The True Prototype Treasure

Player Talk erupted into chaos once again.

After the war ended and Isera fell, the contribution window had appeared. Most of the rankings were things everyone could accept without complaint. Park Taewoo needed no explanation, and even Drakestar—though he had fled—had still taken the lead in gathering Alliance members from across the world, so his contribution was undeniable.

Only after a long stretch of time had the first-place contributor finally been revealed. The players who confirmed that name simply could not accept it. If he had taken part in the battle, there was no way they would have failed to notice. Even operating under a hidden identity, this was contribution rank one. Recording a higher contribution than Park Taewoo—who had summoned Dragon God Lucaria and fought to the very end—should have been impossible to miss.

…It should have been impossible.

If it had been Randolph, they would have understood. He had already pulled off countless impossible feats. But it wasn't Randolph, and that made it incomprehensible.

Gracia's face twisted into a fierce scowl.

A single window had appeared before his eyes. The contribution rankings every player had witnessed at the same moment now listed a name no one had expected.

In the distant past—in the immeasurably ancient Primal age, when everything still existed as its original form—there was a Dragon God who gathered the prototypes of all things that had long since vanished across the endless stretch of time.

"Why collect such things?"

"These crude, worthless objects… it's nothing but a garbage heap!"

Naturally, in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠those days, none of them were considered treasures. The other Dragon Gods of the Primal age could not understand him. A Dragon God who stockpiled trash in his treasure vault? There had never been an eccentric quite like him.

"You fools. The longer time passes, the more these will shine with true value."

But he had no interest in their understanding. Silently, he continued gathering into his warehouse every first creation—the first forms of swords and spears, armor and equipment of every kind. Yet everything first made is inevitably crude. That is the nature of things before they evolve and develop into something better.

"They aren't even dazzling like jewels, nor do they shine. They're far too crude for beings of our divine stature to use."

"Hmm. What use is there in collecting things made by mortals who have only just gained intelligence?"

"I simply cannot understand it."

So they mocked him. What good was hoarding worthless junk?

"…The day will come when your arrogance drives us all to ruin."

The Ancient Dragon God mocked them in turn. They created nothing. They were fools who trusted only in the divinity they had been born with and did nothing else. From birth they had been so overwhelmingly powerful that they never needed to strive to grow stronger.

But mortals were different. Once they gained intelligence, they began creating countless objects for the sake of survival—almost like creators themselves. Precisely after they stole fire from the gods, they never stopped advancing.

We are stagnant. But humans, with a single spark of fire, create things beyond imagination. Therefore I shall gather their prototypes.

The Ancient Dragon God himself possessed no creative power to forge anything new. That was the curse laid upon their kind. Yet at the very least, he had the foresight to prepare for the future. So he collected and stored the first originals. As time flowed on and those prototypes endlessly developed and evolved, the originals themselves would be granted a supreme "rank."

…We cannot stop Ruin.

Those who had stopped moving would eventually fall before Ruin. The Ancient Dragon God had witnessed world after world endlessly destroyed by it—the vicious cycle that would repeat forever if left unchecked.

In the far future, once these prototypes have accumulated supreme rank, a being capable of standing against Ruin will appear before me.

In the end, the Primal age came to a close. But the Ancient Dragon God sealed his warehouse, leaving behind a fragment of his soul. An immeasurably long time passed after that, and those who possessed the proper "qualification" began to find their way into his treasure vault. Every one of them was a powerhouse who could rightfully be called a peerless hero—a tiny handful of monsters who had achieved transcendent feats in succession and been permitted to set foot in the Primal age.

Only those who rewrite an era are allowed to step into the Primal age.

Once in a thousand years, or once in ten thousand. Sometimes none appeared at all—but still, they came. Those who forced open the door and entered the Primal age.

A demon who made the heavens tremble.

The Unique Emperor who conquered a continent.

The God Slayer who killed the Sun God.

A whale that crushed the axis of the world.

The Child of the Sun, blessed by countless gods.

The Child of the Moon, cursed by countless gods.

The Abyss King who ruled more of the Abyss than any other.

…All of them blind. Every last one.

Still the Ancient Dragon God could only click his tongue. Their martial power rivaled or even surpassed his own, yet not one of them could see the value of the prototypes. What did strength matter? If you stood before a true treasure and failed to recognize it, you might as well have no eyes at all. Treasure only shines when claimed by one who understands ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠its worth.

