The light grew so blinding that Mikhail instinctively raised his arm to shield his eyes. But the hand clutching the sword’s hilt felt… foreign. Like it wasn’t his at all. Despite not exerting any force, his right hand began to draw the blade on its own.
It felt as if someone—or something—else was guiding his movements. As the pale blade emerged from its sheath, the glow expanded, spreading outward with increasing intensity.
“You draw your sword against an opponent you can’t possibly beat? You’ve still got a long way to go.”
Luce’s slit-like eyes narrowed, black scales sprouting along his skin due to the tainted mana surging within him. A visible aura of murderous intent shimmered around him like heat rising from the ground.
Mikhail shook his head slowly, never taking his eyes off Luce. He tried to move his hand—still clutched around the hilt—but it wouldn’t budge, as though it were glued in place.
“…This… this isn’t me. My hand’s just moving on its own,” Mikhail muttered in protest.
Shing— With a soft slide, the entire white longsword slipped free from its sheath. As if reacting to the dragon’s killing intent, Fellen Deeps’ sword erupted with a dazzling white light.
“If you’re not going to use it against me, why not put it away?”
“I… I can’t control it.”
“What kind of nonsense is that?”
“Ugh.” Luce winced at the radiant light and pressed his fingers to his temple. A savage headache was clawing at his skull. It felt as if the black mana inside him was thrashing around, raking through his mind. The pain, which had begun around his eyes where the black scales bloomed, was spreading—burning deeper and farther by the second. Damn it. That sword had been an irritant from the moment he first laid eyes on it.
Grit— Luce clenched his teeth against the pain.
“That sword’s light is giving me a headache!” he snapped.
Mikhail looked down, lips pressed tightly together. His hand still wouldn’t obey him. He gave a hesitant twitch, trying to release the grip, but it was useless. The sword refused to let go.
Then suddenly, Luce’s head snapped up from where he’d been rubbing his temples. His face—still marred with growing black scales—met Mikhail’s gaze.
“…Are you alright?”
“Do I look alright to you?”
His expression was twisted with agony. The dragon who had once seemed like a higher being, aloof and untouchable, now looked… vulnerable. As if he needed help. Mikhail’s eyes filled with concern just as Luce’s arm lashed forward, closing the distance in a flash.
Startled, Mikhail tried to pull the sword away—but he was too slow.
The moment Luce’s hand touched the blade, the light exploded, filling the world with blinding brilliance.
And then—nothing. Luce’s headache vanished. Completely.
He blinked in confusion and drew his hand back from the sword. What was this?
That’s when it began. It started with the horns. From beneath Luce’s hair, two massive horns began to emerge.
“…Huh?”
His eyes widened, golden irises narrowing into thin, reptilian slits.
Then came a crack, a low, stretching sound. His body began to grow. His clothes split open down the back, unable to contain the transformation, and massive wings tore through the fabric.
It finally hit him—his body, which had been compressed into a human form, was reverting. He tried to suppress the shift, tried to pull back the mana, but it was no use.
A flick of his eyes downward revealed Mikhail, frozen in place, clearly shocked. He couldn’t stay there—it would be dangerous.
“Get away from me. Now.”
With that final command, Luce’s body was engulfed in radiant golden mana. He could feel the long-lost weight of his tail, a sensation he hadn’t experienced in this form.
Mikhail nodded slowly, dazed, and took several cautious steps backward.
The moment he cleared the space, something the size of a small hill surged in to fill it. From the tip of its tail to the horns on its head, the creature gleamed in radiant gold—an immense Gold Dragon.
Slightly smaller than the ancient white high dragon that had recently passed into slumber, but no less magnificent. Where the high dragon exuded death and age, this one radiated life. Each scale shimmered with an energy so vibrant, the difference was instantly apparent.
“So this… this is your true form.”
Mikhail whispered in awe, overcome by the majesty before him. The dragon slowly lowered its head until its eyes met Mikhail’s. The movement was refined, fitting for such a majestic creature.
