"Hmm? Where am I...?"
I found myself in a place completely different from the cave I had been in before.
A vast, dense forest stretched as far as the eye could see—a rolling green sea that covered whatever lay beneath the trees.
I was high up on a mountain, standing on the edge of a cliff with a perfect view to see every single part of this landscape that stretched before me.
"Pretty nice lookin' view, eh?" A deep, growling voice to my right snapped me out of my thoughts.
It was... Sana'aviro!
I instinctively flinched back, my hands moving to unsheathe my daggers—except I had none.
"Nice reflexes, kid. You'd do great with us," he said with a quick chuckle, before letting out a long, disappointed sigh. "It's a shame what happened."
"Come 'ere, I just want a small talk." He tapped the spot beside him. Despite being a gigantic troll, it was almost surreal to see him sitting on the cliff's edge, feet dangling out.
With no weapons and his tone much friendlier than before, I calmed down. I had no reason to refuse.
I sat next to him. Even then, I still felt like an ant compared to his size—honestly surprised the cliff could hold him at all.
"This has always been my favorite spot since I became king of my tribe," Sana'aviro said. "You can see the sun rise in the east and set in the west, without anything blocking its light."
"You can also see the stars perfectly," I added, glancing up at the clear sky.
"You get me, human. What's your name?"
"Alen."
"I don't believe a king needs presentation, right?" He grinned warmly.
I shook my head.
"Where exactly are we, Sana'aviro? The last thing I remember was—"
"You were in that cave. And you killed me," he interrupted, eyes fixed on the endless green forest below.
"Y-you..."
"I wouldn't say I know exactly what happened, but I definitely felt it. Tell me—who were the brave Turanian fighters that helped you? I sensed them, but I don't know who fought beside you."
"Clighton, a goblin, commander of the Eleventh Songbird Squad. Tinalara, another goblin, a rookie from the same squad. Sheiran, a goblin kid. And Gola, an orc girl—also just a child."
"Old man Clighton!? No wonder my body took a beating!" He laughed, loud and genuine. "That dirty old twig is still agile despite his age."
"As for the others... Tinalara—I remember her. A high-ranking graduate who chose that squad out of all the rest. Sheiran... the prodigy kid, right? The one expected to surpass any goblin before him?"
"Yes. He loves learning magic. He even taught me ways to improve elemental defense, and about Krath's Glide."
"Interested in our techniques, huh?" Sana'aviro laughed again.
"It's an amazing skill to have."
"Hmmm..." He crossed his arms, eyes closed, tilting sideways in thought. "The only one I don't recall is that Gola girl... the orc."
"She also loved magic. Said she wanted to learn it someday. Honestly, she's way too shy for an orc."
After a long silence, he finally gave up. "Nope. Nothin'."
Disappointment weighed on me. She mattered just as much as the others, but she was forgotten.
"Don't look so down. I may not remember the little miss, but that doesn't make her any less important. She was still a citizen of my tribe. Just as important as anyone else."
His words eased the knot in my stomach—though it never fully loosened.
"You said you felt our fight... so you know what happened?"
"No. The last I remember, my guards turned into monsters before my eyes. I had to kill the people I cared for just to survive... and then, I fell into corruption myself," he said, his tone somber and heavy.
"You... during our fight... you killed Clighton. Now the only ones left are the two kids and Tinalara."
His brows furrowed. He rested his hands on his thighs, lips pressed tight.
"I see..." was all he said.
The air between us grew heavy with dread and sorrow.
"Some king I am... We get torn from our home, I can't protect my family or citizens from corruption... and in the end, I became corrupted too. Put down by children..."
"I wouldn't say you were a bad king," I said firmly. "I may not know you well, but everyone who fought you respected you. To them, you were the best king they could have had."
He froze for a moment, then lifted his head.
"Is that so..." His expression was still sad, still disappointed—but tinged with happiness.
"Thanks, Alen. For helping them survive."
"Don't mention it. I would've helped them no matter what."
"If... I could ask for a selfish favor—would you grant it, Alen? For a king who lost everything?"
I nodded slowly, gaze returning to the endless green sea below.
"Take them with you. Please."
...
I stayed silent, weighing his request.
"Those three... they're the last of our tribe. If they die, we'll be forgotten forever."
"I'll ask them," I finally said. "As much as I'd want them to come with me, they should decide for themselves."
"Fair enough. But please... try to convince them."
"Yeah. I'll try."
After a soft, nostalgic chuckle, he looked behind himself.
"I guess it's time for you to leave, Alen."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know why we're here. This place is precious to me, but it isn't real life."
His voice weakened, though his expression remained steady.
"You stole that feathered crown from me, didn't you? Keep it. I won't be needing it."
I nodded, gripping the artifact I had taken during our battle.
"And here—two more things as a reward." He held out his hands.
The first was a wooden artifact, palm-sized, carved with insect wings and the face of a woman etched within.
"That one is Bluemar's Hope. It has two functions: it strengthens its wearer in forests, jungles, plains—any natural environment. And... it's a way to be accepted by the deity of nature."
