I kept my gaze lowered, uncertain what to feel, what to do, now that the truth had been laid bare. And yet… this news didn't rattle me. Not truly. It wasn't the first time a Primordial had awakened.
In fact, this marked the second time Jormungandr had stirred from its slumber in the last thousand years. Even in silence, its mere awakening was enough to send tremors through the empire—literal and political. The signs had already started to appear within the Beast Rim: mana fluctuations, bizarre weather patterns, corrupted fauna shifting unnaturally eastward. The aftershocks of a creature far beyond our comprehension. And yet… we weren't panicking.
Not because the threat was... controllable.
But because we had him.
Our first and last line of defence against such entities. Our brightest ray of hope.
Our Guardian Deity.
Remember the Saint ranking system? The seventh stage is considered the absolute peak—an almost mythical height of mastery. Even among the best, those who reach the Seventh are praised like gods... But in front of a Primordial?
They're ants against an approaching storm.
Even a Seventh-Rank Saint would be torn apart if the Serpent of the Deep truly decided to descend upon our lands. Our mana-imbued walls would collapse. Our strongest fortresses would be swallowed whole. And our people… well, their screams would vanish before they even reached the heavens.
But our destruction hasn't arrived.
Not because of fate. Not because of mercy and certainly not because of any divine intervention.
But because of one being.
The Sky Dragon—Verdun's last remaining dragon ally.
A creature of impossible power. The last of its kind. The final echo of a time when dragons soared beside humanity, not above it. Before the Great War, the dragons weren't just legends or distant horrors. They were allies. Friends. Warriors who bled beside our kind, led by honour and bound to a pact forged by fire and blood.
Together, they formed Verdun's Greatest Legion under the banner of the then-emperor himself. A force so strong that even the Arbass, the demonic empire, faltered.
But every war demands sacrifice.
And this one left the dragons in ruin, just like Verdun and its populace.
Those few who survived were cursed by Acronis himself—the one who danced with godhood and strength. His curse twisted their minds, warping their clarity into madness, shattering the delicate bridge that once connected humans and dragons.
Yet…
Even in madness… he remembered.
The Sky Dragon. The last one. In the haze of broken thoughts, he remembered the final words of the dying Emperor.
"Protect the Empire."
A wish, whispered with fading breath.
And for a thousand years, that dragon has obeyed. Through storm, invasion, beast tides, and apocalyptic threats… he has never once let our skies fall. Not once.
Even the Primordials—creatures born of calamity—have been turned back by him. Alone.
You see… dragons aren't just monsters. They are beings of pride, intellect, and unfathomable power. Our estimates, based on ancient records and battlefield data, place the surviving dragons—those you could count on one hand—at power levels ranging from Rank 8 to 10.
And the Sky Dragon?
He sits at Rank 10. Alone at the top.
But even that… isn't enough.
Because the Primordials, in their essence, are stronger. They were created alongside Acronis, forged from mana itself. If they've merely retained the strength they once held… they sit at Rank 11 or even 12.
A Demi-God's shadow.
So yes, the Sky Dragon, mighty as he is, is still cursed. Still insane. Still below them.
But he fights anyway.
"If Jormungandr acts against our continent," Sara finally said, breaking the heavy silence, "the Lord of the Skies will intervene."
Her voice didn't shake. There was no hesitation—no fear. Only faith. Not blind faith… but earned.
Dargan's eyes flicked toward her, then toward me. His expression was unreadable—caught between grim acceptance and barely veiled frustration.
"Don't give me that look," he muttered. "You know damn well there's nothing I can do about this. Hell, I don't even understand why you bothered summoning me here in the first place... This news'll reach the masses in a few days anyway."
His words stung, not because they were wrong, but because I had been thinking the same thing. Was I really summoned here just to be told what the newspapers would shout tomorrow?
"I mean, sure," I muttered, adjusting the collar of my coat. "I appreciate the early access gossip drop. But dragging me here of all places?" I shook my head. "That's just being—never mind."
I rose to my feet, already motioning for Sara to follow. She hesitated, glancing between Dargan and me. I could feel the questions behind her calm expression. Still, she took my offered arm.
I just wanted to leave.
But then—
"…We're blocking solo-venturing into the rims. Indefinitely."
My heart stopped.
No, it twitched—like my mana surged out of sync, as if shocked by betrayal. I could feel the flow falter inside me, my breathing hitch. Reflexively, I turned toward him again, needing to see his face. To check if this was a bluff. A sick joke.
But it wasn't.
Of course it wasn't.
That was the real reason for this summoning. Not the gossip. Not the awakening.
This.
This decree.
