As he looked at the gun barrel aimed at him, Yeomyeong let out a hollow chuckle—a laugh born out of sheer disbelief.

"Shooting me in the back just because the deal didn’t work out, huh?"

Thinking back on how one-sided this "deal" had been, he realized the audacity was staggering.

"These guys… every last one of them…."

With a sigh, Yeomyeong raised his hands. A mere pistol bullet? He could just block it with his arm and regenerate afterward.

However, no matter how long he waited, no bullet struck his arm.

In fact, he didn’t even hear a gunshot.

Sensing something strange, Yeomyeong lowered his arm, and what he saw was a peculiar sight.

A world completely frozen in time.

From Darulma cautiously stepping down the stairs, to the Saintess just beginning to turn her head, to the soldiers who had been watching them—all were frozen. Even the crazed expression of Colonel Jung, and the muzzle of the gun spitting fire, had stopped entirely.

“…What is this?”

Perhaps it was due to the number of bizarre things he’d encountered recently, but Yeomyeong felt more of a strange familiarity than surprise.

He rubbed his temples briefly, then tried to heighten his senses by drawing in mana. Or rather, he intended to.

But as he summoned his mana, the frozen Darulma suddenly spoke.

[You’re not even surprised? Not a single reaction? What’s the point of all my effort, then?]

It wasn’t Darulma’s usual voice; instead, it was a soft, unfamiliar Dwarven voice.

“Darulma?”

When Yeomyeong turned his head, Darulma—or rather, something that had taken over Darulma’s body—shrugged.

[Do I look like the heir of the Doon family?]

Over Darulma’s form, a translucent dwarf appeared, clad in luxurious attire with a large crown atop his head.

“…The Dwarven King.”

[That title’s too brief. The real title is something like this.]

Before Yeomyeong could process, the spirit of the Dwarven king—or whatever similar being it was—struck an exaggerated pose to introduce himself.

[I am the rightful king of the Dragon Scale Mountains, the descendant of heroes, the rightful owner of Gal Uragan, friend of dragons, ruler of unicorns and great moles, master of the vast mountain range, steward of the grand way, father of all dwarves, blessed by the five gods, lord of stone, hammer of Redox, friend of the emperor of the empire, mediator of the five assemblies, terror of orcs, foremost craftsman of gold, overseer of coins, and among countless other titles…]

What on earth was this lunatic rambling about? As Yeomyeong raised an eyebrow at the thought, the dwarf added.

[…You may call me Dabarl Hylin. I’ll graciously allow you to use the name Dabarl.]

“…Just Yeomyeong. Just a regular human.”

Yeomyeong folded his arms, to which the Dwarven king wiggled his fingers.

[What happened to the title Dragonslayer?]

“…Dragonslayer? I’ve never killed a dragon.”

Yeomyeong glanced back at the red dragon lying behind him. Though it bore scars on its legs and wings, the dragon was still alive.

[Then call yourself the Dragon Defeater. The more titles, the better.]

Who was this guy? Yeomyeong pondered whether to kill this dwarf ghost.

The only reason he refrained was the fear that Darulma might inadvertently get killed too…

[Now that introductions are over, Dragon Defeater Yeomyeong, will you converse with me?]

Figuring refusal would get him nowhere, Yeomyeong slumped down onto the stairs of the watchtower.

“Make it quick.”

[That might be difficult.]

“….”

[Put yourself in my place. After keeping silent for decades, how could I make it quick?]

Yeomyeong quietly drew forth a surge of mana, gathering it in his fist. Seeing the mana, Dabarl Hylin smirked and spoke.

[How much do you know about me?]

“…What others know, I suppose. The last king of the dwarves.”

[The foolish king who flew to Moscow only to be shot down?]

Yeomyeong didn’t respond—a silent affirmation.

[You’ve probably learned that my recklessness had political and practical reasons, yes? To gain the world’s attention and bring the Soviets to the negotiation table, that was the best course…]

The Dwarven king sighed before he continued.

[…Or so history claims. As with all history, the truth is a bit harsher and more sorrowful.]

A hidden truth behind history. Perhaps, in another life, if he were the janitor fascinated by documentaries, he’d be interested…

But right now, it was the least of his concerns. Yeomyeong shook his head.

“I don’t particularly care to know.”

[Is that so? What if it’s not history but destiny I’m speaking of?]

“If you’re going to say it’s my fate to be destroyed by the Soviets…”

[No, no, not that. I’m talking about destiny, like the one the World Tree's Decision spoke to you about.]

“…What?”

The World Tree’s Decision? The mention piqued Yeomyeong’s curiosity, and Dabarl added,

[How much do you know about destiny?]

“….”

[Judging by that expression, you’d punch me if I went on too long. Alright, I’ll keep it as short as possible.]

The dwarf cleared his throat before he began.

[In this world, there exists… a flow that never changes. For example, the World Tree’s Decision you consumed was originally meant for a demon.]

“A demon?”

[Haven’t you already met them? Not quite male or female, flying around in the sky…]

Before he even finished the description, a figure came to mind.

“…Pasun.”

A strange martial artist who flew through the sky, employed by the government, with little else known about them. But the title "demon" suited them perfectly. Their personality, their greed… everything was more demonic than human.

[Pasun, huh? The name’s slightly different from the one I know, but whatever. You altered their destiny.]

“…Eating the World Tree’s Decision changes fate to that extent?”

