It wasn’t a mere coincidence. Ordinas had been warning Adrian all along.
He recalled the moment when he first witnessed the death of one of his kind—when his fury wasn’t directed at the world, but more precisely, at Ordinas itself. From that moment on, the golden scales of the dragon had turned black and blazed with fury.
The mana within him, which had always felt fresh and serene, ignited in a pure white blaze before turning into black ash. He had been consumed by a murderous desire to wipe out every living thing across the continent.
Adrian curled his lips as he relived that moment. He lowered his gaze slightly and clenched the hand resting on the table. What mattered wasn’t just the intensity of that bloodlust—but that it hadn’t merely remained a fantasy in a dragon’s mind.
“I have… the power to make it real.”
That was likely the power Ordinas feared most. That vast, untainted force he sometimes felt—so immense it defied comprehension. Adrian had always wondered about its origin, and now, Catherine’s story had given him the answer.
“Luce!” Mikhail took a step forward to approach Luce, but the violent wind swirling around him forced Mikhail to retreat.
Still, he tried again. Taking a step back to brace himself, he clenched his teeth and shouted, “Snap out of it!”
It happened then. Luce, who had been bowing his head low, suddenly jerked it upward. His eyes gleamed with an eerie white light, like a moon hanging in the midday sky, and he stared directly at Mikhail.
Mikhail stiffened at the bizarre sight, but unlike earlier, he did not retreat. Luce locked eyes with him, then slowly lowered the hand he’d placed against the ancient dragon.
It had been Mikhail who managed to barely stop Adrian, who was being consumed by black mana. Suddenly, he felt the weight of the sword he had once entrusted to Fellen Deeps. The continent was struggling desperately, clinging to life.
So that’s it. All of this… is to stop me.
Hmm. Adrian lowered his gaze to the table, a cold smile curving on his lips.
To be honest, it was far from what he had expected. He hadn’t devoted uncountable years seeking the reason for his existence just to face this kind of truth.
“…Adrian.” Mikhail, arms crossed, quietly observed the still, subdued expression on Adrian’s face.
That expression… he’d seen it once before—right after Adrian won the swordsmanship tournament at Basamiel. When he had raised his head in triumph to glance up at Mikhail seated in the audience. It was the kind of cold expression that gave away nothing of the turmoil inside.
What’s he thinking now?
Mikhail felt a surge of frustration. Compared to Adrian, he was still so young, so inexperienced. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t begin to guess what the dragon was thinking now. But there was one thing he could do—he wouldn’t place his trust in fate, or in Ordinas, but in Adrian himself.
Mikhail drew the line with a firm voice. “I’ll say it again. We can’t conclude anything based on a single painting drawn hundreds of years ago.”
Adrian’s eyes, which had been lost in thought and staring elsewhere, slowly shifted toward Mikhail.
“It could just be the work of some crazy artist.”
“…”
Mikhail’s intention rang loud and clear. Adrian stared at him, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.
No need to deny the truth so stubbornly.
Fortunately, unlike Mikhail, Catherine remained objective. Shaking her head with a composed expression, she spoke.
“That can’t be. After King Carlo’s party cleared the dungeon to the very end, not a single person went in again before the re-expedition.”
“I know that… But still.”
No matter how hard he tried to deny it, a fact was still a fact. The painting had been discovered deep inside a dungeon—far beyond the reach of any ordinary painter. And painting something on a ceiling tall enough to fit a clocktower… was simply beyond human ability.
Just as Mikhail opened his mouth again, Adrian spoke first, giving a slight shrug.
“I’m not curious about how the painting was made. That’s not what matters.”
He cut their conversation cleanly.
Adrian had personally seen the ceiling mural change in real time, fresh strokes being added right before his eyes. So, when they said the painting had shifted into a grotesque image once more—he had no trouble believing it.
“The important thing is that Ordinas is trying to convey a message through it.” With those words, Adrian fixed his gaze on a distant point and fell into silence. It wasn’t a situation that was completely beyond understanding.
A short silence settled between them.
