“Look! It’s really the Wyvern dancing!” A young man stood on the balcony, leaning out as far as he could with his arms braced against the railing, pointing towards the sky and shouting excitedly. Behind him, a graceful lady hopped onto a chair, while another portly, middle-aged man was not to be outdone, stepping onto the railing and steadying himself by gripping a pillar atop the balcony barrier… These people, who had been waiting for some time, crowded the balcony, gesticulating wildly towards the distant sky and uttering a host of meaningless exclamations.

In stark contrast to the excitement of these distant travelers were the locals: the pedestrians on the street, the vendors, the inn staff—all remained calm. Many didn't even spare a glance for the dragon. A few street urchins even made faces and laughed at the people gathered on the inn's balcony, some even throwing small stones as a prank, finding the spectacle of the people far more entertaining than the dancing Wyvern.

“Strange things happen—even if a Wyvern dances, if you see it every day for ten days or half a month, you get tired of it. The people in our town have watched this dragon dance at this time since childhood, so we’re used to it,” the innkeeper said, gently scaring off the mischievous boys while smiling and explaining to his guests.

Fortunately, the guests’ attention was completely absorbed by the dragon, and no one noticed the urchins' rude behavior. One woman gazed raptly at the sky and asked, “It’s too beautiful; I’ve never seen such a magnificent sight! But is it truly dancing? And why does it dance there every day?”

“Then, Innkeeper, do you know why it dances?” an impatient guest interrupted the proprietor, with the other guests echoing his query.

“So, what exactly is the reason?” the travelers asked in unison, looking expectantly at the innkeeper.

The innkeeper spread his hands and shook his head decisively.

“How can that be…” came a chorus of disappointed cries. One young man, brimming with vigor, placed a hand on the dagger at his waist and exclaimed, “It’s been three hundred years! How can there be a Wyvern there, and yet no one bothers to find out the reason? Doesn’t anyone want to know the truth?”

“Heh, young man, of course they do,” the innkeeper replied, serving him a cup of wine. “There are many. Those who wish to become dragon-slaying heroes, those who want to find the dragon’s lair for treasure, those who want to uncover the truth… plenty. However,” he added with a cunning smile, “not a single one has ever returned.”

“Whoa,” a collective gasp swept through the room.

Standing in the shadows near the window was a figure who had remained silent until now, startling the innkeeper when he finally noticed him. After clearly seeing the person, the innkeeper smiled and greeted him, “Mr. Ida, why are you standing here alone? I’ll have someone bring you some drinks.”

This guest named Ida was a young, frail-looking man. His complexion was so pale it seemed bloodless, and his limbs were quite slender, but he possessed a pair of distinct, bright, piercing eyes. He had been staying at the inn for six or seven days, having only registered his name without volunteering a surname. Due to his demeanor and bearing, rumors were already circulating that he was the only son of some Duke, with one maid even claiming to have seen a ducal crest among his luggage. Others whispered he was the apprentice of a great Archmage, having witnessed Ida reading a letter bearing the Archmage’s full name and seal on the cover. In short, without realizing it, Ida had provided ample conversation material for the inn’s residents. Ida himself was amiable, a slight smile perpetually gracing his lips. Upon hearing the innkeeper’s suggestion, he first offered a polite thank you before seating himself in the chair brought over by a maid.

“Mr. Ida, why don’t you join the others in conversation? Isn’t it boring to sit alone?” the maid who brought the drinks inquired with a smile.

Ida made a gesture and smiled, saying, “I’m not very good at discussing topics like that.”

“No, I was merely passing through,” Ida replied truthfully. “I was originally heading for the capital, but I fell ill here unexpectedly, forcing me to stay and bother you all for so many days. However, my father is sending someone to escort me tomorrow, so I will be taking my leave.”

“No wonder you don’t look very well; you were sick. I’ll go find a physician for you.”

Ida quickly stopped the innkeeper’s fussing. “No need, I have already taken some of my own alchemically prepared potions; I’m fine now.”

