"***

58 seconds earlier.

At the moment Commander Kwon yelled and the dragon raised the Imperial Seal, the Saintess sensed things had taken a dire turn.

Even without her foresight, it was clear that talking wouldn’t solve this anymore.

She reloaded her gun. Now, she only had one magazine left.

The thought of fighting a dragon with just sixty bullets made her vision swim.

'...But I still have to try.'

With this resolve, she put her finger on the trigger and caught sight of Yeomyeong.

The man who, like her only friend, somehow clouded her foresight.

He was staring up at the dragon, lips tightly closed.

Was he scared? No, that wasn't it. Hadn't he been the first to jump off the truck against the attackers and climb the cliff?

If he was the kind to be frightened, he wouldn’t have made it this far.

So that look on his face wasn't fear; it was...

'He's contemplating.'

Whether to risk his life in this fight or to turn and leave the valley.

The Saintess bit her lip. She wanted to ask him to stay and fight, but the words stuck in her throat.

To ask him to stay would be asking him to die with her.

"Yeomyeong, are you… not going to fight?"

In the end, the words that escaped her were indirect, hiding her true feelings.

A weak and petty question, hoping he’d answer as she wished, yet without the courage to be honest.

Whether he realized her hopes or not, Yeomyeong sighed shortly and replied.

"The weapons you have—are they everything?"

She flinched, glancing at the weapon in her hands.

One rifle, sixty bullets.

She had lightened her load for the motorcycle ride here, and after fighting the pig-headed soldiers, this was all she had left.

Yeomyeong wasn't much better off, either. Just a shotgun, a worn-down sword, and a few remaining grenades and bullets.

"I don’t know if Darulma deceived us or if he genuinely didn’t know, but... if he expected us to face a young dragon, we’re outmatched with this gear."

"But still…"

As she tried to speak, Yeomyeong cut her off.

"Realistically, our only option is for Manchurian forces to arrive before we die."

"...."

"Given the distance from the Manchurian base to here… even if they hurry, it will take two hours. We’d have to hold off the dragon until then. Can you manage that?"

There was no need to think. It was impossible.

"...So, are you suggesting we run?"

Unable to refute his reasoning, the Saintess asked, almost accusingly. Yeomyeong’s calm eyes met her patch.

"You were the one who said you wouldn’t risk your life."

He reminded her of what she’d said before they’d set out.

-If the situation looks impossible, we’ll retreat.

The Saintess clenched her fists. She wished she could brush it off as a lie, but she couldn't.

Politically, she couldn't afford to die here.

In her mind, she knew they should flee.

But her heart wouldn’t allow it. She didn't want to run away.

"...If we leave now, countless people will die."

"They probably will."

"Innocent people… will die, unjustly. Can you just stand by and let that happen?"

Why did she realize her regret only after voicing such sentiments?

Her mind filled with countless arguments against her own words.

'Do you expect me to fight a mad dragon for people I don’t even know?'

'Or was it my fault your mother pointed a gun at me?'

...In every way, logic was on Yeomyeong’s side.

All she had were her emotions and a stubborn hope that he’d risk his life with her.

Bracing herself for a sharp retort, she closed her eyes tightly. At least the eye patch hid her eyes, so he wouldn’t see her tears if she shed them.

But, to her surprise, Yeomyeong didn’t offer any harsh words or rebuttal.

"...I'm sorry."

His voice was calm.

"I have something I must do. It’s more important than anything else and not something I can compromise on."

"...."

"So I can’t risk my life here."

It was a sincere answer, free of any falsehood.

Expecting a clash of emotions, the Saintess was left speechless.

With an empty heart, her convictions clashed with reality, sparks flying in her chest, her body shaking.

Unable to hold back, she blurted something out.

"But if we give up now…."

"...."

"The people of Manchuria, what about them… all our efforts until now… huh? All those innocent lives, I…."

Half-formed words spilled from her lips, and Yeomyeong gently grasped her shoulder.

"If you’re set on dying here, I won’t stop you. But…"

"...But?"

"If you intend to live, take my hand. I can manage to carry one person out."

Yeomyeong extended his hand. She looked at it for a moment, realizing this was his final offer.

If she refused, there’d be no turning back. The bike they’d come on was out of fuel, and the mad dragon wouldn’t let them leave.

It was a choice between risking her life against slim odds with the dragon or surviving for another day.

The answer was almost obvious. If she died here, even more blood would be spilled.

'…I have no choice.'

She loosened her grip on the gun to take Yeomyeong’s hand. Or so she intended.

Just then, something trickled over her scalp.