[If that were all, I wouldn’t have brought it up. Originally, Pasun was supposed to consume the heart of Orsse Tabul and claim the Golden Seal.]

The heart of the dragon and the Golden Seal. Thinking of the items Pasun had sought, Yeomyeong’s brows furrowed.

[Yet, where are they now? Oh, right. The dragon is still alive, and the Golden Seal is stashed up there.]

Yeomyeong remained silent, mulling over the king’s words. If he hadn’t been in Manju…

Pasun would have likely attacked the mercenary group, stolen the World Tree’s Decision from Darulma Doon, fought the dragon, and claimed the heart and the Golden Seal.

Of course, this was merely speculation. The grand term "destiny" that the Dwarven king used… didn’t quite seem to fit.

[You look doubtful. But I assure you, you’ve altered destiny. Not just once, but three times. Don’t ask me how—I don’t know either.]

The Dwarven king laughed, a hollow and empty laugh.

[I… believed in destiny’s immutability for a long time. I sacrificed myself willingly because of it. And yet… to meet someone who defies destiny only after death.]

“…So what is it you want from me? If you have something to say, don’t drag it out.”

[You were expecting a request, weren’t you? You must be accustomed to receiving demands or being tested. Seems those around you never left you alone.]

Yeomyeong’s lips twitched.

[I understand that feeling well. The world doesn’t leave remarkable people alone.]

“…Please, get to the point.”

[If that’s what you want, then… it’s not a grand request. All I ask is that you spare my old friend.]

An old friend? Following the Dwarven king’s gaze, Yeomyeong turned to see the red dragon bound in restraints.

[Orsse Tabul. My friend. I never told him the truth. I used him for my destiny.]

“….”

[And he… blamed himself, going mad believing my death was his fault.]

Unbidden, Yeomyeong recalled the dragon’s tormented cries, its misplaced thirst for vengeance against communists.

Where the Saintess and the mercenaries felt fear, Yeomyeong felt…

A kinship.

“…Tell me a good reason why I should spare that dragon.”

Yet that feeling of sympathy wasn’t reason enough to release the dragon.

Sympathizing with its revenge and giving up resources for it were two separate matters.

[Didn’t you just say you’d release my friend?]

“….”

[Hm, just a joke. I already knew it was a bluff. Though I didn’t expect someone to suddenly pull the trigger.]

The Dwarven king glanced at the frozen Colonel Jung before smoothing his translucent beard.

[…Justice or gain. Which reason would suit you better?]

“Gain.”

Yeomyeong answered without hesitation. Justice? That wasn’t a word that held meaning for him.

The Dwarven king, however, seemed to have a different perspective.

[Interesting. The man who sacrificed himself to save Manju now speaks of gain over justice?]

Yeomyeong almost replied that it wasn’t about justice; he fought to fulfill the Saintess’s foresight, honor his deal with Darulma, and secure the dragon’s body.

But seeing the subtle smile on the Dwarven king’s face, he realized that saying anything would be pointless.

After all, he hadn’t received any true reward yet for helping the Saintess save Manju.

“Think what you like,” Yeomyeong replied flatly.

The Dwarven king laughed heartily, patting his beard.

[Regardless of your true intentions, since you chose gain over justice, I’ll approach it accordingly.]

With that, he extended his hand toward the watchtower. What was he planning?

Yeomyeong turned just as something flew toward the king’s hand.

Clack. Like a magnet, it landed perfectly in his grasp—a massive seal emanating golden energy.

The Golden Seal.

The artifact that almost destroyed Manju, and the prized Dwarven relic Darulma had been so desperate to recover.

[Would giving you something more valuable than a dragon’s corpse meet your terms of gain?]

The king offered the seal to Yeomyeong, who looked down at it for a moment before turning his gaze back to the Dwarven king’s face, superimposed over Darulma’s.

“This won’t be enough.”

Certainly, the Golden Seal was likely more valuable than the dragon’s corpse, bearing historical and cultural significance for an entire race.

But what Yeomyeong sought was not abstract value, but practical, immediate power.

Compared to the tangible benefits he could gain from the dragon’s bones, scales, and heart, the Seal’s abilities seemed… at most, capable of digging tunnels.

If he could wait decades for it to unleash a volcanic eruption, it might be a formidable weapon, but he neither had that kind of time nor any reason to wait.

[You say it’s insufficient, but do you even know what the Seal can do?]

“…Tunneling magic?”

[You know only its simplest function. Do you really think an item symbolizing kingship has nothing more to it?]

In this world, symbols of kingship were rarely that extraordinary.

As Yeomyeong considered this, the king flung the Seal toward the dragon.

Or rather, at the restraints binding the dragon.

Click!

The moment the Seal touched the restraints, their locks disengaged.

Though the frozen world showed no immediate change, the restraints would fall off the dragon the moment time resumed.

[Did you see that? This is one of the powers granted to the Seal’s rightful owner. The ability to unlock any lock in existence.]

When the king raised his hand, the Seal flew back into his grasp.

“I can see it’s a useful ability, but hardly…”

[…Hardly?]

“It doesn’t seem particularly useful to me.”

[….]

“Anything else?”

[With enough mana, it can also break seals or bindings. Though it’s unfortunate I don’t have an example to show around here.]

The ability to break seals and bindings. For a symbol of kingship, it seemed rather modest…

But Yeomyeong had no choice but to accept the Seal.

The moment he heard it could break bindings, he remembered a certain girl who bore one.