The Third Guardian Dragon, Moonlight Dragon Crescent

To earn the recognition of the third Guardian Dragon, I had to pass whatever trial the dragons set before me.

That was how it went with Blaze, and with Brionic too — both had demanded proof that I was worthy of becoming their master.

And now, with another Guardian Dragon appearing, I set out once more to face a trial of my own.

The only real difference from the times with Blaze and Brionic was that this time, Ellie was coming along.

Apparently my Guardians' trials had been on her mind ever since the Tide of Corruption ended, because the moment word came that the third Guardian Dragon's location had been found, she rolled up her sleeves and declared she was coming with me.

Thanks to the hints I'd received — one as a hidden quest reward, the other as a main quest reward — I already knew exactly where to go.

I even knew the theme of the trial.

So why couldn't I shake this uneasy feeling?

Even so, I had to step forward.

In the game, I knew of seven Guardian Dragons in total.

So far, I had earned the recognition of the Red Dragon and the Ice Dragon.

But even wielding the powers of the Red and Ice Dragons, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hadn't been able to so much as scratch Gaap.

It wasn't that their powers were weak — it was that I was weak, and so my authorities never grew strong enough to match them.

To withstand a Guardian Dragon's authority, I would need either a body strong enough to bear it,

or another authority to reinforce the first.

And if I had neither, I'd need some other means of attack — something to hold the line until I could use my authorities properly.

What I had chosen was a blend of the second option and the third.

From what I knew, the Guardian Dragon named 'Crescent' held an authority that let me endure the recoil of my own techniques,

while also enabling a style of attack built on deception — illusion blinding the enemy's guard so the real blow could slip through.

When I told Ellie the theme of this trial,

she gave me the same reaction the other dragons had shown when they saw their successors — a kind of "...seriously, this is the guy who came?" look.

She just blinked and stared at me, a flat little "Huh?" hanging in the air.

I think she actually assumed I was lying to keep her from putting herself in danger,

because she kept insisting I quit joking around and tell her the truth.

No, this is the truth — what am I even supposed to say?

In the end, soothing her drained me completely.

Still, knowing she was coming along did put my heart a little more at ease.

So it was that we arrived at a clock tower in the capital — the very one the hints had pointed to.

Strange as it sounded, this tower was famous for being nearly invisible in daylight, only revealing its true form once the moon rose.

Perhaps because of that, plenty of people were there even when we arrived.

Anyone could climb the tower.

Its summit stood thirty floors up.

A floating enchantment — essentially a magic-powered elevator — carried visitors to the top in exchange for an entrance fee.

Ellie and I paid the fee and headed straight for the top.

The logic was simple: it was better to start searching from the thirtieth floor and work our way down than to comb through the whole tower from the bottom.

And I couldn't summon Blaze and Brionic, either.

Apparently the Guardian Dragons' trials forbid interference from one of their own.

Only a successor or guardian could overcome a Guardian Dragon's trial — a law said to have been set by the Azure Dragon itself. A wall that had to be crossed alone.

Even during Brionic's trial, Blaze hadn't been able to lift a finger to help me.

And that was when I'd been one breath away from death.

Besides, even if I could have summoned them, the tower was getting crowded. Doing it here would amount to announcing, "Hello everyone, I'm a Successor of the Four Divine Beasts~"

So we decided to search with nothing but our own eyes.

It was seven in the evening.

We combed every corner of the tower, but knowing nothing about Crescent beyond the name — not a single other hint — an hour passed and we came up empty.

Eight o'clock now.

It felt a little like an escape room, honestly.

Except in reality, it wasn't even fit to hand an escape room its business card. The difficulty was on another level entirely.

In the game, when you selected the Azure Dragon's successor, there had been no puzzle-solving like this.

Which meant, of course, that this too demanded a hands-on, inch-by-inch approach.

More and more information that had never been revealed in the game was surfacing — and even where I did know things in advance, they'd often been altered.

This was one of those cases.

Still, I couldn't just not do it.

This was the best I was capable of.

This was how I would gain the strength to protect the people I loved in this godforsaken world.

This was the only way I would survive in it.

The hour slipped by, and neither Ellie nor I had anything to show for it.

The last of the sunset faded, leaving only a pitch-black sky overhead,

and the moon, which had been drifting behind the clouds, slowly began to show its face.