The one fated to bring about the continent’s destruction in the near future. Adrian’s lips twisted into a smirk. Now that he thought about it, it was a role that suited a dragon perfectly.
“…That’s a pretty petty reason.”
Adrian was the one to voice the truth that Mikhail and Catherine had been reluctant to say aloud.
“Ordinas must be doing everything it can to prevent the continent’s downfall. Everything it does is for the continent’s sake. So you have no reason to fear Ordinas.”
Catherine and Mikhail’s eyes fell upon Adrian’s face, his voice devoid of a single trace of emotion. The dragon couldn’t discern what exactly was reflected in their stares.
Still, Adrian understood Ordinas’ stance perfectly.
Through the mural, Ordinas was trying to warn him—to protect the fragile lives scattered across the continent.
Leave this place. Before your fury devours everything.
“Well, fearing me as the harbinger of destruction, as depicted in that ceiling mural… that’s a separate matter.”
Creeeak—As Adrian suddenly stood, his chair scraped the floor with an unpleasant noise.
Catherine and Mikhail looked up at him with puzzled expressions, as if asking why he was suddenly getting up.
“Then, if you’ll excuse me.”
It was a curt farewell, emotionless and unreadable.
With that, he turned sharply and lifted the fabric covering the entrance to the tent.
Mikhail immediately stood up, unwilling to let him go.
“Wait—”
Is he really leaving like this?
Mikhail reached out, but he couldn’t catch Adrian before he exited the tent. Biting down hard on his lower lip, he chased after the dragon.
“Adrian? Mikhail! Where are you going?”
Catherine’s urgent voice called out from behind them, but Mikhail had no time to respond. He had to follow before Adrian’s back disappeared from view.
“Adrian!”
Seriously, what a troublesome man. Mikhail gritted his teeth.
The soldiers guarding the encampment turned to look at Mikhail with confused expressions. They had spent a long time serving in this stronghold alongside the prince, but they’d never seen him with such a face. Naturally, they craned their necks to see who he was chasing. Normally, Mikhail would’ve barked at them to mind their own business, but right now, he saw no one else.
His voice rang out again, louder.
“Adrian, are you just going to walk away like that?!”
Adrian’s steps halted at Mikhail’s cry. Slowly, he turned his head and looked back at Mikhail, who was running toward him with urgency.
Why is he following me?
Adrian had intended to return to his lair. If his existence was a threat to the continent, then it was his responsibility to delay that moment, even just a little. Of course, he couldn’t defy a preordained fate, but he could buy a bit more time—for the countless lives that still remained. From the perspective of these fragile humans, the prophecy contained in the mural must seem terrifying.
That’s why he couldn’t understand why Mikhail was chasing him with such desperation.
“…Ah.”
Adrian let out a soft sound of realization after a moment’s thought. He had forgotten something important.
Only now did he feel the weight of the sword he held in one hand.
Clink. The weapon let out a low metallic sound, almost as if to say, Finally, you remember.
Adrian glanced down at the blade for a moment before turning his eyes to Mikhail, who had finally caught up to him. Ah, right. The sword Mikhail valued more than his own life. If it was this sword, then perhaps that expression of his made sense.
“Oh, right. I forgot to return this.”
Adrian abruptly extended his arm in front of Mikhail. In his hand was Fellen Deeps’ sword, held lightly.
The gesture was full of certainty—Adrian was convinced this was the only reason Mikhail had chased after him.
“…”
Mikhail pursed his lips. He had been so desperate, he’d nearly forgotten about the sword himself. But of course, this wasn’t about retrieving a sword.
“Where…”
Mikhail glanced down at the sword, then raised his eyes again to meet Adrian’s. He opened his mouth.
“Where are you going?”
“That question is so obvious, I don’t even think it deserves an answer. Do I really have to stop and explain myself just because of something that trivial?”
Adrian responded with irritation. At the same time, he pressed the sword against Mikhail’s chest again, clearly urging him to just take it.
But Mikhail stood his ground, not budging an inch. He spoke firmly.
“Don’t go.”
A human—daring to defy Ordinas’ warning. Adrian tilted his head as he looked at him.
