As soon as the introductions were over, Yeomyeong turned his head, scanning his surroundings.

Weapons aimed at them, tense soldiers on edge, and officers rushing into the warehouse. The most striking among them was a bronze-skinned officer bearing stars on his uniform.

Even from a distance, the officer's fierce expression and aura were unmistakable. Behind him, a group of superhumans stood, including Jang Mafil, who had once lost an arm to Yeomyeong. It looked like every superhuman at the Manju base had been mobilized.

"They're ready to fight if things go south, huh."

But that wouldn't happen. Yeomyeong offered the officer a light smile before turning his gaze back.

The dragon wiped away the blood trickling from his eyes and spoke.

[Earthling Cheon Yeomyeong. What is it that you desire from me?]

"Nothing."

[…?]

"I’ve already received plenty from your friend."

Yeomyeong held up the Golden Seal, showing it off. The dragon looked at the Seal, then tilted his head in confusion.

[You… intend to let me go just like that?]

"Yes."

Yeomyeong shrugged nonchalantly.

The dragon narrowed his eyes, leaning so close that Yeomyeong could feel his breath.

[I do not understand. I sought to bring catastrophe upon your land.]

"But you failed before you could."

[That only makes it more puzzling. I am a defeated avenger. Will you simply relinquish your right of conquest and vengeance?]

His voice was low, almost reverent in disbelief. Yeomyeong nodded without a moment’s hesitation.

"I promised your friend: I receive compensation, and you get to live. Simple as that."

The dragon didn’t point out that the only proof of their deal was the Golden Seal, meaning Yeomyeong could alter the terms however he wished.

No, he couldn’t point it out. Yeomyeong asked for nothing from him.

Why? If Yeomyeong had twisted his friend’s words, demanding the dragon serve him, he would have complied. It wouldn’t have been difficult; the moment he’d heard his friend’s oath, he wouldn’t have questioned Yeomyeong’s words.

But he didn’t. Was it because he’d already received his compensation? The Golden Seal was a magnificent treasure, but… as far as the dragon knew, human greed was boundless.

Half doubtful, half curious, the dragon focused his senses on Yeomyeong but found no malice or schemes within him.

Almost as if mocking his suspicions, Yeomyeong pushed the dragon’s face away and spoke.

“This explanation should be enough. Now, go wherever you wish before the soldiers behind us change their minds.”

Only the Saintess seemed startled by Yeomyeong’s words, spoken quietly.

"Hey! If you’re going to let him go, at least tell him not to seek revenge!"

Unlike her panicked tone, Yeomyeong remained calm.

“Why?”

“Why? Because if he goes on a revenge spree…”

“With no Seal, he can’t burn down Manju, and Stalin’s been gone for ages.”

Yeomyeong cut her off, sounding as if he couldn’t see the problem. Before she could respond, he continued.

“If he rushes into Moscow’s air defenses and dies… well, Russia’s government might like that.”

The Saintess opened her mouth, glancing back and forth between Yeomyeong and the dragon, seemingly speechless or maybe just at a loss.

A short silence followed before the dragon let out a puff of air.

[An earthling who comprehends my thirst for vengeance?]

With a short, humorless laugh, the dragon recalled Yeomyeong’s words from their previous battle.

“Your vengeance is justified.”

Why had this earthling told him such a thing? Only now did Orsse Tabul grasp the sincerity behind those words.

[So, you too are like me…]

…an avenger.

The dragon held back his words. The Saintess seemed entirely unaware of Yeomyeong’s sense of vengeance.

It was understandable. She was the Saintess, chosen by the five gods. She would never condone revenge.

Vengeance didn’t seek understanding, and thus, it was always solitary.

Swallowing a strange sense of kinship, the dragon rose.

As his massive form shifted, the warehouse floor trembled, and the walls quaked. The tense soldiers pointed their weapons at him, ready to fire, but he paid them no mind.

With the Saintess and Yeomyeong releasing him, the humans here were no match for him.

[Saintess and Earthling Cheon Yeomyeong,]

The dragon, standing on all fours and spreading his wings, looked down at the two of them.

[I thank you both for your kindness and mercy. I wish I could offer more than just words, but I have little to give right now.]

“We’re good. Now, farewell—”

Yeomyeong was about to respond on his own when the Saintess immediately silenced him, and addressed the dragon directly.

“Will you… continue your revenge?”

[Not even the gods can prevent righteous vengeance, Saintess.]

The Saintess bit her lip thoughtfully, then raised her head and said,

“Then… please consider it.”

[Consider?]

“Think carefully about whether your target is right, whether your vengeance is just. Think about the impact your revenge will have on Earth and the realms beyond.”

Was it just like a Saintess or simply the words of a girl who didn’t understand vengeance?

Either way, the dragon couldn’t refuse her heartfelt request.

[Very well, Saintess. I will take your words to heart. And… Yeomyeong, is there truly nothing you desire?]

Yeomyeong looked troubled. With the dragon insisting like this, he figured outright refusal might seem impolite.

Glancing around the warehouse, his gaze fell on Darulma, who was watching them with a bewildered expression.

“Then, uh… could you give us a lift?”

[Of course. Where would you like to go?]

“Not far. Just to the Manju base nearby.”

[Gladly.]

With that, the dragon lowered his head, extending his long neck toward the Saintess and Yeomyeong.

The Saintess eagerly climbed onto the dragon’s neck as if seizing a rare opportunity. Yeomyeong, meanwhile, asked the dragon to wait a moment as he headed back to the watchtower to retrieve the treasure box.

The soldiers glared at him with blatant hostility, but none dared to attack.

