Chapter 285: Traces (3)
Chapter 285: Traces (3)
Pop!
The moment I reached out, the teleportation gate shattered with a light explosion, crumbling into dust.
What the? I didn't even touch it yet.
A sense of injustice and absurdity washed over me simultaneously. Just as the panic began to spread through the group—
"Huh?"
Suddenly, a warm energy flowed in through my fingertips.
For some reason, even though the gate had been destroyed, the remaining purple mana light was absorbed directly into me.
It didn't feel hostile. On the contrary, it brought a sense of coziness and relief, as if I had returned to my hometown.
Thanks to that, I was about to lower the guard I had instinctively raised, when—
Flash—!
A sudden burst of light erupted from my body, swallowing our entire party.
Before I knew it, we had arrived inside a massive stone building.
"What in the world is this now..."
My brows furrowed involuntarily at the unexpected situation, but it wasn't the worst-case scenario.
Though we had been tossed here without warning, I recognized the marble decorations surrounding us.
Fafnir's Lair. Or rather, the ruins that used to be his lair.
The teleportation gate, which should have sent us to the front yard, had somehow moved us into the center of the lair.
I wasn't entirely sure, but perhaps some kind of error occurred when the gate broke and reacted with me at the last second.
I still didn't know the exact reason, though.
As I was calmly organizing my thoughts and assessing the situation, an urgent voice called out from beside me.
"Ma-Master! What just happened?! It looked like you absorbed the mana from the teleportation gate. Are you alright? Was there a mana collision or—mmph?!"
I covered Carla's mouth with one hand and shook my head.
"Calm down. I'm fine. My body feels a bit flushed, but there's nothing wrong."
"...Mmph? Mmm-mmph?"
As Carla tried to speak through my hand, Elisha, standing next to her, translated.
"She's asking if that isn't exactly what's strange, dear."
"Is it? It's true that I absorbed an unfamiliar mana, but it feels strangely familiar... Anyway, I have a feeling it won't harm me, so I'm really okay."
Mana is fundamentally a power that responds to will. As long as it has entered my body and I possess the Mana Affinity trait, reading the intent within it isn't that difficult.
It was a bit puzzling that the mana from the gate I felt earlier contained a sense of familiarity from an unknown source, along with the intent for transportation...
Regardless, it wasn't the dangerous kind, so I could rest easy on that front.
"Mmph."
"...Ah."
When I spoke again with conviction, Carla and Elisha finally nodded as if they had realized something.
I had a rough idea of what they were misunderstanding, but since I couldn't correct it, I pretended not to notice and looked around the area with exaggerated curiosity.
It was a massive stone structure reminiscent of an ancient Greek temple. The sheer grandeur was enough to overwhelm anyone watching; it was clear to anyone that this was neither a facility for humans nor a place built by them.
...Except, nothing was intact.
Cracked pillars with peeling paint, statues rolling on the floor, and what used to be doors that had been forced open and shattered.
All that remained here were the traces of former glory.
Iris, looking around the ruins, tilted her head.
"Master. Is this truly Fafnir's Lair?"
"Yeah."
"The Fafnir's Lair from the legends? The one where gold coins are spread across the floor instead of tiles, and every room is filled with different kinds of treasures?"
"That's the one. However, everything that was here was either used up, taken by me... or plundered by those cultist bastards."
I mixed a bit of falsehood with the truth. With just that, the line between the two blurred, making them hard to distinguish.
The bitter smile I added—recalling the futility of finally reaching the lair after hellish struggles only to find a few scraps of information about the cult—was a bonus.
I still felt a resistance to deceiving them, but I knew all too well that it was unavoidable.
Still, I couldn't help but hope that one day, a time would come when I could tell them everything.
In the solemn atmosphere, the women's voices scattered briefly, unsure of what to do.
"Ah... so that's why Master..."
"Ahem. If one's home turned out like this overnight, it's understandable why he wouldn't want to mention it."
"B-But Master still has us!"
"I don't know. Seeing how Student Yandel strangely gathers only people who can't defy him, maybe he developed a distrust of humans because of a traitor? If so, then we..."
"This is all because of the cultists. We must kill the cultists!"
Helena, why is that your conclusion...? Though you're not wrong.
