“Ugh…”
Tulwin Esrin opened his eyes with a suffocating sensation.
‘I’m tied up…’
His hands and feet were restrained, preventing him from moving freely. On top of that, his body was strapped to a bed, so he couldn’t even sit up.
He couldn’t even turn his head—his only view was the ceiling.
‘Where am I?’
It wasn’t a prison or his personal palace. It looked more like a luxurious tent.
This was completely different from what he had expected. He thought he’d wake up imprisoned in a royal cell or back at his own estate.
‘How long was I unconscious? What’s going on?’
Everything was confusing.
‘I’m thirsty. Isn’t anyone here!?’
A burning thirst consumed him. He tried shouting to call someone, but only a faint wheeze escaped his dry lips.
Then, cold water brushed his lips and moistened his throat. The refreshing sensation quelled the burning thirst, and he drank desperately, gulping loudly.
“More… I want more!”
He opened his mouth desperately, like a hatchling waiting for food.
At that moment, soft hands suddenly turned him over.
“What are…?”
His body was flipped so quickly that he didn’t even see the person’s face. A moment later—
Whack!
His vision went black.
“…He’s unconscious again.”
— I told you a blow to the neck would knock him out in one hit.
“Are there going to be any problems?”
The one responsible for knocking out a royal prince, Aint Armian, smiled a little awkwardly.
— For now, no. But since it’s a physical blow, repeating it too many times could have consequences.
— Let’s just pray Fernan comes back soon—before something happens to Tulwin Esrin.
“Eh, did his body just twitch?”
— Impossible.
“Just in case, I’ll give him another one.”
— Do it. Better to do a thorough job.
Whack!
The prince’s body was as still as a frog crushed under a rock.
“At least I gave him water first. Makes me feel a little less guilty.”
— …Don’t say that out loud anywhere.
Aint exited the tent.
Only the sound of Tulwin Esrin’s irregular breathing remained.
***
Rumble—
Finally, the door opened.
What lay inside?
The first Pontiff of the Dragon God Cult—what had he left behind for his descendants?
If he had built a dungeon of such magnitude, it couldn’t be anything trivial.
At the very least, it had to be worth more than the cost of its construction.
Fernan could barely contain the excitement in his chest.
“Not going in?”
“Just catching my breath.”
“Huh?”
“I’m going in.”
Fernan stepped forward with solemnity.
‘Gold would be best. If there’s a mountain of it, like what the First Emperor left behind, that’d be perfect.’
But even if it wasn’t money, anything of equal value would be fine.
‘Elixirs are always useful.’
Or magical beasts like the sacred bird Silver.
‘A legendary weapon wouldn’t be bad either…’
Like the First Emperor’s sword that Aint now wielded.
‘Even if it’s just a symbol—if it belongs to the Cult, it’d be worth a fortune.’
Since it was tied to religion, any symbol could be turned into money. He could sell it back to the Cult for an astronomical price.
‘I already took all the magic lamps…’
If he could take the entrance door too, the Dragon God Cult would go nuts—but it was sealed with fixing magic and couldn’t be removed.
At last, the interior was revealed.
It was a space as large as the chamber guarded by the Chimera.
At the center stood a gigantic statue of a white dragon; above it, hundreds of magic lamps; behind it, three doors.
“….”
“Wow… this is incredible.”
The dragon was majestic, fierce and elegant at once—a contrast of brutality and beauty. No description seemed adequate.
It wasn’t the work of human hands.
And that also meant it had no human price.
“Doesn’t seem to have any special magical power.”
At most, a preservation spell. That meant it could be stored in subspace with no problem.
Fernan smiled greedily.
“…Is that really all you think about when you see this?”
“I think other things too.”
“Right? No matter how much you love money…”
“The statue already has incalculable value. But with the right backstory, its price multiplies.”
“Huh?”
“If presented as a work of the first Pontiff and a symbol of the Cult, they’d pay billions to get it back.”
The Cult would have no choice but to pay whatever he asked. Displaying something like this outside their territory would be a huge stain on their prestige.
“…God. You’re seriously obsessed with money.”
“If you don’t want it…”
“Honestly, I’m crazy too. I love money as well.”
Aria smiled broadly.
“Let’s check those doors first.”
Behind the statue were three doors marked with symbols: a staff, a book, and a potion.
“I think I know what this is about.”
“Me too.”
They opened the first.
In the center of the empty room was a staff as white as snow.
Fernan and Aria gulped.
The magical power it emitted and the engravings on its surface were top-tier. It clearly surpassed any staff they’d ever seen.
“…Let’s move to the next room.”
The second, marked with the symbol of a book, was filled with shelves of advanced magical treatises. Each one had the potential to revolutionize the magical world.
“I’m not greedy. Can I just keep the spirit summoning ones?”
“…That’s fine.”
“A subspace bag will do…”
They took everything. Fernan even loaded up the shelves, made of fine wood and engraved with preservation circles—a perfect luxury for nobles.
The third contained potions—large quantities of high-grade healing and mana elixirs.
“Perfect.”
With that, they could develop even better products. Fernan took them all, leaving some for Aria.
“Only one thing left.”
The dragon statue.
When he poured mana to check the floor, it repelled him.
“There’s something here.”
“What’s underneath?”
“Under the statue. I can’t touch the ground. Aria, lift it with magic.”
“Yes.”
She summoned a spirit and lifted the statue.
“Careful. If it gets damaged, it loses value.”
“That warning is what scares me the most.”
Fortunately, Aria managed to store it in subspace without a problem.
Beneath it was a small metal door with an inscription.