Ignoring them, Yeomyeong collected the treasure and then approached Darulma, or rather, grabbed him by the hand.

“Wait, Yeomyeong! I… I’m fine. Riding on a dragon’s neck is a great honor, but I can’t just leave my car behind!”

“The military can retrieve it for you.”

“Oh, please! Yeomyeong! I have a fear of heights!”

Fear of heights, really? Yeomyeong chuckled, remembering that Darulma Doon had arrived at the Manju base by helicopter.

“Don’t worry. Surely you won’t die, right?”

And, true to his words, Darulma survived.

Though he screamed for dear life all the way to the Manju base, where they landed amidst a throng of reporters.

 

Morgan, the only dwarf teacher at Lord Howe Academy, gazed out the window of the transport plane with a sigh.

How had things become so complicated?

When he’d boarded the plane in Sydney under orders from the admissions director, he’d been filled with a sense of purpose. Sure, being assigned to find the Sacred Sword’s pupil and oversee a transfer had been a bit intimidating… but wasn’t it all about bringing back an exceptional student? Just part of his duty as an educator.

He’d envisioned the look on the student’s face upon receiving the transfer approval and arrived in Kaesong with some anticipation. But his plans had derailed right from the start.

"Manju base? You can’t go there right now."

Due to the crisis in North Manchuria, all routes to Manju had been closed.

Even wielding his status as an academy teacher got him only a vague promise to “wait.”

Reluctantly, Morgan had reached out to the academy for help.

After three wasted days in Kaesong, the academy finally arranged a seat for him on a military transport.

Only, as it turned out, it was a cargo transport. No dwarf seating, and not a single proper seat in sight.

Crouched among the cargo, Morgan sighed again.

Outside the window, the sky was bright and clear, though it didn’t match his mood at all.

“What the…?”

Just as something appeared among the clouds, Morgan pressed his face to the window.

Glistening red scales in the sunlight, wings larger than the clouds, and a beautifully curved tail.

“…That’s a dragon.”

They’d just reported a dragon subjugation in Manju, and now there was a flying dragon? Was Manju secretly a dragon habitat?

He tried to reason it out, but his eyes sparkled with childlike wonder.

He recalled the old stories his grandfather used to tell about the guardian dragon of the Dwarf Mountains and the legendary hero.

Flying with shining red scales and carrying a king on its neck…

Wait. Did he see that right? Weren’t there three people on the dragon’s neck?

Rubbing his eyes, he watched as the dragon disappeared below the clouds.

“Oh…”

Just as Morgan murmured in regret, an announcement came over the loudspeaker.

“We’ll be arriving at Manju base shortly. Please avoid contact with the cargo.”

 

The moment Morgan stepped off the transport, he was met with a bustling crowd.

“What on earth…?”

His eyes widened at the sight. Compared to the academy’s entrance ceremony, it was a drop in the bucket, but everyone here was holding a camera.

Could all these people really be reporters? Had they gathered every journalist at Manju base?

Suppressing his curiosity, Morgan headed toward the exit.

After all, he was here for a transfer student, not a news story.

As he tried to bypass the reporters… an all-too-familiar dwarf caught his eye.

“…Darulma? The black sheep of the Doon family?”

“Ugh…”

Darulma looked as if he’d been through a typhoon. His once-luxurious suit and precious beard were in tatters.

With a vacant, half-crazed expression, he clearly had been through a lot.

“Hey, Darulma! Don’t you recognize me? It’s me, Morgan! Mal Uragan!”

“…Morgan?”

Darulma looked up at him, slowly piecing the name together.

“Didn’t you… go to the academy? Why… are you here?”

“I’m here for academy business. But you… what happened to you?”

“A… dragon…”

“…A dragon?”

“I… I rode a dragon….”

What nonsense was this? What had he been through to end up like this?

Though bewildered, Morgan shivered at the sheer brutality of Manju base.

The place was swarming with people, yet no one had offered the poor, beaten dwarf a helping hand!

“Hold on, Darulma. I’ll get someone to help you!”

Morgan was about to set down his bags and turn around when he heard a young girl’s voice from the air.

“That won’t be necessary.”

What now? Morgan instinctively took a defensive stance, gathering his mana.

“Oh, he’s just a bit shaken. He’ll be fine after a little rest.”

The lively voice sounded vaguely familiar. Morgan squinted and glared at the empty air from where the voice had come.

“…Who are you? Show yourself.”

“Me? I’m the Saintess.”

“…What?”

In the next moment, a gap opened in the air, revealing the face of a girl wearing an eye patch.

It was a face he’d seen on TV more than once—the Saintess.

Just as quickly, her face disappeared back into the ether. Morgan finally recalled that the Saintess was known for using a cloaking cloak and sucked in a breath.

“Wh-why is the Saintess here…?”

“It’s not really time to talk about me, is it? You’re here on academy business, right?”

“…”

“That person.”

Suddenly, a hand emerged from the empty air, pointing behind Morgan. He instinctively turned to follow her gesture.

A little ways off, reporters were crowding around someone for an interview.

In the center of the flashing cameras was none other than… the golden-eyed young man he had come to find.

“What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be taking him to the academy?”

The Saintess prodded him as he stared in surprise at the young man.

Morgan looked at the reporters, then pulled out a piece of paper from his coat and headed toward them.

The Saintess, watching the dwarf’s retreating figure, finally understood.

“Oh, I see. He didn’t say he wouldn’t go to the academy, just that he didn’t need an admission form.”

Another misread prophecy. The Saintess chuckled softly, watching as Morgan and Yeomyeong met for the first time.