“Alchemy… So you really are a mage. I even heard them say you were the apprentice of Archmage Mandrel,” the innkeeper probed further.

“Yes, Archmage Mandrel is my esteemed master.” When Ida spoke his master’s name, he placed a hand over his chest with profound reverence.

“Really?” The innkeeper could hardly believe that the disciple of the continent’s foremost mage would actually appear in his humble establishment. Is he a fraud? he wondered. He then asked, “Your patronage truly brings honor to my small shop. I haven’t yet had the courtesy to ask your surname?”

“Falan. My name is Ida Du Falan,” Ida replied casually.

“You are truly the son of Duke Falan?” the innkeeper exclaimed.

“Ah… Right. When I came to lodge, I was feeling quite weak, so I neglected to record my surname on the ledger. It seems I haven't provided my full name until now; my apologies for the discourtesy,” he said, nodding to the innkeeper.

“Son of Duke Falan, apprentice to Archmage Mandrel…” The innkeeper shook his head, harboring a considerable amount of doubt.

Ida Du Falan paid no mind to anyone’s gaze; he looked toward the distant mountains, already lost in thought.

Ida scrambled up from the undergrowth and looked around; the long-tailed saber-toothed tiger that had attacked him was gone. He retrieved his pack from the ground, brushed off the leaves, and continued walking, whistling a light tune. Logically, he shouldn't be trekking alone through such a deep, wild forest, carrying his own baggage while clearing a path with a short sword, but somehow, this suited him just fine.

“My Lord Viscount, the Duke and Duchess entrusted you to my care. I would die before failing to deliver you safely to the capital, cough, cough, cough… I will absolutely not abandon you, cough, cough, cough… If you cannot reach the Archmage safely, I will never rest in peace… cough, cough, cough…” When the old servant, ill in bed, grabbed his hand with trembling fingers and spoke thus, Ida immediately gave orders for a swift horse to take the man back home—keeping him nearby would only delay his arrival.

“My friend Ida, due to fate’s arrangements, worldly affairs are always full of turbulence. Today, I feel the call of my homeland and must reluctantly part ways with you… (The remaining 5,000 words omitted)”—Only after Miel departed with lingering farewells did Ida realize he hadn't grasped the central point of anything he had said. Why was he going back?

“Brother, I love Mond, and I’m going to marry him.”

“……”

“It’s useless even if you forbid it! It’s useless even if you go back and tell Father! I love him, and we will never be separated, in life or in death! Brother, you’ve always doted on me since childhood; you never refuse my requests. Please, just allow us to be together! I beg you!”

“……But you are only nine years old……”

“What does love have to do with age!”

“If that’s the case… Mond is the first in line for the throne, our cousin, talented in both arts and arms, and possessing a good temperament. He is indeed worthy of being my brother-in-law…”

“Brother, thank you. I will be grateful to you for my entire life.”

“No, help! Ida, you can’t abandon me! I’m your cousin… Ida, help me…”

And so, his sister eloped with his cousin Mond. Though Ida never quite understood why his sister held a knife to Mond’s throat during the elopement. Mond’s attendants rushed to pursue their prince, and the once sizable escort was instantly reduced to just Ida.

The silence—no longer filled with the old servant’s nagging, his sister’s occasional screams, Miel’s chanting, Mond’s booming voice, or the constant clanking of armor from the fully equipped retinue—was a profound change. In the twenty-two years he had been alive, Ida experienced this stillness for the first time. The moment the entourage disappeared from sight, he plunged into the forest, running at full speed to avoid being found by servants newly dispatched by his father. “Finally, freedom!” Ida thought excitedly. Although he still had to reach the destination arranged by his father, at least this time he could go in his own way, rather than following the route planned by his father, complete with official escorts along the way.

“La la la, off to the most dangerous thicket.”

Looking like a wandering mage.

How remarkable I am…

La la la la…

Ida hummed a tune and chose the shortest route—a straight line—between himself and the capital, striding forward.