Wait. The tower itself — barely visible when the sun is up, and clearly visible when the moon rises?

Something about that felt connected to the tower's true nature.

We were standing on the top floor.

The wall of the clock tower's uppermost level was pierced by windows in eight directions.

What if those windows had been placed there for a reason?

As I scanned our surroundings with that thought, I noticed something.

The moonlight was climbing higher, and its glow had begun to pour in through the windows.

Night was settling in, deep and dark.

People drifted down the tower to prepare for tomorrow.

In the blackness, only the tranquil moonlight embroidered the night sky.

Time crept onward — ten o'clock at night.

At last, the moonlight crossed the windowsills and washed the tower in silver.

I told Ellie what I'd realized, and asked her to scan four windows while I took the other four — to find where the moonlight fell brightest.

With her help, we found it.

Ten o'clock, clockwise.

That window was drinking in more moonlight than any other.

And where the light fell, something began to emerge — letters revealed by the moon's glow.

"By moonlight..."

"...the night sky is woven..."

"...and shines, eternal."

The moment I recited the moonlit inscription, pure white smoke billowed up around Ellie and me.

For a heartbeat I wondered if something had gone wrong — but the smoke carried no menace. Instead, a strange sensation washed over me, one that insisted I simply relax.

Ellie and I inhaled the smoke down to the last wisp, and when we came to, we were somewhere utterly unfamiliar.

It was a place of mystery.

Like the Uyuni salt flats, the sky lay mirrored across the ground beneath our feet.

The only difference was what waited in the middle of that mirror: a colossal dragon of deep violet-black, lifting its head to gaze at us, its visitors.

The dragon of unknown identity did nothing but look.

It never moved — it simply kept its eyes fixed on us.

I walked forward across the sky-reflected earth.

As I advanced, Ellie followed in my footsteps across that shimmering ground.

Forward and forward, until at last I stood face to face with the third Guardian Dragon.

I knew this dragon's name.

Moonlight Dragon, Crescent.

The dragon who wielded the authorities of illusion and moonlight.

Crescent looked at me, and finally spoke.

"It is an honor to meet you, Successor of this age."

"So you're Crescent?"

"I am. You who are a stranger to this world."

"!!!"

Two things had knocked the wind out of me.

First — Baram, my High Wind Spirit, had known I was from Earth.

And now Crescent, the third Guardian Dragon, knew I wasn't a person of this world either.

Just what secrets was the Azure Dragon keeping? If it knew all this... then surely it also knew the identity of the being who had cast me into this other world.

Second — Ellie still didn't know I was from Earth.

I whipped my head around to explain myself in a hurry — but Ellie was simply gazing at Crescent in wide-eyed wonder.

Then Crescent continued in a gentle, courteous voice.

"The lady there heard none of what I said just now."

"The words of a Guardian Dragon can only be heard by a third party when a bonded contract exists."

"Then the reason I can speak with you is..."

"A Successor who already holds two Guardian Dragons can surely guess."

"That I've become a vessel worthy of receiving Guardian Dragons?"

"Yes."

"Moreover, the seat of Successor is not something earned through effort, and even less something gained merely because one wishes it."

"The selection of a Successor is decided solely by the will of the First Azure Dragon. Your very existence is the Azure Dragon's will — so it is only right that honor be paid to you."

"From the moment you took the seat of Successor, your vessel became something apart from ordinary humanity."

"The title of Successor is, in a sense, a trial for those who would ascend to the seats of gods. It is so for the Successors of the Four Divine Beasts — and no less so for their opposite number, the Successors of the Four Perils."

"I see..."

The truth I'd never known made my head ache for a moment.

But the trial came first.

I asked Crescent about the trial itself.

"Is this where the trial takes place?"

"It is. This is the ground where trials are held — and also the space in which I sealed my own self away."

"Then let's begin."

"From the moment the trial starts, the lady will be unable to see you or feel your presence. To her eyes, it will seem as though you simply vanished into thin air."

"Explain it to her carefully, so she is not alarmed. I will grant you a moment to do so."

I nodded at Crescent's words and went to Ellie to explain the situation.

Despite my sudden announcement, she simply smiled, told me I'd better pass, and sent me off.

"You two seem very close."

"She's the first lover I've had since coming to this world. Someone I couldn't trade for anything."

"To protect her, would you truly do anything?"

