The Red Dragon of the Apocalypse
Dim and enormous. A massive cave devoid of any light... no, perhaps it was better described as a vast underground temple. Of course, there were no people, no signs of life. Naturally, the only ones who had lived here long ago were those who died in this place or managed to escape. Only 'it' remained, coiled up and lurking in the deepest shadows.
No one had visited since then. And so, he—the vanguard of the expedition, Einhardt—felt a chill of fear deep inside.
Will it go according to plan? Will my sword, our plan, even faze it?
'It' was powerful. No, beyond powerful—something else entirely. Nations crumbled before its breath, the world itself reshaped by its movements. An overwhelming existence... one no mere mortal could ever hope to touch.
Yet he had to either talk it down with words or face it head-on if things went south. Even clad in the blessings of countless gods and the finest gear, victory was all but impossible. So no matter what, he had to trust his own tongue.
—Thud, thud. His footsteps echoed through the empty space. Nothing but piles of gold and treasure amid the ruins of the ancient temple. That's why his steps rang out louder than any other sound.
...So much of it. Does it eat gold or something? Why hoard all this useless junk?
Finally reaching the temple's heart, he beheld a colossal hill. A mountain of gold coins, goblets, and countless artifacts. Even his kingdom's treasury couldn't rival this hoard of wealth. If he were a greedy fool who didn't value his life, he'd have reached for one of those golden cups by now.
"…."
He stopped before it. Without touching a single piece of gold, he simply stared at the pile.
"…Great Ruler of the Depths. We frail ones come before you—"
Just as he began to speak—
[—Silence. I have much to contemplate still.]
A voice that shook the earth and pierced his soul. It emanated from the golden mound, thick with the stench of sulfur. Einhardt looked up instinctively and spotted it—a massive eye within the hoard.
"Hup…."
A serpent's wicked, enormous eyeball. Profoundly deep, terrifyingly unknowable. It pierced right through him.
[The scent of a human.... And mithril armor. Unlike some treasure-hunting scum with nothing but greed in their pockets, you've got some substance to you. So you're here to take my head, then? Do you truly believe that's possible?]
'It' spoke those words and began to rise.
—Clatter, clatter, clatter———
The golden hill spilled uselessly, the vibrations from its movement reaching him.
[What's wrong? Having second thoughts? Not thrilled with your expedition's numbers?]
And at last, it revealed itself. The enormous, mighty 'it'. The Red Dragon of the Apocalypse, said to be beyond even the gods' reach.
It thrust its snout right up to his nose. Intense heat and a nose-stinging sulfur reek. Having witnessed and felt it on his skin, Einhardt was speechless.
[Come now, here's my neck. Try slicing it with that fancy blade of yours. I won't budge a moment until then.]
"…."
[If you fail... well, use your imagination.]
Chills ran down Einhardt's spine at those words. The red dragon stared him down. As if reading his mind, its grasp of information was impossibly sharp for something holed up in an underground temple. It had to know his sword was forged of adamantine.
A blatant, confident taunt. From it.
...Can I do it? Me? Against this?
The meaning of the taunt was clear. The red dragon had lived countless ages, burned countless things. Scales tough as anything, intellect versed in magic. Einhardt couldn't imagine soloing it, no matter how he racked his brain.
[But if you do nothing and retreat, I'll show mercy. I'll spare your rebellious expedition. I'll chalk it up to a simple mistake, turn what could be a tragedy into peace. So, what's your choice? Pride and bravado? Or wisdom? I'll respect whatever you decide. Take your time.]
The dragon's tongue flicked out. Einhardt dropped to his knees and spoke at once.
"…We'll withdraw! Merciful Red Dragon!!"
He had no real choice. Killing the red dragon was madness, plain and simple. Even dragging the whole expedition in would just mean slaughter. That was his conclusion. He bowed his head to the dragon.
[…Good.]
The red dragon replied curtly, satisfied, and slunk back into its golden mound.
Watching it settle, Einhardt turned and bolted.
"Fuck…! Fuck…!!! I almost died, almost fucking died…!!!"
His steps quickened as he fled the place. He never wanted to return.
'If only it'd think that way.'
I sighed as the man's footsteps faded into the distance. What sin had this body committed, how much greed had it stirred up, to attract so many annoyances?
