Dragons are wise and mighty beings.
They are revered as agents of the divine, guardians of ancient oaths, and preservers of the world’s balance—carrying wisdom accumulated over thousands of years. Their very existence is proof of order.
However...
They are also savage, ruthless monsters.
Tired of the endless march of time, they came to regard themselves as absolute beings—and saw all other life as little more than dust.
Their wrath has no reason. Their whims are unpredictable.
Some days, they act as wise adjudicators and stewards of the world. On others, they become calamities that scorch the earth.
They are beings of contradiction—wandering endlessly between gods and monsters.
That is precisely what makes them both awe-inspiring... and utterly terrifying.
Arterion’s eyes glimmered with a mix of wisdom and madness.
“I cannot understand this. I do not know you. And yet... how is it that you know me?”
Arterion was certain. It wasn’t a mere guess based on Ghislain’s gaze or aura.
It was a dragon’s power—his transcendent senses—that told him so.
Finally, Ghislain’s expression changed. A faint smile touched his lips as he replied.
“I’m not sure what you mean. I was merely being cautious of someone who approached us out of the blue.”
“...”
“You did say you were offering a ship, didn’t you? I’d like to discuss that in more detail.”
“You’re an amusing one.”
Arterion extended his hand. He intended to seize Ghislain by the neck and subject him to mental domination.
But Ghislain casually stepped back, causing the hand to sweep through empty air.
“...Huh?”
Arterion glanced down at his own hand.
It had been a casual motion—yet one swift enough that few could have evaded it. But the man standing before him had done so with ease.
A crescent smile formed on Arterion’s lips, pleased.
“Let’s see you dodge this one, then.”
Whap!
His hand moved faster than before—fast enough that an ordinary person wouldn’t even perceive the movement.
Klang!
Ghislain had already drawn Gramdir, blocking the strike. But even that light blow forced Ghislain to skid backward.
“Ghislain!”
Julien unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Arterion’s throat. The others followed, weapons drawn, surrounding him.
Arterion looked around and chuckled.
“How rude, for people I came to help.”
He wasn’t speaking only to the mercenaries.
Dozens of assassins had appeared, silently surrounding Arterion as well.
The townsfolk, alarmed by the tension, had already backed away. Guards would likely arrive soon.
Darentz, wearing a disinterested expression, addressed Arterion.
“You seem to be a nobleman of some ability. I suggest you step aside. These people, at present, hold rank no lower than nobility themselves.”
Darentz made no effort to hide himself anymore. His cover had long been blown, after all.
And frankly, this overt role as an escort made his job easier.
Arterion narrowed his eyes.
“And who are you?”
“I serve under a high-ranking figure. I’m tasked with guarding this mercenary corps. There’s nothing to be gained from escalating this.”
“Oh... a high-ranking figure?”
Arterion tilted his head for a moment, then smiled knowingly.
“Would you happen to mean... the Pope?”
“...”
Darentz’s face twitched slightly.
This mission was supposed to be top secret. And yet, this mysterious outsider knew.
He couldn’t even tell where the leak had come from.
After glaring briefly at Marika, Darentz asked Ghislain,
“Shall I kill him? It might be better to just dispose of him now. He may look like a noble, but we can clean up the mess ourselves.”
“...”
Ghislain gave him a look of disbelief.
'Kill who, exactly?'
Arterion was someone no one here could defeat—not even if they all attacked at once.
If Arterion so much as extended a hand, Darentz’s neck would snap.
Of course, the smiling Arterion didn’t seem inclined to do that—at least, not yet.
Ghislain shook his head.
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t step in without my say-so. I told you before—I don’t like you hanging around.”
“It’s our mission. We have no choice.”
“Then stick to guarding. Don’t go around saying you’ll kill people. Just go. I’ll handle this.”
Darentz stared at Ghislain for a moment, then withdrew with the assassins.
His mind was now spinning—trying to figure out where the breach had occurred.
Once the self-proclaimed escorts had retreated, Arterion asked Ghislain,
“If it comes to a fight, wouldn’t it be better to have them join in? The more, the merrier.”
“I don’t plan to fight. All of you—put your weapons away and step back.”
Julien and Kyle hesitated. Even to them, Arterion’s movements had felt unnatural.
He didn’t look overwhelmingly strong—but something about him didn’t add up.
“It’s alright. I think we can talk.”
In the future, Arterion had been too far gone to even communicate. But now, it seemed he wasn’t as far gone as Ghislain remembered.
He was clearly keeping his madness under control—and there was a deep insight hidden behind his eyes.
As the group stepped back, Ghislain sighed.
“Let’s go somewhere quiet to talk.”
“Very well.”
Arterion calmly followed him.
When they arrived at a secluded area, Ghislain spread a massive magic field to block out sound.
He could sense that Darentz and the assassins were still tailing them.
Arterion watched the magic unfold and stroked his chin.
“Hm... Impressive.”
His admiration was genuine.
It wasn’t that Ghislain’s magic was especially powerful, nor that he held vast mana reserves.
It was how effortlessly he cast—like breathing.
Arterion waved his hand, conjuring a small table and two chairs.
Seeing that, Ghislain couldn’t help but chuckle.
In the future, Arterion had done the same thing—summoning this exact table and chairs whenever they spoke.
'So that’s his favorite table, huh.'
Arterion, noticing Ghislain’s amusement, looked at him curiously and spoke.
“Sit. I’ll oblige you in conversation.”
Ghislain sat across from him without hesitation.
Watching this, the others looked utterly confused.
Just moments ago, this man had attacked without warning. And now he was calmly inviting Ghislain to chat?
They couldn’t make sense of his behavior.
Noticing their reactions, Arterion spoke with an amused smile.
