“I actually became human…?”
Luce dropped to the ground on the hillside with a blank look on his face. Mikhail, standing beside him—the now just human—looked just as shaken. He quickly bent down to study Luce’s face, but couldn’t detect any visible change.
“What do you mean, it’s all gone? You’re talking about the dragon’s power, right? Just from the outside… I can’t really tell…”
But the dragon couldn’t even hear Mikhail’s voice anymore. Luce simply stared down at his hands pressed against the ground, as if refusing to believe this crushing reality.
“I… I’ve become a human who can’t do anything on his own?”
Luce slammed his fist into the earth with a thud. The fury was too much to bottle up.
“You said you wouldn’t force me!”
Cursing the dead ancient dragon wouldn’t bring back the power he’d lost, but Luce couldn’t help feeling deeply wronged. For one brief moment, he had thought he wouldn’t care if the world ended. And now, as punishment, he was trapped in the feeble body of a human. Of course, for that damned Ordinas, the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. After all, Luce had nearly destroyed the world.
But still…
“What the hell am I supposed to do as a human?”
There was no way he could fulfill the role of the dragon as the ancient one had described—not in this body.
Luce muttered in a bleak voice. If this was just some fleeting diversion in life, maybe he could accept it. But if he had to remain in this powerless state indefinitely, everything would be hopeless. A human could die from a stray sword, from magic, or even just from illness.
“……”
Mikhail’s expression, as he looked down at Luce beside him, was hard to read. What could a human even say to console a dragon despairing at having become one of them? After a long silence spent trying to find the right words, Mikhail finally offered a hesitant comfort to Luce, who hadn’t even tried to get up since the shock.
“You’ll regain your strength soon, I’m sure.”
Pat, pat. Mikhail gently patted Luce’s back. The motion was stiff and awkward.
Luce’s head snapped up at the sound of his voice. His eyes flashed like they’d been set ablaze.
“You did this to me, and you dare try to comfort me?”
“That’s—”
Mikhail frowned, about to protest, Where’s the logic in that? When a pale hand suddenly shot up from below and grabbed his collar. Mikhail, who had leaned slightly toward Luce, was yanked down in an instant. His body tilted and hit the grass with his back to the ground. Luce climbed on top of him and shoved his face close, eyes blazing with fury.
“I was going to quietly grant your damn wish and leave, but it’s your cursed sword that did this to me.”
“……I’m just as clueless about what the hell’s going on as you are.”
“Whatever. Hand over that sword. I’m melting it down for horseshoes.”
Luce’s hand darted toward Mikhail’s waist and snatched the sword of Fellen Deeps.
“What nonsense is that?!”
Gritting his teeth, Mikhail grabbed both the hilt and Luce’s hand, trying to stop him. The two grappled back and forth. Without his dragon powers, Luce quickly realized their grip strength was about equal—but he didn’t back down.
“Let go! Unless you want your fingers broken.”
“You let go first!”
But Mikhail was just as stubborn as he was.
As they wrestled for control of the sword, the scuffle sent them tumbling down the slope of the hill. They rolled over each other multiple times—first Luce on top, then Mikhail—until finally Mikhail’s back hit the iron gate at the base of the hill. Luce, breathless, lay on his back staring at the sky.
Aside from the blooming red Mirkint flowers, the hill remained peaceful. Mikhail turned his head to look at Luce beside him. In the end, it was Mikhail who managed to keep hold of Fellen Deeps’ sword.
“……We should probably get back before the gate closes.”
“……”
Luce didn’t reply, only stared sulkily at the sky. Still, it was obvious he’d silently agreed. He rose, brushing off the grass stuck to his clothes from their tumble. Then, still holding the sword in both hands, he cast a side glance at the reclining Mikhail and wordlessly extended a hand. It was a silent proposal for a temporary truce.
Mikhail took Luce’s hand and pulled himself up with a small motion.
Thankfully, the gate at the top of the hill still remained in place by the time they returned. The moment both of them stepped onto the other side, it dissolved with a soft ssaaaak—like sand blown away by the wind.
Mikhail glanced at the dragon trudging beside him, shoulders slumped.
“…Are you alright?”
“No need to worry. It won’t interfere with granting your wish.”
Mikhail quietly nodded at Luce’s words, suddenly reminded of the wish he had almost forgotten—his request to find Adrian Heather’s body.