No one else could sense it, but it was a feeling deeply familiar to her. A sensation only she could experience in this world.

'...Foresight?'

Yet it wasn’t her foresight.

It was being shown to her, forcibly, by the gods high above or by something of equal power.

The Saintess accepted it without resistance. Hidden beneath her eye patch, her eyes glowed as she saw glimpses of the future.

Flash!

As the dragon’s magic circle activated, the sky turned golden.

Above her head, the magic circle’s light appeared like a halo.

She looked up slightly, her white hair bathed in the golden light as she met Yeomyeong’s gaze.

20 seconds.

The glow of the magic circle didn’t last long. Moments later, the halo faded, and she offered a gentle smile.

“Hey, don’t tell me…”

Sensing something amiss, Yeomyeong tried to speak, but she cut him off.

“You’re still a good person.”

"...What?"

“Not very good at mind games, though.”

An out-of-place, resolute comment. He couldn’t help but furrow his brows as he looked at her.

“Did you… use foresight as well?”

“Who knows?”

11 seconds.

“Hey!”

Ignoring him, she ran toward the dragon.

With each step, she gathered mana, blessing her magazine with it.

Enhancing power, speed, accuracy, and mana penetration.

Rumble!!

The ground shook violently, making it nearly impossible to aim, but it was no hindrance to her.

'Oh Venul, god of the blue, grant me ascent.'

She prayed to the god of wisdom and elevation, and her prayer was answered.

Buzz.

Her body lifted slightly from the ground as she ran.

It wasn’t quite flight, but just high enough to escape the quakes. Calmly, she raised her gun.

2 seconds.

Now, aim.

1 second.

She pulled the trigger without hesitation.

 

Kreeeeagh!!

The dragon roared in agony as the bullet pierced its eye. It was a completely unexpected ambush.

Not only had the shot struck directly in the eye, but it had also penetrated the mana surrounding it?

The dragon covered its bleeding eye, frantically gathering mana.

Anticipating the next attack, it formed a shield around its neck and face, then unleashed a blazing inferno toward the source of the bullet.

Fwoosh!!

It was an excessive reaction for a single bullet, but the pain in its eye had dredged up memories of anti-dragon artillery.

"[Who dares interfere with my vengeance?!]"

It bellowed, ready to burn the entire valley to ash.

Yet as the ground burned, the magic circle in the sky dimmed, and the tremors lessened.

The dragon’s concentration was wavering.

Everyone in the valley seized the opportunity.

The Saintess moved to a new vantage point, and the mercenaries and Commander Kwon began sprinting up the cliff to avoid its gaze.

Deep in the valley, even the demon trapped in the dragon’s cave made his move.

"Damn lizard bastard."

Covered in dust, Pasun emerged from the very hole the dragon had used to enter.

His winter suit was tattered from the underground fight, evidence of its difficulty.

Pasun spat on the ground, shaking off the dust.

“To think it’d flee without even fighting.”

Though he grumbled, a smirk played on his face.

He’d managed to scavenge a trove of treasures hidden by the dragon while he was trapped in the cave: dwarf artifacts, jewels, and potions the dragon had hoarded.

"Hey, you dumb lizard! Look at this!"

Pasun waved a large bag toward the dragon, whose eye was bleeding.

Jingle! The bag of treasures clinked, catching the dragon’s attention.

"[So you broke the seal already. Lucky, you filthy thief.]"

Finally composed, the dragon snarled at Pasun over the burning valley.

“Thief? Then what should I call the homeowner who locks up and flees when a thief comes? An idiot? A moron?”

Pasun taunted, stepping on thin air.

As he moved, his body floated upward as if he were stepping on invisible stairs.

An unusual martial art, one the dragon couldn’t identify, carried Pasun up to eye level with it.

"[Stalin and those communists were as vile and shameless as you, coveting what wasn’t theirs without a hint of shame.]"

"Why blame others for your stupidity? If you can’t defend it, don’t hoard treasure.”

"[A beast with no morals! You think you can say anything with that wretched mouth.]"

The dragon lowered its claw from its eye. Blood still flowed from it, though it wasn’t a fatal injury.

It had momentarily lost its senses from the memory of past terrors, but the situation was still firmly in its favor.

Ohr Se Tabul lifted the Imperial Seal, gathering mana.

"[Speak of power before me, will you? Fine. I’ll show you the true meaning of strength.]"

"Go ahead."

Pasun raised his fist, his gaze sweeping below.

The seal in the cave must have broken because someone had shot the dragon’s eye.

A bullet that pierced the dragon’s eye? There was no need to ask who had fired it; it was obvious.