The instant Ida sensed danger, he chanted a protective spell. Even so, when rolling flames swept past him, he felt the heat—perhaps it was psychological, as his magic was effective enough that not a single hair was singed. Yet, when flames surrounded him above, below, front, back, left, and right, one’s heart could not help but feel warmth. He finally understood the reason for the scorched vegetation all around: it wasn't a forest fire; it was a dragon.

A dark crimson dragon stood not far away, glaring at him malevolently. “I haven’t eaten a human in a long time…” the Red Dragon grumbled, lumbering toward him step by step.

Ida hastily pulled out his wand and waved it, reinforcing his defenses.

“A human spellcaster,” the Red Dragon drooled. “It’s been years since I’ve had one. You look delicious.” But no matter how pleased it was with the ‘meal’ before it, Ida’s protective magic formed a dome around him, preventing the dragon from biting him.

Ida expected the Red Dragon to immediately attack his ward with fire, various spells, or brute force. Unexpectedly, the dragon did no such thing. It settled down a short distance away, resting its head on its claws, watching Ida with a look of derision. It seemed to know that Ida’s magic was immobile and time-limited, so it waited for the spell to expire, hoping to consume the exhausted mage when he succumbed.

Ida recalled how long he sustained that spell last time. That was ten years ago; he had used the magic he read about in a book to shield himself to prevent his father from capturing him and dragging him to the capital. Was it three days or five? Ida only remembered being utterly starved then, and the protection, which the mages sent by his father couldn't breach despite all their efforts, yielded obediently when his master arrived and placed a chicken leg before it. Years had passed; surely he had improved? How long could he last this time? Could he hold out until the dragon fell asleep? Or should he quickly use this chance to think of an escape spell from beneath the dragon’s claws?

The Red Dragon watched in surprise as the mage inside the ward suddenly sat on the ground, snatched a large, thick book from his luggage, and began flipping through it rapidly.

“Trying to learn on the fly in front of me?” the Red Dragon sneered dismissively, blowing a plume of sparks and black smoke from its nostrils. Based on past experience, the dragon knew the spell would last at most three hours. It waited boredly, counting the ants on the ground.

Time passed incrementally. Ida was still flipping through the book; the ward remained unchanged. The dragon’s scorn gradually turned into astonishment.

“I know!” Ida suddenly cried out, tossing the book aside. He stepped forward toward the Red Dragon, only to realize himself just as his foot was about to cross the boundary of the shield, pulling back immediately. Still excited, he pointed at the dragon and shouted, “I know!”

The Red Dragon watched him warily, wondering what spell he had discovered to counter it.

“You! You aren’t that dragon that dances on the mountain every dusk, are you? There aren’t any other dragons around here, are there?” Ida bowed formally to the Red Dragon. “It is an honor to meet you, the foremost dancer of the Dragon Clan.”

“Waaarrgh…” The Red Dragon roared in fury, spewing fire at Ida’s shield and the sky, forcefully trampling the surrounding trees… After a long while, it calmed down, grinding its teeth at Ida, and spat, “Go to hell! Your Goddess of Art—if I ever see her, I’ll stomp her flat! Why do I have to dance for her! Why!”

“Then why do you dance?” Ida threw the book away—it was better not to read than to read incorrect information; even books could err. It seemed this dragon danced for some other reason.

“You won’t get my name!” the Red Dragon bellowed. “I know you mages are the most cunning. If you learn my true name, you can find my lair and steal my treasures while I’m gone! Despicable, vulgar vermin!”

“Oh, so your lair isn’t here then. Then why have you stayed here for three hundred years? Don't dragons always guard their lairs fiercely?” Ida asked while taking notes.

“I won’t tell you! Damned human, shameless, insidious, hateful…” The Red Dragon was enraged by the attitude of this ‘food,’ and a string of curses poured from its mouth. The roar shook the branches, causing them to rustle loudly. However, after several minutes of shouting, the Red Dragon suddenly looked up at the sky, smiled cunningly, and said to Ida, “Time is almost up, spellcaster. Just wait and see why I ‘dance.’ Hahahaha, although it’s a pity I can’t eat you, hahahaha…” With that, it whipped its tail and headed toward the deep woods.

