Jin stood at the edge of the deep hole the Tona twins had dug, staring at the goldish stone wall below. He muttered to himself, a small grin tugging at his lips. "Telling them I came to pray for the dead bird… that was a pretty good excuse."
He knelt beside the grave he'd moved, lowering his hands to the soil. "I pray that you'll find happiness in your next life." For once, he wasn't pretending—he genuinely pitied the bird.
Then his eyes flickered to the wall. "Hahaha. I've been dying to use magic."
A faint hum filled the air as he focused. Earth Resonance, a one-star spell, pulsed through the stone. The vibrations traveled up his arms, down into the soil beneath him. Jin closed his eyes, letting the sensation fill him.
"The practicality… the pleasure…" he murmured, voice low. "I haven't felt this free in seven years."
He chuckled softly. "Heh. I truly am a magician at heart. Who'd have thought I'd get this excited over a spell this basic?"
Ten minutes passed. Dust fell from the cracked stone. Krrrrrt! A small hole had opened. Jin leaned closer, peering through the gap.
"An old hallway… and a steel gate? Interesting. So this is the secret sector—flag-bearers only, I suppose."
Barefoot, he slipped through the gap and grabbed a torch from the wall. The flame flickered across the corridor, casting shadows over the aged stone.
"Mother used to say… before reaching this door, Runcandel children must prove their bloodline," he muttered, voice soft. "She believed I'd become a six-star knight. Even when I wasn't. She… was a mother."
His gaze fell on the faint pattern etched into the floor. "The Magic Circle of Blood and Barrier? Flimsy. Useless."
He bit his cheek lightly, letting a drop of blood fall onto the circle. A faint blue glow pulsed immediately. Gears turned beneath the floor. Clang… Creak…
"Traps," he said quietly, watching the mechanisms spin. "More elaborate than a royal palace's. Clever. But not clever enough."
He stepped forward with measured confidence, voice steady. "Runcandel's descendant has come to solace Murakan."
The gate responded with a low creak and slid open.
Jin froze for only a heartbeat. Inside lay a glass coffin, and within it, a human form—Murakan, the Black Dragon, asleep for a thousand years.
A thrill ran through him. His heart pounded—not in fear, not in awe—but in excitement.
"I didn't think seeing this would feel… this good," he whispered. A wide grin spread across his face. "This is perfect. Just… perfect."
For Jin, this wasn't a moment of reverence. It was a challenge, a thrill, and the first step toward a future only he could shape. He could almost hear the gears of destiny turning beneath his feet.
Jin stood before the glass coffin, its surface gleaming as though polished by unseen hands. Not polish, he realized—it was the ambient mana swirling around it, dense and quiet, like a heartbeat frozen in time. A shiver ran down his spine as he brushed a finger along the energy. Inside, Murakan—the legendary Black Dragon—slept. Defeated long ago by the first patriarch, forgotten by most, now a silent relic beneath Storm Castle.
Jin didn't come for the dragon. He came for the tomes.
The underground chamber stretched wider than the castle's central hall. Bare stone walls echoed his movements. Only one corner held a secret: a small, dusty bookshelf tucked behind a sliding door. Not much of a library—but enough. Forbidden martial arts manuals from fallen clans, secrets flag-bearers were meant to guard, and knowledge the world had tried to bury.
His fingers trembled slightly—not from fear, but from anticipation. He'd dreamed of this moment in his past life. And now he was here—not as a rightful heir, but as a thief carrying the Runcandel name. He didn't care. Survival had always been the clan's virtue, and he intended to uphold it.
He chose the Kungen Clan's swordsmanship tome first. Three volumes remained, the rest lost in the clan's annihilation. The first pages were simple, the basics anyone could learn. The middle? Dense, nearly incomprehensible. His three-star swordsmanship barely scratched the surface. He pulled out his notebook. Ten pages per day. Every day. For three years, he would transcribe them all.
