Noah had been gone for an hour.
Cana was slumped over the table, hugging a wine bottle, her spirits low. She had mercifully intended to accompany Noah, but he had ruthlessly refused her.
His reason was that he wasn't used to team combat.
"What's with him? Just a newcomer, yet he dares to reject help from a senior guild member like me."
Muttering to herself, Cana was nevertheless worried about something happening to Noah, because that would mean Noah getting injured and her commission going down the drain.
Even for a defective Magic item in the 998 Jewels tier, five percent commission would still be nearly 5,000 Jewels...
Doran sat down with a small ice bucket, putting a piece of ice in his wine glass. "Cana, what's the background of Noah? His Magic Power quality is actually superior to yours."
"Hmph, you said the same thing about Erza last time! And what happened? She became an S-Class Mage two years ago when she was fifteen, while I'm still stuck in place."
Cana felt Doran was deliberately teasing her. The comparison of her strength to Erza's was like heaven and earth; the gap was so vast that Cana had lost the motivation to pursue it.
Doran smiled helplessly. "You underestimate yourself, Cana. You've got great potential—you just haven't tapped into it yet."
"I don't believe it. If you could tell someone's Magic Power quality just by looking, why would you still be blacksmithing here?"
"Because this is my clan's home."
Doran's gaze seemed to penetrate the wall, looking towards Iron Furnace Ridge enveloped in high temperatures.
Cana had known Doran for so long, yet this was the first time she had heard him mention the word "home." She wanted to hear him continue but was too embarrassed to speak, so she could only chug her wine.
"Master Doran! This is bad! Something big has happened!"
A middle-aged man dressed as a tailor rushed into Doran's shop, saying in a panicked voice, "Master Doran, we've found out that those Black Magic Cult members are heading towards the Iron Dragon's lair!"
"What?! Those bastards actually dare to covet Lord Metalicana's former residence!"
"Call everyone! We're going to flatten them!"
At this moment, Doran's furious posture was like a roaring lion, his Magic, full of fiery energy, surging. Cana felt as if she was meeting this imposing old man for the first time.
This old man is actually a master!
Who exactly is he?!
And with Doran's command, a deep horn blast echoed through the market. Almost all the Mage blacksmiths stopped their work and walked out of their shops, gathering towards Doran's store.
The market customers watched this scene in confusion. What was happening?
However, it wasn't just the Mage blacksmiths heading to Doran's shop.
A soldier captain in a standard uniform found Doran with a solemn expression. "Clan Head Doran, you've also received the news, haven't you? That Black Magic Cult branch deliberately exposed itself to divert our attention."
"Now, two Priests are leading their cult's elite deeper into Iron Furnace Ridge."
Doran's expression changed as he was about to give orders to his clansmen. "Priests! Oh no!"
"Old Man Doran, you've really gotten me into trouble!"
Cana forcefully pushed past Doran and the soldier captain blocking the doorway, rushing to find Noah.
Two Black Magic Cult Priests meant two S-Class level Mages. Their methods were incredibly cruel, and a newcomer who had just joined the guild would surely face a grim fate if they fell into their hands.
Cana was filled with self-reproach; if anything truly happened to Noah, she would never forgive herself.
However, before Cana had run two steps, an earth-shattering roar spread from deep within Iron Furnace Ridge.
It seemed to be the roar of a dragon, yet it also sounded like machinery rumbling.
A valley deep within Iron Furnace Ridge.
This valley was vast, its terrain slightly lower as if a giant creature had long resided there. Surrounded by mountains, exposed ore stretched as far as the eye could see.
A team of Mages in black and white armor, about twenty of them, advanced in formation until they stopped at the end of the valley.
The leaders of the team were two: Gomon, a burly man with "Matcha" written on his forehead, and Jerome, a handsome blond man carrying a long sword.
"Found it—the lair of Metalicana, the Iron Dragon."
Gomon bowed deeply towards the valley's stone wall, a perfect ninety-degree angle.
Jerome was already accustomed to his colleague's strange behavior; after all, what normal person would join a Dark Guild?
Ordering his subordinates to wait in place, Jerome drew his sword and infused it with Magic. The blade was instantly covered in black Magic, emitting an ominous aura.
Several sharp sword slashes landed on the valley's stone wall.
With a screeching sound, the stone wall was almost instantly corroded by black Magic, and a huge cave appeared before them.
"Almost no defenses. Was it eroded away by time? Or was that Iron Dragon too weak?"
Jerome was somewhat disdainful. His Dark Sword was a Black Magic that could corrode anything. If it weren't for the Bishop's command, he wouldn't have come to explore a four-hundred-year-old dragon's lair.
Jerome was a supremacist of strength; in his view, the extinction of the Dragon race proved that this race was not as powerful as the legends claimed.
Gomon, however, seemed very interested. "An Iron Dragon friendly to humans, since you're so inclined towards humanity, you shouldn't mind us taking your things, right?"
"Hehe, I forgot, the Iron Dragon should have been dead for four hundred years, so it can't hear me now~"
Jerome didn't bother to comment on Gomon's bad joke. He simply made a gesture to his subordinates with his back to them, signaling them to enter the cave to scout ahead. In his eyes as a Priest, the so-called elite were merely slightly stronger cannon fodder; if they died, they died.
However, a minute passed, and his subordinates showed no signs of movement.
"Didn't you hear my order, you scum!"
Jerome angrily turned around, only to be shocked by the bizarre scene before him.
Of the eighteen-person team, seventeen were lying unconscious on the ground, with only one standing still and silent.
"Hey! What happened? Answer me!"
Jerome never bothered to remember the names of those with low strength, only giving arrogant commands.
However, that person remained motionless.
Jerome realized that he could no longer answer him. Someone had silently dealt with all their subordinates; it seemed the newcomer was a master.
Before Jerome could draw his sword, Gomon had already cast a spell. A large axe appeared out of thin air and was instantly thrown by him.
The powerful flying axe cruelly cut that subordinate in half, his intestines spilling out onto the ground in a bloody mess.
He had expected someone to be hiding behind that subordinate, but it was empty.
Just as Gomon went to check, a ghostly figure appeared behind Jerome, grabbing his right hand that was about to draw his sword.
"All your Magic is in this sword. What would happen if you couldn't even draw it?"