[Blackmoon Dragon Temple - Creation Calendar 1702, July 16]
On a battlefield strewn with the dead and dying, the air thick with the scent of iron and ozone, Mevis Damirlo stood her ground, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She was the last line of defense, holding a narrow mountain pass to allow her retreating comrades to escape. She knew it was a suicide mission. As the enemy—soldiers bearing the insignia of the rising Empire and corrupted dragons—closed in, a strange calm settled over her. Her thoughts were not of fear, but of a promise unfulfilled, a life cut short, and a deep, burning hatred for the architect of this war, the shadowy figure who had orchestrated the downfall of her clan.
As her strength failed and the world began to dim, a presence manifested beside her—not a physical form, but a coalescence of will and profound sorrow. It was the spirit of a woman with eyes like pools of midnight, a wife and mother who had lost everything to the same enemy.
"Your hatred echoes my own, warrior," the spirit, Lynda, whispered, her voice a soothing yet powerful balm in Mevis's fading consciousness. "Your body is broken, but your spirit is strong. I have the power to bind us, to grant you a second purpose. Lend me your vessel, and I will see justice done for the one I loved and the son I lost. When my vengeance is fulfilled, your body will be returned to you, and you shall live again—reborn into a second life, free of this pain."
Mevis, with the last spark of her will, accepted. There was no formal pact signed in blood, but a fusion of intent and soul in that fleeting, eternal moment between life and death. A contract was forged in shared loss and singular purpose—two spirits entwined, one body, one path of vengeance against Shadow.
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"But Grandma… if you died, then how are you here now?" Noah asked, her young mind struggling with the metaphysics of it all.
Mevis—the consciousness of Lynda guiding Mevis's body—replied patiently. "Noah, you are familiar with how the spirit of the Ancient Noah resides within your mind, yes? It is a similar principle with me. I made a contract with the dying Mevis. My spirit would inhabit and guide her body to achieve our shared goal, and when it was done, her body would be returned to her soul, and she would live again."
She looked at Leon, then back to Noah, her expression softening with a love that had spanned decades. "I watched Leon from the shadows. I am truly proud and grateful that parents like Tiger and Charlotte found and raised my boy." Her voice grew steely. "For almost 30 years, I worked my way into Shadow's organization, gaining his trust, waiting for the moment to strike."
She looked at Leon, then Noah, her eyes glistening. "You know what kept me focused on my task all those long, dark years? It was the memory of your grandpa, Noah."
Noah blinked. "Grandpa?"
Mevis smiled, a distant, tender look in her eyes. "Every night, when I managed to sleep for even a bit, I dreamt." Her voice broke. "I dreamt I was laying on his lap on the porch of our ranch. He'd give me his thigh as a pillow and comfort me." She looked towards the sky, as if she could see through the ceiling to the heavens beyond. "He told me, 'After you defeat Shadow and save our boy, I'll be here waiting for you.' I can still see him. Now... I'm glad I'll reunite with him soon. Once I am freed from this contract..."
Leon, exhausted from the immense strain of using the Ninth Gate twice in less than a decade—a feat that defied all known limits of human endurance—had collapsed again. The cost of saving the world was written on his broken, sleeping form.
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"Uncle Leon has been unconscious for a week now," Hefei said, running up to the bedside. She looked at the still-unconscious Leon, blinking her big, bright eyes before turning to Constantine with a deadly serious expression. "Father, is Uncle Leon... dead?"
Constantine pressed his lips together silently, thinking it might finally be time to teach his daughter a thing or two about tact and how to phrase her thoughts less alarmingly.
He picked Hefei up, sat down beside the bed, and shook his head. "That guy's just exhausted. He wouldn't die so easily. He's too stubborn for that."
"Oh, okay!" Hefei accepted this explanation with a child's faith.
It was a profound irony that a few years ago, Constantine was among those who most fervently wished for Leon's demise. But now, his perspective having completed a 180-degree turn, he found himself sitting at Leon's bedside each day, a silent vigil for the man who had saved his daughter and given him a path to redemption.
And Constantine wasn't the only one. The entire Melkvey household, and indeed the allied clans, were anxiously waiting for Leon to wake up.
For the past week, it had been Mevis who had been tirelessly caring for Leon.
Noah was too young and inexperienced to know how to properly care for an adult in such a state.
Rossweise had tried to help several times but was repeatedly—and firmly—turned away by Mevis, who insisted, "Your Majesty, you mustn't concern yourself with such menial chores! This is a mother's duty. Leave it to me!"
The family, along with Constantine and Hefei, watched as this princess from the past, this fierce grandmother, busied herself with washing, feeding, and tending to Leon.
Constantine had even tried to assist, hoping to lighten her load.
Initially, Mevis had allowed it, but after Constantine, with his brute strength and lack of finesse, accidentally dumped an entire basin of warm water directly onto Leon's face, she began to suspect the Crimson Flame Dragon King was using this as an opportunity to exact some subtle, long-held form of revenge.
