A dragon had no soul.
It was a strange feeling.
On its back, one of the ridges was missing, and in the sunken spot between its hardened black scales was a pit just large enough for a person to sit in.
Sitting there, the hard scales radiated a burning heat, their powerful heartbeat thudding with each heavy breath.
Every sign proved that the black dragon was alive.
Yet—it had no soul.
Its spiritual force was immense and overflowing, yet mechanical and cold.
No emotion could be felt from the enormous black dragon—none at all.
It seemed to be a living shell.
When Allen blinked onto the dragon's tail, his spiritual power instantly merged into a vast, boundless sea of consciousness—majestic but hollow. In that moment, he became the master of that sea.
A mere thought—and the dragon's mountain-sized body moved as he willed.
"What is this?"
He closed his eyes, his palm brushing over the hard scales, feeling the deep link of control he now had over the black dragon's body. Allen raised a brow.
"A biological mech? A dragon Gundam?"
Beast Roar: Dragon Call turned out to be far more unexpected than he imagined. He had thought it would summon a dragon from the distant past—one that followed the One-Eyed Clan's god, Shagadazar, deity of roar, hunt, and taming.
Moments ago, he had been thinking about how to explain to the summoned dragon why a human—why a witcher—could command the roar of the One-Eyed Clan.
He even considered that—
If things went bad, and Beast Roar: Dragon Call called hostile creatures like during the Conjunction of the Spheres—he could take the chaos as a chance to escape.
After all, he'd already caused such a commotion. Vigofortz and Lydia van Bredevoort would surely be able to send Hen Gedymdeith out of Ban Ard by now. The mission would be accomplished.
But now—
"Perhaps… I can do even more."
Following an instinctive impulse, the witcher closed his eyes. The ferocious black dragon's blazing crimson eyes snapped open.
"ROAR!"
Its vast bat-like wings stretched wide, shaking the heavens, the roar announcing its arrival.
Instantly, it locked onto the figures fleeing across the ground below.
Though Allen didn't know what deep grudge Sunny had against the witchers, the man's ceaseless scheming to suppress and exterminate the Wolf School was enough to earn him a place on Allen's death list.
And as he had predicted—rescuing Hen Gedymdeith didn't mean the mission was over.
He would surely punish Sunny harshly—but he wouldn't kill him, nor strike at Ban Ard's radicals.
Once the dust settled, those radicals would rise again.
For that, Allen had thought long and hard before today, searching for a solution he never found. But now… he had one—simple, final, and absolute.
"Haah…"
A crimson gleam flickered in the dragon's eyes.
It beat its wings, and like the king of the air elementals, its massive form faced no resistance as it flew.
The storm winds themselves bent to serve, lifting and propelling the dragon's massive body forward in a steep, effortless dive.
"Run!"
The moment Sunny realized he'd been locked onto, he shouted, instinctively raising his hand to cast a portal.
But the space around him was sluggish and unresponsive. Then he remembered—before they had descended into the underground halls, Ortolan had ordered the activation of Ban Ard's space-stabilizing ritual spread across the city.
"Damn it!" Sunny cursed.
Feeling the pricking sense of danger crawling up his spine, he knew—running was useless. No one could outrun a flying dragon.
"We can't run!"
Veins bulged on Sunny's forehead as he screamed to the other Ban Ard warlocks around him: "It's just a dragon! A creature long eliminated by this world! Humanity is the true master of this age—and Ban Ard is the strongest force among mankind!"
"Why should we fear a monster already abandoned by time?!"
"Everyone, stop!"
Sunny waved his arms wildly, his voice rising, full of fervor and force: "Activate the gemstones! Aim for its eyes!"
"Don't worry about how much power they consume! Kill that black dragon—and aside from the Wild Hunt, everything else will be yours!"
The Ban Ard mages, who had hesitated from the crushing pressure and the cost of activating the gems, now had greed gleaming in their eyes.
They cast aside their fear of death in an instant.
A black dragon!
Even the weakest green or blue dragon was worth a fortune beyond imagining.
It was truly worth an entire city.
