Don’t go? And how would you even know where I’m going?
Mikhail, now towering over Adrian after three years of growth, blocked his path. The knights in armor stood frozen, eyes wide as they stared at the confrontation. Adrian didn’t need to eavesdrop to know what they were whispering among themselves—he could hear their hushed voices as clearly as if they were murmuring right beside him. The perks of being a dragon.
‘That blond guy looks kind of familiar…’
‘Yeah? What’s going on between him and Prince Mikhail that they’re fighting in the middle of the road?’
With a detached expression, Adrian swept his gaze across the crowd and let out a sigh.
He had only planned to walk to a quieter area before using teleportation magic, but now he’d drawn too much attention. It looked like he’d need to deal with Mikhail—the bastard glaring at him with that smug expression—before he could leave in peace. The way Mikhail had tailed him so persistently made it clear: if left unchecked, the prince would follow him all the way to the edge of the continent.
“Cut the nonsense and just take your sword.”
Adrian let out a cold chuckle and shoved Mikhail back with his fist. But Mikhail didn’t even glance at the sword in Adrian’s hand. He simply shook his head.
“No. I’m not taking it.”
“…Are you trying to piss me off?”
Adrian’s gaze sharpened like a blade. He was already in a foul mood thanks to that cursed prophecy from Ordinas.
“Hate to break it to you, but I’m in no state to entertain childish tantrums.”
“…”
Childish. At that word, one of Mikhail’s eyebrows twitched upward. He didn’t appreciate being treated like some petulant brat.
There wasn’t even the slightest thought in Mikhail’s mind to accept the sword as Adrian wanted. He knew exactly what it meant—if he took that sword, Adrian would vanish without hesitation.
Adrian’s face, twisted with visible annoyance, filled Mikhail’s field of vision. Slowly, Mikhail raised his hand and gently wrapped it around Adrian’s, speaking softly.
“I know. You’re not in the mood for that.”
His clear, resolute voice filled the space between them.
“You’re worried. That the prophecy might actually come true.”
Mikhail’s words, brimming with certainty, made Adrian scowl in disbelief.
“…What?”
The reaction was one of pure offense. Worried? Me? That was a term humans might use—certainly not dragons.
Adrian yanked his hand away from Mikhail’s and snapped back.
“Worried? You think I’d feel something so useless?”
He spat each word like venom, then flung the sword of Fellen Deeps at Mikhail, who still showed no signs of accepting it.
Fine. Pick it up yourself. This was his final, forceful prescription for someone who had stubbornly refused despite countless demands.
Clang!
The blade—Mikhail’s cherished Fellen Deeps sword, which he maintained daily and protected like his own life—hit the filthy ground with a metallic scrape against the stones.
Immediately, one of the soldiers watching gasped audibly. Every knight in the camp knew what that sword meant to the prince.
‘…Didn’t someone get in serious trouble just for touching that thing once?’
Someone nudged their companion with an elbow and murmured in a near-whisper. The knight who was asked didn’t take his eyes off Mikhail and the unfamiliar man standing before him.
‘Don’t even mention it. I heard they got kicked out on the spot.’
‘Whoever that blond guy is, he’s done for today. Damn shame—being that handsome won’t save him if he can’t read the room. Prince Mikhail won’t let that slide.’
The Mikhail they knew was the most rational of any royal they’d seen, but when someone crossed the line, he was merciless in his response.
Adrian didn’t pay the whispering humans the slightest attention. His eyes were fixed on Mikhail alone.
“…”
Mikhail, however, remained silent. He just stared down at the sword now lying in the dirt.
The entire crowd held its breath, waiting for Mikhail’s judgment.
Gulp. The sound of someone nervously swallowing echoed loud enough to be heard as they stared into the prince’s expressionless crimson eyes. The handsome blond youth at the center of the storm, seemingly unaware of the gravity of the situation, raised his chin with brazen confidence—waiting for Mikhail to speak.
But what came out of Mikhail’s mouth was the exact opposite of what everyone had expected.
“…Was it really that upsetting to hear I was worried about you?”
