The Foreigner on the Periphery

Ha Eun-seong waited alone after Minjun headed into the Lair.

Strictly speaking, he wasn't entirely alone. Not if one counted the spiritual bodies whose minds had shattered.

"Please... let me go..."

"It hurts. It's so hard. It's agonizing. Ah..."

The specters shrieked, tangling together.

These were the alien spiritual bodies Minjun had bound here, unable to bring them into the Lair.

Ha Eun-seong felt a chill watching them. He had seen all sorts of gruesome ghosts since his death, but he had never encountered anything like these. The aliens retained the forms they held right before dying; though their methods of death varied, he sensed a strange consistency among them.

A malice intended to deliver the most horrific end possible.

The most miserable death imaginable.

He shuddered, his body trembling.

He could not even imagine what kind of history someone must have to harbor such hatred toward aliens.

'The Agent... he couldn't hold on to them for this long before.'

Was it because of the Talent?

His employer (or "owner," to borrow the phrasing of a certain foul-tempered Ancient Dragon) was growing stronger by the day. The same went for his power to control specters.

'But it seems he still can't break through barriers by commanding specters.'

That was why Minjun had brought him along. In other words, Ha Eun-seong's unique ability was a realm that even Minjun could not yet imitate.

The ghost was certain. That agent still needed him.

'In a way, that's a relief.'

Thanks to that, his two younger sisters were living luxurious lives.

He occasionally checked in on them from afar, and they seemed to have no problems, except for the youngest, a half-orc. That is, aside from her throwing tantrums about wanting plastic surgery to look human.

Ha Eun-seong knew that if it weren't for Minjun, an Elder Dragon wouldn't have taken such good care of them.

However.

'When on earth will I be able to pay off this debt?'

He felt he needed to pick a day and have a serious talk about it, but Minjun's aura had been so terrifying lately that he was afraid to even bring it up.

'And how long will I be stuck in this body?'

The original owner of this body, an unidentified dragon, still wasn't answering his calls. He had long surpassed the one month Minjun had promised; it had now been almost half a year.

Was this really going to become his own body at this rate?

Asking himself that, Ha Eun-seong felt a mix of emotions. This was the longest he had possessed a body since his death, and he was naturally growing accustomed to the various pleasures only the living could experience. On the other hand, it felt repulsive that this body had to belong to the Dragon Race, which he utterly despised.

And yet.

'It's just too comfortable. Like it was originally my own body.'

It hadn't been this extreme at first, but as the days went by, it felt like wearing perfectly tailored clothes. Minjun had asked him several times recently just to check, but Ha Eun-seong's answer was the same every time.

"Rejection? Feeling like I'm going crazy? No, nothing like that. ...Ah, the body is so overweight that my shoulders ache a bit when I fly, but I've been losing a little weight lately."

Minjun had made a face of disbelief at that, but what could he do when it was the truth?

'Still, this body is convenient in many ways. I don't know where we'll be going soon, but it should be advantageous for adapting.'

After dragging Ha Eun-seong to Hong Kong like he was kidnapping him, Minjun had informed him:

"I'll wrap up a major job in the US within a week, and then I'll be heading far away for a while. You're coming with me."

Going far away?

Distance was a relative concept. If it was far from Korea, and also far from the United States on the opposite side of Earth, then only the North Pole or South Pole remained.

'With this body, I'd have no trouble surviving no matter how cold it is. Especially since he said "for a while."'

Even if it was a frozen tundra at negative fifty degrees, Ha Eun-seong was not afraid.

After all, with Minjun's current abilities, he could instantly traverse that distance with Teleport.

   *

"No, Yumtus. Are you saying the avatar is coming to our dimension for refuge?"

"Yes, that's correct."

In a space overflowing with the most beautiful light in the world, the souls of two priests were conversing. Yumtus had just finished reciting the avatar's message. Hearing it, the Elahu-Praga high priest made a troubled expression.

"The avatar wishes to temporarily reside in the land of true believers to escape the persecution and suffering of this world."

"Smuggling himself in to evade the Committee? There's no way that's possible!"

"Many have already succeeded. The main branch only needs to properly guide the Jump Ship at the destination Terminal. We will handle the departure Terminal issues on this end."

"Isn't this different from other smuggling cases? From your explanation, the Committee will be fiercely searching for the avatar, even mobilizing their military forces. And since our dimension is still under a limited Lockdown, he will stand out even more."

"There is no other way. And from the perspective of our order, isn't this something we should welcome?"

Yumtus retorted as such, but the priest still looked deeply worried.

"It was the planned sequence of events anyway. As long as we haven't found a way to transfer the Divine Blood from the headquarters to Earth, the avatar has no choice but to go to the headquarters himself."