Whatever was happening, it seemed that the sword of Fellen Deeps was reacting in some unusual way to the dragon’s magic. But ever since the dragon’s power had been stripped away, the sword hadn’t responded at all. The blinding white light it once emitted—so bright it was impossible to look at—had long since faded. Mikhail glanced down at the sword hanging from his waist and clicked his tongue softly.
The moment Luce returned to the inn, he marched straight to his room, collapsed onto the bed, and buried himself under the blankets. With the covers pulled all the way over his head, he looked less like a mighty dragon and more like a young man drowning in despair. Even from under the blanket, he seemed to sense Mikhail’s gaze.
“Don’t bother me. Just get out of my room. You’re annoying.”
Leaning against the doorway, Mikhail gave a casual shrug. But no matter how hard he tried, his eyes kept drifting back to him.
“…We’re planning to leave again tomorrow at noon.”
“Got it. I’ll be on time, now go away already.”
Mikhail stared quietly at the bed for a moment before speaking again.
“What did you talk about with that dragon?”
At the question, Luce threw the blanket off in a single motion. His eyes locked directly with Mikhail’s.
“What are you curious about?”
It was still Adrian’s voice. Exactly the same. Mikhail looked away, trying to suppress the surge of emotion as he recalled the ancient dragon from the hilltop—how it had crumbled away like sand, leaving only bones behind.
“Was he really… Ordinas?”
Luce’s brown eyes gleamed in the dark.
“No.”
The answer was cold and blunt. Mikhail met Luce’s gaze again. No doubt, he too was replaying that strange meeting with the ancient dragon in his mind.
“Then what about the part where he said everything in the world is already predetermined? Was that true?”
A slight smirk tugged at Luce’s lips. “And if it was? What could you even do about it?”
Instead of answering, the dragon threw the question back at him. Mikhail bit his lower lip.
“Then, everything that’s happened… Adrian Heather’s death, my summoning you, making that wish to you—are you saying all of that was already decided?”
In his mind, the fireworks from the Basamiel Academy festival still burned vividly. Boom! Golden light had lit up the dark evening sky, and the same glow had reflected in Adrian’s clear eyes, sparkling like they were exploding inside them. For someone barely into his youth, Adrian had worn a strangely bitter expression.
“If it had been decided before you were even born that you’d win the martial arts tournament today, and you’d known that before even stepping into the arena… it wouldn’t have been fun for you either.”
Adrian… he had already known all of it. But how? He was a commoner who couldn’t even use magic. Far too young to grasp the flow of the world, let alone learn something like that on his own with the knowledge of a mere first-year academy student.
Mikhail frowned, troubled. As he looked down, his gaze landed on the sword of Fellen Deeps hanging from his waist.
“Then… even getting this sword was predetermined?”
“Yeah.”
Luce answered without a moment’s hesitation. His eyes flicked briefly toward the sword at Mikhail’s side. It was the one he himself had handed over. A cursed sword that had repaid his grace in this goddamn way. Just for thinking, for one fleeting moment, that he didn’t care if the world died, he had ended up trapped in a body at the very bottom of the food chain.
“But what for?”
Mikhail’s red eyes brimmed with uncertainty. Whatever awaited him at the end of this so-called path of fate—it was already set in stone. Whether that ending was blissful or tragic, he had no way of knowing.
“One thing’s for sure—it sure as hell ain’t for my sake.”
The dragon grumbled. Judging by the state he was in now, that much was obvious. Luce rolled his eyes for a moment as if pondering something, then turned his back sharply. A clear sign he wasn’t open to any more questions.
***
The next day at noon, Mikhail waited for Luce in the lobby. The prince had already finished his morning workout and eaten a light brunch. He’d ordered the inn staff to prepare a carriage and now stood waiting for Luce to come out, ready to depart.
But the appointed time passed, and Luce still hadn’t shown up. He’d said they’d leave at noon—had something happened? Mikhail tilted his head, puzzled, and walked up to Luce’s room. Standing in a disciplined posture, he knocked firmly.
“…What?”
“It’s well past the departure time.”
There was silence for a few seconds, then a delayed response: “I’ll be out soon.” Was he still feeling down like yesterday? Mikhail furrowed his brow and sighed.
“Pardon the intrusion.”
As he opened the door, he saw a large young man curled up in bed. Why’s he still lying there? Hasn’t even started getting ready yet… Mikhail was just about to snap when—
“…I think I’m coming down with something.”
“What?”
Mikhail’s eyes went wide at Luce’s unexpected words.