Anyway, since I succeeded in glossing over my situation, all that was left was to wait for the system reward that had led me here...
Ding!
The notification rang out as if on cue.
I shifted only my eyes to scan my field of vision, but for some reason, the system window didn't appear. ...Instead, something even more significant began to show.
Over the landscape that was clearly nothing but ruins, something else began to overlap.
Yes. It was the appearance of Fafnir's Lair back when it was still intact.
*
An underground structure with a heavy, sophisticated aesthetic based in black and purple.
It was a place reminiscent of a temple in the underworld. Yet, contrasting with the desolate atmosphere, it was adorned with all sorts of brilliant decorations.
Gold coins rolling on the floor were piled high enough to form small hills.
Each room was tightly sealed, but the doors were ostentatiously decorated with large gems, crossed swords, or shattered glasswork.
It was as if they were explaining exactly what was inside.
It was a sight that would make any observer gasp in awe... but it didn't last long.
Thump!
Something massive crashed down onto the hill of gold.
Scales shimmering like obsidian. Mystical purple eyes. A streamlined, elongated body. And an enormous size.
It was a dragon, a species now said to be extinct.
Is that Fafnir?
I marveled at the vivid majesty as if I were seeing it in person, but my awe was short-lived. Upon closer inspection, it was immediately obvious that Fafnir was not whole.
His sleek scales were broken and melted in places, his wings were torn to rags, and one of his horns was snapped off.
Judging by the blood seeping onto the fallen gold coins, the hemorrhaging was significant.
Is this... Fafnir's state right before his death?
Naturally, this was content that had never appeared in H&A. There had to be a reason the system was showing me this.
I suppressed my surprise and focused on the scene before me. Fafnir, gasping for breath, began to mutter something.
[My treasure... I cannot... die leaving it like this...]
Even while dying, he was obsessing over his treasure. It was absurd, but I suppose he was able to gather this much wealth precisely because of that personality.
The moment I confirmed that, time suddenly began to accelerate.
Fafnir repeatedly fainted and woke up on the pile of gold coins. Whenever he was conscious, he spammed healing magic on himself.
Only after a long time had passed did Fafnir fully recover. His broken horn did not return, but everything else regained its former state.
However, had he realized something in that moment of near-death? Though greed still lingered in Fafnir's eyes as he looked at the blood-stained gold, another emotion coexisted with it.
Anger.
A vivid rage toward those who had wounded him and driven him to the brink of death was flickering within him.
What followed was a sequence anyone could have predicted.
As soon as his body recovered, Fafnir left the lair. Likely for revenge.
The problem was that every time he did, he would return shortly after, covered in blood.
Is this what it looked like during the height of the War of the Gods?
Fafnir would return half-dead, and as soon as he recovered, he would head out to fight again, repeating the cycle numerous times.
With each return, irreparable wounds began to accumulate one by one.
It started with the one broken horn, then a blunt tail, a scar as deep as a trench on his chest, and scorched scales on his face.
Soon, he had more damaged parts than healthy ones... but Fafnir did not give up.
Even after receiving a fatal wound that put him on a countdown to death.
Even after the War of the Gods ended through the efforts of Hero Rahim.
At some point, he was no longer angry just because he had almost died.
His kin, who were called great beings yet perished like mere blades of grass; those who had willingly become his friends despite his foul personality; and even the weak who clutched their fists in hope because of Fafnir, who was merely rampaging out of rage.
He was already carrying too many things on his back.
This was the price Fafnir paid for surviving the War of the Gods, and it was a scar deeper than any physical wound.
Thus, although all the Evil Gods were sealed and the cults dismantled, Fafnir, upon returning to his lair, could not escape his anxiety and resentment.
Rahim was an indisputable hero, but he had stopped at merely sealing the Evil Gods.
And nothing in the world lasts forever.
Fafnir, who had seen dragons that lived for thousands of years meet their end, and even gods who lived tens of times longer fall from grace, knew this well.
When the Evil Gods eventually broke free, there would be nothing this world could do.
The Good Gods would lack the time to recover their strength, the short-lived species would have forgotten the past, and Fafnir himself would have long since succumbed to his worsening wounds.
Fafnir looked at the wealth he had spent his entire life collecting and muttered softly.
[I need a successor.]
Even if he were the last dragon.