Fwoosh— A warm breath blew from the dragon’s nostrils, rustling Mikhail’s silver hair.
[This is bad. The polymorph spell isn’t working at all.]
A voice filled Mikhail’s mind, startling him. His eyes widened in surprise—it was the dragon’s mental transmission, speaking directly through magic.
“…Was that you just now?”
[Who else would it be?]
The golden scales glittered, catching the sunlight.
[…It’s probably because of that sword you’re holding.]
The dragon grumbled through the mental link, clearly displeased, as it leaned its snout toward the sword still in Mikhail’s hand.
Thump. The moment the dragon nudged the sword with the bridge of its nose, a flash of radiant light burst between them once more.
[Huh?]
In the blink of an eye, the dragon’s massive body began to shrink.
Where a majestic gold dragon had just stood, now there was a deer—massive, the size of a carriage—with a long neck stretching forward and blinking curiously.
Its antlers reached proudly toward the sky, radiant and regal.
[Yeah, it really is that damned sword. Are you picking a fight with me now?]
The deer glared at Fellen Deeps’ sword with blazing eyes and scraped its hoof against the ground.
Mikhail stiffened instinctively. That motion—he recognized it. It was the telltale behavior of a deer preparing to charge.
“…No way.”
It couldn’t possibly be charging at him, right?
Unfortunately, Mikhail’s guess was dead on. The carriage-sized deer planted its hooves and, lowering its antlers, charged straight at him.
There wasn’t time to dodge.
Mikhail lifted his arm, still holding the sword, and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable impact and thunderous crash—but instead, something simply brushed his torso and then plopped weakly to the ground.
He opened one eye, sensing something was off.
There was a fluttering sound. Wings.
[…The deer was better.]
Where the deer had just been, a yellow canary the size of a fist was now flapping weakly in midair.
“…Perhaps it’s best to stop now,” Mikhail suggested cautiously.
[Excuse me?!]
The canary looked like it could be crushed in one hand, delicate and harmless—but Luce clearly wasn’t done. He flitted toward Mikhail’s sword again, and once more, a bright light enveloped his small body.
Mikhail squinted slightly as the brilliance surged outward. When the light faded, Luce Fennigan stood there once more.
His monstrous aura was gone, the foul mana dispersed, the black scales around his eyes vanished. He had returned completely to human form.
Even his clothes were unchanged—whatever magic had worked, it had kept his attire intact.
“…”
“I’m relieved to see you back.”
Mikhail addressed the dragon, now restored to Adrian Heather’s form. At some point, Fellen Deeps’ sword had returned to its usual, dormant state.
Mikhail slid the blade slightly from the sheath to check—just a regular sword now. It looked as if it had finished what it needed to do.
Furrowing his brows, he flexed his wrist—the same one that had refused to obey him moments ago—and then, with a clink, shoved the sword smoothly back into its sheath.
Luce, meanwhile, was still staring at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists with a puzzled look. Had he truly come back properly? He turned his gaze toward the air where lingering mana should have been.
“…?!”
Normally, manipulating mana was as natural as breathing. But now—he couldn’t sense a single particle.
“Mikhail.”
“Yes?”
Before jumping to the worst conclusion, Luce needed to verify.
“…What’s the mana flow like around us right now?”
He swept his gaze slowly across the hilltop and asked. Just moments ago, mana had been flowing abundantly—but now he could neither see nor feel it.
“The ambient mana has stabilized significantly. It’s flowing past you as well. But… why are you asking this?”
Mikhail tilted his head in confusion.
For a dragon—an ancient lifeform that lived in mana—to ask a human about its presence was odd, to say the least.
Luce, looking dazed, simply watched as Mikhail traced the flow with his finger, trying to detect it with his eyes, as if hoping to glimpse something invisible.
“This doesn’t make sense,” Luce muttered, lowering his head to look at his palm again.
“It’s all gone.”
“…What?”
He didn’t even seem to hear Mikhail’s startled response.
Luce stared blankly, as if unable to comprehend what had just happened.
