At 3 AM, the entire Black Swan Bay was asleep. The searchlights cast circular spots of light on the black clouds, and below them stood a bronze statue of Lenin. A figure stood before the statue, the wind lifting his woolen coat. Major Bondarev, instead of resting in the warmth of his guest room, chose to expose himself to the wind and snow in the dead of night to gaze at the bronze Lenin.
The statue stood ten meters tall, originally placed on a black marble pedestal, with Lenin pointing forward as if guiding the way of revolution. The snow was more than two meters thick, completely burying the marble base and covering the feet of the statue. The statue's location was odd—not in the center of Black Swan Bay, nor standing at the entrance, but rather at the back of the port. Although Lenin statues could be found at research institutes and universities everywhere, raising such a large one in this resource-scarce location seemed a bit excessive.
"You once said that forgetting the past is betrayal, and now even the country you built with your own hands is about to become a thing of the past. I wonder if anyone in the future will come to pay homage to your statue like I do now," Bondarev said, looking up at the Lenin statue. "So perhaps it's better to blow it up now."
He pressed the detonator in his hand. After a short, muffled explosion, the marble base buried in the snow was destroyed, and the Lenin statue tilted and fell into the snow. The sound of the explosion was minimal and was quickly drowned out by the wind. Despite the tight security at Black Swan Bay, the bitter cold was the most important defense. Staying outside for even a few minutes on a night like this would result in severe frostbite. Due to the blizzard, visibility was less than five meters, and the soldiers didn't expect anyone would dare move about outside. They had overlooked Bondarev's extraordinary tolerance to the cold.
Bondarev glanced into the hole created by the explosion and saw a black cast iron foundation. Hundreds of tons of cast iron had been poured into the ground as the base for the Lenin statue. Bondarev jumped into the snow hole and turned on his tactical flashlight, finding a tightly sealed iron door embedded in the cast iron foundation. It was perfectly fitted, with a red five-pointed star and military unit numbers engraved on the edge. Bondarev inserted the probes of an electrical balance meter into the seams of the door. The needle didn't move, indicating that the door was in perfect electrical balance, with no wiring or electronic devices behind it.
"A mechanical lock, as expected," Bondarev muttered.
The absence of electronic equipment didn't mean the door was safe—in fact, it was deadly. It used an old mechanical combination lock, similar to a clock mechanism, purely mechanical. It wouldn't trigger an alarm but would explode. The door's interior was filled with hundreds of kilograms of refined explosives, which would remain potent for centuries. The tombs of tsars had similar doors, capable of blowing grave robbers and tomb passages to pieces. These doors were never meant to be reopened once sealed.
Bondarev took out a pre-prepared duplicate key, took a deep breath, and flexed his wrists. The duplicate key wasn't an exact match, and failure would send him flying into the sky along with the Lenin statue. He inserted the key and precisely turned the combination dial on the door. He had practiced this motion thousands of times and could now perform it perfectly, even in his sleep. The key turned, and there was a faint click from within the combination dial. Bondarev pushed the iron door. It didn't open, but Bondarev hadn't been blown to pieces either. It seemed the door was rusted shut.
Scratching his head in puzzlement, Bondarev took a miniature blowtorch from his toolkit and heated the key handle. Using fire on a door filled with hundreds of kilograms of explosives was as dangerous as smoking a cigar on top of an oil well, but Bondarev hummed softly, unconcerned. A faint ticking sound came from the lock as the complex mechanical system began to move. Slowly, twelve bolts retracted, and the door made a dull "bang" as it sprang open a crack. Bondarev smiled triumphantly—just as he had expected, the unlocking procedure was correct. The problem lay in the lock's lubricant. The lock had been lubricated with beef tallow, which, like the kerosene in the sentry's lighter, froze easily.
A cold draft flowed out from the crack in the door, whistling loudly. Bondarev tested the temperature of the air with his hand, and even he shivered.
"It feels like wind from the deepest part of hell," he muttered, drawing his Makarov pistol and leaping into the black space beyond the iron door.
Beneath the iron door was a pitch-black tunnel. The walls of the tunnel were made of hard permafrost. Bondarev tapped it with the butt of his gun, and sparks flew. Black Swan Bay was built on permafrost, where the water in the soil hadn't melted for millions of years. The permafrost was harder than concrete, hinting at the difficulty of excavating the tunnel. The tunnel led deep into the permafrost, and the beam of Bondarev's flashlight revealed a staircase made of iron steps leading downward.
On the ceiling, Bondarev found an inscription: "June 12, 1923—arrived here."
He continued down the tunnel, only about 100 meters further, where he found another inscription: "June 30, 1936—arrived here."
