A massive pillar of flame shot up behind him, as if it were about to engulf the entire cavern. With one foot braced against the doorway, Adrian took in the sight with wide eyes.
The thick black mana that had once cloaked half the lava was now completely incinerated, not a trace left behind. Steam surged up in the wake of the flames, filling the spaces between the fiery pillars. A chilling screech echoed through the cave as a boulder the size of a mansion groaned and slowly detached from the ceiling. The Gold Dragon stared at the moment unfolding before him—then stepped away from the threshold with the other foot. Naturally, he didn’t forget to gesture and close the door behind him as he jumped.
The door had been far above the surface.
Splash! With a great wave, the Gold Dragon dove gracefully into the lake. The chill of the water instantly washed over him as he broke through the surface. It was cold enough to send a slight shiver down his nape.
Beneath the deep lake, the Gold Dragon opened his eyes. He had to find the prince who had fallen in first. The poor boy had grown up too pampered—even swimming seemed beyond him. Adrian pulled a small box from his pocket. If he was going to stay underwater for long, he’d need this trick too. With two fingers, he brushed his cheek twice.
Hooo… Bubbles drifted from his mouth, rising toward the surface in uneven patterns. Adrian’s gaze swept through the lake’s depths. A few small fish flitted past him in the bluish water.
Fortunately—very fortunately—this wasn’t his first visit to this part of the lake. Spotting a faint silhouette in the distance, Adrian gave a slight smile and kicked hard, slicing through the water.
The Gold Dragon swiftly located the prince.
There he was, glaring up at him from the lakebed. Thanks to the blue dye, the boy could breathe, but clearly had no way of swimming to the surface. That explained why only the prince’s crimson eyes were glinting through the blue depths.
As bubbles occasionally slipped from his lips, Adrian cut through the water in long, graceful strokes toward the prince. Then, he looped Mikhail’s arm over his shoulder and began swimming upward with practiced ease. At times, the prince’s silver hair floated and shimmered in the water, brushing against Adrian’s cheek. Still holding Mikhail close, Adrian would sometimes swipe his own cheek with a palm. He glanced sidelong at the prince, who clung quietly to him without a single complaint. Remarkably docile—for once.
Puhah—!
Though he could breathe underwater, the moment he broke the surface and filled his lungs with real air, it felt like he could finally breathe properly again. The lake at Basamiel Academy was massive, stretching from deep within the forest all the way past the greenhouse behind the main building.
Mikhail took a few refreshing breaths. With his drenched face, he looked up at the sky, then gazed at the forest trees for a moment before opening his mouth. At their current pace, it would take a while to reach the far end of the lake.
“…This is the fastest we can go? It’s slower than running.”
“We could go faster, obviously.”
Adrian glanced at the dead weight he was practically hauling along and gave a strained smile. The “dead weight,” hanging from his arm, picked up on the look and returned it with a sulky stare.
“Then should we go full speed?”
Huh? Adrian muttered as he loosened his grip on the prince’s shoulder. Sllrp— As their shoulders unlinked, Mikhail’s body slowly began to sink below the lake’s surface. Ack! Mikhail jerked his head upward, barely managing to keep his face above water.
Wait—
Mikhail exhaled in exasperation. “Haa… No, this pace is fine.”
“Right?” Adrian beamed like he’d expected that answer all along.
“Should’ve said so earlier.”
The Dragon adjusted his grip on the prince’s shoulder, lifting him securely again. Mikhail’s slowly sinking body finally steadied and floated just above the surface once more.
Adrian focused on guiding the now-quiet prince toward the far end of the lake. Only the clear sound of water echoed through the peaceful forest surrounding the academy.
Mikhail found the arm wrapped around his shoulder deeply uncomfortable. Too close. Grumbling internally, he shifted slightly in Adrian’s hold. He twisted his shoulder, putting a bit of distance between them—but the relief didn’t last long.
“Relax. You’re making it harder to carry you.”
Adrian must’ve thought the prince was slipping underwater, because he paused mid-stroke to tighten his hold again.
Ugh. Mikhail frowned slightly and gave a reluctant nod. Once again, Adrian’s firm torso pressed against his back. There was nothing for it but to hope this guy started swimming a lot faster.
Just as Mikhail tried to shift his attention away from the shoulder pressed against his, he let out a small gasp. “Ah!” The wound on his palm, which he’d completely forgotten about, suddenly flared with pain. What had Adrian said about it again…?
“…Mana scars…”
The prince, with no real need to exert himself swimming, stared intently at his palm. It was the hand he used to wield his sword—never soft or spotless to begin with. After swinging a blade thousands upon thousands of times in pursuit of proper form and mastery, his palms had always been riddled with blisters, bursting open and bleeding red.
But once he’d grown accustomed to swordsmanship, even those wounds became rare.
And yet here he was, having gripped a sword with a hand now in utter ruin. He was the one who had effortlessly sliced through that enormous hill inside the cavern?
For a fleeting moment, he had stepped into the realm of a Swordmaster. What a shame. Mikhail muttered inwardly. If he could hold on to the sensation, it would serve as a valuable reference in future training. He was itching to grab any sword nearby and swing it again, right now. His crimson eyes wavered, a spark flickering in their depths.
Adrian, watching the prince absorbed in staring at his hand, could clearly read his thoughts.
He was a human whom the ancient spirits had gone so far as to drag away, using up their own mana. Granted, as was typical for spirits, their concept of time was lacking—they’d completely bungled the date. Because of that, a few other students at the Academy had ended up glimpsing the door too, but that was a trivial matter.
They’d already known that Mount Dohenia would erupt—and the one who had caused the eruption had been that very prince.
“With that hand, you won’t be able to hold a sword for a while.”
Fwish—Though Adrian had seemed focused solely on swimming, he suddenly spoke, prompting Mikhail to tear his gaze away from his palm.
“…It doesn’t hurt as much as it looks.”
Mikhail forced himself to look away from his ruined hand. His mind was already filled with nothing but the urge to grasp a sword again. The Dragon, however, saw through his tone immediately.
“Maintaining your body is part of a knight’s discipline.”
Adrian gently pushed through the water with a pale arm as he offered the advice. If left untreated, mana scars could linger longer and deepen. But Mikhail responded with a signature expression—one that said What do you know about knights?—and stayed silent.
Thud—his feet finally touched the lakebed.
The moment he realized it, Mikhail quickly unlatched himself from Adrian’s arm. Adrian, having no particular desire to keep up the side-hug either, released him without hesitation.
As he trudged through the shallows toward the lake’s edge, the soaked academy uniform clung to his entire body. Droplets dripped from him, and his hair was no exception—soaked and trailing water.
Then it happened.
DANG—DANG—DANG—
The great clock tower of Basamiel Academy rang out three chimes. The sun hung directly overhead, meaning it was likely three in the afternoon.
“…What day is it today?”
Mikhail mumbled as he looked toward the direction of the clock tower, though it wasn’t visible from where they stood, being some distance from the main building. They had entered that strange door over the weekend… He could only hope it wasn’t a weekday.
“Whatever day it is, we should take a break first.”
Adrian had no intention of marching into the dorms dripping wet again. Instead, he flopped onto the grassy shore beside the lake. The warm sunlight bathed his body, gradually drying both him and his uniform.
Skipping a few days of class isn’t the end of the world. It wasn’t like the Academy would expel a student just for missing a couple of lectures.
The Dragon, having lived a long life, decided to rely on his hard-earned wisdom—and skip class altogether.
