Even with access to Manchuria cut off due to the North Manchurian incident, there were still people who insisted on heading toward the region.

People who sought to turn crisis into opportunity.

The first to act were the mercenaries pursuing money and fame. Among them were foreign mercenary groups hoping to use Manchuria as a stepping stone to secure a foothold near the Kaeseong Dimension Gate, as well as all sorts of opportunists looking to strike it rich, like finding a dragon’s rib bone.

With the mercenaries paving the way, even the Korean military began advancing northward, and the North Manchurian incident began to settle faster than expected. It would take at least a year to fully return to the pre-crisis state, but compared to initial forecasts of Manchuria becoming a lawless land for the next ten years, the results were unexpectedly optimistic.

Behind the blood and sweat of those mercenaries and soldiers, there were others quietly enjoying the boom.

Journalists.

Whether they were dedicated war correspondents or just paparazzi chasing clicks, the journalists who had flocked to Manchuria were screaming with joy every day.

Not only did incidents and accidents explode left and right, but also stories about prominent figures like Tanahashi, the mercenary leader, and the Saintess, and even news hand-fed by the military and government.

To the journalists, Manchuria was like a gold mine, constantly yielding fresh news. And then, an incident occurred that was the crown jewel of these stories...

A dragon.

The enormous shadow appeared over the heads of journalists summoned by a message from the Seonjook Mercenary Group, inviting them to the Manchuria base airfield to witness something incredible.

“It’s a dragon! It’s really a dragon!” “Oh my god.” “Is that... real?”

The dragon, spreading its wings wide and shimmering with crimson scales, landed gracefully on the airfield, lowering its head to let someone disembark.

Some of the reporters recognized the person who stepped down from the dragon.

He was the same rookie mercenary from the Seonjook Mercenary Group, rumored to have fought alongside the Saintess against Kahal Magdu, severed Jeongmapil’s arm, and even participated in the dragon hunt with the military.

He was the protagonist of wild rumors, stories so absurd even the tabloids had to tilt their heads in confusion.

Some reporters among those gathered even speculated he was either a fictional character or a fabricated hero created by the Korean military as propaganda.

But the moment he arrived at the airfield on the back of a dragon, the journalists were convinced that most of the rumors about him must be true.

A human riding a dragon? If he could manage that, there was no telling what else he might have done.

In any case, the reporters unanimously showered the dragon and the rookie mercenary with the flash of cameras.

Some frantically raised their phones to call in emergency camera crews or searched for background information on the rookie mercenary, but these were few.

Most of the journalists simply waited eagerly, gauging his every move, hoping for a chance to grab even a single interview line from him.

If not for the dragon’s presence, they likely would have mobbed him, forcing microphones into his face by sheer numbers.

But no reporter dared disturb the dragon’s mood, so the rookie mercenary was able to exchange a farewell with the creature amidst the camera flashes.

The journalists were too far to hear what the rookie mercenary said, but everyone on the airfield clearly heard the voice emanating from the dragon’s throat.

“Earthling, I hope we meet again someday.”

With that gentle yet powerful voice, the dragon soared into the sky.

Only three people on the airfield didn’t watch the dragon as it drifted into the distance: the Saintess cloaked in invisibility, the dwarf, and the rookie mercenary.

All other journalists kept their eyes fixed on the sky, watching until the dragon’s long tail finally disappeared beyond the clouds.

Only then did the rookie mercenary address the reporters.

“Anyone with questions?”

Every single journalist on the scene rushed toward the mercenary.

“What’s your relationship with that red dragon? How did you meet it?” “Is that the same dragon the military claimed to have subdued? What is the military even thinking?” “Is the Saintess involved in this as well?”

Like hungry beasts, they bombarded the mercenary with questions. Some were merely shouting, while others shoved microphones right up to his face.

Though the behavior was undeniably rude, the rookie mercenary didn’t bat an eye as he faced the reporters.

However, rather than providing the juicy details or direct answers they wanted, he responded with vague statements that left the journalists’ imaginations running wild.

The interview only ended when a dwarf, who introduced himself as a teacher from the academy, interjected.

“With over a thousand new students set for enrollment, I am Margan, a teacher at Lord Howe Academy.”

As the reporters’ attention shifted to him, the dwarf held up a crumpled piece of paper and announced an unprecedented position.

“As the transfer examiner, I hereby grant permission for his transfer to Lord Howe Academy. Do you accept?”

Before he even finished speaking, every journalist in attendance shared the same thought.

There would be no shortage of news material for the next week.

 

“The Manchurian Dragon Was Real… The Awe-Inspiring Dragon Carving Through the Clouds.” “A Dragon Riding a Human? Has Earth Finally Welcomed a Dragon Rider?” “‘Hope to Meet Again Someday’ – Replay of the Dragon’s Actual Voice.”

Hong Seti, a blue-eyed girl, chewed her thumbnail as she scrolled through these articles on her laptop. She could not shake her unsettled feeling.

Was it because news on the dragon flooded every social and superhuman news platform? No, that wasn’t it.

“A Special Transfer Student to Lord Howe Academy? And He’s a New Recruit with Seonjook Mercenaries?”

“Transfer Exams That Don’t Even Exist in the Regulations! Netizens and Parents in Uproar, Silence from Lord Howe Academy!”

Was it because the spotlight on the rookie mercenary had far exceeded her expectations? It was surprising, but that wasn’t the reason either.

What really set her nerves on edge...

“Exclusive Interview with Active Mercenary – Is the Rookie a Secret Knight Guard of the Sacred Knights? An Inside Look at His Relationship with the Saintess.”

