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Chapter 73 - A Dragon's Voice

"The Green Mage?!" Konrad yelled, jolting the tribesmen around him. "That's impossible."

While he still hadn't met Zoltan's master, he asked about the man a lot.

He didn't have time to investigate his disappearance, but gathered some evidence. He knew that the mage was old, sure, but not old enough to seal away a dragon a century ago.

The math in her story didn't add up.

'That's how he introduced himself,' the voice claimed without missing a beat. 'I met him near Aset, and he seemed lost. Saying things like, 'My home should be here, but it isn't,' bla bla—'

Vargas, next to him, seemed more anxious than when he was a captive in Eytjangard.

Which happened to be the Green Mage's home, still there, but only as ancient ruins.

"What's she saying?" the captain asked, clutching his adamantite sword like a lifeline. There was a deep, tired sigh inside Konrad's head—conversing like this was ridiculous.

'Agreed. So please, let me out, and I'll explain everything to everyone at once.'

He looked at Vargas for help, but the captain couldn't offer any.

"I'm already surprised to hear a dungeon spawn talk," he said, adding, "I only saw one dragon so far. It burned down a village, and it took a bishop and an army to take it down."

Yeah, that was exactly why Konrad was reluctant, too.

If Lily were here, things would've been different.

That said—

"This isn't a dungeon," he claimed, looking around the desolate cavern. "The mana is so thin here, I've been saving my spells whenever possible. She doesn't seem to have much, either."

'Oh, that's because of my leash,' the dragon offered. 'The mage used a syphon to seal me away.'

"What?" Konrad furrowed his brow, but he could also feel it, even without mana sight.

Something drained away all the essence like a bottomless whirlpool.

Or like the transmutation artifacts—but the anchor wasn't an object this time.

It was on a different plane.

'You more or less guessed it right,' her voice boomed inside his thoughts. 'The mage tried to banish me to the astral realms, but now I'm stuck halfway.'

"So it's not the rocks that keep you in there?" Konrad asked, stepping closer to the fissure.

Goblin blood painted its edges dark red.

The dragon's yellow eyes were the only things illuminating the depths beyond.

'Without my powers, getting through them also took ages, but no. I'll have to get rid of this anchor somehow—so if you'd be so nice and help me, or at least get me started—'

Every answer led to even more questions.

She wasn't lying. Konrad could feel the huge crack between the dimensions. It was larger than any he had seen so far, and the flow was fast—but mana was pouring out, not into this world.

What could he even do about it?

Meanwhile, as he pondered, the others had a separate discussion.

Or rather, a guessing game.

Everyone seemed dumbfounded about seeing a dragon that wasn't on a murder spree.

"Someone from our tribe claimed to have talked to one. Three generations ago," a redheaded Blood Moon offered. "That must be the last recorded case of a real dragon in Kasserlane."

The enormous red beast raised her head to that. Her voice became excited.

'Oh, was he called something like, uh—Harald something something?'

Why did she ask Konrad, instead of the tribesmen? Though that name rang a bell.

"You mean Welf Haraldson?" he asked, and the tribesmen fell silent, eyes going wide.

"No, it was his father, but how did you know?" they yelled in shock.

They must've thought he was talking to them, but this upset the dragon for some reason.

'Wow, you can never trust humans.'

She made less and less sense, and Konrad heard her sigh in his mind again.

'The Harald I met wanted to become a blacksmith, but failed. So I taught him the Welf rune, an ancient magic to reinforce steel, and he promised he'd name his children in my honor.'

Welf did say something about a generational secret to their smithing.

But that would've meant—

'That trickster named his kids after the rune, not me, what a betrayal.'

"But you're a girl," Konrad noted, realizing something. "What is your name anyway?"

Awkward silence.

He could hear the echoes of their breathing until a tribesman finally lost his patience.

"Did she say anything about Welf Haraldson?"

And with that, he had had enough.

"Can't you talk like a normal person? Or project the same thoughts to everyone at once?"

She groaned—inside his head still—and complained about it, too.

'Not until you unleash me,' she claimed, adding, 'unless—'

The runes she projected into his head were crystal clear, easy to understand, and—

"Sound magic?" Another thing he wanted to learn for perfecting his illusions, but never got around to it. This dragon was a walking goldmine—except she couldn't walk.

And only salt and charred goblin corpses surrounded them, no gold anywhere in sight.

'Use that spell to project my voice out for everyone. You can tell it's safe, no tricks.'

She didn't lie. It wasn't like she had shown him a book and had him learn the spells.

Heck, downloading files from the internet in his previous life was more risky than this. She gave him the knowledge right away—complete with his perfect understanding.

If he tried to learn things by himself, only weeks of practice could've gotten him to that level.

And he got a few extra syntaxes as a bonus, too. They weren't even related to her current request, but seemed very useful for what he wanted to do with sounds.

Konrad had no reason not to help her in return, and the dragon's voice came to life.

"Finally," she sighed—this time audible, though still not through her own mouth. "So as I was saying, I met a man called Harald, and I recognize you, Blood Moons, too."

To say her audience was in shock would have been an understatement.

But he didn't let her change the topic.

"And the Green Mage, who wasn't even born yet, locked you away here, not much after?"

"Yes, he was a fascinating old man—confused, but very knowledgeable," she said.

Konrad couldn't help snorting.

He knew the type. People who he couldn't imagine ever being young, but the Green Mage must've taken this to the next level. He was old even before he was born.

"I can still hear your thoughts, you know," the dragon pointed out.

His magic would broadcast all the nuances, her sighs, in sync with her rolling her huge eyes.

"Anyway, he was old, and he was kinda lost," she continued. "But from what I've gathered—and believe me, I thought about it a lot in the past century—he lost himself in time, not space."

"Hold on, what?" Konrad narrowed his eyes.

Memories flooded back from his first day in Eytjangard.

The tower, which seemed like ancient ruins, despite having fallen only half a year ago.

The signs made him think of time travel.

And now there was a dragon who met the Green Mage decades before he was even born.

"Oh, I like that word," she nodded along with his thoughts. "Yes, I guess you could call him a time traveler. And boy, he was so confused about it—even more than you are now."

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