With a long bellow, “Wooo… Oh…” the Red Dragon soared into the air, its massive wings stirring up a gale.

A black shadow suddenly lunged toward Ida.

Ida, who had been cautiously vigilant deep in his heart, immediately raised his wand and unleashed a bolt of lightning toward the attacker. To his surprise, the shadow passed straight through the lightning and lunged directly toward Ida’s face. Ida scrambled to roll on the ground just barely dodging it.

“What are these!” Ida cried out, looking at the things swarming about.

They were creatures the size of a human palm, ugly, resembling winged, one-legged geckos. Their bodies were grayish-white, and their eyes were also a pale gray, utterly devoid of life. The sky above the forest was now filled with these things, pouring out continuously from the rock face ahead and ascending toward the sky, while the Red Dragon fiercely attacked them with its claws, teeth, and tail in the air.

The Red Dragon shook its head, crushing a few small monsters; then it whipped its tail, smashing several others against the rock face until they shattered. The moment these monsters died, they dissolved into smoke and vanished, but they kept multiplying. The Red Dragon accelerated its attack speed. The monsters seemed devoid of any thought, only moving upward toward the sky. The Red Dragon merely had to wait there, and they delivered themselves to its maw. However, some broke away from the swarm. At that point, the Red Dragon appeared flustered, having to chase them down to kill them while simultaneously preventing more monsters from escaping its onslaught.

“Why doesn’t the dragon use magic?”

Ida immediately answered the question himself.

Another monster swooped down toward him. When Ida tried to use magic, it failed again. Ida drew his sword to defend himself, using the ancestral, edge-that-cuts-through-iron sword his family possessed. After hacking at the monster over a dozen times, he finally killed it.

Ida understood: only physical attacks worked against these creatures. Furthermore, their bodies were extraordinarily resilient; perhaps only a Wyvern could dispatch them so easily. But what were these things? And why was the Red Dragon attacking them? If this assault was the legendary dance, the Red Dragon must have been fighting them every day for three hundred years—for what purpose?

In the air, the battle between the dragon and the small monsters continued. Ida scanned the forest floor, his attention drawn by shadows in the brush. He pushed aside the foliage and saw a mage holding a wand and a horse—both stood motionless, already turned to stone, vines even creeping over their forms. “Petrification magic? That’s not the Wyvern’s magic,” Ida exclaimed, his face paling.

“Hahahaha, foolish human, you’ll be like that soon too! Hahahaha!” The Red Dragon spotted him from the air noticing the statues and laughed triumphantly. “How about that? Wouldn’t it have been better to let me eat you just now? Hahahaha…”

Ida took a deep breath. Hearing the dragon, he realized these statues were still ‘alive.’ Though turned to stone, their souls remained trapped within their bodies, allowing them to see, feel, and think, but preventing movement, speech, or death…

Who had cast such a cruel spell upon these creatures?

As Ida looked up at the Red Dragon in anger, he saw the answer: A bird flying overhead was struck by a dancing monster. The monster clung tightly to the bird, merging with it rapidly. When the monster’s body completely disappeared, the bird had turned into a block of stone; it could no longer flap its wings and fell from the sky, landing with a soft thud in the grass.

Looking around, there were quite a few such stone statues: birds, small animals, and even a mountain lion. But there were only two humans: that mage and a warrior leaning against a tree, sword raised, mouth agape. Anyone who arrived here had likely been eaten by the Red Dragon before being petrified. Ida couldn't say if that counted as luck.

A small monster fell, landing on a treetop, only to be hacked down by Ida, who leaped up. As it struggled to fly again, Ida rushed forward and delivered several more strikes, causing it to vanish in a puff of smoke. The Red Dragon, about to swoop down in pursuit, stopped in mid-air and continued its assault.

