Kui Gate, beneath the surging waters.
The true White Emperor City-the Nibelungen created by Norton-was a city of bronze. It had been buried here for thousands of years. Over time, crustal shifts and countless natural factors sealed it in stone. If not for the recent earthquake, it would never have surfaced.
Norton swam toward the twisted bronze face with the bone jar in his arms, preparing to enter.
Then he stopped.
Something massive was approaching through the water.
Fast.
The moment it saw Norton, the creature let out an excited sound.
The majestic dragon that Professor Mans, Ye Sheng, and Aki Shioda had once witnessed-the one whose presence stole breath-now felt like an illusion by comparison. Its enormous golden pupils overflowed with joy and excitement. Its voice even carried grievance and pleading, like a child who had been bullied outside and finally found their parent.
If it were facing a dragon larger than itself, it would've been understandable.
But now, it was facing a human form no bigger than its eye.
The contrast was absurd.
And yet, strangely harmonious.
"Sampson..." Norton reached out.
The dragon shifted its body carefully so Norton's palm could touch its own. It narrowed its eyes in pleasure, letting out a low, anxious sound.
"It's fine. I don't blame you." Norton spoke calmly. "Constantine is just a useless piece of trash."
He insulted his younger brother without hesitation-the same brother still sealed in the bone jar, waiting to "hatch."
Constantine: "..."
Fine.
Norton was the older brother.
It was only right for the younger one to be scolded.
Constantine comforted himself silently.
"We'll talk inside." Norton patted Sampson's head and turned, brushing his hand across the twisted bronze face embedded in the city wall.
No blood was offered.
Yet the Living Soul inside the bronze face stirred.
The creation of a Living Soul required unspeakable cruelty. If the soul was not destroyed, it would suffer eternal torment. Normally, only the blood of a high-level dragon could satisfy it enough to perform its duty-opening the Gate.
But there were exceptions.
As the one who had inflicted that cruelty-who had condemned the soul to endless torment-Norton inspired absolute terror.
Sucking blood was out of the question.
The Living Soul could only obey.
The Gate opened.
Sampson let out a low growl. His massive body shrank, scales retreating, until he became a clear-featured youth. He followed Norton into the White Emperor City.
From the outside, the city seemed limited.
Inside the Nibelungen, it was boundless.
Passing through the Gate, smooth and ancient bronze walls stretched endlessly through the dark water. Light faded until it vanished into infinite black.
Above them rose a vast bronze dome, carved with reliefs and murals.
At its center stood Yggdrasil-the World Tree.
Half flourishing.
Half decayed.
Norton stood at the center of the city. His eyes closed. His arms spread.
A domain unfolded from his body.
There was no need to chant Dragon Script.
This authority was etched into his blood.
The power of the King of Bronze and Fire.
The moment his domain touched the White Emperor City, it was absorbed.
Then it spread.
Along the city's lines.
Forging and formations were Norton's domain. The Seven Deadly Sins-weapons forged for dragon slaying-were his creations. Alchemical formations were as natural to him as breathing.
This entire White Emperor City was itself an unimaginably vast and complex alchemical formation.
Since its creation, it had only ever recognized two users.
Norton.
And Constantine.
The alchemical formation at Cassell College was already powerful-capable of sustaining an S-rank's Spirit Commandment year-round to suppress all lower-ranked students.
Compared to Norton's work, it was a toy.
Norton's domain expanded without limit, covering the entire Nibelungen.
Wherever there was bronze-
It was under his control.
The city trembled.
Its structure shifted.
The ground rose.
The water was expelled.
Soon, the flooded bronze city stood dry-a towering fortress reborn.
Within it, a full-powered Norton was nearly invincible, unless he chose to leave or faced enemies on the level of the Black or White Kings.
In another timeline, Constantine's death had driven Norton mad. He destroyed the Nibelungen himself, leaving no retreat, ending a joyless cycle of rebirth.
But this time was different.
Constantine remained safely sealed in his jar, firmly committed to the principle of if my brother doesn't let me out, I absolutely won't cause trouble.
"A very powerful domain." A voice spoke from the side. "Especially here."
"Roar!"
Sampson bellowed. Scales surfaced across his skin as he prepared to transform.
"No need." Norton placed a hand on his shoulder. "He isn't an enemy."
"At least not for now."
"Roar... He... it's him... stopped... me... Second Prince... taken away..." Sampson spoke haltingly, his words broken by growls.
"You never left while I was gone?" Norton frowned.
"Guarding... Prince..." Sampson replied.
"Fine. I get it." Norton waved him off. "Go find something to wear."
Only then did Norton turn to the Waterman-who had seemingly appeared from nowhere, or perhaps had always been there, merged with the water itself.
"Ethan Hunt, right?" Norton said flatly. "I didn't think you'd actually dare follow me in."
"Who's Ethan Hunt?" The Waterman tilted his head.
"You just introduced yourself!" Norton snapped. "I know it's a fake identity, but at least remember it! What kind of person forgets their alias immediately?!"
