Gerald watched the figure before him with extreme caution. He didn't dare let his guard down for even a single breath, especially not before someone who had just declared their intent to kill him—Vagador.
At that moment, a raspy voice echoed from beneath Vagador, filled with anxiety but firm in its resolve, like a call from the depths of a chaotic abyss.
"Master!"
Vagador raised an eyebrow and glanced down. The one who had spoken was a Dragonkin with blazing red wings, his body still scorched from the earlier explosion.
"This... does not require your intervention, my Lord!"
"Please, allow your subordinate a chance to redeem himself!"
His voice trembled, not from pain but from the indignity of lost honor.
Immediately, another voice followed, belonging to the Dragonkin with green wings: "I too request to join the battle, my Lord!"
Vagador chuckled softly, a slight smirk appearing as if he were humoring two stubborn children. Trash they may be, but even trash could hold value.
"Doesn't require me, hmm?... Hmph."
"The truth is, you simply can't stand being wounded by a mere human, can you?"
Both Dragonkin bowed their heads, their voices respectful but laced with tension: "Yes, Master."
Vagador said no more. He gently spread the dark wings behind him and descended gracefully to the ground. Taking a seat on a stone amidst the rubble, he crossed his legs, watching as if waiting for a small performance before taking the stage himself.
"The opportunity is yours."
"Yes, Master!" the two Dragonkin responded in unison, their voices ringing out like war horns signaling the beginning of battle.
In the next instant, their wings flapped violently, kicking up clouds of dust. They landed before Gerald, eyes burning with battle spirit.
The red-winged one stepped forward and declared arrogantly, "I am Fire D'gon! Heir to the Flame Dragon's bloodline. Today, I shall be your opponent!"
"...I am Ice D'gon! Descendant of the Ancient Ice Dragon. I, too, will face you in combat!"
They locked eyes with Gerald, their gazes sharp as blades. No longer mere guards, they were now warriors seeking to wash away their disgrace with blood.
Before Gerald could respond, Vagador spoke from afar, lazily, as if pouring cold water on their blind confidence: "You... won't win."
A simple statement, yet it instantly weighed down the air.
"To be precise... what you cannot defeat is the weapon in his hand."
Vagador tilted his chin, his gaze fixed on the wooden staff in Gerald's hand, emanating a strange and ancient energy—like the breath of a thousand-year-old forest mingled with primordial magic.
Fire D'gon and Ice D'gon understood this well. The staff wasn't a mere weapon. It carried the markings of ancient divine relics, capable of turning the tide in an instant. Still, neither backed down. For the pride of Dragonkin did not allow retreat.
"I do not wish to see you fail... nor do I wish to waste time."
Vagador's voice was cold and resolute. He lifted his gaze, surveying the entire battlefield.
"Earth D'gon. Storm D'gon. Join them."
The moment the words left his mouth, a swirl of wind swept through the plaza, as if the elements themselves responded to their lord's command.
Storm D'gon, the silent female Dragonkin, stepped forward. She slowly removed her mask, then slipped off the heavy cloak that had long hidden her figure.
Shff.
The cloak slid from her shoulders, revealing a body clad in translucent silver dragon scales that shimmered like crystal in the firelight. Her dragon legs ended in four sharp claws. Her slender arms contained the power of storms. Her figure curved like a sculpture carved by a master, but her eyes were colder than the ice atop a lonely mountain. Storm D'gon, warrior of wind and tempest, emerged like a silent storm.
At the same time, from the opposite side of the palace, a massive silhouette approached. As it neared Storm D'gon, the figure tore off its cloak and flung it aside.
Beneath the fabric was Earth D'gon—his body towering and solid like ancient stone. His form was covered in earthy dragon scales, each muscle bulging like a mountain forged from the land itself. His eyes were calm, devoid of rage, yet within that silence was the heavy threat of an impending earthquake.
Both flapped their wings.
Storm D'gon shot forward like lightning.
Earth D'gon followed, leaping with the force of stone breaking free from the cliffside.
Wind howled. Earth cracked. Dust exploded into the air. They landed behind Gerald. No loud impact, but the sheer presence weighed the ground down.
Gerald furrowed his brow deeply.
Surrounded.
Dragonkin on all sides—the four elite guardians of Vagador. Wind. Fire. Ice. Earth. A perfect elemental combination refined over centuries.
"Encirclement... and a four-way elemental assault."
"This is no longer just a battle..."
Gerald thought grimly.
"[Fire Tail]!!!"
Fire D'gon's deep, growling voice snapped him from his thoughts, accompanied by a surge of murderous aura like a volcanic eruption.
His eyes narrowed, sharp as molten blades. He raised his right arm, now engulfed in crimson flame, morphing into a writhing fiery serpent.
The flame had come alive. It was no longer mere magic. It had become a dragon's tail—massive, fierce, and radiating heat that warped the air.