At the same time, Mikhail bent slightly and calmly picked up his sword. With an indifferent expression, he gave it a few taps to brush off the dirt.
When the prince himself stooped to retrieve the blade, the onlookers were struck dumb with shock. It was enough to make them question if this silver-haired man truly was Prince Mikhail.
Yet Mikhail, unfazed, straightened his posture and looked directly at Adrian.
“Still, throwing the sword was a bit much.”
Had he forgotten that Mikhail had once said he cherished that sword more than his life?
Mikhail gripped the familiar scabbard with force. What Adrian had flung just now wasn’t merely a weapon—it was Mikhail’s heart.
Watching the wounded look on Mikhail’s face, Adrian let out a scoffing mutter, as if it were the most absurd thing he’d seen.
“It’s clearly fine. And honestly, there are plenty of better swords on the continent. You’re throwing a fit over nothing.”
Minor scratches like that came with the territory of wielding a blade. Sure, the Sword of Fellen Deeps was a famed weapon, but it wasn’t one of a kind. Even Adrian had several in his lair—there were plenty of legendary swords scattered across the continent.
Mikhail responded in a tightly restrained voice, holding back his rising anger.
“Do you really not understand why this sword is precious to me?”
Dragons were said to be far nobler than humans—but moments like this made Mikhail wonder. Did beings like Adrian, who seemed incapable of grasping emotion, really qualify as a higher species?
If he didn’t spell it out, Adrian—that detached, indifferent dragon—would never understand, not even in a thousand years. The only reason Adrian had stopped was because he looked like he might actually listen this time.
“Because it was a gift from you.”
“…”
Right. I gave it to him in Basamiel. Though it had been a gift forced by Ordinas’ decree of fate, Adrian hadn’t thought much of it. He’d assumed Mikhail cherished it because of its quality—not because of something so trivial.
“That’s why it matters to me. Even if it’s you, I won’t tolerate you treating it like garbage.”
“Hmm. And if you won’t tolerate it, what then?”
Adrian chuckled dryly, clearly amused by the sheer audacity of the statement. It was just a reaction to how ridiculous the whole thing sounded. But Mikhail met his gaze, eyes unwavering.
“I’m not Carlo.”
The name that escaped Mikhail’s lips was one Adrian hadn’t expected in the slightest. Carlo—the human Adrian had once turned into a Sword Master as part of a game. A wish he’d granted after acknowledging his loss in a wager.
Then, almost like reaffirming a vow to himself, Mikhail murmured:
“I’ll never run away.”
“…”
His crimson eyes blazed—not with anger, but with unshakable conviction, smoldering like molten lava. For a brief moment, Adrian couldn’t look away. Just for an instant, it felt like he could feel the emotion burning in the human’s eyes.
Yes, Mikhail was different from Carlo, just like he said. Mikhail relentlessly pursued the truth he sought, never backing down, and in the end—he always got what he came for. Is that what sets a hero apart? The dragon found himself faintly curious about what Mikhail was thinking now.
Adrian’s lips, tightly sealed until now, slowly began to part.
“Aren’t you truly afraid?”
A question far too heavy to be asking someone so young. It wasn’t about logic—it was about a primal fear, a fear rooted deep in the soul of all living things. Mikhail was still a youth, barely more than a boy. Someone who likely hadn’t even had the time to ponder such existential dread. But even knowing that, Adrian couldn’t stop himself from asking.
“Even if the end of this fate—led by Ordinas—turns out to be nothing but ruin?”
Adrian’s form was that of a young man, only slightly shorter than Mikhail. But despite standing at eye level, Mikhail could feel the full weight of the dragon’s presence pressing down on him, as if the heavens themselves were bearing down from above. The dragon’s gaze pierced through him like a divine judgment, yet Mikhail stood tall, unflinching.
The end of fate… Mikhail’s gaze didn’t waver in the slightest.
After a moment’s pause, he opened his mouth slowly and replied.
“Why should I be afraid of something that hasn’t even happened yet?”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed slightly at the answer. A moment of silence passed between them—until Adrian let out a short laugh.
“…Ha.”
There was something oddly liberating in that brief laugh, as if a weight had been lifted.