Ida was a mage. Although he was confident in his swordsmanship, his stamina simply couldn't compare to a Wyvern’s. Moreover, while the monsters’ petrification magic was ineffective against the dragon, it worked perfectly on him. Thus, even dealing with the few monsters that occasionally flew into the woods, he was soon drenched in sweat. The Red Dragon ignored him, knowing the mage’s defenses were useless against these small creatures. It waited excitedly for the human to turn to stone. It had already planned to place this new statue on the western riverbank, so it could step on it every time it came for a drink.

Ida was waiting too.

He sensed that the Red Dragon was currently not using its full power, and he knew that the monsters’ method of assimilation with living things was merely a way to absorb energy. Energy for whom were they absorbing it? Ida waited, certain that something more was about to appear.

Time slipped by. Ida lost count of how many monsters he had killed, only feeling his arms growing numb, barely able to lift them. The flow of monsters emerging from the unseen passage in the rock face was diminishing.

The Red Dragon suddenly let out a world-shaking roar.

“It’s coming!” Ida warned himself internally.

A head emerged from the stone wall, followed by half a body, and then a pair of wings—this entity, which seemed fused with the rock face, was identical to the small monsters, only magnified thousands of times, nearly larger than the Red Dragon itself. It strained forward violently, seeming desperate to tear itself free from the stone wall.

The Red Dragon roared, swooping down from mid-air, claws extended to strike the creature’s head. The monster, refusing to yield, snapped its jaws at the dragon. Both were monstrous beasts of immense size and strength, yet their specialized magics proved useless against the other, forcing them into a contest of sheer brute force—one trying to break free from the mountain face, the other striving to snap the dragon’s neck and shove it back in. The Red Dragon held the advantage of unencumbered flight, pressing its advantage, but the monster could extrude a terrifyingly long tongue, specifically targeting the dragon’s eyes. Battles of this nature had occurred daily for centuries; they knew each other intimately, fighting with such focused concentration that even their roars had faded to mere whispers.

“The Stone Dragon Beast…” Ida’s palms broke out in a cold sweat as the creature’s identity finally clicked into place.

The Stone Dragon Beast was an entity from another dimension. Its sole historical mention was from two millennia ago, when such a monster was summoned to the mortal realm by an Evil God. In that cataclysmic struggle, humankind, Elves, Dwarves—all races combined—sacrificed sixty thousand soldiers, over a hundred Paladins, more than twenty Archmages, and five Dragons just to destroy it. During that conflict, three nations were annihilated in its wake. This creature was impervious to magical harm and largely resistant to physical blows, possessing an additional sorcery that petrified living things, absorbing their essence. In truth, only a powerful Dragon, similarly immune to magic, could truly match it.

A wave of emotion washed over Ida.

The Stone Dragon Beast noticed Ida standing below and whipped its elongated tongue toward him. It relished consuming creatures of this world, especially humans. If it could devour more people, perhaps next time it could finally defeat the dragon and gain full access to this world brimming with edible resources.

Ida leaped backward, narrowly evading the incredibly long, serpentine tongue. In that instant, he made his decision, sheathing his greatsword and drawing his wand.

“Foolish mortal, even the magic of us dragons has no effect on it. You think you fare better?” the Red Dragon scoffed.

“How will I know if I don't try,” Ida replied casually, echoing his teacher’s favorite maxim, “My master always said you have to try something to know the outcome.”

“Human…” the Wyrm sneered dismissively.

Two beams of light erupted from the Stone Dragon Beast’s eyes, forcing even the Red Dragon to quickly recoil. As the monster shifted its head, the twin beams lazily scythed across the ground. Anything the light touched—even tiny insects flying overhead—was instantly turned to stone, while trees were violently splintered.

“I have never seen such a spell,” Ida murmured. “It both petrifies and attacks.”

The Stone Dragon Beast’s ultimate target was Ida. He agilely dodged the first sweep of light. The second beam narrowly missed as the Red Dragon swooped in to attack, diverting the monster’s gaze. When the third pass came, seemingly inescapable, Ida swept his wand before him, carving out a sphere of absolute darkness. The light struck it and was instantly absorbed, vanishing without a trace.