Fire D'gon spun with a roar, swinging his arm with hurricane force. The flaming tail lashed across the sky like a mighty Flame Dragon asserting its dominion. The ground cracked. Heatwaves surged. A natural disaster had descended.
The other three Dragonkin instinctively leapt back from the sheer destruction.
"[Defensive Light]!!!"
Gerald had no choice. He shouted, his voice full of urgency and power. A thin barrier of radiant light formed around him, enclosing him in a divine sphere.
BOOM!!!
The flaming tail crashed against the barrier.
Light and fire clashed in an earth-shaking explosion. Though shielded, Gerald felt his entire body burning. The ground beneath him shattered, debris flying everywhere.
Fire D'gon didn't stop. He whipped his tail again. And again. A third. A fourth.
Each strike carried unmatched ferocity. The flames waned, but in return, cracks spiderwebbed across Gerald's barrier.
"[Arrow of Ice]!"
From the side, Ice D'gon attacked.
He raised his head and extended his arms. In each palm, five icy arrows appeared, sharp as blades and exhaling freezing mist. Even a breath could freeze the earth.
With a flick of his wrist, ten arrows shot forward like meteors, targeting the embattled Gerald.
Gerald's eyes flickered.
"If even one arrow pierces through... the shield will shatter!"
"Is this where my journey ends?... No... Not yet!"
"[Light Confinement]!!!"
With no other option, Gerald dismissed the barrier. It was pointless to maintain it any longer. Simultaneously, he spun and unleashed a counterspell.
A small magic circle spun in his palm, glowing dimly. From it, two ropes of divine light lashed out, streaking toward Storm D'gon and Earth D'gon, who had been waiting to intervene.
The luminous ropes twisted and shimmered—a binding spell extremely hard to evade.
But as seasoned warriors, Storm D'gon and Earth D'gon sensed the danger. Instinctively, they leapt back, dodging the incoming bind.
Though he didn't catch them, that was never Gerald's intention. In that instant they evaded, a gap opened in their formation.
Without hesitation, Gerald burst through the opening. As he escaped the icy arrows, he immediately began channeling a teleportation spell. It was a delicate technique, easily disrupted.
But then—
His feet stopped.
Not because he was struck.
Not because anyone stopped him.
But because... of the sky.
Gerald looked up, eyes wide with disbelief.
The brilliant light in his hand slowly faded, as if forgotten.
And he wasn't the only one.
All the monsters in the courtyard—
Even those locked in combat—Fire D'gon, Ice D'gon, Storm D'gon, Earth D'gon... Even Vagador himself, who always wore an air of calm arrogance, looked up.
In the sky, painted with the dim hue of dusk, a colossal creature soared in slow circles above the palace.
It was a bird-like figure nearly six meters tall, but it resembled no bird known in their history.
Its wings were not feathered, but formed of thick, leathery membranes like those of a bat. Each flap of its wings stirred cyclones, rippling the muddy surface of the swamp below. Its head was elongated, beak sharp, and eyes glinted with primal wisdom.
No one—not even Gerald—could name the creature. No one had ever seen anything like it.
If this were Earth, someone would have screamed in terror: "That's... a Pterosaur—!"
A creature from the Cretaceous Period, extinct for millions of years. A flying reptile from the Pterosauria order, once ruling the skies alongside dinosaurs and giant marine beasts.
And now it appeared, at the deepest point of the fifth floor of the Dungeon, as if transported through time—or perhaps as a warning from a forgotten age.
The air turned still.
Even the wind ceased.
The entire battlefield fell silent, only the heavy flapping of wings echoing like distant war drums.
Gerald whispered to himself: What... is that thing? This creature... it doesn't belong in this world!
As they stared up at the circling Pterosaur shadowing the waning sunlight—
BOOM!!
BOOM!!
CRACK—CRACK—BOOM!!
A thunderous roar erupted from the ground, followed by massive trees toppling as if pushed by invisible hands. Roots snapped, mud flew—together forming a harbinger's symphony.
All eyes turned away from the sky.
They looked back—
And froze.
From the murky light of the swamp, ten colossal figures emerged. Slow, heavy, overwhelming. Each step they took made the ground tremble, as if the Dungeon itself feared their arrival.
"G-Gods..."
Someone whispered—it didn't matter who or what they were. The voice trembled like a dream slipping into nightmare.
Before them stood titans from myth: ten Spinosauruses, the ancient dinosaurs known as the "Great Spined Dragons."
Larger than T-Rexes, yet as agile as ancient crocodiles. Each over eighteen meters long, weighing nearly twenty tons. Their backs bore towering sail-like spines, jaws filled with interlocking crocodilian teeth, and forelimbs armed with long, curved claws like death's scythe. A single swipe could shatter a full-grown T-Rex.
Not just predators of land—Spinosauruses were aquatic killers, born to hunt in swamps like this one.
They didn't roar or threaten. They simply marched forward, like a disciplined legion.
Five led the front. Five trailed behind.
Each thunderous footstep crushed the trees, and the pride of those who called themselves mighty monsters.
