Chapter 60: Chapter 60: The Master and Its Enemy
To be honest, Ron had understood the Ghost Fire’s account loud and clear. It was as simple as that.
The only thing he could be certain of was its last statement: the profile of a silver dragon was generally considered the Holy Emblem of the Platinum Dragon King Bahamut. For an unwilling and originally evil creature to suddenly start worshiping it, there was only one possibility: the master behind this Ghost Fire was also a dragon.
And in all likelihood, it was a Colorful Dragon.
A Colorful Dragon living in a swamp... Among the Five-Colored True Dragons, one type fit this description: the Black Dragon.
As the most irascible and despicable of the Colorful Dragons, Black Dragons would collect the remains of the dead along with their treasures. They loathed seeing weaker creatures prosper and delighted in the collapse of humanoid kingdoms. Fetid swamps and the rubble of fallen kingdoms were their ideal homes.
Of course, this was all just the stereotype for a Black Dragon. As for a Black Dragon that had been beaten into converting by a "Canary," Ron had no idea what kind of creature to expect.
But regardless, this dragon was more or less their neighbor. It was only right, both in terms of reason and courtesy, that they pay it a visit.
"Then why were you constantly shouting for help during the day? Are you hoping to escape your master?"
"I don’t know!" the Ghost Fire said brazenly. "I was just trying to scare you away from the well! Who knew you could actually use Necromancy!"
"Well then, can you take us to see your master? That used to be your main job, wasn’t it?"
"No," the Ghost Fire refused flatly. "My current mission is to drive you away, not lead the way for you."
Ron glanced behind him. In the seemingly silent houses, the villagers were all asleep. ’Should I make them start wandering again, after they’ve finally managed to settle down?’
Ron was fundamentally lazy. When avoiding a problem became more troublesome than facing it, he’d much rather solve it.
"Your master’s intention is surely to keep its enemies from harming innocents, right?" Ron coaxed. "As it happens, that’s our goal too."
"And if we take care of your master’s enemy, no one else will get hurt, right? Why don’t you think it over?"
The Ghost Fire fell silent. After a good while, it spoke again. "I’m not sure if that’s right or wrong..."
"Alright, I’ll take you to my master’s lair!"
"But you have to follow me closely. My master’s lair is in a very, very deep place—"
After instructing Andre to look after the village, Ron and the others made their preparations and followed the Ghost Fire out of the village.
Ghost Fires rarely spoke, but this one was a chatterbox. For that reason, Ron was more inclined to believe its story.
In the dead of night, darkness shrouded the swamps and forests of the Delusional Land, like a ravenous beast devouring all creation. The bogs and soil were lifeless, the vegetation all but submerged in the marsh, clinging to the ground. There were no people, no lights—only the Night Wind howling through the trees and branches that swayed like the arms of ghouls. The dense, thick woods and the unfathomable mire concealed all manner of mysteries.
Thick clouds hung in the sky, wrapping the full moon, which watched over the land like a dim eye. In the endless darkness, a nameless dread snaked out from every corner to envelop each of them.
"I keep feeling like something’s about to attack us," Sera said, spitting into her hands to get a firm grip on her double-bladed greataxe. "If I had to stay in an environment like this for a few days straight, I’d definitely go insane!"
"An interesting question," Aive said, a sudden thought making her laugh. "If a raging barbarian goes insane, do two negatives make a positive and turn her normal?"
"Well, I have a question for you, then," Sera retorted. "If two Half-Elves had children, what would they have? A pure-blood human and a Pure-blood Elf?"
"You’re testing the patience of every Half-Elf!" Aive feigned anger.
"You’re all so noisy!" the Ghost Fire shouted from up ahead. "We have a long way to go. Can you be a little quieter?"
After traveling for three full nights, Ron’s group, under the Ghost Fire’s guidance, went beyond the known boundaries mapped by the Goblin Hunters. Everything before them grew more bizarre, twisted, and strange.
"Honestly, I’m starting to think this adventure wasn’t a good idea," Victoria whispered, walking beside Ron.
"We know almost nothing about this place."
"If you were anywhere close, my master wouldn’t have bothered sending me to drive you off!" the Ghost Fire shouted. "Because you’re no match for that monster whatsoever!"
"See that? We’re here! It’s right over there!"
The Ghost Fire turned into a streak of light, instantly floating behind a slope that looked no different from the surrounding terrain. "This is the place!"
"This is... a ruin?"
As Ron and the others quickened their pace to catch up, they were stunned by the sight that greeted them. None of them could have imagined that deep within the Delusional Land, in such a barren and treacherous area, there would be the ruins of a settlement!
Within the ruins, ancient streets lay shattered. The storefronts of old were reduced to black-gray soot and crumbling walls. All traces of former life had been weathered by time, buried in the dust of history.
In the center of the desolate square stood a huge, bizarre structure built from dried mud and rubble—the lair of the Ghost Fire’s master. The Ghost Fire stopped under the dim sky, and by the light it emitted, Ron and the others finally saw its "reformed" master.
This terrifying creature was about five meters long, one meter wide, and one-point-two meters tall, making it roughly the size of Delaford.
Its skull had deep-set eye sockets and prominent, open nostrils, giving it a skeletal appearance. Its horns were curved and segmented, bone-white near the base and darkening to a dead black at the tips. Its flat tongue was forked at the end, and a viscous, Strong Acid-scented saliva intensified the foul stench of rotting vegetation and sewage that clung to it.
All these features confirmed its identity: this was indeed a Black Dragon, albeit one that did not yet appear to be an adult.
At that moment, its mouth was half-open, tongue lolling out, as a low growl rumbled in its throat. It seemed to be both warning another creature not to come closer and preparing for an imminent attack—but the target of its actions was not Ron or his party.
Dancing Light Magic flared from Ron’s hand. Only then could they clearly see the Black Dragon’s foe: a creature that was even more pitch-black.
"Fuck, a Mire Throat Monster!"
Ron let out his first curse since arriving in this world.
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