"I've got the craziest job in the world," Spark muttered to himself, driving the carriage as fast as he could through the chaos. "Sorry, Mother… sorry, Father… I might not survive this time!"
Tears welled up and rolled down his cheeks. And then—
CRACK!
The carriage slammed into a large stone hidden beneath the grass. The impact launched the entire structure into the air. The ropes snapped violently, and the horses broke free, galloping wildly into the distance.
The carriage spun mid-air and crashed hard into a shallow ditch.
"So this is what it feels like to be thrown by a carriage..." Baldwin murmured as everything shook around them. "No wonder people laugh before dying in accidents—they're just too shocked to care."
Inside, Athan continued eating.
"Hey Baldwin, look—the horses ran off! No chance we're catching them now… ah well, let's forget it," he said, casually licking his fingers.
With a creak, Baldwin opened the mangled carriage door and jumped out. Athan stayed where he was, calmly nibbling on dried meat.
Spark had been flung onto the grassy earth when the carriage flipped. It hit the ground with a bone-jarring slam. One of the wheels cracked. A window shattered. The back door swung open, flew off its hinges, then flopped closed again a few feet away.
Spark groaned. His right arm throbbed with intense pain—clearly broken—and blood trickled from a nasty cut on his forehead. But he forced himself up, staggering toward Baldwin, who lay motionless on the grass.
No no no! Spark panicked. I can't show my face to Lord Lucas if something happened to these guests! I'm dead if they're hurt!
But when he reached Baldwin—
He froze.
Baldwin was lying flat on the ground, eyes half-lidded… yawning. Not a single scratch on him. He looked more like a man ready for a nap than someone who just survived a crash.
Spark's entire face contorted in disbelief. His lip twitched. One eyebrow shot up. His eyes widened.
I'm bleeding, my arm is broken, and this guy's taking a nap?! he thought. I just want to kick him—right here, right now!
Baldwin opened one eye lazily. "Did you say something?" he asked. "If not, maybe check on the carriage."
Spark clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles cracked. Without another word, he stomped past Baldwin toward the wreckage.
"Oh! The horses ran that way, by the way," Baldwin added with a soft voice, pointing lazily. "You could probably catch them if you're fast."
What in the world is going on? Spark thought, dazed.
Then he stopped. His eyes scanned the area.
Wait—someone's missing!
Panic surged again. He rushed back toward the carriage, heart thudding, peeking inside with dread.
And just then—
THUMP!
A boy leapt out.
Athan.
He landed softly beside the wreckage, not a single cut on him. Completely unharmed. He was humming to himself as he gently uncorked a bottle.
Spark blinked.
WHAT?!
Why am I even worried about them?! I should be worried about myself! Spark thought, nearly screaming inside. I've picked up the weirdest passengers in existence!
He slumped down against a tree, clutching his broken arm, muttering under his breath.
"I swear, this better be my last escort mission…"
Suddenly, a loud voice echoed from above:
"Raise your hands—or die!"
Spark looked up.
More than ten masked men sat atop their horses, surrounding the ditch from higher ground. Each held drawn swords, their faces obscured with cloth. Their mounts stomped the ground impatiently.
Athan casually walked over to Baldwin, who was now seated, arms resting on his knees, watching the newcomers with mild curiosity.
Spark, still standing awkwardly alone, glanced back and forth. He didn't want to approach Baldwin—he wasn't even sure if being near Baldwin was safer or more dangerous—but he had no choice. Gritting his teeth, he walked over and stood beside them.
The bandits dismounted one by one, slowly making their way down. Their numbers kept growing. Spark's lips moved into a silent curse.
Then he noticed something that made his blood pressure spike.
"You're… drinking?!" Spark asked Athan in disbelief.
"Yes," Athan replied, lifting the bottle to his lips with a relaxed shrug. "What else am I supposed to do? We're surrounded. Might as well hydrate."
Baldwin hadn't moved. He was simply staring at the bandits, his eyes unblinking, like he was watching ants gather.
Meanwhile, farther from the crash site…
A different scene was unfolding.
Over thirty armed men surrounded a single figure—the masked man who had joined their journey: Matthew.
"He's a freakin' monster!" one of the thugs whispered, his voice trembling.
Matthew stood calmly in the center of the circle, his long robe fluttering in the wind. From beneath it, he slowly unsheathed a gleaming sword.