"Deity of nature...?" The game I remembered had something similar, though surely not the same. Different cultures could still echo each other.
"There are nine deities—one for each element. They exist in this world, but they're almost impossible to approach. Even with the right offerings, there are countless requirements. No one has ever seen them."
The elemental deities... The game had them, but they were never important, just another thing to worship. The only one who was even a part of the story is the light element deity, and not even she was te main point, but her followers in the Raychmen kingdom.
"If you meet the requirements, you might see her," Sana'aviro said, smiling with faint hope.
The second item...
!?
"My mana stone," he explained. "After killing me, you deserve it."
"Wha—? How?"
"It wouldn't be right for the kids and Tinalara to see you cutting open my corpse, would it?"
The stone glowed bright green, heavy with his reserves of mana.
"B-but—"
"I won't be needing it anymore. You'll put it to good use."
I hesitated, then bowed deeply. "Thank you."
"No... thank you," he said softly, still sitting on the cliff. "And... it's finally time for you to go." He forced a sad smile.
"What...?"
The world around me began to fade, dissolving into nothingness.
"Goodbye, Alen. It was nice meeting you... even if only for this short time."
His words echoed as everything vanished, and my consciousness slipped away—only to return in the span of a heartbeat.
...
Not even a second had passed in the real world. I was still on top of Sana'aviro's body as it collapsed onto its back.
The corpse hit the ground with a heavy thud, raising a cloud of dust. Only then did I look at my hands.
Alongside my daggers, I now held the two rewards the troll had given me in that strange dream.
Bluemar's Hope. His mana stone.
I shoved them quickly into my pocket and glanced to the side.
The sight before me was exactly what I expected: Gola and Sheiran on their knees, crying over Clighton's lifeless body. Their wails pierced the cavern.
"Don't go!"
"Please, no...!"
Like a bullet, Tinalara rushed to their side. She stood silently beside them, biting her lip so hard blood trickled down her chin, mixing with her tears.
I forced myself to approach, every step heavier than the last. The truth finally sank in. Amidst the chaos of battle, I hadn't let myself process it. But now... Clighton was dead.
"Uhh..."
"Mister Clighton!"
"Boss!"
We all gasped when his eyes fluttered open.
"You're fine! I knew you were!" Sheiran cried between hiccups.
"I'm... not, Sheiran..."
"D-don't say that! You can sti—"
"Gola..." His voice was weak, his gaze unfocused. "I'm sorry... these are my last moments..."
"B-boss..." Tinalara's voice trembled. She knew it was true.
"Clighton... we did it," I said, my throat tightening. "Sana'aviro can finally rest in peace."
"He can...? I'm glad..."
His breathing grew weaker. "Kids... now that... everything's over... what will you do... without me...?"
"No, don't ask that!" Sheiran shook his head violently. "You'll walk out of this, Mister!"
Clighton shifted his cloudy gaze to me. "Alen... would you... indulge an old man's last favor? Forgive me... I'm selfish..."
"There's no such thing as selfish requests right now," I said, though tears were already running down my face.
"Take them with you. The dungeon will disappear... and I don't know what'll happen to them. Please..."
"I will, Clighton. I'll make sure they live long, fulfilling lives. But only if they want it."
His eyes turned toward the kids. "Well...? What do you say...?"
"Boss... that's cruel..." Sheiran sobbed. Gola clung tighter, unable to form words through her tears.
The weight of the decision fell to Tinalara.
"Boss... please... what do I do?" she asked, her voice broken.
Clighton raised his head, staring up at the cave ceiling.
"You tell me... I'm no longer your boss..."
"Wha—?"
"From this moment... I step down as commander. Tinalara... I recommend you... as the new commander of the Eleventh Songbird Squad. And since I'm the only one who can decide... you're accepted."
"B-boss Clighton..." Her knees buckled, shock and grief overwhelming her.
"Sheiran... Gola... I hereby make you official members of the Eleventh Songbird Squad. Welcome to the team... rookies..." His voice was fading fast, his head lowering as strength left him.
"Alen... please... take us with you!" Tinalara cried, her voice raw, soul-shaking.
I wiped my face with the back of my hand, then answered with as much resolve as I could muster. "You can trust me, Clighton!"
"I see... That's... good..." A faint smile touched his lips. "I'm glad... I spent my last moments... with all of you..."
And with that, the old goblin drew his final breath. His body went limp in the arms of the children.
...
Even though I've always prepared myself for loss—for seeing people I care about die—this feeling was worse than I'd imagined.
[Dragon's Roar] was a game with permadeath. Once a unit's HP hit zero, that was it. They were gone forever.
Despite that, the first death I experienced was from someone that wasn't a named character, he wasn't an allied npc, nor was he a background character. He was someone who may aswell have never even existed to the greater story of the world.
Yet... he was someone who mattered.
And because he mattered, this pain was real.
I swore to myself, right there—
I will never let a mistake like this happen again.
...Clighton.