Inevitability
Palamus was dreaming. It was a dream of speaking with Bolton, the closest friend he had known since first descending upon this land long ago.
Bolton lay upon his sickbed, white-haired and wrinkled, his white beard framing an emaciated face. Seeing him like that, Palamus could not ask why he was leaving so soon. Bolton was a prophet, after all—a human who had come to this land before the dragon and lived for thousands of years.
When he remembered the days they had spent researching magic together, looking at that dying face felt endlessly awkward.
“Bolton, have you no regrets?”
“What regrets could I have? I saved the world from evil, and all its people are this happy.”
“You think of others until the very end. Have you never once lived for yourself?”
Bolton had been the first emperor of the Bolton Empire he founded and a mage who reached the ninth circle with a human body. Using that power, he had saved the world from all evils and, wringing out his final strength, built the Absolute Door in the demon-haunted Gob region.
“Helping others is how I help myself.”
“That answer is exactly like you.”
At Palamus’s words, a faint smile touched Bolton’s lips.
“My friend. Please watch over this developing world for me.”
“I intended to do exactly that, even without your request.”
Bolton did not need to ask; Palamus’s role had always been to observe the world, to grow alongside it through research. He had been faithfully carrying out Creator Bin’s command to fully experience the world.
Bolton closed his eyes, seemingly relieved by Palamus’s matter-of-fact tone. In a dry voice, Palamus asked him, “What does dying feel like?”
“…I suppose it feels as though there is no longer a place for me to stand.”
“…I do not understand.”
“That is how noble it is.”
Palamus thought about death after hearing those words. Yet death felt impossibly distant to him. The idea was incomprehensible.
“Thank you for standing with me in that final battle, my friend…”
“It must have been difficult. I will never forget the time I spent with you. You are the only human I ever acknowledged.”
No more words came. From Bolton, who had quietly closed his eyes, the spark of life could no longer be felt.
Thus the hero who saved the world, Emperor Bolton, passed away.
Step. Step. Step.
Palamus moved from the emperor’s bedside to the window. It was larger than any other in the palace. He threw it open, letting the deep night air rush inside. Leaving behind Bolton, who had become a star in the sky, Palamus spread his wings and left the chamber.
…Wait for me.
He did not want to submit to the concept of death, but those were the only words he wished to give his friend.
A body modeled after Bolton in his youth. It was the homunculus he had meant to transfer his soul into—the first human, who might have lived even longer than himself. By imitating that form, he had tried to pursue life even more desperately.
“Absorption!!!”
His senses were frozen and he could barely hear, yet he knew Bagan was trying to absorb him. He could feel his power draining away, little by little.
“Graaah!”
Bagan poured every last ounce of strength into the attempt. But Palamus no longer had any lingering attachment. Even without such effort, it no longer mattered.
My fate ends here… That is all there is to it.
The words Bolton had spoken—no longer having a place to stand. Palamus felt their meaning in his very bones.
He had already far outlived his natural lifespan. He had only reached for black magic in one final, desperate struggle. Yet just as it had been for Bolton, who once seemed as if he would never die, death was inevitable.
There was no need to hasten it, nor any need to forcibly delay it.
If I had known it would come to this, I would not have clung to any regrets.
His strength slowly ebbed until only the sense that perceived mana remained. Through it, Palamus felt Bagan. He knew the young man was not the homunculus he had created.
You are dying too.
In the process of absorbing Palamus, Bagan’s body was gradually collapsing. A homunculus was simply not enough to contain a dragon’s power without proper countermeasures. That was why Palamus had continued his research for so long.
The key to solving that puzzle had been in his own heart.
Leviant Core.
The dragon heart compressed to its utmost limit, distilled into the very essence of power. Though it currently resided within Palamus’s heart, he handed it over without hesitation, pouring every last ounce of his will into the transfer.
It was something he should have done after claiming Bagan’s body, but he no longer cared.
“Ugh!”
Bagan felt a foreign sensation as something pierced his heart during the absorption and retched from the nausea.
“I have to… release…”
But it was already too late. Bagan’s body had begun to change.
“Ugh!”