【Whoever keeps the symbol of the Cult until the end shall have the right to this.】
“…Keep the symbol of the Cult?”
Aria looked at Fernan with a strange expression. The meaning was clear—few would take the statue, and those who did would be proving true devotion.
Of course, in Fernan’s case, he only wanted to sell it to the Cult.
“In the end, what matters is getting there, whether on foot or on horseback.”
Fernan ignored the warning and opened the door.
There was nothing except a panel shaped like a hand.
“What’s this?”
“Looks like it says to place your hand.”
【Place your hand.】
“….”
It was risky, but he doubted this place had been built to kill its own.
“What if you try it and I take the staff?”
“Trying to trick me, huh? What if this is actually the valuable thing?”
“Well, life is a matter of luck too.”
“Nonsense.”
Fernan placed his palm on it.
“First we have to see what it actually—”
Suddenly—
────!
A blinding light engulfed him.
A surge of mana violently entered his magical circuits. His heart pounded wildly.
The pain was unbearable.
The brutal mana devoured his own mana, spreading through his mana heart and entire body.
Crack!
His skin tore, bones and muscles broke and regenerated over and over again.
“Graaahhh!”
“Fernan!”
Aria tried to approach, but the tide of mana kept her away.
Then, on the wall, the letters began changing in real time.
【You have obtained…】
【You have obtained the Dragon Heart.】
【Congratulations on obtaining the Dragon Heart.】
“Whaaaat?!”
***
“…….”
Fernan opened his eyes.
As if the pain just moments ago had been a lie, his body felt lighter than ever.
He calmly examined his interior.
His mana heart had grown more than twice its size. The mana density was much higher, his muscles and bones had strengthened like never before, and his mana circuits had vastly expanded.
It was like waking up after a good rest—his mind was clear, and his body overflowed with strength.
But that wasn’t all.
A massive amount of unabsorbed mana still lingered throughout different parts of his body.
“Back to consciousness?”
Aria’s face suddenly appeared, blocking the light from the magical lamps above.
“…What happened?”
“You absorbed a Dragon Heart.”
“Dragon Heart…?”
“Yes, look.”
【Congratulations on obtaining the Dragon Heart.】
The message had changed on the panel.
“…I got a Dragon Heart?”
“If the one who made this place wasn’t lying, then yes. And honestly, with that, the very least you could do is give me the staff. Don’t you agree?”
“…If it really is a Dragon Heart.”
It pained him to give it up, but without Aria, they wouldn’t have made it through all those traps.
Besides, she was also one of the companions recognized by the prophecy book alongside Aint, and her growing stronger wasn’t a bad thing.
“You’d know that better than I would. How do you feel?”
“…Better than ever.”
He felt like he could easily become the best in the Academy, even without artifact support.
“Seriously… this is amazing.”
It felt like he’d been reborn.
“So, the staff is mine?”
“…Do what you want.”
“Believe me, I’m being generous. No matter how incredible that staff is, it’ll never compare to a Dragon Heart.”
True. No elixir was worth that much.
“But… don’t you think something’s odd? If it really was a Dragon Heart, my body shouldn’t have been able to withstand it.”
“When you were absorbing it, runes were glowing all over your body.”
“A magic that compensates for what’s lacking?”
“Probably.”
“If that’s the case, it’s incredible. What kind of being was the first Pontiff of the Dragon God Cult?”
“Are you sure it was him?”
“Just a guess, for now.”
Fernan checked his body again and changed his half-shredded clothes.
“It was totally worth it. I don’t feel like these two weeks were wasted.”
If anything, it couldn’t be called a loss.
He’d gained clarity from the traps, taken countless grimoires and potions, and now a Dragon Heart. How could it not be worth it?
“…But, thinking about it, doesn’t all this belong to the Dragon God Cult?”
“Things without owners belong to whoever finds them first.”
“No matter how you look at it, these seem like relics left by former pontiffs.”
“Listen carefully, Aria.”
Fernan grabbed her shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes.
“Centuries have passed. After so long, no one can claim ownership of something lost.”
“But we don’t know if it’s been centuries.”
“Then are you going to hand that staff over to the Cult?”
“Of course not.”
“Then remember this.”
We—
“Nothing happened here.”
Nothing at all.
“…This feels familiar.”
“What did I just say?”
“Nothing happened here.”
“Exactly.”
“But then, what excuse are you going to use to sell the white dragon statue? Weren’t you going to say it was made by the first Pontiff?”
“…Damn it.”
Fernan bit his lip.
If it weren’t for the Dragon Heart, he would’ve revealed this place and sold everything at an outrageous price using the backstory.
‘I might have to give up some things, but I’ll still sell the statue at a high price. Though, having absorbed the Dragon Heart, that’s no longer possible.’
Unless he destroyed the only proof.
“Aria, destroy that with everything you’ve got.”
The blast of wind struck the panel with the inscription—but not a single scratch appeared.
Fernan tried to deform the metal—no success.
Even with his newfound power, beyond simple rebirth from the Dragon Heart, he couldn’t alter it.
And he understood.
That simple-looking mechanism hid extremely high-level magic.
And also—
“…It’s adamantite.”
He realized the material.
“Huh?”
“It’s pure adamantite, 100%. Not an alloy or anything. They engraved runes to fix it in place.”
Insanity.
He wanted to take it, but lacked the ability. He had never hated his own limits so much.
“We’ll have to come back later. Until I can rip it out, this stays a secret.”
“If it’s not Archmage-level, it seems impossible—but understood.”
The place was left empty. Only darkness remained.
____
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