Minjun had already given instructions through Yumtus to find a way to retrieve the Talent gathered at the altar thus far. However, the main branch had yet to provide any plausible feedback.

Minjun had changed his mind. If they couldn't bring it to him, he would go get it himself. It would also help him evade the Committee's pursuit—killing two birds with one stone.

Yumtus asked in a suspicious tone.

"But hasn't there been far too little sharing of your progress lately?"

"Ah, about that..."

The high priest hesitated.

"It doesn't seem like the avatar's request will proceed smoothly."

Yumtus was enraged as he listened to the words that followed. What he had merely suspected was becoming reality.

"What did you say?!"

The priest calmly repeated himself.

"Some of the priests are still hesitating. It's not out of distrust of the avatar's identity. It's just that they feel... cautious about offering all the Talent to him."

"Ha, unbelievable!"

"I'll say it again, but the vast majority of us haven't even met the avatar in person yet..."

"Goodness, your words are so disgraceful I hardly know where to hide my face!"

It took some time for Yumtus to calm his boiling anger.

How dare they doubt him?

The priest spoke defensively.

"It's understandable. Looking at the main branch right now, both the priests who favor the offering and those who hesitate still have their Divine Power completely intact."

The moment one denied the being they served, their Divine Power was bound to vanish. Therefore, there was a deeply ambiguous aspect to the current situation. Both those who wished to follow and those who hesitated were perfectly fine.

Having barely regained his composure, Yumtus snorted and said,

"That problem will be solved soon enough. The moment they lay eyes upon his holy form, all their doubts and distrust will vanish. The waterfall of blood flowing from his brow will wash away their clouded judgment and vain suspicions."

He was full of confidence.

   *

The Elder Dragon, Roybert, would become thoroughly enraged whenever he heard people dismiss him as part of the pro-Committee faction or the dove faction.

He, too, was an Ancient Dragon who had experienced the old wars. He naturally agreed with the racial and historical mission that the Committee was their enemy. The greatest race in the world could not live suppressed forever like they were now, and peace would not last eternally. Someday, they would have to reclaim the power that ruled the universe from the hands of that hideous race.

'However.'

At the same time, Roybert also thought like this:

Did that task really need to be done 'now,' and by 'him'?

He recalled the words of the deceased previous Rod.

"Roybert, just as you said, the unit of time we use to measure the world is far longer and greater than that of other races. But walking the world for a long time also means we have more time to contribute to our descendants, does it not?"

The Dragon Lord strongly argued that 'we in the present' must work hard to pass down a better world to our descendants.

To Roybert, however, such arguments always sounded like grasping at clouds.

Shouldn't the responsibility for the future be borne by those who would actually live in it?

Roybert was certain. They could not defeat the Committee in this generation. The technological gap he had witnessed firsthand was far too severe.

Yes, he agreed. Dragons had to strike back against the Committee. But that duty would be shouldered by their descendants. Not everyone needed to dedicate themselves to the fight. Shouldn't some individuals, or perhaps an entire generation, strive just to keep from losing what they already had?

'If we pick a fight using absurd evidence, the only result will be a plummet in Earth's asset value.'

Roybert did not want a war in this generation.

'Plotting to weaken dragons? The Kavite? That sounds like the delusion of a lunatic.'

Although it ended up being canceled, he had also read the secret materials distributed beforehand for the Balaur Council.

And he had laughed out loud in sheer disbelief.

First of all, the evidence was flimsy. There was practically no physical proof implicating the Kavite. Everything relied on the testimonies of the perpetrators or those used as tools for the crimes, and even then, the vast majority of them were already dead.

'I know we despise and loathe the Ancient Race, but this is going too far. The Kavite modifying dragons? That's a premise you'd only find in a nonsensical dwarf novel.'

He was sorting through his memories and scoffing when it happened.

"Hmm?"

He was startled by the human who suddenly appeared in the room.

This was the space he used as a dining room, so slaves were allowed to come and go, but receiving permission before entering was mandatory.

'Has that bastard lost his mind?'

It was an unfamiliar face.

However, seeing him holding a kitchen knife in one hand and a Frying Pan in the other, he seemed to be a chef.

"What is this? I plan to eat in my true form today, so why is a human chef here?"

He wasn't a dragon with enough free time to remember the faces of all the slaves in the Lair, so he didn't harbor any deep suspicions. He was merely angry at the disrespect.

But in the very next moment, his anger turned into doubt.

'No, wait. Don't tell me that Frying Pan is... Orichalcum? And the knife is...'

His doubt quickly shifted into a sense of crisis.