Every possible opening expelled waste. Blood gushed from his throat, flowed from his nose and ears. Every muscle in his body screamed.
“Gaaaaah!”
Unbearable pain. Grief at losing Barret. Rage toward Palamus. All kinds of emotions churned wildly inside his head.
In the twisting agony, Bagan stopped the absorption and fell to his knees.
Crack!
Palamus’s body, stripped of all power, froze solid and shattered into pieces.
With that, Palamus died.
Bagan’s body slipped from the shattered remains of the massive dragon and fell helplessly to the ground.
Afterward, Bagan lay on the frozen earth for a long time, unable to rise. For several hours that felt like eternity, something moved inside his body. With great effort, he finally stood.
“Ugh!”
Palamus’s magic had frozen the entire area; nothing remained intact. The only thing Bagan could do was place one foot in front of the other.
He struggled up from the underground battlefield. The lair he passed on the way was completely devastated. Without hesitation he stepped out of the cave.
Snow fell violently, as if the sky itself had been torn open.
Step. Step.
Each step toward the Zairan Forest stained the white snow with blood. His eyes were unfocused, the flame of life flickering as though it might go out at any moment.
The snow had already piled up to his knees, making every step heavier. An icy wind sliced through him, trying to freeze him to the bone. He closed eyes that could barely stay open against the gale.
For a moment, drowsiness washed over him. It was not the tiredness of exhaustion. Bagan, whose entire body had turned a deathly blue, recognized its meaning at once.
It was death.
If he lost consciousness now, everything would end.
Slowly, painfully, he turned his head, searching for any trace of life. The snow piled to his waist burned white, as though determined to claim every living thing.
Then he spotted the largest ancient tree nearby. It had shed all its leaves to endure the bitter cold and now stood alone against the driving snow.
Bagan could no longer feel where his feet were or whether they were even touching the ground. With nothing but the single-minded will to survive, he moved within reach and stretched out his right hand.
Thud.
His palm rested weakly against the trunk.
Thump.
Like a parasitic vine taking root, Bagan’s body collapsed with his hand still pressed to the tree. He sank into the snow piled as high as his waist.
“Be careful. Even in weather like this, surviving monsters could still be around.”
Paul walked at the front, longsword in hand. Behind him, Reina, gripping a wand set with a red gem, added, “Are we really sure we should be taking this request?”
“We agreed not to talk about that.”
Paul’s voice was serious.
“How can I not bring it up…”
She could not finish. Her gaze had caught on Natalie, the cat beastman walking ahead of them.
“The memories of that day are painful for all of us. So stop, Reina.”
“…All right. I’m sorry.”
The reason they were moving through the snow-covered Zairan Forest was to investigate why the region had suddenly turned into a severe winter for no apparent reason.
“It was still a little after summer not long ago! What in the world happened?”
Reina grumbled, trying to clear the heavy atmosphere created by the painful past they all avoided mentioning. But whether the chill came from that memory or simply from the weather, Paul answered calmly.
“That’s exactly what we came to find out. There must be a cause.”
“Like what?”
“Who knows. Maybe Lady Priya decided to dump ice on the region.”
“Ugh.”
It was already freezing; a joke that wasn’t even funny made it feel as though they might actually get frostbite.
They continued forward through the Zairan Forest to investigate the cause.
“Ugh!”
“What is it?!”
Paul, who had been walking steadily, suddenly stopped and covered his nose. Even then he held up a palm toward the two women behind him, signaling them to halt.
“A rotting stench that stings the nose. There’s something nearby.”
Nothing was visible in the swirling snow, but Paul’s sense of smell was sharper than the others’, so he noticed first. The snow reached as high as their thighs, making it difficult to see what lay around them.
“I can definitely smell it now too,” Natalie said. As a beastman, her nose was keen. Only Reina, whose senses were comparatively dull, had not yet caught the scent.
“It gets stronger this way. Over here.”
Following the intensifying odor, they reached a tree far more withered than those around it. They immediately began digging through the snow piled against its trunk.
“Th-this is…”
A hand emerged—clearly resting against the tree. They dug deeper. The rest of the body appeared.