Because the last mage who had discovered the corpse of a green dragon that had died accidentally—after presenting the dragon's head to the King of Cidaris—had been directly granted the title of baron in the United Kingdom of Kovir and Poviss, along with a prosperous small city.
And that had been merely for a single dragon's head.
Authority, legitimacy, power…
The value of dragons on the Northern Continent was extraordinary. A dragon head that seemed to serve only as decoration could very well determine the change of a royal dynasty and the loyalty of a nation's people.
Then…
What would be the value of a black dragon—extinct from the Northern Continent for hundreds of years?
The eyes of the Ban Ard warlocks turned blood-red. They no longer seemed to feel the ever-heavier, terrifying pressure, and hurriedly gathered in front of Sunny to shield him.
In the blink of an eye, layers of red, blue, and brown magical barriers overlapped one after another.
Miguel also released his strongest defensive spell. Yet, unlike his comrades, he was not blinded by the immense value of the black dragon or the fortune seemingly within reach.
He glanced at his flushed, almost frenzied companions and subordinates, then at Sunny—whose expression was even more deranged.
Involuntarily, a chill settled deep in his heart.
A black dragon—the mortal enemy of all living things in the oldest prophecies, the claw of the White Frost, the destroyer of worlds…
Could such a being truly be defeated so easily?
Green and blue dragons had faded away because they were weak, and often attacked human towns.
The mighty red dragons had been hunted down during the trough of magical tides.
But…
But!
There had never been a record of a black dragon dying at human hands.
They had simply reduced their activity on the Northern Continent as magic waned, then fallen asleep, and one day—vanished entirely.
Now, no one even knew how a black dragon attacked, or what innate spells or powers it possessed.
Thus—
Miguel instinctively stopped focusing on the dragon itself and instead searched for an opportunity to withdraw from the battlefield.
As long as one lived, there was always a chance.
Hen Gedymdeith, Ban Ard Academy, even the Sorcerer Kingdom—could still be restored.
But once dead, what good would a dragon's corpse be, even if it could buy all of Temeria?
Sunny didn't notice Miguel's unease.
He stared fixedly into the dragon's scarlet vertical pupils. When the black dragon finally drew close enough to enter the range of most attack spells—
"Attack!!!"
Sunny's beard and hair bristled as he roared.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
In an instant, the gem buttons on the chests of Ban Ard warlocks' black robes shattered simultaneously.
Distorted magical radiance flared, bending the air as beams of light tore through it, shooting straight toward the ferocious black dragon.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
A rapid series of explosions erupted against the dragon's body, clouds of black smoke billowing outward to engulf its entire form.
A translucent shockwave spread outward, and in the blink of an eye, it swept across the buildings on the ground.
The newly built towering clock tower in the upper city snapped from its base, tilted, and crashed onto the nearby dwarven bank—Vivaldi Bank's magic barrier.
The bank clerks had fled the moment the black dragon appeared, leaving the magic barrier unmanned, its core unreplaced.
The golden barrier flickered several times before the grand arched stone roof of Vivaldi Bank collapsed, and the ruins farther away gave way again. The sounds of crashing and rumbling merged into one deafening roar.
Debris and dust rose into the air, blending with the black smoke in the sky.
"Did we do it?!"
The warlocks of Ban Ard shouted in excitement—wealth, power, and status, all within reach in an instant.
Sunny let out a long breath of relief.
He could see it clearly. Though few of their attacks had struck the dragon's supposedly weakest point—its eyes—almost every spell had hit the black dragon's body solidly.
The scales of a dragon were armor tougher than steel, but after being struck by so many powerful spells, even if it wasn't dead, it should at least be gravely wounded.
His greatest fear had been that the black dragon, with its immense speed, would dodge suddenly, causing all of the instant-trigger gems' attacks to miss.
Thankfully, what he feared hadn't happened.
Still, he shouted for everyone to stay alert.
"Easier to deal with than I imagined…" Sunny curled the corner of his mouth, already fantasizing in his mind about what he would do with the treasure that controlled the Conjunction of the Spheres—how he would handle Ortolan and Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization after obtaining it.
As for Hen Gedymdeith…
Once he possessed that treasure, even if the Archmage awoke, he would acknowledge everything Sunny had done for the academy.
Yes!