'The Saintess must be hiding somewhere in this valley.'

Pasun licked his lips, recalling the woman who’d shot him in the shoulder.

'If the Saintess is here, that means Cheon Yeomyeong is, too...'

Lucky me. He chuckled. After gathering all these treasures, he’d be able to handle both of them.

"Looks like the only thing left is your heart and a few scales. Seems like I’ve gathered everything I can. Care to be generous?"

It was a sneering taunt. The dragon was about to reply, but Pasun didn’t wait for an answer.

As the dragon gathered mana, Pasun was already running toward it in midair.

"Since you’re a dragon, cough up a core and die already!"

As Pasun’s fist closed in, Ohr Se Tabul flared its wings in rage.

"[Shut—up—!!]"

The sky turned gold again as demon and dragon clashed.

 

Yeomyeong stood beside the motorcycle his group had left behind, looking out over the golden valley.

Though he knew it was the right choice to retreat, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

It wasn’t for any grand reason.

'…Innocent deaths.'

From the moment the Saintess had said those words, the thought of the dead cleaners hadn’t left his mind.

Squad Leader, Dukbae, Brother Chunshik, and James… family who had died without knowing why, without doing anything wrong.

Had the Saintess gotten under his skin? The innocent deaths awaiting the Manchurian people overlapped with those of his family.

If the dragon set off the volcanoes, wouldn’t the people of Manchuria be buried in ash, slaughtered by monsters descending in the chaos?

They’d die without knowing why, without any wrongdoing…

Just like the cleaners had.

'But that’s not… a reason for me to risk my life. Especially if I think of Squad Leader and the others.'

He swallowed his thoughts and turned to leave.

But before he could turn his back fully, a resounding impact came from the valley.

Thunk!

It sounded like someone had been swatted by a giant fly swatter. Something flew toward him from the valley’s direction.

Squinting, he saw it was a person—a rather familiar one.

Pasun, the one who had disappeared with the horse, hurtled in Yeomyeong’s direction.

Crash, smash!

He collided with a tree, snapping branches and tumbling across the rocky ground before finally coming to rest at Yeomyeong’s feet, within reach of his sword.

"…Ah, damn it."

Thanks to his mana, Pasun was uninjured, though his face twisted with irritation.

"With a body like this… to be knocked around by a lizard, of all things."

As he scratched the back of his head, Yeomyeong wondered if he should strike him with his sword.

While Yeomyeong was deciding, Pasun sensed his presence and turned his head.

The moment their eyes met, Yeomyeong swung his sword.

!

Pasun barely rolled away, narrowly dodging the blade.

Not entirely unscathed—his neck bore a thin line of blood.

"Damn it! Rolling twice in one day."

Pasun clutched his neck, glaring at Yeomyeong.

"Yeomyeong, attacking from ambush with skills like that? Have you no shame?"

Shame? Yeomyeong chuckled, almost in disbelief.

"Really? Didn’t someone try to ambush me from behind earlier?"

"Ah, true enough."

Pasun chuckled too, clenching his fists. Both men began gathering mana simultaneously.

It seemed they might clash at any moment, but then Pasun suddenly asked,

"So why are you all the way out here, in the opposite direction from the dragon’s valley? Weren’t you planning to fight it?"

"..."

"Were you… on your way to call for military support?"

Though his answer was a bit off the mark, Yeomyeong didn’t correct him.

The brief silence that followed was enough for Pasun to interpret as confirmation.

"[Fools, do you think you can escape me?!]"

The dragon’s voice shattered the tenuous silence as it activated the magic circle.

The ground shook again, and the valley turned golden.

Pasun looked between the valley and Yeomyeong, then shrugged.

"If backup arrives in this situation… tsk, no other way."

He raised his hands, dispelling both his killing intent and his mana.

…What was he doing? Surrendering? Yeomyeong frowned.

The next words out of Pasun’s mouth almost made him drop his sword in shock.

"Hey, forget the reinforcements. You, me, and the Saintess—how about the three of us take down that lizard together?"

"...What?"

"In return, I get the dragon core. You and the Saintess can split the bones and scales. Deal?"

A sudden, incomprehensible offer. Yeomyeong gripped his sword tighter to keep from letting go.

"…What nonsense are you spouting? Why should I trust you?"

"Who said you had to trust me? I just said let’s work together."

"..."

"It’s a simple story, right? Postpone the fight for the best possible gain."

Yeomyeong was about to outright reject him—meaning, to swing his sword at Pasun’s throat.

But just as he infused mana into his sword, a familiar voice in his mind stayed his hand.

"[O Sympathy, accept the fiend’s proposal.]"