In the deep darkness—at the very bottom of the Rhine, where even sunlight barely reaches.
Waves came and went, returned and receded again. The eye could only make out a hazy repetition, as if trapped in an endless cycle.
Because photosynthesis is impossible at such depths, most life is unsustainable here. Yet, in theory, this riverbed still harbors a surprising diversity of aquatic species—a testament to the mysterious and fearsome nature of the waters.
Even so, the current situation was far from natural.
Avia and Siegfried had dived into these lightless depths, where by all rights, one shouldn't be able to see anything—yet, a golden radiance shimmered in the darkness. As though some mirror image of the sun above had taken root in the very bottom of the Rhine.
And there they saw it: a massive, obsidian-hued creature. A wave of searing heat, heavy with magic, surged forward like a gust of wind, completely different from the familiar warmth of the sun.
An eighty-meter-long dragon reeking of rot and corruption lay curled at the bottom of the river, eyes shut as if in hibernation, clutching a massive golden hoard in its claws.
Simply by existing, it radiated waves of heat like explosions, each pulse intense enough to scorch human flesh even through magical protection.
Its presence alone produced a natural boundary field akin to high-level barrier magic—this was no ordinary beast, but a legendary creature, the highest tier of Phantasmal Species.
A being of absolute fantasy: a Dragonkind.
Once, he had been a dwarf—one who slew his own father in a fit of greed. And through that act, transformed into a cursed dragon: Fafnir, the Evil Dragon.
"That's Reginn's brother… the one he asked me to kill," Siegfried muttered.
"Yes," Avia replied, nodding. "A dragon born of pure, unfiltered greed."
According to the lore of Second Generation Adventure, dragons appearing after—or perhaps before—the Age of Gods are essentially the result of draconic factors manifesting on Earth. And all such dragons trace their origin back to Typhon, the primordial dragon of Greek mythology—a monster born of Gaia's vengeful will. The progenitor of all Western dragonkind.
Like the rest of the Greek pantheon, Typhon too had a mechanical body—just as Set and Osiris had. His divine body, or its fragments, had been repurposed by wandering magi of the Sea of Estray, sages of the Mountain Courts, and alchemists of the Atlas Institute for various experiments.
One such fragment had been devoured by Bai Ruolong, one of the protagonists of Second Generation Adventure. Her true identity: the reincarnated Greek deity Zagreus—the Prince of the Underworld, first God of Wine, son of Zeus and Persephone. After death, Zeus devoured his heart and resurrected him through a woman. As Dionysus, he became part of the Macedonian pantheon and their divine protector.
He was a true god who had descended from the Texture—one who truly walked among mortals.
Now that was the ultimate form of "barely-restrained overpowered protagonist."
Still… "Zeus and Persephone's child, huh…?" Avia sighed. "The Greek gods really are a mess."
As someone once empowered by the full authority of Rome, Avia was rather relieved he'd been aligned with the Roman pantheon—albeit under a different name.
That divine right might also explain something else—why he seemed able to slowly establish contact with the only lunar god-machine he knew still existed, one presumably still beyond the atmosphere. Even after more than a decade, progress had only gone from zero to ten percent.
Unfortunately, the Mars-type machine was currently drifting toward Japan. Otherwise, he'd have preferred that red-colored robot to the orbital railgun used for anti-surface strikes.
"Greed incarnate, huh... To murder one's father over desire. It might be a long shot, but that's the kind of evil that must be slain. No matter what, I can't forgive that kind of evil—not as long as my sense of justice remains intact."
Before such a monstrous enemy—even with his sword Balmung, which carried the demonic nature of the cursed blade Gram—Siegfried couldn't say with confidence that he'd win.
His odds? Maybe twenty percent at best. An eight-to-two split—in the dragon's favor.
But—
"Siegfried, do you have a plan for how to take down Fafnir?" Avia asked as he turned toward him.
In one hand, Avia held an ordinary spear. In the other, a simple sword. Yet from one hand emanated a faint magical glow—the residual aura of the concealment magic he had cast to mask both their presences. It was the same spell he used back when infiltrating the sunken Library of Alexandria.
In the Nasuverse, even Siegfried himself didn't know exactly how he killed Fafnir. It was as if, before he realized it, the dragon had already been slain.
Still, if one were to take cues from Sigurd, the Norse equivalent of Siegfried, the tactic likely involved hiding in a pit at the bottom of the riverbed, waiting for Fafnir to pass over… and then stabbing him from below.
"…No," Siegfried answered immediately.
"Really?" Avia's tone was calm. "I'm not trying to pressure you, but this is our first time working together. We might hesitate in a crisis, and that kind of hesitation could be fatal. So I'd like to hear your honest thoughts."
Though Fafnir was certainly troublesome even for someone like Avia—who had once fought the planet's mightiest dragon—he was still confident. But since they'd chosen to fight as a team, proper communication was essential.
"I am afraid," Siegfried admitted. "Honestly, I'm terrified. I can tell Fafnir's vastly stronger than me. I really think I only have a two-out-of-ten chance of winning."
This was the candid truth of a hero who had yet to slay the dragon.
"But—if I have you with me, Avia—then I believe we have a ten-out-of-ten chance. There's no way we'll lose. I'm sure we can defeat Fafnir."
The conviction in Siegfried's voice pierced the air like a blade, firm and unwavering. It sounded entirely sincere.
"…Understood. It seems I was wrong to doubt your resolve. Forgive me."
"No, I should be the one apologizing—for causing you concern. I'm sorry, Avia."
"Well, I was just saying it offhandedly anyway..."
Avia exhaled softly, then turned his gaze toward the distant evil dragon, still tightly clutching its Rhinegold.
"Alright, time's up. Let's get ready."
"This will be my first time slaying a dragon," he added.
The next moment—
From the spear and sword in Avia's hands erupted a pair of swirling magical circles, spiraling like whirlpools. The surrounding river water began to twist, sucked into the weapons' cores.
And then, twin streams of red and blue magical energy launched forward like bullets, cutting through the darkness of the deep.
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