“Just as I thought; not being vulnerable to offensive magic doesn't mean one can't use magic for defense,” Ida declared, then sharply swung his wand, reciting several rapid incantations. “How about we try this!”

Fallen tree trunks and branches, shattered by the battle between the Dragon and the Beast, suddenly shot into the air. After several dizzying spins, they hurtled toward the Stone Dragon Beast. While these chunks of wood could not harm the creature’s dense hide, they provided the Red Dragon an opening to rake its claws across the beast’s flank a dozen times.

“That works too!” Ida cried out excitedly. “Attacking without direct magical force is viable!”

“That’s utterly useless!” The Red Dragon, having fought the Stone Dragon Beast for over three centuries, was deeply irritated by this human’s interference. It admitted the human was more formidable than any it had encountered before, but this ancient duel was none of his concern; it could easily send the monster back without assistance.

“×;×;×;×;×;×;” Standing defiantly before the flames, Ida chanted loudly. The fire suddenly parted, lifting him as if on a pair of wings. “It’s worthy of being Dragon flame. I’ve never flown so high using the Fire Dance technique before.” Once airborne, Ida exclaimed with excitement.

“What exactly are you trying to accomplish?” The Red Dragon felt utterly played. It was fighting tooth and nail against the Stone Dragon Beast, while this human was busy causing chaos nearby.

“This!” Ida roared, whirling his wand to summon a gale. When the wind subsided, the Red Dragon saw that even the Stone Dragon Beast’s tough skin was riddled with tiny gashes from the wind-blades. I cannot lose to a mere human! With that thought, the Red Dragon leaped onto the monster, tearing and biting. A screech of agony echoed as the Dragon ripped a chunk of flesh from its foe’s neck.

In three hundred years of struggle, the Stone Dragon Beast had never suffered such a serious wound. Exposed to the open air of this realm, the injury rapidly desiccated and eroded, leaving an ugly gap in its body. The Stone Dragon Beast bellowed in fury, thrashing wildly. It knew its power surpassed that of a hundred dragons and ten thousand men, yet stuck in the spatial fissure, it could not exert even one percent of its true strength.

“Wu-oh-oh-oh…” the Stone Dragon Beast howled, its claws flashing faster, its tongue lashing out, its gaze relentlessly tracking Ida. The Red Dragon roared back with equal fervor, engaging in close-quarters combat.

“The Stone Dragon Beast is not as overwhelmingly powerful as the legends claim—it isn't!” Ida declared with certainty. He bellowed, “Roll back to your dimension!” and unleashed another spell upon the beast.

At that moment, the Stone Dragon Beast’s gaze locked onto Ida.

The Red Dragon watched in astonishment as the human made no move to dodge this time, allowing the petrifying light to crawl up his legs. The Dragon blinked in confusion, wondering how this human, usually as swift as a rabbit, had suddenly frozen. However, time was running short; the Dragon noted the fading glow on the horizon—the rift's opening window was limited, and the monster would soon be forced back to its own world. That human, it mused, would be a much better meal for it. With that thought, the Red Dragon shot between the Stone Dragon Beast and Ida, using its own body to intercept the petrifying gaze. While the Dragon was immune to the magical effect itself, the light blast sent a searing pain through its foreclaws. It roared, slamming a massive claw down onto the monster’s head.

“Sword of the Light God!”

As the Red Dragon cried out its ultimate incantation, blinding white light engulfed everything. The Stone Dragon Beast shrieked—a sound that shook the very foundations of the earth.

Minutes later, the radiance faded. The Red Dragon saw the Stone Dragon Beast writhing in agony, its eyes seared blind, its wounds rapidly turning to dust. “Wu-oh-oh-oh…” the creature wailed as it dissolved back into the stone wall.