From that point on, she politely but firmly refused all his offers of help.
Fortunately, for a spirit who had endured decades of infiltration and waiting, pretending to be a simple caretaker for a comatose son was not particularly difficult. Life in Shadow's controlled, bleak future had been far more grueling.
"Grandma," Noah asked one afternoon, "when do you plan to return? To let Mevis have her body back?"
Mevis leaned against the window, arms crossed, gazing down at the succulent plants on the windowsill. "Once my spirit has recovered enough Primordial Power, and once I am sure Leon is fully safe and recovered, we will be able to perform a reversal spell. That will separate our souls and free me to move on, and free her to live her second life."
Noah nodded slowly. "Oh, so that means..." A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. "It'll take a long time, right? Since you're an old grandma, your energy recovers slowly."
Before she could finish her sentence, Noah suddenly straightened, her silver tail sticking straight up as if electrified.
Mevis had lunged forward, her hands reaching out to gently squish Noah's cheeks. "Who are you calling old, you brat?!!" she exclaimed, her voice a muffled mix of mock offense and affection.
If Little Aurora had been there, she would have undoubtedly recorded the scene with a memory stone for future blackmail.
After all, her second host, the usually stoic and composed Noah Melkvey, was currently being subjected to a grandmother's playful, indignant punishment—a sight that lacked the unshakable resolve her eldest sister always displayed.
Rossweise quietly observed the heartwarming, chaotic scene, her lips curling into a gentle, genuine smile.
Her eldest daughter had grown so strong and resilient in the future—just like her father.
A sudden, proud thought crossed Rossweise's mind.
She wondered if, in the near future, Noah might become not just a great warrior but also the youngest Dragon King in the history of the Silver Dragon Clan—or even all of dragonkind.
After all, the Silver Dragon Clan's unique ability to access Primordial Force and Noah's own partnership with the Ancient Primordial Dragon King put her in an entirely different league. In terms of raw power and potential alone, Noah already qualified as a Dragon King. What she lacked now was simply the experience and time.
Rossweise's thoughts deepened as she gazed at Noah, now laughing in Mevis's arms.
Leon and Rossweise had always raised Noah to become an exceptional warrior, never once pressuring her towards the path of a Dragon King. Grooming a Dragon King candidate was far more demanding than raising a warrior. Throughout history, the dragon race had never lacked outstanding offspring, but very few were ever qualified to ascend to the title of Dragon King. Even some who had claimed the title had done so through questionable means.
Rossweise wasn't sure what Noah's own intentions were, or if this was all too premature for her. After all, Noah was only eight years old.
"Youngest Dragon King..." Rossweise murmured to herself. "Let's leave that thought for when she's older."
"Rossweise... Noah..."
A faint, hoarse voice interrupted Rossweise's reverie.
She jolted upright from her chair and rushed to the bedside.
"Leon? Leon, are you awake?" She leaned down, her silver hair cascading around them as she gently shook his shoulders.
Mevis and the others quickly gathered around, forming a concerned circle.
"Dad? Dad?" Noah called, her earlier playfulness gone.
"Brother-in-law, if you're alive, say something!" Isha's voice carried its usual fiery bluntness.
"Father," Hefei piped up, "I like Auntie Isha's way of speaking. It's very direct. Can you teach me to speak like that?"
Constantine stared blankly at his daughter. "...No."
I should really keep my distance from the Melkvey family more often, Constantine thought to himself, lamenting his daughter's rapidly evolving vocabulary.
Leon slowly opened his eyes. As his vision cleared, he was momentarily startled by the crowd of faces surrounding him with expressions he felt should be captioned "You're finally awake.jpg".
But more than the surprise, his body's defense instincts, honed by a lifetime of battle, kicked in. Before falling unconscious, his entire being had been a weapon. Even after seven days of rest, that tension hadn't completely dissipated.
Fortunately, the familiar, calming sight of silver scales and hair brought him back to reality. Leon's brief, instinctive struggle ceased immediately.
Rossweise gazed down at him, exhaling a breath of relief she seemed to have been holding for a week, her silver eyes filled with unwavering concern.
"How long was I unconscious?" Leon asked, his voice rough and dry.
"A week," Rossweise replied softly.
"A week?" Leon's eyes widened briefly before he let out a long, weary sigh.
Everyone leaned in slightly, expecting him to say something profound, something emotional about waking up after saving the world, about the weight of the battle finally being over.
But instead, General Leon Cosmodeous, Hero of the Samuel Continent, blurted out with genuine mortification:
"If I was out that long, I must've called your name a bunch of times in my sleep. How embarrassing."
In the ensuing silence, broken only by Isha's snort of laughter, a unified thought passed through the minds of nearly everyone in the room: Truly, a silent Leon is the best Leon.