'Is that really a human? I can't feel anything... absolutely no aura coming from him!'

It took only an instant for a black aura to explode from behind the human's back.

"You bastard!"

The dragon, who had been waiting for his meal in his true form, immediately tried to activate a forced-ejection magic circle. Fighting inside the Lair was completely out of the question.

This also meant he had already realized his opponent wasn't an ordinary human. If he were, the dragon would have crushed him with a single spell right there, without needing to take things outside.

However.

Fwoosh!

"What?!"

The massive dining room designed for a dragon vanished in an instant.

Amidst his bewilderment, Roybert looked around. Darkness had encroached on all sides. He couldn't see a thing.

What drove him even crazier was...

'My Teleport?!'

The transfer magic circle didn't activate. At the same time, his draconic senses, which had been closely monitoring his surroundings, felt dulled.

To put it in perspective, it felt as if the darkness had condensed to create a subspace and trapped him inside.

It was impossible.

Rumble!

The Ancient Dragon twisted his body in fury. His brain dedicated to Magic instantly deployed dozens of spells. Spells imbued with various properties—movement, analysis, destruction, protection, and distortion—swept in all directions.

Yet, there was no reaction whatsoever. No target was caught and crushed by his attacks, and the spells meant to analyze the darkness fell silent. Every attempt to escape somehow came to nothing.

'What on earth!'

That was when a chillingly sharp blade dug into the back of his neck.

Slash!

It stung slightly at first.

Then a pain like being seared by fire followed.

"Kuaaagh!"

Gush!

The Ancient Dragon couldn't easily define the sensation, as it had been so long since he last felt it. It was a feeling he hadn't encountered once since the early days of migrating to Earth, when he had fought another Ancient Dragon to seize territory.

A deep agony that pierced right through his scales.

"Kuraraa!"

Stab! Stab!

Thrust!

Sharp attacks continued in the darkness. Soon, the dragon felt similar stab wounds multiplying on his nape, the hollows beneath his wings, the gap between his tailbone and pelvis, his heels, thighs, and armpits.

And then.

Spurt!

The air pressure within the darkness was abnormal. Blood spewed from his wounds like erupting geysers. It melted into the black currents and vanished.

"...!"

Roybert felt as though he were trapped in an indescribable nightmare. The enemy's goal was clearly to drain a massive amount of his blood and incapacitate him. So, the dragon tried to reinforce his protective Magic.

But the predator in the darkness allowed no such leeway.

Swish!

The human shot through the black mist with the speed of an arrow.

The Frying Pan in his left hand cleaved through the black waves. It was aiming straight for the back of the dragon's head. Roybert's eyes widened in a mix of shock and confusion.

'Could it be?!'

The reason he went out of his way to forge a Frying Pan out of Orichalcum was...

Smash!

Minjun struck the back of the dragon's head with the broad, flat side of the Frying Pan.

To the one taking the hit, it felt like a full-power strike, but in truth, it was accompanied by highly precise force control.

'I can't kill him.'

He engraved his vow of non-lethality into his heart again today.

Smash! Bang! Clang! Smash!

Minjun ruthlessly bashed away. One, two, three, four... He struck while checking the bastard's condition and counting the hits. The target point was right above where the magical brain was located.

As expected, an Ancient Dragon was different from the young dragon he had knocked out with this method in the past. Although Minjun was holding back to avoid killing him, the beast held on tenaciously.

Minjun persistently concentrated his strikes on that single spot.

Whack!

"Karg!"

Smash!

"Ghk!"

Thwack!

"Khhhk!"

Wiping the sweat from his forehead with a shadow, Minjun grumbled.

'It takes a lot of effort since I can't just slit his back open with a knife like I did with Raymond.'

At that, the Frying Pan held in his other hand muttered, sounding thoroughly appalled.

"Uh... not to pick a fight this time either, but... despite all this talk about intelligent lifeforms... is the bottom line really just 'as long as you don't kill them'?"

While Minjun ignored it and diligently kept hammering away, he finally induced a concussion in the dragon's sixth brain.

Stagger!

An opening appeared in the reeling dragon's posture. The moment his magic resistance vanished, the shadows surrounding them extended tentacles and bound the dragon. Spreading like veins, they coiled around his body, crawled up his neck, and dug into the gaps between his snout and teeth. Then, they forced his mouth wide open.

'No!'

The dragon screamed within his fading consciousness. He didn't know what was about to happen, but he had a premonition that it would be something absolutely horrific.

Befitting an Ancient Dragon, it was a highly accurate premonition.

   *

"Ah, Agent. Are you back?"

"Let's move out right away. Before the day is over, we have to take down three more an—no, three more guys."

"...?!"

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