The Red Dragon glanced at the sky, then at the cliff face. This was the first time in three centuries that the Stone Dragon Beast had been forced back before its allotted time expired. This human commanded a legendary spell. Who in the blazes was he? The Dragon turned; with the monster gone, the traditional battle between an Evil Dragon and a human Mage was next on the agenda.

“Thump.” The dragon’s flames vanished, and Ida fell from the sky. Dropped from such a height without protection, he tumbled, landing in a heap, coughing violently, unable to rise immediately. When he finally managed to sit up and look up, he was staring directly into the massive head of the Red Dragon.

Ida’s legs, from the knees down, were petrified. His wand had been knocked from his grasp. They stared at each other, eye to eye, neither moving for a long moment.

“Excuse me, would you mind retrieving my wand for me?” Ida finally asked, rubbing his head sheepishly.

The Red Dragon licked its lips. It could crush this man in two bites right now. Yet, after a few seconds, it flicked its tail, sending the wand skittering from the undergrowth to rest at Ida’s feet.

Ida touched his petrified legs with the wand, murmuring incantations. Soon, the stone coating on his lower limbs dissolved, restoring their natural state.

A formidable mage, the Red Dragon confirmed to itself again. It waited for Ida to initiate an attack, ready to have an honorable contest with the spellcaster before devouring him.

Ida tested his legs. Though they looked normal, they felt like stone, stiff and unyielding. He then clutched his chest, coughed twice, and spat up a mouthful of blood—the fall had clearly injured him more than he realized. “Pardon me, but I need to examine that spot closely, and my legs won’t move,” Ida requested, gesturing toward the area where the Stone Dragon Beast had emerged, clasping his hands in appeal to the Dragon. “Could you assist?”

“Damn it!” The Red Dragon let out a few heavy breaths but still hooked Ida’s collar with a claw and lifted him into the air. “Mmm, so that’s how it is… Mmm, if the structural integrity is here… then… mmm-hmm…” Ida nodded repeatedly at the bare rock face while muttering incoherent sounds.

The Red Dragon seriously considered dropping him.

“Who was it that opened this rift?” Ida mumbled to himself. “Luckily, it was only half-open, otherwise even you…” The Dragon instantly hauled him up to face-to-face, glaring fiercely. “Of course, even fully open wouldn't have been much of a challenge, not much at all,” Ida quickly amended.

“Do you truly wish to know why?” the Red Dragon asked with malicious intent. Without waiting for an answer, it carried Ida to a clearing in the woods. There stood a solitary statue: an aged mage, still clutching a wand in his stony hand.

The Dragon tossed Ida onto the ground and tapped the statue with a claw. “This scoundrel opened that space. Es’Morro. Ever heard of him? Your race’s Archmage, the Flawless Saint.”

“Es’Morro. I know that name,” Ida said, quickly pulling out a book and flipping to a page. “The greatest mage on the continent three hundred years ago. Upright, hated evil, just and incorruptible, noble and stern… what kind of ridiculous adjectives are these? In any case, a powerful mage, and a man of impeccable character, who held the title of Saint. He later chose to leave the mortal realm in seclusion; rumor suggested he might still be alive.”

“A Saint! Hahahaha! So this is what humanity’s Saints look like.” The Red Dragon kicked the statue over and viciously stomped on it several times. “He is still ‘alive,’ isn’t he? Hahahaha, look at him now—does this count as living? This ‘Saint’ of yours tricked me, promising to cooperate in conquering the world, using me to eliminate his rivals and seize what he needed. Then, he tried to open this space to destroy me with the Stone Dragon Beast. Hahahaha, how could I possibly be so naive as to believe he was opening a gateway to the Netherworld? Just as he opened the rift halfway, I shoved him from behind, and he met the gaze of the very Stone Dragon Beast he summoned!” The Dragon spat venomously. “Cunning, despicable, shameless mage, to try and deceive me! See his fate… I will keep him as my permanent plaything; his soul is mine forever!” As it spoke, it assaulted the statue with claws, fire, and teeth. The statue made of the Stone Dragon Beast material was incredibly durable, serving perfectly as a target for centuries of pent-up rage.