"Is that part of the trial? Or is it just... your simple curiosity?"

"Please don't be on your guard. I'm merely a very curious creature, that's all."

"Then that earlier question was just your simple curiosity too, I take it."

"It was. Very well — let the trial begin. The condition for passing is one, and only one."

"You must answer the three questions I set before you."

"Answers?"

"Yes. I ask, you answer. A very simple arrangement. I don't resort to the crude methods of Blaze or Brionic."

"You do realize they can both hear that right now?"

"Well — if you pass, you'll bear their fury directly... and if you fail, then even having said all this, I know full well they can't lay a single claw on me."

"I've talked long enough. Let us begin."

"Right."

"You have decided you wish to visit a resort. Unable to suppress your desire any longer, you set out for it — and on the way, you run into some truly insufferable characters."

"They call themselves gatekeepers, and they tell you that unless you answer correctly, you will be sent to a place where you will labor in the mines."

"The self-proclaimed gatekeepers refuse to show you which road leads to the resort. But from the words of others, you learn this: the person on the left speaks only truth, and the person on the right speaks only lies."

"Everyone before you has failed, and at last it is your turn. The gatekeeper grants you a single opportunity to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ask a question — then commands you to find the road to the resort."

"What question will you ask? One condition: the gatekeeper on the left is a citizen of the resort, and the gatekeeper on the right is the overseer of the mine laborers. These two may or may not be standing at the gates of the places where they themselves live."

A truth-and-lies puzzle.

The kind my parents used to bring me when I was a bored, listless child with interest in nothing — the kind they'd sit down and quiz me on.

Back then, it had been so much fun.

And I'd ground through this exact puzzle plenty of times, too.

"Answer."

"Speak it."

"Which place do you two live in?"

"...And to whom will you address that question?"

"Doesn't matter. I could ask the resort citizen on the right, or the overseer on the left. Either one."

It didn't matter which of them I asked. The result would be the same.

The resort citizen speaks only truth, and the overseer speaks only lies.

If I asked the resort citizen, "Where do you live?" ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they would point to the resort — their own home — so I could simply head that way.

If I asked the overseer, he would point somewhere, and because he could only lie, I would walk through the gate exactly opposite the one he indicated — and that would lead me safely to the resort.

A puzzle I'd solved as a kid. Almost embarrassingly easy.

"Second question."

First one cleared.

But it wasn't over yet.

I let the tension flood back in and focused on the problem.

"In fairy tales, there exists the figure of the witch. She does not exist here, of course — but they say there are worlds where witches are quite real."

"In one such world, an apprentice witch had the good fortune to be granted the chance to hold a mirror her beloved master treasured."

"Looking upon the apprentice, the mirror said this:"

"It claimed its temperament was fickle — that at times it spoke only truth, and at other times only lies."

"Wanting to know whether the mirror's claim was itself true or false, the apprentice — who had never been much good at mathematics — decided to test it with a simple arithmetic problem."

"She wanted to know whether two times two was eight. So — in what way must the apprentice witch question the mirror in order to confirm the correct answer?"

A nastily twisted problem.

As a kid, I'd failed this one too, and in the end I'd always gone running to Mom or Dad. But they never gave me the answer — determined to make me solve it with my own strength, they offered only hints.

Never the answer itself.

And ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠honestly, I'd liked that. It made me feel like I was really with them, and I'd lean on them shamelessly, wheedling and whining my way through each problem.

Back to the question. The solution was simple enough.

If you knew the key — that a negation stacked upon a negation becomes a double negation, and a double negation is an affirmation — then it opened easily.

"Answer."

"Speak."

"If I say 'two times two is eight,' what will you answer?"

"...Impressive."

Let me pick this problem apart. If the day the apprentice witch asked happened to be a truth-telling day, the mirror would answer, "Yes."

If it was a lying day, the mirror would answer, "No."

But the heart of the question was never "Is two times two eight?" — it was "What will you, Mirror, say?"

So naturally, on a lying day the mirror would have to say "Yes" to the first claim... but because it lies, it says "No." And then, asked a second time what it would answer—

the mirror finds itself forced to give the opposite of "No" — "Yes" — and in that instant the problem unravels, solved.

The second one cleared, unexpectedly smoothly.

Next came the grand finale.

If I got this one right, Crescent would become my Guardian Dragon, and I would have its recognition.