The history of excavating this tunnel dated back to 1923, and with the technology of that time, it had taken the workers 13 years to advance less than 100 meters.
Bondarev continued exploring. The tunnel was extremely winding, with countless side passages, but Bondarev had a construction map, which guided him on the correct path. The tunnel was like a branching vine, its total length astonishing. Sometimes they had dug dozens of meters in one direction only to realize it was wrong and had to backtrack to start another route. To bypass rock formations, they often had to detour, and it could take years to circumvent a single large boulder.
Back then, there were no heavy machines. The workers had only gas-powered picks and iron chisels, yet year after year, they pressed forward, sacrificing their lives to the permafrost. What were they searching for?
As Bondarev continued, the tunnel walls grew smoother. It was clear that the workers had switched to newer tools, likely electric diamond drills. Bondarev found another inscription: "September 19, 1951—arrived here. 13th Guards Infantry Division, Engineer Corps."
The 13th Guards Infantry Division was an elite force stationed in Moscow, and its engineer corps was the best of the best. That such a prestigious unit had been deployed from Moscow to this desolate place to continue a decades-long excavation project was surprising.
"April 27, 1953—arrived here. Deputy Commander Vikhri died here. 13th Guards Infantry Division, Engineer Corps." Beside this inscription was Deputy Commander Vikhri's red-star hat badge.
"May 9, 1956—arrived here. I don't know where this path ultimately leads—perhaps to a grave, perhaps to hell, but it certainly won't be anything good."
"April 13, 1961—arrived here. God save us. Please don't let us be the ones to open that door—it must be cursed."
It was clear that the engineers had sensed some sort of impending crisis, prompting them to turn to God. Such thoughts would have been considered a stain on their record if discovered by the Party Secretary at that time.
Bondarev understood the soldiers' fear—it stemmed from the patterns on the tunnel walls. These patterns weren't carved but were the cross-sections of animal skeletons within the permafrost: snakes, lizards, cats, sea lions, and even polar bears, many of which shouldn't have existed in this frigid land.
The bones had been exposed by the workers' diamond drills, revealing them to the engineers. Despite being just bones, they still radiated an eerie vitality, and it was easy to see the terror in the animals' remains, as if some massive disaster had befallen them suddenly, leaving them no escape. They had died in agony, biting and clawing at each other in a futile attempt to survive.
The deeper Bondarev went, the more densely packed the bones became. Eventually, he saw snake bones intertwined with bear bones. The snake must have been at least 20 meters long, its bones tinged with an ancient dark-golden hue. The bear's bones were even more terrifying—its spine split into two massive vertebrae from the waist, indicating that the bear had two heads.
It was no wonder the engineers had lived in constant fear. They were digging a mysterious tunnel, leading to a door they knew concealed something dreadful. Yet, under pressure from the authorities, they had no choice but to continue. That door was like Pandora's box—no one dared open it, yet once it fell into human hands, who could resist the temptation to take a peek?
Bondarev remained calm, even taking photos of the bones with a miniature camera, seemingly unfazed by the disturbing scene. It was clear that everything before him had been anticipated. He was getting close to the "door," just as the construction map had indicated.
Bondarev took a metal box from his backpack, inside of which were several laser mines arranged side by side. These espionage mines, shaped like thick pens, were designed to be inserted into the soil. They emitted an invisible laser beam, and anyone who crossed the beam would trigger an explosion. Bondarev inserted the laser mines into small holes in the walls of the tunnel—left behind from the excavation process. With this setup, he no longer had to worry about being followed.
He had already seen the final inscription: "November 21, 1963. We opened the door. We should forget everything we saw here. Soon we'll return to Moscow, and once we're back in Moscow, everything will be fine. The comrade secretary said that this place will be sealed again. Now is no longer the age of gods and demons; the Soviet iron fist will crush them all."
The area ahead was no longer permafrost but a solid granite wall. The inscription was carved into the rock, and next to it were hundreds of names, each followed by their military rank. Clearly, these young soldiers had left their lives here. Over the decades, thousands of people had participated in this grueling excavation, and hundreds had given their lives in the frozen wastelands of northern Siberia. Yet when they finally found what they were looking for, all they wanted was to leave and forget.
Standing beside the inscription, Bondarev took a selfie, flashing a "V" sign with his hand.
The door was next to him—or rather, it could not be called a door, but a blocked-up exit. It had originally been a crack in the rock, which someone had sealed with tons of molten iron. Human bones could be seen embedded in the iron; when the crack was sealed, some people had been burned alive in the molten metal. One of the skeletons seemed to be struggling to escape, but only the top of its skull had emerged from the iron. Sacred words were inscribed on the white skull:
"Today, as a servant of God, I seal this place. Evil shall never prevail over righteousness. This door shall remain closed until the day God judges the world."