Hen Gedymdeith must recognize me!
If not for me, Ban Ard would never have recovered from his injury—it would have collapsed and never risen again!
Lost in his thoughts, Sunny unconsciously took two steps forward. His mind drifted further, thinking of Vilgefortz… and of those free elves who refused to surrender to the destiny that awaited them.
At that moment—
"Why hasn't there been any movement yet?" murmurs began to ripple through the Ban Ard warlocks.
The black dragon wasn't flying as high as before, but so much time had passed—it should have fallen to the ground through the thick smoke and dust. Yet nothing moved.
Sunny sensed something was wrong.
Miguel also withdrew his gaze, squinting into the black haze. Suddenly, he saw something—his face changed drastically. He grabbed Sunny by the arm and shouted: "The black dragon isn't dead!"
"Quick! Get to the catacombs—"
Before he could finish—
Whoosh!
A fierce gust of wind roared, sweeping away the layers of thick smoke and dust.
From within, a pair of scarlet vertical pupils glowed—cold, filled with bloodlust, and the indifferent contempt of a reptile.
That magnificent, obsidian-black creature stood tall, its crystal-black scales glistening without a single mark upon them.
Amid that devastating magical bombardment, the black dragon had not suffered even the slightest injury.
Sunny and the other Ban Ard warlocks froze. Then, crushed by the immense pressure radiating from the dragon, they broke into terrified, panicked flight.
"Run! It's a monster! A monster!"
"Get out of my way! Let me through first!"
"Don't kill me! Please, don't kill me…"
-----------------------------------
Terror exploded as if it had taken form.
Under the imminent threat of death, the warlocks could no longer care about comradeship or shared ideals. They shoved each other aside, fleeing like headless flies in every direction.
Many warlocks tripped over the rubble beneath their feet, not even wiping away the blood seeping from their wounds as they scrambled toward any path that remained open—ignoring the shouts and commands coming from behind.
Survival was the only instinct left.
"Sunny! The catacombs!"
Amid the chaos, Sunny and Miguel were being pushed farther apart by the panicked crowd. Miguel tried desperately to move closer, shouting as loud as he could.
But the next instant, darkness fell before his eyes—an immense shadow, as vast as a mountain, loomed over the entire street.
In that moment—
Though the world around him was in chaos, Miguel felt as if everything had gone silent. He could hear only his own heartbeat—thump, thump—pounding like a funeral bell before death.
He stiffly raised his head and saw a black, gleaming scythe-like claw, shimmering with cold light, hook its prey.
Crack—crack—crack—
Layer upon layer of magical barriers shattered like fragile sugar shells, offering no resistance at all.
Sunny screamed, losing his sanity. He ignored the unstable surge of elements and unleashed countless spells in an instant—only to be caught effortlessly by three razor-sharp claws before Miguel's eyes.
Splatter.
Blood and flesh burst outward, splashing in thick chunks across the ground, leaving nothing that resembled a human form.
Miguel blankly wiped at the mixture of liquid and solid matter that had struck his face—the heavy scent of iron mingled with a faint, distinctive aroma of yewwood filled his nostrils.
"Ah—!"
In that instant, time itself seemed to start moving again. A deafening noise erupted in his ears, so sharp it pierced his eardrums.
"Sunny is dead?"
"The dean of Ban Ard, the new king of the Sorcerer Kingdom, the future of human evolution…"
"Just… died like that?"
Miguel stared blankly upward—and met a pair of cold, scarlet vertical pupils.
A flash of red light flickered in those eyes, and the black dragon opened its massive, ferocious jaws.
Miguel stood frozen, watching as blinding white light gathered, swirled, expanded, and swelled within the dragon's throat.
The violent magical energy shook the very air; the temperature soared in an instant.
"Am I going to die too?"
The thought flashed across Miguel's mind.
The old well leading to the catacombs wasn't far—if he ran now, he might still escape.
Yet he only glanced instinctively at the mangled remains on the ground. For some reason—whether it was the dragon's overwhelming pressure or the raging magical energy—he felt no urge to flee.
The next second—
Boom!
With a thunderous roar that split heaven and earth, a blazing sun burst open before his eyes—and bloomed.
.......
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