But the question Crescent set before me was...

one of the problems I had never solved, even with my parents beside me.

"You have come before the omniscient and omnipotent Azure Dragon."

"But you have answered so many questions already that the Dragon will now respond to yours with only 'O' or 'X'."

"No matter the circumstances, only those two answers are possible. And everything the Azure Dragon says is truth — never falsehood. The Dragon is incapable of lying."

"The Azure Dragon is omniscient and omnipotent, one who sees through all things in this world, capable of answering every question ever asked of it. For you to doubt it is simply not possible."

"You, too, are bound by conditions."

"Questions designed to lure the Dragon into a lie, or any outlandish demands, are forbidden outright. Questions that make no sense, or asking a question and then responding to the Dragon's answer with a counter-argument — all of it is impossible."

"And yet, with a single question, you can make the Azure Dragon unable to answer. What is that question?"

The final boss of puzzles.

A problem my father and mother had thrown hints at for three years of high school, and I still never cracked.

Like when I was little, they absolutely refused to tell me the answer.

And then the fire happened — and I would never get to hear it.

But I had to move forward.

I couldn't be someone who stayed frozen in the past.

I had to find the answer.

"Give me some time."

"For one who solved the first two, I can spare that much. Thirty minutes. If you cannot solve it within thirty minutes, I will judge you unqualified — the trial will end, and I will refuse the Guardian Dragon's contract."

".....All right."

I sank deep into thought.

My father had told me this:

"The hint that leads you to the answer is hidden inside the problem itself."

My mother, unlike him, had been more direct.

"Chew over the Dragon's own words, sweetheart."

...Dad. Mom.

I think I found the answer.

You can't hear it from me anymore.

But please, watch me. Watch me break free of the past, and keep moving.

"Ten minutes remain."

"Answer."

"You still have time enough. And yet you are certain?"

Doubt? I had none.

Dad and Mom would never have fed me a false hint.

"Yeah."

"Then speak it."

"The Azure Dragon... would answer my question with... 'X.'"

".....I cannot best this."

"You win. I, Moonlight Dragon Crescent, shall become your Guardian Dragon, and lend my strength to your work of purifying this world."

"Thank you."

"This is the rightful privilege granted to one who passes the trial. Don't thank me too much."

With Crescent, I recited the pledge of contract.

Before my eyes, the enormous dragon of deep violet-black shrank to Blaze and Brionic's size and hovered there, wings beating gently.

"The trial is passed. Wait but a moment, and the smoke will clear — and you will return to where your lady awaits."

The instant Crescent finished speaking, Blaze and Brionic — neither of whom I had summoned — materialized at my side.

It seemed they had been holding on to every word Crescent had said earlier.

"Oh? So we used 'crude methods' to contract with the Successor, did we?"

"Since we're so crude and witless, why don't you have a taste of just how crude our strength is?"

"U-um... Successor! Help me, please!!"

"I told you to watch your mouth because I'd hear it, didn't I."

"AAAAAAGH!!"

With his scream, the smoke cleared — and beyond it, my golden-haired lover stood waiting exactly where I had vanished, rooted to the spot.

The moment she spotted me, Ellie threw herself into my arms.

"Did you pass?"

Just as I was about to nod—

Crescent, overwhelmed by the two Guardian Dragons' bullying(?), was begging Ellie for help.

"Save me! Lady beloved of the Successor!!"

With Crescent cowering behind her back, the two furious dragons could do nothing but growl and snap at the air.

"Ugh! One of these days I'm going to kill that thing."

"Just... let me catch you. Once."

Venting their fury, the two dragons gave me a light parting nod and vanished.

Ellie had met both of them before, so the dragon now hiding behind her back had to be the fruits of my passed trial.

Flustered, I recalled the trembling Crescent in reverse-summoning, and Ellie and I found ourselves back in the clock tower as if nothing had happened.

She asked what the trial had been like, so I told her — three questions, each of them difficult.

I'd cleared the first two easily enough, but apparently I'd burned a fair amount of time on the third.

Which meant Ellie was curious about it too.

I bet a wish-granting voucher on it and posed her the very same question.

And she just... walked through the solution, explaining each step with breezy ease.

Even Crescent, summoned out beside us, gaped at her and muttered something about her being terrifying.

That about says it all.

—