Rising to his full height, he spoke with cold finality.
"Playtime's over.
Calling a dragon a monster is an insult… to the entire dragon race."
"No mercy for fools."
Suddenly—
His hand twisted and reshaped, bones cracking, claws extending—his arm transformed into that of a dragon. Sharp black scales gleamed in the light, and his grip on the sword tightened.
The blade glowed deep blue, pulsing with magical energy.
FWOOOOOSH!
Blue flames erupted along the blade's edge, wrapping it like a burning serpent. With a single mighty swing, Matthew slashed through the air.
BOOOOM!
A deafening explosion followed. The shockwave tore through the mountain slope—trees snapped, rocks shattered, and flames engulfed half the hillside in a blinding eruption of blue fire.
Screams rang out.
Men were sent flying like broken dolls, and the earth trembled under the force of the blast.
And amid the chaos—
Matthew stood, his eyes glowing beneath the mask, sword raised high, blue fire flickering along its length like a dragon's breath that refused to fade.
Matthew turned his gaze toward the burning village, then to the distant trail where the carriage had disappeared. Without a second thought, he broke into a sprint. Purple lightning crackled beneath his feet with every step. Upon reaching a small ditch, he leapt high into the air—and landed directly in front of Baldwin and the others, sending a gust of wind across the grassland.
"I see you're all doing just fine," Matthew said with a calm grin.
"Yes, we are," Baldwin replied nonchalantly.
"Who the hell is this now? Is he… a dragon?" one of the bandits muttered, eyes wide with disbelief.
Spark stumbled back a few steps. "It's a dragon," he whispered in horror.
Baldwin and Athan heard him clearly.
A masked man among the bandits raised his staff. "It's just a dragon!" he shouted. "Not a Dragon King or Lord! Don't just stand there—take him down!"
"Oh… a dark mage," Matthew said as he raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't matter. Leave now—or die where you stand."
"Attack!" the dark mage barked.
Suddenly, a barrage of small fireballs burst out from the forest, soaring through the sky in a swarm. They flew toward Matthew and Baldwin like a rain of destruction.
Matthew didn't flinch. He leapt high into the air, then landed with devastating force in front of the bandits. With a single punch, he sent one of them flying like a ragdoll. His arms began to transform again—this time into pitch-black scaled dragon limbs. He clapped his hands together.
WHOOOSH!
A massive gust of wind erupted, forming a barrier. The fireballs collided with the wind shield and vanished in an instant.
"I'm not in the mood for this," Matthew growled. "Bring me someone strong—or don't waste my time."
—
"Hey Spark," Baldwin said with a smirk. "You said he's a dragon, right?"
"Y-Yes!" Spark stammered. "What—you didn't know about the dragon race?"
"Hmm… then why does he look like a human?" Athan asked curiously.
Spark looked at them in disbelief, then shook his head with disappointment. "Are you serious? You really forgot? That's his human form. Dragons can take human shape in this world."
Baldwin folded his arms. "Seems like this world has the same mythical creatures from our world… dragons."
"I thought dragons were just stories," Athan said, his eyes fixed on Matthew as he tore through the enemy mages.
"Stories?" Baldwin repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You mean human-made legends?"
"Yes. There was one in particular… a man named Ares. He fought the entire dragon race. Committed genocide, supposedly."
Baldwin's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Ares… Ares… I remember someone—or rather, two people with that name. Both were called 'God Slayers.'"
Athan shrugged. "Could be the same one. Though that'd be impossible. Ares was a god himself… and a dragon slayer."
Baldwin chuckled. "Talk about twisted myths. Our world really is a complicated place."
"You're twisted," Athan retorted playfully.
BOOM!
Another explosion rocked the field. A massive burst of flame erupted in the background as Matthew cleaved through another wave of attackers with blazing blue fire.
"He's strong," Baldwin said, watching calmly. "But still not close to your level, Athan."
"I'd say the same," Athan said, grinning. "That explosion? That's nothing."
"Of course not," Baldwin replied, amused. "He's not us."
—
Spark could only hear fragments of their conversation. But even the little he caught made his heart skip.
Another world? Ares? Not close to them?!
His mind was racing with questions, but the chaos around him offered no time for answers. The battlefield was too volatile. He couldn't run, but staying meant risking his life.
What kind of monsters did I let into my carriage…?