"What?!" My voice came out louder than I intended—closer to a shout. I sucked in a breath and forced myself to steady it. "Why?" I asked again, quieter this time. Sara gently sat back down as I gestured to her, murmuring an apology for my outburst.
Dargan sighed and leaned back, fingers cracking as he folded his hands behind his head.
"Because something's wrong," he said simply. "Uncertainty is piling up like kindling. Rumours about the corrupted beasts are escalating. The alliance is fraying at the edges. And now… this? The timing is too perfect."
I didn't interrupt. Because deep down, I agreed.
"It's like a pattern," he continued. "A woven net of events—each one crafted with precision. Too clean. Too orchestrated. As if someone—or something-is stacking the dominoes, just waiting to push."
"A higher entity?" Sara asked, her brows knitting. "Or…"
"…Or mana itself," Dargan finished darkly. "Maybe it's tired of our peace."
The room was silent again—heavier this time.
"That's why the Guild Union, backed by the nobles and the royal court, has decided to temporarily ban all solo adventuring into the rims. Effective immediately. In addition…" he glanced at me with a smirk that didn't reach his eyes, "Lunar Knight patrols will be increasing."
I frowned.
"And guess why?" he added with a mock cheer. "Apparently, someone thought sneaking up on the Captain of the Lunar Knights—you know, the local hero—was a good idea. While other knights were watching."
His sarcasm was thick. And deserved.
I didn't argue. I just sighed, rubbing my temple. That was my fault.
Still… there was a part of me that couldn't help but wonder:
If someone truly was orchestrating this chaos… then who?
And why now?
The rest of the conversation stretched on for another hour and a half. Dargan, Sara, and I sifted through a mix of sensitive topics—incidents within the Rims, strange mana fluctuations, sightings of rare beasts. He'd expected I'd know more than most. He was right.
We even touched on Goodman, though that was less a discussion and more a one-sided rant from me about what a colossal asshole he was.
Sara and I were just about to leave, halfway through the threshold of the grand main door, when Dargan suddenly called out.
"Lucius! I nearly forgot the most important detail!"
We both turned, pausing mid-step. His tone hinted at urgency. Maybe he'd remembered some forbidden knowledge. Some overlooked variable that—
"Your hair!" he shouted. "It's turning white, old man!"
He burst into laughter before he even finished the sentence, his voice echoing off the stone walls like a drunk bard at a funeral.
I didn't laugh.
In fact, I was agitated enough to slam the door behind us with a resounding BANG that probably rattled the hinges.
Old bastard.
As we made our way upstairs, I extended my senses—light pulses of mana sweeping through the hallways.
'Good. He's not here.'
Goodman. Absent.
Maybe he was out somewhere, making someone else's life miserable. Hopefully, he'd cross paths with an SSS-ranked beast—one large enough to squash him like the roach he is. I imagined a dozen different scenarios in vivid detail. Fangs, claws, venom—pick your ending, Goodman.
When we entered the grand common hall, Sara excused herself to go say goodbye to April. Predictable. These girls took ages to exchange even a simple farewell.
I found a spot near the massive L-shaped sofa—strangely nostalgic. It reminded me of my first visit here, when things felt... simpler. Or maybe I was just younger and dumber.
Then I heard a voice from behind me.
"Excuse me. I'm Roid, a representative of the noble house of Wal-Kins. Might I request a few minutes of your time?"
He spoke like a professional butcher. The kind from those obscenely wealthy families who didn't just kill beasts—they had techniques for carving them. Without turning, I gestured for him to come forward, offering the seat across from me. Wait, the noble house of who?
He walked past with an elegance that almost felt out of place, like a painting had stepped off the wall and decided to negotiate.
His posture was perfect. Polished shoes. Pressed coat. A presence too composed for casual discussion.
There was something deeply... satisfying about him. I couldn't explain it, but it wasn't threatening. Just precise.
I sat straighter.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Roid," I said evenly. "My name is Lucius—as I'm sure you already know. Please, speak freely. I prefer it that way. What can this humble human do for you?"
Mutual respect. That's what he deserved. The man looked and sounded like a fictional butcher from one of those dusty noble archives.
"I represent my master," he began smoothly, "who has heard a great deal about you. They wish to accompany you into the Beast Rims—on a very specific mission."
He paused deliberately.
"Would you be interested in hearing the details?"
The phrasing. The timing. It was all too perfect.
His words weren't chosen—they were crafted.
Carefully stitched together to bait my curiosity just enough. No commitment is required. Just intrigue.
I leaned back, eyes narrowing slightly. 'Interesting.'
I nodded, signalling for him to continue.
Sara hadn't returned yet.
Good.