"Five hundred meters below the surface, even the noon sun can't reach," Morin said calmly. "Everything turns pitch-black. Without a light source, you can't see anything."
He glanced around.
"Fortunately, dragons can ignite their Golden Pupils. The purer the bloodline, the brighter the light. So we can skip flashlights entirely."
"I really don't understand what you're so excited about," Norton sighed, raising a hand to shield his eyes.
Constantine and Samson stayed silent, watching their surroundings. One was a child, the other a subordinate. Neither had the habit of interrupting conversations between Morin and Norton.
"Think about it," Morin said with a chuckle. "We'll be the first in the world to reach eight thousand meters underwater with nothing but the clothes on our backs. That's worth celebrating."
"For dragons, that's hardly impressive," Norton replied instinctively-then stopped. He frowned and tilted his head downward.
"I hear it."
"A heartbeat," Morin said.
It really was a heartbeat.
Muted by seawater and still distant, but unmistakable to non-human senses.
Professional sonar on the surface might have picked it up, but only faintly, easily drowned out by background noise. According to the original timeline, this embryo wouldn't have been discovered for another year. Its activity was still weak.
Even so, it was already terrifying.
They were only a thousand meters down, yet the pulse reached them clearly.
The four of them-or rather, one human and three dragons-were descending inside a drifting bubble of air.
It defied physics.
An air bubble sinking instead of rising. Expanding rather than compressing under pressure. Solid enough to stand on.
Morin's true body was still resting in the hotel arranged by the local Syndicate for the Academy specialists. From afar, magnetic lines moved like divine fingers, weaving an intricate magnetic field to sustain this impossible structure.
"Even without this, you could dive this deep," Morin said. "But I thought we should arrive with some dignity."
Eight thousand meters was far beyond human limits. Even ordinary hybrids would be crushed instantly. For pure-blooded dragons, it was survivable-but Norton and the others would have needed to assume their true forms.
"Something's wrong," Norton said quietly.
"Explain."
"The scale of the revival doesn't match the size of the territory field."
Morin nodded. "Then let's speed up the tour."
He waved his hand.
The bubble immediately plunged, dropping like it had entered freefall.
They accelerated at gravitational speed.
The bubble expanded smoothly, maintaining pressure and oxygen as if nothing was happening. As they approached their destination, the descent slowed naturally.
Then-
Light.
Not sunlight. Not an illusion.
They had reached eight thousand meters, a depth that should have been ruled by darkness and silence. Instead, the world glowed red.
Undersea magma.
Molten rock surged beneath them, less than twenty meters away. The brightness was blinding. When magma met seawater, steam erupted instantly-only to be crushed back into liquid by the immense pressure. The cycle repeated endlessly, producing a dull, thunder-like roar.
This was the planet's blood.
A natural pressure cooker on a planetary scale.
No life should have existed here.
Yet nearby, a sperm whale and a colossal squid were fleeing in panic. Dragon scales were visible on their bodies-clear signs of dragon-blood infection. That was why creatures that normally never descended past a thousand meters had appeared here.
"Brother... I feel it," Constantine said softly.
"I do too," Norton replied. "So close."
He exhaled.
"Let's go. We'll see her off properly."
Golden light erupted from Norton's eyes.
His Golden Pupils ignited.
An invisible draconic pressure spread outward. Instantly, silver-white shapes scattered in terror.
Ghost-Toothed Serpent-Dragons.
Executioners of the dragon race. Their teeth could shred dragon scales like paper. Steel was nothing more than food. Legends claimed they were used to punish erring nobles.
Before Norton, they fled like vermin.
"These... low creatures," Norton growled. "How dare they treat our old friend like this."
Morin guided the bubble forward in silence.
No one here was human. The heat was irrelevant.
After a short distance, buildings appeared.
Tonight mocked every law of physics.
If Newton were here, he would've turned in his grave repeatedly.
A massive tower rose before them.
Bathed in magma-light, it looked like a colossal block of glowing iron-iron forged by gods. The craftsmanship was miraculous even by surface standards.
Yet here it stood.
Eight thousand six hundred meters beneath the sea.
Uncrushed. Uncorroded.
As they approached, a city emerged.
Majestic. Solemn. Ancient.
Like a kingdom built by gods.
None of them reacted.
They had all seen-or created-greater sights.
"It's her," Norton said slowly. "And yet... it isn't."
He pointed toward a shattered torii gate.
"That's the entrance to her Nibelungen. The door still exists. Beyond it lies our friend's... corpse."
Morin said nothing.
They crossed the gate.
Ancient mechanisms stirred. Most components had long decayed, but the core protocol remained. It activated, attempting to wake its master.
But the master was gone.
Or rather, no longer who she once was.
The heartbeat grew louder.
Everywhere.
In seconds, it escalated from a faint thrum to a war drum shaking the abyss.
It wasn't one heart.
Countless small hearts beat in perfect synchrony, creating the illusion of a single, massive pulse.
"Silence!" Norton roared.
His territory expanded.
The sound was crushed instantly.
This was the domain of a King.
Only equals or superiors could move freely within it.
The heartbeats stopped.
Every one of them.
Even stolen divinity couldn't defy rank.
They were ordered to be silent.
So they obeyed.
In the stillness, one heartbeat remained.
"I never imagined I'd see her like this," Norton whispered.
The bubble drifted toward a massive, alien object.
Lung-snails fell like rain.
Thousands of them.
Squirming, writhing, fleeing Norton's domain.
Individually, they were merely grotesque.
Together, they were nightmare fuel.
Tentacles flailed. Pink flesh tore. Blood spread.
They had been clinging to the mass-feeding, breeding.
The alien structure was drenched in blood.
A Dragon King embryo.
Reduced to livestock.
Drained to sustain a twisted ecosystem eight thousand meters below the sea.
Only terrifying vitality had kept her alive this long.
"In this state," Norton sneered softly, "she may as well be dead. If she woke up now, she'd wish for death."
"So she's an old acquaintance," Morin said.
"You didn't know?" Norton asked.
"I didn't," Morin admitted.
The world's records were full of holes.
"Your sister," Norton said coldly. "The Lord of Oceans and Water."
Morin blinked. "I'll think about it."
"Get lost," Norton snapped. "I've never met a dragon like you."
He focused again on the mass.
"Her consciousness was destroyed. Flesh Alchemy bound her to this city, to her Nibelungen. She was turned into a breeding ground."
Blood vessels pulsed through steel, branching endlessly.
Her blood fed Death Servitors.
Lung-snails fed on her.
Other creatures fed on them.
A perverse whale fall.
"Don't tell me this was you," Norton said suddenly.
"I swear," Morin replied flatly, "whoever did this deserves a slow death. I know who it was."
"This human must die," Norton said. "Dragons accept defeat. Not desecration."
"I promise," Morin said. "But first, I need her blood. Then... let her rest."
Norton nodded.
Once a Dragon King's consciousness was destroyed like this, revival was impossible.
They were enemies by nature.
Yet this wasn't pretense.
Among dragons, respect and hatred coexisted.
Like a civil war.
Internal killing was destiny.
External interference was unforgivable.
That flaw-genetic volatility, extreme divergence-was exactly why Morin wanted their blood.
To find the root.
And end it.