“This is Sir Bagan. Pull him out, quickly!”
Paul recognized him at once and shouted. Natalie, whose life Bagan had once saved, frantically dug him free, determined to keep him alive.
“Ugh, the smell… Isn’t this person already dead?”
Reina, who hadn’t smelled it from a distance, now pinched her nose at the overpowering stench. Paul shook his head at her while Natalie, who had been digging since the beginning, kept clearing snow with fierce determination until they had freed roughly a meter of the buried man.
Paul examined Bagan’s body. He placed fingers against the neck and heart. The body was cold as ice, yet a pulse still beat.
“He’s still breathing. We’re returning immediately. We need to get Sir Bagan somewhere warm.”
Adventurers were the sort who would complete any request by any means necessary, but Paul valued human decency more. Right now, saving Bagan took absolute priority. Natalie and Reina nodded in agreement.
“I’ll carry him. You two clear the path ahead.”
They were simply retracing their steps, but the snow was still falling heavily. The trail they had made earlier would already be buried again. Knowing this, Reina and Natalie pushed through the drifts with their own bodies, just as Paul had done on the way in, opening the path back.
Carrying Bagan on his back slowed them considerably. By the time they reached the inn in De Meca, night had already fallen.
Bang!
Paul kicked open the door of the Evergreen Inn.
“Melissa! Do we have any single rooms left besides our usual one?”
“Oh, Sir Paul!”
Melissa was the young girl who attended guests at the Evergreen Inn.
“Who is that person on your back?”
“Hurry—tell me if there’s a room first.”
Seeing how urgent he looked, Melissa quickly checked the ledger. Fortunately it was still early evening, and a single room remained.
“There is one. Second room on the second floor.”
“Thank you!”
Paul carried Bagan upstairs and entered the indicated room. Only after laying him on the bed could he finally catch his breath.
“Whew… Now it’s your turn, Reina. Come quickly.”
Natalie, who had come up after paying downstairs, asked, “What about Sir Bagan?”
“Still unconscious.”
Natalie’s heart ached. Though they had met only once, he was the benefactor who had saved her from danger. Seeing that same man now hovering between life and death filled her with sorrow.
“Is this the room?”
Reina entered, holding a recovery potion. It was an essential item for life-threatening requests, yet so expensive they usually substituted cheaper herbs. She had bought it urgently for Bagan.
“Give it here. Natalie, hold his mouth open.”
The potion could heal wounds by being applied externally, but Bagan showed no visible injuries. It might not be internal damage either, but they chose the likelier option.
“Okay.”
Natalie carefully pried Bagan’s mouth open. Paul poured the potion in slowly. Once the entire vial was gone, he let out a long sigh.
“We’ve done everything we can. Now we just wait for him to wake up.”
There was nothing more they could do. They might call a doctor or healer, but they did not have that kind of money. They had done their best.
Reina spoke. “What if he doesn’t wake up?”
“He will.”
“Not empty hope. What if he really doesn’t?”
Reina had always been somewhat prickly, but after losing Charles her personality had changed completely. Paul wanted to comfort her—she was still a comrade—but the current situation left him feeling powerless. Especially when Natalie flared up at Reina’s words.
“What are you saying? Are you hoping he dies?”
“Honestly, if he dies like this it becomes our problem, doesn’t it?”
“Where is the responsibility in something like this!”
“Then imagine it! We suddenly bring an unknown man into an inn, lay him down, and he dies! Who would they suspect but us? I don’t want to be suspected like that!”
Reina’s unwavering tone left Natalie stunned. She knew Reina had not always been like this, yet the words still shocked her.
Paul sighed. “Enough, both of you. I will take full responsibility for everything.”
“I’m not hoping he dies. That would only cause trouble.”
Having said her piece, Reina left the room.
Paul and Natalie remained. Paul sank to the floor, head throbbing.
“Are you all right?”
“We traveled a long way in freezing weather. Let’s return to our own room and rest.”
At his words, Natalie helped him up and supported him to his room. Once she had seen him safely inside, she returned alone to the room where Bagan lay.
She sat beside the bed, clasped her hands together, and prayed.
Please be safe. I beg you.