It was a tabloid piece featuring a picture of the rookie mercenary and the Saintess standing side by side.

Thankfully, the article didn’t have many views, filled as it was with ridiculous rumors of him being a secret knight of the Sacred Knights or running off with the Saintess in a forbidden love story.

Its popularity was on par with a news piece titled “Korea’s Respect for the International Protection Act: Granting Freedom to the Dragon in an Act of Humanitarianism,” but...

Just seeing the Saintess’s picture made Seti seethe with rage.

She knew it was foolish, but the sense of inadequacy and trauma she carried wasn’t something she could simply dismiss.

It was only after she had chewed her thumbnail to shreds that she managed to calm down somewhat.

“What am I even doing, this early in the morning?”

Taking a long, deep breath, she covered her face with both hands.

To feel so restless just from a mere photo? She could hardly believe herself.

“It’s not like I’m some girl who sent her boyfriend off to the army.”

She should be focusing on her revenge. This was a waste of emotions.

Was Yeomyeong getting famous thanks to the Saintess? Instead of being uneasy, she should have been glad he was one step closer to his revenge.

He wasn’t like the gods beyond the Dimension Gate. Yeomyeong wouldn’t abandon her. He had no reason, nor intention, to do so.

Realizing how far her thoughts had wandered, Seti tapped her cheeks, preparing to close her laptop. Or at least, she tried to.

But just then, her roommate’s soft voice startled her into freezing on the spot.

“Huh? Dung beetle?”

Did she mishear? Seti turned to look and saw her blonde roommate, freshly awake, staring wide-eyed at Yeomyeong’s picture on the laptop.

“Wow, it’s really Mr. Dung Beetle?”

Seeing her roommate’s awestruck expression, as if talking about an old friend, Seti swallowed the curse bubbling up within her.

Now what was this?

 

Inside the VIP lounge at the Manchuria base airfield.

Under the blazing midday sun heating up the room, Margan sighed as he looked out of the waiting room.

“This is brutal. Just brutal.”

Outside, a massive crowd had gathered.

Not only were reporters sticking their cameras to the windows, trying to capture anything inside, but even soldiers, rather than keeping the journalists in check, occasionally threw glances into the lounge with menacing expressions.

“I can’t fathom what’s so important about getting a story,” Margan muttered, sighing heavily as if sitting on a bed of thorns, causing Darulma beside him to chuckle.

“Well, if anything, they’re being rather restrained. Normally, they’d be barging through the doors and shoving cameras in our faces.”

“Are you serious?”

“Why raise your voice? You’re the one who proudly declared yourself a transfer examiner in front of all the reporters.”

“….”

“And compared to those two, you’re hardly being bothered. Isn’t that right, Yeomyeong?”

Darulma naturally called out to Yeomyeong, though it was the Saintess, sitting beside Yeomyeong and browsing an academy pamphlet, who answered.

“You were impressive, really. ‘I hereby grant permission for your transfer to Lord Howe Academy!’ Definitely what I’d expect from an academy teacher.”

The Saintess’s smile caused Margan to turn away, hiding his embarrassment.

While Darulma shook his head at the scene, Yeomyeong quietly opened his eyes.

“…Darulma.”

“Yes, Yeomyeong?”

“You remember the conditions I mentioned back in Manchuria, don’t you?”

At those words, Darulma recalled the conditions Yeomyeong had laid down before heading off to fight the dragon.

“Of course, I remember. Access to the dwarven workshop… and a connection with the elixir merchant who sold the World Tree Crystal.”

Back then, it felt like an unreasonable demand, but things had changed.

Yeomyeong’s value as an investment had grown.

From a business standpoint, some connections were profitable to have even if they just existed, and connections with people like Yeomyeong and the Saintess were exactly that kind.

If maintaining those relationships only cost this much, there was no reason to refuse.

“Feel free to use the workshop anytime. I’ll make you anything, even from a dragon’s rib bone. As for the elixir merchant... it might take a bit more time. Is that acceptable?”

“Yes, I don’t mind a bit of waiting.”

Darulma stroked his ample beard and added,

“If you need anything else, just reach out. Dunganchung Heavy Industries never forgets a debt.”

As they conversed, a plane arrived at the airfield.

The symbol of a book, sword, and staff standing side by side on a sunrise was emblazoned on it.

One of only three in existence worldwide – the plane of Lord Howe Academy.

“It’s here!”

The Saintess beamed, but Margan couldn’t smile. The thought of having to break through those damn reporters to reach the plane gave him a headache.

But there was no avoiding the flight, so he stood up and began packing.

It didn’t take long to get ready. The Saintess barely had any luggage, and Margan and Yeomyeong needed only one travel bag each.

As they prepared to leave the waiting room, Darulma spoke with a hint of regret.

“…Yeomyeong, Saintess, may you both remain in good health.”

“May the blessings of the divine be with you,” the Saintess replied before exiting first, rushing toward the plane even as journalists muttered in confusion, enhancing her speed with mana.

Watching her, Yeomyeong paused briefly before turning to Darulma.

“Give my regards to the other mercenaries.”

Apparently not expecting this, Darulma raised his eyebrows briefly, then chuckled.

“You can convey your regards yourself. You know our mercenary group’s number, don’t you?”

“….”

“Well, if it’s that awkward, I suppose I could do it for you... but I doubt there’s any need.”

With an unexpectedly playful reply, Darulma made Yeomyeong chuckle. And just like that, their farewell was over.

Yeomyeong bowed slightly to Darulma before leaving the waiting room.

As he moved through the crowded hallway toward the plane, his face was devoid of the smile he’d worn.

Lord Howe Academy.

Finally, he was heading to where the Player awaited.