It felt like a cavalry of annihilation approaching the gates of Hell's palace.
Even Vagador squinted.
Gerald's eyes were drenched in cold sweat. "...What the hell is happening?"
As the Spinosauruses neared the open courtyard, the ground pulsed with every step—like the swamp's very heart was being crushed. Trees fell behind them, revealing their vast, looming bodies.
"Grhh—!"
A deep, primal growl came from the leading five—not furious, not loud, but suffocating, like a sovereign's silent decree.
Gerald and Vagador's four subordinates trembled, holding their breath.
Gerald was the first to falter. He took a step back, eyes locked on the approaching beast. Each footstep left deep impressions in the mud. As he scanned the long snout, the rough jaw slightly open, he saw—
Drool.
Thick, bubbling saliva dripped from its mouth, hissing as it touched the rotting grass. Its body heat was extreme—or the saliva was acidic.
In that moment, Gerald understood: this wasn't a warning.
It was hungry. And he was prey.
"...Damn it."
Gerald gripped his staff tightly, legs frozen. His mind screamed to flee, but his body refused to obey.
He was overwhelmed—his spirit broken by this ancient predator.
Vagador's four subordinates, once proud and untouchable, dared not act rashly.
They exchanged wary glances, then turned to Vagador.
Their eyes asked a silent question.
Vagador scowled. A flicker of killing intent sparked in his gaze.
"Since when... did such creatures exist on my fifth floor?"
No signs, no teleportation, no magic surge. Yet now, in the heart of his domain, stood beings beyond his understanding.
"Fall back!" Vagador barked.
The four turned to retreat—
Too late.
The Spinosauruses let out a single, guttural growl. No second warning.
BOOOOOOM!!!
BOOOOOOM!!!
The ground cracked as if crushed by mountains.
Storm D'gon and Earth D'gon turned, but two towering shadows slammed down like steel hammers.
They couldn't cast a spell. Couldn't even dodge. Their eyes widened at death's arrival.
Their dragon-like bodies were flattened into the mud, buried by twenty tons.
"Ghh... uh... aa—!!!" Groans choked by mud and pressure.
They writhed in vain. The Spinosauruses' feet rooted like ancient trees. Dragon-scale armor cracked. Bones cried out.
"GRRAOOOOOO!!!"
The beasts turned, eyes glowing with the embers of an unburied prehistory.
They roared—not like any dragon or monster here—but with the fury of ancient Lords, from a time when life existed only to hunt and kill.
The sound tore through space, stabbing into the soul. Not thunder. Not fire. Pure primal dominion demanding the right to rule.
Fire D'gon and Ice D'gon stumbled back on instinct. But their legs trembled, refusing to move.
Storm and Earth D'gon lay crushed, motionless, like unburied corpses.
Vagador clenched his fists. His eyes locked onto the towering creatures—and for the first time, the master of the deepest Dungeon floor felt a chill down his spine.
Silence engulfed the courtyard.
Then suddenly—
A single footstep echoed. Soft as smoke, but deafening in the tense stillness.
From the shattered swamp forest, a lone figure emerged.
All eyes turned.
What struck them first was not awe—but suffocating stillness, paralysis... and silence.
The being carried a small girl on its shoulder like a toy. But none looked at the girl.
What silenced them... was "him."
A towering figure unlike anything recorded in history.
A phantom from the primordial era, when life was a god's cruel joke.
No magic leaked. No breath. No bloodlust.
Yet an immense pressure loomed—as if Death itself walked from Hell's gate. Every monster's instincts screamed: Run—!!!
His skull, forged like steel, turned as if perceiving from another dimension.
His body, clad in scorched black, resembled condensed magma. Not bone. Not metal. No one knew what it was. But within—
A flame.
A fire burned within his chest. Not wild, not fading—an eternal blaze that had burned for millions of years and would burn until the end of time.
That flame... was his life.
He walked toward the two Spinosauruses pinning Vagador's subordinates.
No words.
He lightly patted one on the hind leg—like signaling a pet.
The two beasts immediately stepped back, hissing softly, retreating.
But it didn't end there.
Crack... crack... crack...
Thin spiderweb-like fractures appeared on all ten Spinosauruses.
The cracks spread.
From within, a crimson light—like lava—seeped out.
No blood. No organs.
Only fire... just like him.
They stood still.
Then one by one, they exploded into ash—as if a soul-fire burned them from within.
Even the flying reptile above shrieked, its wings disintegrating into glowing embers before falling like soulless ash.
Yet... the ash did not scatter.
It spiraled inward, drawn by an unseen force. Streams of ash swirled into his body, seeping through his armor, gathering in his chest, merging with the eternal flame.
As if all of them were but extensions of him—born to return to the infinite fire.
The entire courtyard... dead silent.
No one dared breathe.
Not Gerald. Not Vagador. Not the hundreds of surrounding monsters.
They could only witness...
The presence of a being beyond life and death.