I mean, why does a dragon hoard gold anyway? Stuck in this dreary, abandoned temple sleeping all day—why pile up treasures like a mountain? I couldn't wrap my head around it.
Treasure hunters, subjugation squads, now expeditions? Why are these puny breath-fodder so damn brave?
And it wasn't just the old 'me' that baffled me. Every idiot who showed up here defied understanding. From what I could glean of 'my' memories, yeah, ancient history was full of fuck-ups, but the last 200 years? Nothing. Just polymorphing occasionally to swipe some loot nearby and crash here indefinitely.
So why the hell were they messing with me now? Right from the moment I possessed this thing!
...Gotta figure something out. If those outsiders come at me for real, I could actually die.
I wanted to break this cycle. In games like Necklace of the Kings, or all those webtoons and webnovels, didn't strong dragons just get raided until they fell? Win them over, or hide where no one could find you.
Needed a plan. But this dragon's ingrained memories and habits kept my body glued in place. Innate laziness. Apathy toward everything. It was seeped into my flesh.
...Eh, it'll work out somehow.
So I went back to sleep. The more I thought and moved, the more my head hurt. If I didn't nap now, I'd lose it and raze a village or something.
This was... maximum happiness for the masses, or... uh.... Sleepy….
Meanwhile, as the Red Dragon of the Apocalypse drifted off…
At the ruined temple's entrance—the cave midway up Hyahir Mountain—a crowd had gathered.
"Is that true, Expedition Leader?"
One of the crowd's leaders, Captain Tarian, couldn't believe Einhardt's words.
"…Yes. It already knew we were coming."
"How in the world…? No, that must be the Red Dragon of the Apocalypse for you."
"Those yellow, massive eyes scanned my soul. It sussed us out just from my gear and weapons."
"Heh, fitting for the beast with that cunning tongue. Wait—what? Then how did you make it back alive…?!"
Tarian couldn't process it. What was the 'Red Dragon'? Even gods treaded lightly. It had lived eons, near-immortal among mortals. Gods from beyond the material plane couldn't touch it easily. And was there any mortal who could?
Even famed grand mages said to leave it be. Advice from ascended saints? No chance of winning.
And that thing….
"It's infamous for its foul temper—wiping out anyone it deems an enemy. Just 200 years ago, it tracked thieves to their nations and burned them down!"
Bad temper too. No matter how Tarian thought, Einhardt should've been dead.
"…You're talking like you wanted me gone."
"N-no, that's not—"
"Sigh, I know. Among the expedition, I had the best silver tongue, so I volunteered. No hard feelings. I'm just… surprised myself. Sorry for the harsh words, Tarian."
Einhardt gazed back at the cave, replaying his encounter in his mind. Then he turned to the 400-odd elite expedition members. He simulated the battle in his head, running the numbers.
...No matter how I slice it, no path to victory.
The verdict was clear. This was a hopeless fight.
He got why the higher-ups wanted the 'Red Dragon' gone. Its unpredictable presence disrupted trade routes over the mountains. But to kill it? Every nation uniting for an all-out assault was the only answer.
Thinking a mere 400 elites could do it? Arrogance from everyone, himself included.
"But one thing's certain… it held no malice toward me. Like it won't strike first unless we do."
"That can't be! The Red Dragon would never—"
"—It showed me mercy. Sent me back unscathed, even knowing my intent."
"Could be a trap!"
"Then let's all 400 charge in, die, and watch it burn our homes to ash?"
"…You might be overthinking, Sir Einhardt. These are elites from every nation. We have a shot."
"That's a fool's opinion from someone who hasn't seen it."
So he made his call.
"…We retreat. The expedition ends here."
Impossible from the start. An unclimbable peak, an uncrossable river. He issued the cold, decisive order.
"Figures."
Some packed up and headed home swiftly.
"Still, worth peeking inside once. Anyone wanna join me for the end of the line?"
Others plunged in, knowing death awaited.
And one desperate soul…
...Merciful now? If I snag just a bit of treasure, I could get medicine to save Mother.
…ventured in for different reasons.
Thus, Einhardt's expedition met its complicated end.
Without the red dragon slumbering in its gold even realizing.