[Unique Ability,
Take 1. Outskirts of the Vernis Mountain Range (Night/Outside)
A mountain range blanketed in eternal snow. Near a canyon, black fog surges upward. The ground trembles as a horde of venom-tainted beasts stampedes along the mountain range.
Sentry 1: "Hey, ring the bell! Warn the people—"
The cries of the beasts echo thunderously, shaking the Vernis Mountain Range.
Take 2. Sinistra Alley (Night/Outside)
A group of mercenaries rests in a dim alley. The mercenary captain strides forward with unwavering steps and tosses a pouch of coins.
Mercenary 1: "Those beasts have been unusually fierce and savage lately. But hunting them down pays well."
Mercenary 2: "Their numbers keep growing, too. If you think of it as the price for our lives, it's a bargain."
Mercenary Captain: "And this is your share. Looks like the stray we picked up can earn his keep after all."
Leovald snatches his share without a word.
Mercenary 1: (sniffing) "Damn, you reek. Go wash up already. Walking around drenched in blood is why people run away from you."
Mercenary 2: "Just leave him be. Doubt he even knows how to talk."
Mercenary 1: "Still gives me the creeps. Every mercenary company he's been with ended badly…"
Leovald silently walks away.
Take 3. Sinistra Plaza (Day/Outside)
Leovald washes the blood from his hands in the fountain. The tolling of the watchtower's bell rings out across the plaza.
Sentry 2: "T-The defences have fallen! We're under attack! Under attack!"
Sir Orlie: "Calm yourself! What's the enemy's size? Report!"
Sentry 2: (in a terrified voice) "…I can't count them!"
Leovald grips his sword and steps forward.
Take 1. Sinistra Defensive Line (Day/Outside)
Escorted by Sir Orlie, Archbishop Butier steps out of the church, glancing anxiously at the healing priests as he murmurs in concern.
Archbishop Butier: (in a hushed voice) "Is it true, Sir?"
Sir Orlie: "Yes, Your Eminence. It has been confirmed that the wounds inflicted by the tainted ones cannot be easily healed, even with holy water drawn from the Divine Stem."[The fragments of this entity are incomplete, allowing only partial access to related information.]
The faded page slowly blurs. There is no direct depiction of the evil dragon itself, yet it is clear why this information has been classified as related to it.
In the
However, even within the
For a hero to be born, there must always be a crisis that allows them to shine—a fundamental rule of storytelling.
However, according to the original plan of the main author, this crisis was not meant to be triggered by them, but by the Evil Dragon. Humanity's peril was always meant to be confined to beasts and the Evil Dragon.
'Considering that the information window outright labels it as Leovald's enemy…'
The Evil Dragon, within the scenario's progression, either was resurrected or was always meant to be.
'And the fact that wounds inflicted by tainted beasts don't respond well to holy water…'
Was this an intentional penalty? A trial or hardship that the protagonist was supposed to endure?
If holy water was an absolute cure-all, there would be no real tension. If even the venom of a dragon-tainted beast slowed the healing process, then what about dragonbone itself?
At that moment—
[The
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A summons, like secretly calling a friend backstage. The
[Notice: Within this page, the main author has exercised
[Discerners are those who detect the Evil Dragon's venom. → Discerners are those who sense its presence.]
'This is…'
The
The Apostle quickly ends this brief glimpse and falls silent, as if nothing had happened.
At last, things begin to make sense.
Until now, both the main and assistant writers have rewound the entire stage if necessary—all to ensure Leonardo's survival.
Even without their direct intervention, a protagonist does not crumble so easily.
Isn't that right? A protagonist is the backbone of a stage—no ordinary crisis or trivial trial can bring them down. He will withstand the poison, and after hardship passes, fortune will follow.
No matter how real this world appears, I never once considered the possibility of losing Leo to a mere street thug or some mundane misfortune—like an unexpected illness or disease.
Because he is the protagonist.
And yet, Leovald was ultimately murdered.
I knew for certain when Godric and Butier clashed, causing the loss of the
Even writers are not omnipotent. They, too, are bound by the rules of the stage.