“There’s no need for confusion. I simply found this magician interesting. I was having a bit of fun—this outing has been enjoyable.”
Sighed upon by the magician in question, Ghislain spoke.
“I think it’s about time you revealed your identity.”
“Hm...”
After a moment of pause, Arterion infused his voice with majesty.
“I am the sovereign of the eternal blizzard, guardian of wisdom, Lord of Frost, and keeper of the world’s balance. I am the Dragon Lord—Arterion.”
At those words, the entire party froze.
Every one of them stared at Arterion in disbelief.
They had come to seek the Dragon Lord—but never imagined the Dragon Lord would appear before them like this.
While they remained stunned, Ghislain said calmly,
“That’s right. He’s the Dragon Lord.”
The reaction came instantly.
Some tried to kneel awkwardly, while others instinctively reached for their weapons.
A few stepped back, and others froze in sheer terror.
A dragon.
Just the name alone was enough to make countless people across the continent shrink in fear.
Even the seasoned Julien Mercenary Corps—hardened by years of experience—couldn’t help but feel the crushing pressure now that a true Dragon had revealed himself.
Arterion turned his gaze away from the group and asked,
“Now tell me—how do you know who I am?”
“...I took a guess.”
“...Hm?”
“We were on our way to meet the Dragon Lord, and then a mysterious man appeared out of nowhere—one even I had trouble handling. The only plausible answer was a dragon, don’t you think?”
“Your explanation is lacking.”
“If you were going to use Polymorph, shouldn’t you at least have changed your hair color? Anyone who thinks for a moment could figure it out.”
“...”
Arterion frowned. The answer made sense logically—but his senses told him it was a lie.
This man knew more about him than he was letting on. He couldn’t explain why, but he felt it.
It was a dragon’s intuition—a sense born from transcendent awareness.
Ghislain remained shameless. No matter how mighty a Dragon Lord, he wouldn’t be able to grasp the truth of a thousand years from now.
And the idea that someone from the distant future had come here was probably unimaginable to him.
For a long while, the two simply stared at each other.
Arterion furrowed his brow at Ghislain’s performance—one refined to the point of mastery through countless life-and-death battles.
After some contemplation, Arterion asked,
“Is your name... Astion?”
This time, Ghislain’s expression twitched. He knew more than expected.
Which meant he also knew they were the Julien Mercenary Corps.
This was no random encounter—Arterion had clearly come looking for them, already aware of who they were.
“That’s correct. My name is Astion.”
“Who gave you that name?”
'Huh?'
At that moment, Astion spoke hastily within Ghislain’s mind.
— Say it was a passing mage who gave it to me when I was a kid!
In truth, Astion had grown up an orphan with no proper name.
People had just called him “Hey,” “You,” “Kid,” or “Beggar.”
He received a {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} real name only when he met his first vessel—a soul that had possessed him.
That vessel had given him his name—Astion, taken from the name of the great Dragon Lord, Arterion, the star.
Ghislain responded naturally.
“I grew up an orphan, so I never had a name. A mage happened to pass by, taught me a simple spell, and gave me my name.”
Arterion slowly nodded, then murmured,
“So that name still exists somewhere... It must be coincidence.”
“Is there a special meaning to the name?”
“It’s nothing much. A long time ago, there were humans who revered dragons. Among them, a few could communicate directly with us.”
“People who could speak to dragons?”
“Yes. They were called Dragon Speakers. They studied the stars and shared the wisdom they learned from us with the rest of humanity. A forgotten legend now.”
“...”
“In any case, that name belonged to one who once communicated with me. I gave it to him myself. I just found it curious to hear such an old name again.”
“...I see.”
That must have been something from several millennia ago.
Only now did the immensity of a dragon’s lifespan truly hit Ghislain.
Astion exhaled in relief and whispered in Ghislain’s mind.
— That was my first vessel. He helped me form the foundation of my magic and gave me a prophecy. If Arterion finds out the truth, he’ll definitely capture me for experiments.
'Seriously?'
— Yeah. That dragon’s got crazy levels of curiosity. There are stories of him experimenting on every race he could get his claws on. That’s why he knows so much.
'And you’re telling me this NOW?'
— I was going to mention it before we boarded the ship! But I kept meditating and napping and... forgot. I figured we had time!
'Hmph...'
As expected, dragons were not benevolent beings.
One should never mistake their alliance in fighting the Demonic Realm as anything more than a coincidence of interest.
Their true nature could never be measured in human terms of good or evil.
They existed by their own logic, their own laws—utterly alien to this world.
“What are you thinking so deeply about?”
The mental conversation passed in a split second—but Arterion noticed Ghislain had mentally drifted.
Ghislain responded with an indifferent look.
“I was considering changing my name.”
“Oh? Why?”
“A name connected to a dragon... Just feels like too much of a burden.”
“Hahahaha! There’s no need to worry about that. It doesn’t mean much anymore.”
Arterion let out a hearty laugh, then continued.
“I still find it suspicious. You clearly know who I am. But... I don’t think I’ll get the answer I want right now.”
“I don’t know what makes you think that, but I’ve told you all I can. Your timing was just too convenient. And... your appearance, too.”
“Well, let’s leave that topic for another time. No need to rush—we’ll figure it out eventually.”
“Then... may I ask why you came to us ahead of schedule?”
Arterion leaned back in his chair and turned his gaze.
He was looking straight at Deneb.
“I came to meet the Saintess.”
“You mean... Deneb?”
Arterion nodded with a calm expression.
“Yes. I wanted to give her a warning—before she dies.”
“...”
At that sudden statement, Ghislain furrowed his brow.
Julien’s face hardened into something cold.
