Dragons Are Lazy
Dragons are lazy. They live through eons of time, and since no one can easily stand against them, they grow indolent. But among them all, the Red Dragon was the laziest.
For 200 years, countless events unfolded beyond his cave, yet he slumbered inside without a care. And those 200 years were enough to shift perceptions of the "Apocalyptic Red Dragon" from an immediate catastrophe to a mere "non-urgent hazard."
Even in South Korea, where North Korea is perpetually viewed as the primary enemy with military strategies built around it, few truly believed a real war would break out. It took about 70 years for that threat to fade into something invisible and dull. So, how did the people of this world now see the Red Dragon?
Of course, he was dangerous. But there had been no real movement from him. Most who had witnessed his rampages were long dead. Even long-lived races only spanned 150 to 200 years. There were those who had glimpsed him in their youth, but few truly understood his peril.
But now, that being...
—Roarrr...!
He was moving. The entity once called a "calamity" was burning trees, forests, the very earth. Straight toward Yggdrasil.
From his lair, he incinerated everything in a direct line to Yggdrasil.
"Wh-what in the world... Why is this happening...!"
Levandor couldn't comprehend it. Through the crystal orb, the Red Dragon breathed flames without hesitation. No mercy, no hesitation—just the singular intent to burn the path ahead.
'Hadn't he become merciful? Didn't we offer gold?!'
She—Elenoa—had come bearing gold and moonflowers.
'We sent official diplomats!'
Levandor had poured every effort into sincere communication with the Red Dragon.
'Not as intruders, but as true guests!!'
Everything done to avoid displeasing him. All focus poured into making the Red Dragon view Yggdrasil favorably.
—Roarrrrr...!!!
But those efforts meant nothing. The "calamity" advanced toward Yggdrasil day by day. Shattering protective spells woven by countless elf mages. Incinerating soldiers who tried to bar his way.
As if embodying the word "calamity" itself, he drew near.
And finally, when the "calamity" stood before Yggdrasil,
He halted before them and opened his maw.
An arrogant, tyrannical ultimatum only the "Apocalyptic Red Dragon" could utter.
Spoken in Dragon Tongue, infused with magic.
*To be honest, I hate the outside world. And I have no particular desire to burn it down.
So why did I choose this path? Because it was the most efficient option.
The people of this era have forgotten about "me." Without that ingrained fear of what shouldn't be touched, they keep crossing lines. Elenoa is the perfect example.
She offered my own gold to invoke my dignity and even brought moonflowers as tribute. Yet, ignoring her warning, they shoved their faces in again?
The iron fist that fell on them was no more than they deserved.
Even then.
I was extending mercy once more. Naturally. Even diluted as it was, I was once human. I took no pleasure in killing, nor did I crave massacre.
Just judgment upon those who sinned against me. That was my goal.
I descended indifferently into Yggdrasil's plaza and declared it calmly.
Then.
"...!"
No one could easily speak. No one could move.
They had tried to block my path here and failed. Those who could flee had already gone. These remnants had no choice but to stay—stripped of will, pathetic puppets awaiting their master's whim.
That was how the elves appeared in my eyes.
And breaking that silence was an unexpected figure.
A woman with golden hair and striking beauty, though she looked frail and unwell.
She alone spoke amid the hush.
"...By chance, what became of Elenoa?"
Hearing that, I knew who she was.
"...Yes, that's right. I heard I survived thanks to the mercy you bestowed."
Elenoa's mother. Isabella, blood of the one elf with any real use.
I ignored the other useless elves and focused on her.
"...I'm relieved. Truly, truly relieved."
She smiled faintly at my question.
"That my daughter is alive."
"I never wanted my daughter to die because of me. And now the merciful Red Dragon has bestowed grace once more. How could that not be relieving?"
No hint of regret from her. Just the bond of blood and family.
"And I... I want to watch over my daughter until my life ends. So, to atone for the elves' sins, I will walk that path of hellfire."
Unlike the others hesitating, she nodded to my proposal. Purely out of love for her daughter, volunteering for the inferno.
I was quite satisfied. I had no intention of killing her for Elenoa's loyalty anyway. But this forward attitude? An unexpected bonus.
"...Yes, I understand."
So I let her mount my back. To witness Yggdrasil's destruction. To confirm her choice was right.
I circled the skies, proclaiming it.
****
"Already... already gone? Where is that bas—er, that lord now?!"
"In the skies above, right now..."
"Grrgh, damn it...! Damn them all! You worthless scum...!!!"
Levandor rushed to the plaza upon hearing the Red Dragon had come, but alas, he had already departed.
But the root problem lay elsewhere.
"The Red Dragon offered a choice, Great Chieftain."
"A choice? What nonsense is that."
"...Perish with Yggdrasil, or follow the flames to his lair. Those were the two options."
A choice. That was the real issue.
Perish with Yggdrasil? What madness. Yggdrasil was their world tree, their home. The tree crafted by Verinal, god of life and magic who birthed the elves—die with it? Unthinkable.
But walk that flame path? The inferno still roaring, though no longer spreading. Skin would blister, agony cling to any who passed.
Levandor couldn't choose that either.
"Ne-negotiate...! We must negotiate. Offer all our gold and treasures to nullify this!"
"B-but..."
"What's the problem now?!"
"Many have already headed into the flames."
And here arose another crisis.
They had beheld the Red Dragon. Seen the path he forged.
An unstoppable force, impervious to death. If they endured the pain, atoned for their kin's sins, they could survive under his protection.
They moved first.
"Wh-what?! With Verinal watching, how dare they commit such treachery!!"
Levandor couldn't fathom it. No, he mustn't.
As Great Chieftain, he bore the duty to protect Yggdrasil. No matter how mighty the Red Dragon, he was mortal. Kill him, and the tree would be safe.
"We must kill him... Only by slaying that beast can we live. Rip out his throat, pierce his heart—that's how we survive!!"
"Th-then how—"
"—Now! Summon the elite forces immediately! Yggdrasil's finest, with me leading, can do this! I'm not like those fools...!"
Levandor couldn't retreat. A sliver of conscience gnawed at him. Wasn't he partly to blame for this doom?
Fundamentally, it was Elenoa's fault for tangling with the Red Dragon. More precisely, all of it was her doing.
Yet still. A tiny, rice-grain-sized share of responsibility clung to him.
"B-but the Red Dragon set noon as the deadline! Time is short!"
"Indeed, Great Chieftain! Many have gone to the flames, few remain!"
"Silence! I must—I must stop them. Yggdrasil is eternal, and so am I. I won't die here, not now—"
That instant.
His voice echoed.
Dragon Tongue—a voice that tore at the soul just to hear.
The scent of roasting flesh mingled with thick sulfur and char.
—Krunch, krraaunch!
—Roarrrrrr!!!
It burned. It crumbled. Their home.
The heart of the elves vanished.
"N-no...! This can't—"
And Levandor's words vanished too.
Plotting strategy from Yggdrasil's top conference room, he perished with it.
Under the name of "calamity."
Under the name of "Apocalyptic Red Dragon."
All he had was erased.
His flames were fierce, violent. Thorough enough to drown out even their screams. Overwhelming, supreme fire no one could resist.
Enough to utterly consume Yggdrasil.
Gazing at the inferno he wrought, he said.
And she, mounted on his back, beheld it calmly.
"...Karma, my Red Dragon. The elves' retribution."
The sin of the race. The crime of elfkind.
A dispassionate verdict from one who witnessed their fate.
Thus, Yggdrasil was erased from the map.
In a single day.