A dazzling barrage of missiles swept across the deepest part of the Rhine River—red and blue whirlpools like bullets tearing through the depths.
The magical energy was so overwhelming it could be mistaken for the emergence of a dragonkin. The blinding radiance burned with explosive fury, and the rapidly accelerating mana transformed into destructive particles, disintegrating everything in their path—
"ROAR!"
Fafnir, startled awake by the surprise attack, let out an earth-shaking roar. Accompanied by tremors in the ground, it lunged toward the two figures with alarming speed, its razor-sharp jaws snapping to devour and swallow them whole.
Eighty meters tall, its towering frame forced Avia to crane his neck just to look at it. The roar rattled his eardrums and lungs—but such a massive size only made it a more convenient target.
Dragons had tremendous resistance to magecraft. Any spells cast at them were rendered null—even those from the Age of Gods were said to be useless. While physical damage could theoretically harm them, their bodies regenerated almost instantly.
Standing alone before Fafnir, Avia blocked the beast's maddened assault with nothing but his arms—barely.
The core of Fafnir, its magical heart, roared with full force as a top-class Phantasmal Species, unleashing an immense power. It was a pure clash of strength between man and dragon.
Yet compared to Attila when she was in one of her foul moods, Fafnir's brute strength didn't quite measure up—at least in Avia's view.
Enraged that its attack had been blocked, Fafnir let out another furious roar.
With spear and sword in hand, Avia slashed across Fafnir's thick hide. Though its scales were impervious to both physical and magical attacks, his strike cut in cleanly, drawing blood—an impossible feat against armor tougher than iron, but he made it happen.
Still, the wound regenerated instantly—but Avia had expected that.
At the same time, taking Avia's strike as the signal, Siegfried sprang into action from behind the dragon's tail, sprinting toward its head while repeatedly striking Fafnir's body with Balmung.
The dragon's focus immediately shifted to Siegfried, preparing to retaliate.
In that moment, Avia adjusted his footing and delivered a sharp kick to Fafnir's belly, launching himself high into the air.
He closed the distance in a flash, reaching the top of the dragon's head. With overwhelming magical pressure, he hurled his longsword—now surging with dense mana—downward. The sword pierced through the air like a blade slicing open space, striking Fafnir's eye dead-on.
Though the wound regenerated in moments, the sheer pain drove the beast into a frenzy. Overcome with agony and madness, the evil dragon howled and rampaged, unleashing continuous torrents of magical heat at the human before it.
Avia kept weaving around the dragon, avoiding the streams of magical fire. But within mere seconds, the edges of his cloak had already been scorched several times.
Still, as long as his body was unharmed, he didn't care. He and Siegfried continued their assault from opposite directions.
And so, the dragon, despite its immense defenses, found itself subjected to an unending tide of sword and spear strikes.
Two attacks—then three stabs landed on its head, belly, and back. Before the echoes faded, four more slashes followed. Then six stabs, ten slashes...
Their destruction was so relentless it began to outpace the dragon's regeneration. Bones shattered, organs were ruptured, and its posture twisted. Its body trembled. In the mind of Fafnir—until now ruled only by greed and madness—a single, clear thought emerged:
"I'm going to die."
There was no further frenzy. Nor did the dragon tremble in fear of the looming death. Its savage eyes lost their former light, replaced by a profound sorrow and helplessness.
Once, it had slain its father for greed. It had become a dragon. Driven away the dwarf who was once its brother. And now, it had reached its destined end.
Moreover, the two who would kill it... were doomed to share in its misfortune.
"This treasure is cursed. You will end up just like me."
The dying dragon spoke with strange amusement.
As it uttered those final words, Avia and Siegfried stood side by side. The youth raised his radiant golden sword; the boy leveled his plain spear.
"I know, Fafnir."
"This is an act of justice."
With those words, golden and silver light burst forth, piercing the deep blue magical glow flickering in the evil dragon's chest.
The deepest part of the Rhine fell silent. The giant dragon's body trembled against the ground. With each shudder, even the river seemed to quake in sympathy.
The moment Fafnir was slain, his body began to emit a blinding light. Through that brilliance, the dragon's scales could be seen faintly trembling.
And in that moment of death, the dragon's blood burst forth from its chest, drowning out even the glitter of the Rhinegold.
Thick and searing, the blood surged like lava. Though it seemed ready to stain the entire seabed red, it quickly dispersed—there was no vessel worthy of holding it.
Only two individuals were bathed in that dragon's blood: Siegfried and Avia, the ones who had delivered the killing blow. Upon their bodies, the blood gleamed like molten magma.
According to legend, the blood of the evil dragon Fafnir made Siegfried's body invulnerable to weapons. But because a single linden leaf had fallen on his back, one spot remained untouched, his only weakness.
This time, there was no such leaf—only a small one Avia had given him. But during the fight, as Siegfried moved swiftly, it had drifted and landed on his back. And unlike before, the dragon's blood had washed over the leaf—bathing him completely.
There was no weak point now.
Avia, however, felt something odd... It seemed the dragon's blood had no effect on his body at all, as if the strengthening simply didn't apply to him.
Still, the matter of Fafnir was settled. The only thing left was the Rhinegold—and its curse.
That curse—Siegfried had learned of it from the dwarf Regin who commissioned him, and he had just heard Fafnir's dying warning as well.
Now, the Rhinegold, bereft of its host, continued to shine, seeking a new bearer...
By logic and reason, Siegfried knew it should be abandoned. But he also knew his duty—to protect others.
And so, in that moment, he made up his mind: he would bear the curse himself, to keep his friend Avia and others safe.
"Avia, give that to me—"
"...Siegfried, the Rhinegold—leave it to me."
But Avia had made the same choice.