Two months passed. He finished the Kungen tomes and two Meyer Clan manuals. His mornings hummed with purpose. Servants whispered that he was possessed by the spirit of a dead bird. The Tona twins avoided him entirely. Only Gilly dared question him.
"Why do you go to the grave every day?" she asked one afternoon, her voice heavy with worry.
"I like it there," Jin said lightly, though he measured each word. "I'm trying to understand death. I'm a Runcandel. I'll make many graves. I need to get used to it."
Gilly blinked, stunned. Then she bowed. "Then I won't stop you. I'm proud of you, Young Master."
Jin gave a small smile. "Good. And don't disturb me while I'm there."
Alone again, he hummed quietly as he broke through a resealed wall. The Meyer tome's hand-to-hand techniques were easier to follow—but still cryptic. He copied meticulously, paused to stretch aching fingers, then continued.
And then—click.
Jin froze.
The glass coffin behind him was opening.
A faint hiss of air escaped as the seal broke, a whisper of centuries-old magic stirring. Murakan's form shifted inside the coffin, dark scales catching the torchlight. Jin's pulse quickened—not in fear, but in thrill. This was a challenge. This was a secret few had ever glimpsed. And he was ready.
A grin tugged at his lips. "Perfect timing," he muttered. "I was just getting bored."
The chamber remained silent except for the soft groan of the moving glass. Jin's eyes glimmered. His training, his preparation, every stolen hour of study—it had all led to this moment. And the real work was only just beginning.
For two months, Jin had lived in near-silence beneath Storm Castle. The only sounds were the scratch of his pencil against parchment and the whisper of wind through ancient stone. So when the faint click of Murakan's glass coffin echoed through the chamber, Jin froze. Instinct screamed that the dragon had awakened.
His heart pounded. Sweat slicked his palms. Why now? He'd never heard of Murakan stirring in his past life — if the dragon had awakened then, surely the entire castle would have known. Unless… this was because of him. His daily visits. His lingering spiritual energy. The shadowy power of Solderet — invisible to most, but perhaps not to a dragon who had slumbered for a millennium.
"Hey."
The voice was low, resonant, carrying weight. Jin's mind raced. Play it cool. Respectful, not weak. Buy time if needed. He inhaled, stepped forward, and slid the door open — revealing the dragon.
Murakan stood tall, human in form, black hair like midnight, eyes sharp as obsidian. Jin bowed slightly, letting his voice tremble just enough to appear small. "R-Runcandel's descendant… greets the clan's guardian."
"Guardian?" Murakan snorted, and the air around them crackled with mana. "Say that again, brat. Did you just call me your guardian?" Smoke swirled around him as he appeared inches from Jin's face. "I'm no babysitter for spoiled nobles."
Jin held his ground. "You are Lord Murakan, are you not? The Black Dragon who swore loyalty to the Runcandels."
Murakan blinked, then laughed — a low, rumbling sound that shook the stone walls. "Those damn Runcandels… telling their kids fairy tales. Fine. You're just a child. I won't crush you… yet."
Relief washed over Jin, but he kept it brief. Murakan's gaze sharpened. "That energy… it's yours, isn't it? Shadow power. Solderet's mark. You're the contractor."
Jin hesitated, then flicked his wrist. Shadows rose from his palm, cool and alive, humming with ancient power.
Murakan's eyes widened. He staggered back. "You?! A child? Solderet, you mad god — explain yourself!"
Another wisp of shadow danced above Jin's hand. Murakan fell to the floor, staring up in disbelief. First came denial, then anger, then fear… and finally, reluctant acceptance.
"Fine," Murakan sighed, voice heavy with centuries of weariness. "If Solderet chose you… then so be it. I am Murakan. Shadow-born. Solderet's proxy. Your partner — for life."
The air darkened as massive wings unfurled. Scales shimmered black as obsidian. The Black Dragon filled the chamber, immense and imposing.
[State your name, contractor.]
Jin swallowed, his pulse racing — not with fear, but anticipation. "I am Jin Runcandel. Thirteenth and final child of the Runcandels."
The dragon bowed his massive head. The pact was sealed.