The Red Dragon noticed no sound from Ida, assuming the human was stunned into silence by its brutal display. Turning back, however, it saw Ida dragging a half-man-sized piece of rock toward the statue.

“I forgot.” The Red Dragon answered sullenly.

Ida knew that without the Red Dragon’s efforts to annihilate the lesser monsters sent by the Stone Dragon Beast, the energy they absorbed would soon empower the main entity enough to break free into the world on its own. In a strange way, this evil Red Dragon had been guarding the world for three hundred years.

“I believe closing a space is harder than opening one, but perhaps I can find the method to seal this spatial rift,” Ida told the Red Dragon.

“You are a powerful mage,” the Dragon admitted, never begrudging praise to strength. “Who are you, exactly? I know of no human capable of wielding the Sword of the Light God spell, save for the Archmage Clana from five thousand years ago.”

“I am Ida Du Fran. From birth, they claimed I was the reincarnation of Clana…” Ida said with a wry smile. “So I’ve been studying magic since childhood. But I never wanted to be an Archmage. Do you know what I want to be? A man of letters, a writer.” For some inexplicable reason, Ida found himself confessing this deepest desire, one he had never shared even with his closest friends, to this evil Red Dragon.

“A man of letters?” The Dragon’s mind held no memory corresponding to that concept.

“Someone who records stories, who writes books!” Ida exclaimed, his eyes shining. “Thinking about it now, meeting you is incredibly lucky. I’ve made up my mind: once I find the way to seal this space and free you from daily combat, I will write your story. The book will be called The Truth of the Dance. If you could appear over the venue on release day, perform a few spells, and shout ‘The dragon in the book is me!’ and ‘Everything written is true!’ I could become instantly famous!” He grew more animated as he spoke, gesticulating wildly.

“Hmph. Sealing space isn’t that easy. And even I cannot manage it when the process is incomplete and creates a spatial distortion,” the Dragon retorted, rolling its eyes. “But if that day ever comes, I will go out and devour people, plunder, and conquer the world… Hahahaha.” It, too, grew excited, pacing back and forth.

“If you really do that, I will kill you—you just said I’m a powerful mage!”

“No, I will eat you!”

“Then what is your name?”

“Don’t even think about asking my true name, you despicable mage!”

“If the entire world is petrified, what good is conquest?”

“True…”

“This world will be mine sooner or later—including you—and I won't allow some ugly monster to share my food!” One of the Red Dragon’s primary reasons for despising the Stone Dragon Beast was that it ate even more than he did.

Ida’s injuries and exhaustion finally overcame him, and he slumped against the Red Dragon, drifting off to sleep. The Dragon nudged him away with disgust, but tomorrow demanded combat. Even if the opponent was now half-blind, it was best to rest and replenish strength. This mage and this world will be mine eventually; I can eat him any time… With that thought, the Dragon too began to doze.

“Mister Ida… No, no, Viscount Fran…” The innkeeper called out cautiously to the young man he had only moments ago dismissed as a charlatan. He called out a dozen times before Ida finally snapped back to awareness.

“Oh, Landlord, what is it?” Ida still managed a polite smile.

“Outside… Your Grace, the Duke… the Prince… Guards…” The proprietor stammered, unable to form coherent sentences.

Ida glanced toward the door. A large contingent of people crowded the inn entrance: his sister, Monde (who now wore a ring identical to his sister’s—it seemed he had finally yielded to fate), his entourage, and his father’s personal guard.

“What brings everyone here?” Ida asked languidly.

His sister shrieked, throwing herself onto him, gripping his neck and demanding to know what illness afflicted him. Monde, whose arms could tear a mountain lion asunder—the strongest man in the kingdom—shook his shoulders violently, demanding to know if he was going to die. Two doctors rushed forward to begin a full physical examination, while armored soldiers sounded a metallic clang as they cleared the common folk. In an instant, Ida was enveloped once more in familiar noise and chaos.