“As a descendant of the Rustavaran royal family, shouldn’t we see for ourselves? There’s always the chance the great Gold Dragon has truly returned to the human realm.”
Adrian didn’t interrupt the princes’ conversation and simply sipped his tea.
Alix subtly curled his lips at the mention of “the great Gold Dragon.” That smirk alone made it clear exactly what he thought of the founding king’s legend.
“Of course, if that golden-haired commoner really were the famed Archmage, then a little scar on his neck would’ve been healed as easily as breathing.”
Tap. Alix stared directly at the golden-haired commoner sitting across from him. He couldn’t sense even the slightest ripple of mana from the man’s body. Which was precisely why Alix was confident—this man wasn’t an Archmage.
“Doesn’t seem like it.”
“You’re saying you summoned my friend to the royal capital just to check on some rumor?”
“……”
There was more to it. Mikhail eyed Alix suspiciously. Alix lowered his teacup in response to his brother’s question. His younger brother had always been quick to catch on to things like this.
Since enrolling at Basamiel Academy, Mikhail hadn’t been able to get any news about what was happening back in the Rustavaran Kingdom. His expression hardened.
“……Has something happened in Rustavaran?”
Alix silently gazed at his earnest youngest brother. Mikhail was one of the few royals who took true pride in and cherished Rustavaran. Alix valued that about him—and it was precisely that reason he had tolerated the rumors that threatened the royal succession. If it had been anyone else besides Mikhail, he would’ve never allowed such leeway.
“They say there’s been a strange, unexplained phenomenon discovered on one of the outer islands of the kingdom.”
Mikhail tilted his head, hearing this for the first time.
“What kind of phenomenon? There hasn’t been a single word about it in Basamiel.”
“There’s no need to publicize something we haven’t even figured out yet. For now, we’ve sealed off the surrounding area and are trying to determine the cause. Half the Royal Knights have already been dispatched to investigate.”
“I see.”
Mikhail slowly nodded, seemingly in agreement with Alix’s reasoning. But his expression remained stiff, the tension refusing to ease.
“So this unknown phenomenon… what exactly is it?”
“I haven’t seen it with my own eyes, so I can’t give you the full details. But one of my knights who was sent there said, ‘Black mana is seeping out from the ground.’ In any case, the affected area has been steadily expanding since it was first discovered. And the key point is—it’s not just one place. It’s happening in multiple locations.”
Black mana rising from the earth.
Mikhail muttered under his breath as he listened. Adrian, who had been calmly drinking his tea, turned a sharp gaze toward Alix. At that very moment, the same image flashed through both their minds—what they had seen at Mount Dohenia.
“What’s the opinion of the De Ruels Magic Association?”
“As expected… they’re just spouting nonsense and asking for more time. Honestly, mages always start rambling cryptically right when you actually need them.”
Tap. Alix flicked his fingers, signaling a servant who had been waiting at a distance. The servant stepped forward with careful hands, lifting the teapot and gently pouring clear tea into Alix’s cup. Once the tea reached the proper height, the servant returned to his place, and Alix picked up the cup by hooking a finger through the handle, frowning slightly.
“A few days ago, one of them barged into my office looking pale as death and said… what was it again? Something about sensing a foreign energy in the black mana—not of this world.”
Tch. Alix clicked his tongue lightly and downed a few sips of the hot tea as though trying to wash away his frustration. The mages dispatched to the site had all unanimously declared it “a sign of the world’s impending doom.”
“If they’ve done one thing remotely useful, it’s this—they managed to dig up a record of an almost identical phenomenon from several centuries ago. Around the time of Rustavaran’s founding, there was a massive influx of demonic beasts into the human realm, and just a few years before that, black mana had started to well up from all across the continent, just like now.”
A week ago, Alix had received that report in his office. The records were so vivid, he could practically hear the desperate screams of humans facing annihilation. But thanks to the founding king, Carlo de Inehart, they’d barely managed to fend off the monstrous horde.
“There are no Sword Masters left on the continent now. If demonic beasts begin pouring out again like they did then… this time, humanity might truly fall.”
Alix’s eyes met those of Mikhail and Adrian, who sat across from him.
“We can only hope those records are wrong.”
***
“It’s been a while.”
The Gold Dragon lifted the finely carved teacup to his lips, his gaze resting beyond the terrace. El Mer, one of the elven kingdoms, was nestled atop a mountain range untouched by human feet. Because of this, the view from the drawing room’s terrace felt as though it hovered above the sky, with clouds sinking serenely below them.
“I sent the message in haste—thank you for coming.”
The dragon gave a faint shrug with one shoulder as he sipped his tea. An invitation from the Kingdom of El Mer was always extended with such grace that it could stir even the laziest of dragon hearts to action.
“I wanted to bid you a proper farewell.”
The Gold Dragon’s eyes—shimmering as if infused with molten gold—briefly flicked toward the King of El Mer, Penat. It was the word “farewell” that had caught his attention. After moistening his throat with tea, the dragon tilted his head slightly to the side and spoke.
“Do you need my help?”
“No. In fact, I’ve asked you here to request that you not interfere in our battle.”
“A request, not help? How amusing.”
Yet there wasn’t the slightest hint of amusement in the dragon’s eyes. Whether it was a plea or an offer of aid, it amounted to the same.
“A problem that’s plagued us for centuries… and now, when we finally move to resolve it, both sides will suffer greatly. Still, we intend to fight this to the very end, no matter the outcome.”
The dragon nodded at the mention of the conflict between the two elven kingdoms. He was well aware of their history.
“Of course, if one side were to surrender, both peoples might survive—”
The King of El Mer raised his eyes, cold and unblinking. His pale opal irises met the dragon’s golden gaze midair, the two lines of sight clashing in perfect symmetry.
“But a life built on lies means nothing to any of us.”
Ah, the stubbornness of elves.
The Gold Dragon gave a slight nod at the king’s words, his beautifully sculpted lips parting once more. What they sought to protect in this war was something no one could trample upon: their unyielding honor.
“True. For us, time is hardly in short supply.”
“Thank you for understanding.”
“When?”
Even with the brevity of the question, Penat instantly grasped its meaning and answered without hesitation.
“When the moon’s energy is halfway full again.”
“That soon, then.”
The dragon turned his head to look outside. From beyond the terrace came the sound of young elves laughing and darting about. Laughter echoed as others looked on, and from the plaza came the elegant notes of a harp played by a royal ensemble. He heard the quiet whispers of love shared by couples strolling through the square. Hundreds of years’ worth of memories murmured in the dragon’s ears.
All of it—this entire world outside the terrace—he took in with his gaze, when the King of El Mer, Penat, let his long silver hair cascade down his shoulder and spoke.
“Great one, do not mourn. We elves are born warriors. And we shall die as we were born.”
His face remained unreadable, devoid of any visible emotion. Sitting with perfect posture, Penat calmly straightened the long sleeves of his robe and drank his tea. There was not even a flicker of regret on the face of a king speaking of an honorable death. To show pity in front of such a man would be an insult. It would be no different from dismissing his choice.
The dragon let out a soft chuckle at the corner of his lips and finally replied.
“I see… so, this is your farewell.”
The long years he had shared with Penat flickered through the dragon’s mind.
“You’ve been good company. I’ve enjoyed our talks.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
Clink. The soft chime of porcelain teacups echoed through the drawing room.
Neither of them uttered the word if. Because both the dragon and the elf already knew how this war would end.