The true prototypes still remain in my warehouse.

Countless ages passed, eras rose and fell, and still no one stopped Ruin. No one took the prototype treasures. Of course, the other treasures were not without value. Everything in the warehouse held extraordinary potential—he had gathered only the genuine, one-of-a-kind articles. But… was it truly possible that no one understood?

Is there truly no one who can see as I do?

Disappointing. At this rate, those who had once mocked him and those who entered the treasure vault were no different from each other.

…This time would be the same.

…It has been a long while.

His long-dormant soul ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stirred awake. It meant someone had satisfied the conditions and thrown open the door.

Let me see. How many achievements has this newcomer piled up?

He held no great expectations, but he was curious all the same. The "karma" a mortal accumulates becomes "rank" and nourishes the soul. That was why mortals, unlike stagnant divinities, could possess creativity. Every being who entered this place had amassed achievements beyond imagination. This one would be no different. He simply wanted to know what they were.

Oh-ho…

Indeed. The Ancient Dragon God's soul nodded as he examined the one who had opened the door. Compared to previous entrants, his raw martial power was pitiful—yet for some reason, the karma he had accumulated was vast. And it was not the karma of a single life.

The karma itself is no less than those who came before. Even the smallest trials, he broke through their limits, went beyond, and saw the end.

Occasionally there were people like this—those who, in the eyes of others, wasted effort on pointless things, yet never gave up and kept striving. Those who endlessly whipped themselves onward, endlessly shattering their own limits. The souls of such people were invariably noble and pure.

But this is strange. As if he has lived as multiple people…

Among all who had entered his treasure vault, this was a first. Only mortals could enter this place, so living out multiple destinies should have been impossible. Yet the human before him was different. He was unmistakably different.

The Ancient Dragon God could see every achievement of those who entered. Once inside, "unobservable" held no power against him. The very condition of entry into the treasure vault was permission for him to observe.

As he continued examining the karma, the Ancient Dragon God found himself growing more astonished the further he went.

He killed a Demon King, killed Ruin's pet, revived a divinity, and created a divinity. …What kind of creature is this?

He had never seen this kind of achievement concentrated in a single body. Normally, entrants arrived having accomplished only one such feat. There had been one previous entrant in a somewhat opposite position, but… this was peculiar. Extremely peculiar.

One thing was certain, though.

…Even so, he probably still can't see.

Even so, he would lack the eyes to see. Every single one who had entered before had been the same. No matter how unusual this fellow was, it seemed unlikely he would be much different. In the end he would simply choose one of the countless "impressive-looking" treasures and leave.

Time to go back to sleep.

Confirming the entrant was enough. He would pick something suitable and that would be the end of it. There was nothing the Ancient Dragon God needed to do—nothing he would do. He had held no expectations from the start. The glittering treasures strewn across the entrance of the vault, the armaments lining the path and flaunting their rank—they were simply too alluring to ignore.

Hmm…?

But this entrant was a little strange. Contrary to the Ancient Dragon God's expectations, the man paid not the slightest attention to those "glittering" things. He glanced over them once, then walked on without looking back, as if they held no interest for him at all.

Surely not?

…No. He was probably just surveying the whole place. The Ancient Dragon God set his expectations aside once more. But when the man eventually stopped in one particular spot, the Ancient Dragon God's soul could not help but stir with a small thrill of excitement.

Can he… ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠truly see?

The place where the man had stopped. There rested a prototype that transcended all value—the treasure that everyone had mocked, that no one had ever recognized, that had been left abandoned in the warehouse across eons of time, known only to the Ancient Dragon God himself.

It was not a sword. Not a spear, not a bow. Such equipment rotted in abundance here. Those too were prototypes, yet compared to this, they fell short of being called true originals.

Where the man now stood, what lay before him was a treasure beyond comparison with any of them. It was the true original that had made all those other treasures possible.

Is he truly going to choose that?

Yet until now, no one had recognized it. Even the monsters who had opened new eras and remade the world had failed to see it—so how could this human possibly know? Stronger, superior beings had all walked past without a second glance.

Coincidence? Or was he merely resting there for a moment?

Ah…!

Then the Ancient Dragon God's soul could only tremble. The man reached out and took the treasure in his hand.

The beginning of all creation.

The fire that humanity had stolen—

the First Fire.

The original form that had first held that flame!

…A pitch-black, charred wooden stick—the most worthless-looking object in the entire world.