If that's the case, then Leovald's murder must have been completely permissible within the laws of the stage, meaning it was beyond the writers' power to forcibly rewrite.
A kind of Achilles' heel.
Like how a goddess bathed her child in a sacred river to make him immortal—only for the hand that held him to become his fatal weakness.
The main author originally designated the Evil Dragon as Leovald's enemy, crafting all key elements—venom, holy water, and Discerners—to align with that premise.
But in reality, ten years before the stage began, it wasn't the Evil Dragon that invaded, but those other entities. The main author did everything in their power to protect the stage and the story.
As the Apostle just showed, they bent and twisted the preordained laws and frameworks of the world.
By delaying the main scenario, in which the Evil Dragon's venom drove the beasts into frenzy, they ensured that holy water remained a powerful tool to protect the protagonist. At the same time, they twisted the concept of the Discerners to fit the situation.
Meanwhile, what happened to the Evil Dragon, which was pushed to the background and rendered inactive?
It had been pushed aside when the
As the protagonist and other writers struggled with it, the Evil Dragon was left to its own devices, gradually becoming the "counter" that would target Leovald.
An entity that doesn't even show up on the Discerners' radar, leaves wounds that holy water cannot heal, and still adheres to the script of being Leovald's foe.
Now, it takes form as some kind of threatening weapon.
'Once a core setting is modified, it's impossible to alter it again.'
Let alone the fact that the Discerners and holy water settings have already become firmly established in the stage, any attempt to modify them now would be nothing less than a direct challenge to the laws of the stage itself.
I absently glance at the sword hanging from Godric's waist. At his feet, weapons made from exactly the same material are piled high, overflowing.
Perhaps facing an Evil Dragon would be less dangerous than this. Could this be all there is? Wouldn't Godric have left extra weapons hidden somewhere? What if the brainwashed legion decided to wield those very swords and target Leo?
As the nobles marvel at the power of the dragonbone, I imagine the pieces once forming the massive body and supporting structure of a colossal dragon, its weight borne by those very bones.
To think that the creature that spread fear as humanity's enemy is now contained within a small box, its bones chipped away.
It's like an old stage prop, long unused, gathering dust in a forgotten storage room—now rediscovered and brought before us. And the one who caused all of this captures our attention.
Godric, with a slow hand, strokes the chest of the crate and raises his gaze, offering a gentle smile. In the warm glow of the setting sun, his beauty is almost fragile.
"Well then, let's wrap this up. Shall we begin discussing the Leap Year Great Hunt in earnest?"
As the king sits at the head of the table, the clamour slowly dies down.
By the time the sun has dipped below the horizon, the surroundings grow dark. Attendants light torches and, in the centre of the ancient grounds, set up a large table and unfurl a map.
When I look at the mountain range from a distance, I don't feel much, but now, seeing it on the map, it's clear the dragon must have fallen here.
I notice Duke Marchez is particularly interested in the map.
A narrow snout, a long neck, half-folded wings, and a long tail. The spines along its back formed small peaks, adding to the rugged terrain of the mountains.
A man, presumably a royal representative, stepped forward and began explaining the progression of the Leap Year Great Hunt.
"The central base is located here, at the site of the old castle. We've already surveyed the terrain and divided the hunting zones by their level of danger. Of course, we're confident that all of you here have volunteered with brave hearts, but for safety reasons, we've had to make adjustments in the deployment."
The representative then marked regions on the map.
The once-white terrain is now streaked with red, yellow, and green, as if each part of the snowy mountain range is experiencing its own season.
"The opening ceremony will be held tomorrow morning, and after the blessing, the personnel will be assigned to their respective regions."
Small wooden figurines, engraved with the symbols of each family, are lined up on a gold-decorated tray. The representative slowly begins placing horses in the less dangerous zones.
The green zones are filled, then the yellow zones, until only the red zones remain.
"The northern part of Vernis is the most treacherous and dangerous, so it will be assigned to those who are familiar with mountainous terrain and possess exceptional martial skills."
The horses are beginning to be placed near what would be the tail end of the dragon's body.
A lion with a roaring red mane is assigned.
"First, the Marchez family."
A swallow carrying a lily is placed in the red zone.
"Next, the Ertinez family."