"Aliases are meant to be used and discarded." The Waterman waved a hand. His form shifted, water reshaping into a familiar figure. "How about this look?"
"...Wasn't that the student from the other day?" Norton was speechless.
"Just consider him me." Morin smiled. "I've decided. I'll use the 'Morin' identity from now on. Just call me Morin."
"...Do whatever you want." Norton felt tired.
"If you think I'm just fooling around, you're underestimating me." Morin flicked his head; even his water-formed bangs moved naturally. "You saw that student's strength."
Norton fell silent.
He couldn't deny it.
Angat's domain had affected him-but not much.
Morin, on the other hand...
Norton hadn't seen a single move.
"With that kind of strength and being a freshman, he'll obviously be prioritized." Morin continued. "Using his identity lets me pin blame on him later."
"Even if they don't fully believe it, suspicion will remain."
"Isn't that killing two birds with one stone?"
He was fully committed to the act of playing himself while praising himself.
"If your strength is enough, why bother with schemes?" Norton frowned.
"You don't understand politics." Morin clicked his tongue. "Even an open scheme that doesn't accomplish much is worth it if it annoys the opponent."
"Do you realize how shameless you sound?" Norton stared.
"Strength without brains doesn't cut it." Morin looked him up and down. "You got beaten into an egg before for exactly that reason, didn't you?"
"That wasn't an egg!" Norton exploded. "It was a cocoon! And I'm very smart!"
"So your raw power was inferior?"
"Impossible! I am the noble King of Bronze and Fire! They ambushed me with schemes before I fully matured!"
"Which means your IQ was inferior." Morin spread his hands.
"...Why are you really here?" Norton gave up and changed the subject. "Don't tell me you came all this way just to play dress-up."
"I already told you." Morin said calmly. "I want to study dragon genetics."
"To understand the source of your violence. Your bloodlust."
"And your obvious mental problems."
His gaze lingered pointedly on Norton's head.
"Human technology is very effective for this."
"Of course, I assume you won't leave before you're fully grown."
"So we'll proceed after you and Constantine recover."
"This place is exposed." Norton shook his head. "Humans won't let us recuperate here."
"I'll handle that." Morin said casually. "If I wanted you dead, you'd already be gone at Cassell."
"No need for all this trouble."
"I don't trust you." Norton went quiet. "But you're not wrong."
He felt it clearly.
He had no way to resist Morin.
Fortunately, Morin didn't seem interested in using force.
"I'm a good person." Morin sighed. "Dragons really don't believe in basic trust, huh."
...
Late at night.
Dormitory Building One, Room 404.
Four "wall lamps" glowed faintly.
"Junior," Chu Zijian's voice came from the lower bunk. "Is something wrong with your bloodline?"
"Relax, Senior." Morin blinked, golden pupils glowing. The two lamps near the ceiling flickered. "I just saw you couldn't sleep and lit a lamp for you."
"You're attending the Board meeting the day after tomorrow?" Chu said after a pause. "I saw it on the forum. Finger posted it."
"Yeah. The post titled 'Shocking! Freshman Promoted from A to S Faces This!'?" Morin said. "Apparently the trustees were stunned by my talent and want to bow before the next Headmaster."
"Eighty percent of Finger's posts are fake," Chu said. "But there's usually a real seed."
"After thinking it over, I concluded you really are going."
"Excellent deduction." Morin gave a thumbs-up, deliberately angled so Chu could see it. "I did rescue the Headmaster from a dragon-level lockdown."
"And I'm the only one who faced them and lived."
"It'd be stranger if they didn't call me."
"Be careful." Chu warned. "The Secret Party isn't composed of saints. They're capitalists who invest for profit."
"Don't agree too easily."
"Thanks, Senior." Morin thought that beneath Chu's stoic face was a warm, gossipy heart. "I figured that much from the history books."
"Even polished histories don't hold up under scrutiny."
"Good." Chu paused. "Professor Schneider mentioned this to me."
"He said he failed as a mentor for not blocking this."
"But he believes someone as smart as you will see through it."
"Your cold-face-warm-heart thing really is hereditary." Morin muttered inwardly.
Out loud, he said, "I didn't plan to go at first."
"I'm a thinker, not a fan of mind games."
"But the Headmaster promised to stop me if I got angry."
"So... a vacation on the public dime didn't sound bad."
...
Two days later.
Morin met the Headmaster at the helipad.
They took a helicopter to the airport.
Then a private jet.
After landing, a Maybach carried them to a manor.
Calling it a manor was generous.
It was a fortress.
With a single glance, Morin saw layers of visible and hidden sentries, cameras, and security personnel. Tight enough that even a mosquito wouldn't pass.
That was just the outer perimeter.
Inside would be worse.
This place gathered families whose wealth could shake the global economy.
Such security was expected.
Two attendants greeted them.
"Mr. Angat, please proceed to the Boardroom."
"Mr. Morin, please wait in the lounge."