Beneath this was a signature: "Григо·рий Ефи·мович Распу·тин."
"Grigori Yefimovich Rasputin… That charlatan actually came here," Bondarev muttered as he touched the skull.
Rasputin, one of the most notorious figures in Russian history, was a saint, heretic, libertine, and mystic. His fame had once been legendary, but during the Soviet era, his name was rarely mentioned, and over a century later, he had been largely forgotten.
He had been an ordinary Russian peasant, but as his extraordinary prophetic abilities and hypnotic powers became evident, Rasputin was eventually revered as a saint by the people. He later became a close friend of the Tsar's family, gaining unmatched favor. He used his prophetic abilities to save the life of the Tsarevich and accurately predicted his own death. At the end of 1916, he wrote to the Tsar, saying he would be killed before January 1917. He also predicted that if he were killed by the people, the Tsar would live for a few more years, but if he were killed by nobles, the entire royal family would be dead within two years.
History proved his prophecy correct. On December 29, 1916, Prince Yusupov murdered Rasputin. During a banquet, Yusupov offered Rasputin eight cyanide-laced cakes and a bottle of Madeira wine, also spiked with cyanide—enough poison to kill five people—but Rasputin was unaffected. Yusupov then shot him in the lung. After briefly losing consciousness, Rasputin awoke and attacked the prince, trying to escape across the lawn.
This time, he was shot three more times, with one bullet going through his head. When his body was dragged indoors, Rasputin revived once again. Yusupov had to use a dumbbell to smash his skull, but even then, Rasputin didn't die. He was finally thrown into an icy hole in the Neva River, where an autopsy revealed that he had survived under the ice for eight minutes. He was killed by the nobles, and less than two years later, the entire Tsar's family was executed by the Red Army.
As an infamous libertine, it was said that Rasputin had slept with nearly every noblewoman in Russia. Any girl who was caught in his blue-eyed gaze would involuntarily undress and offer herself. If he had relations with a virgin, he would keep a lock of her hair. In 1977, when the Leningrad city government demolished his former residence, they found boxes upon boxes of hair in the garden. He attended Prince Yusupov's banquet because he coveted the prince's beautiful wife.
The engineers never opened Rasputin's sealed "door." Instead, they carved a new opening in the rock wall. Bondarev used the prepared key to unlock the door in the new opening. Like the door above ground, this one was filled with explosives and had a mechanical combination lock, clearly designed never to be opened again. Behind the door was a rusty iron suspension ladder that led through a rock crevice. At the bottom was an old construction elevator.
Everything matched Bondarev's construction map perfectly, but that was as far as it went. The final mark on the map was the construction elevator, and beyond that, the passage was shown as a dotted line. Whoever had drawn the map didn't know what lay beyond—perhaps a treasure trove, or perhaps the underworld of hell. You'd have to gamble to find out. Bondarev climbed into the elevator and flipped the switch. The motor hummed, and the elevator began its slow descent. Remarkably, the ancient equipment still had power. The steel cables scraped against the pulleys, making a chilling sound.
Bondarev turned off his flashlight and put on infrared night-vision goggles. His KGB training had taught him that a person carrying a flashlight made an easy target. The elevator eventually stopped in complete darkness, and the sound of the folding doors opening echoed through the vast space.
Bondarev was startled, realizing he had been lowered into a massive cavern. He hadn't expected such a large space beneath the permafrost. Without thinking, he rolled across the ground, trying to avoid an ambush in case someone was lurking in the darkness.
He slid across the floor, unable to stand. The surface was as smooth as glass—it was ice! This huge underground space seemed like… an ice rink!
"Welcome, welcome. I've been wondering for years whether there would be new visitors here, and finally, today, there is."
A cold gun barrel was pressed against Bondarev's forehead. Despite his KGB hand-to-hand combat skills, there was no way he could dodge or counterattack—the person had anticipated his roll and was waiting just outside the elevator, about ten meters away.
"Late night, and you're still awake, Dr. Herzog," Bondarev said.
He identified the man by the faint scent of vodka—specifically, the fragrance of Red Label vodka.
"Sometimes I think that those who love to drink can't be all that bad. That's why I like you—you understand vodka." Dr. Herzog took the Makarov pistol from Bondarev and handed him a cold glass.
A beam of light shone down from above, illuminating the doctor and Bondarev. The glass in Bondarev's hand refracted the light, making it look as if it were made of the finest crystal, but it had been carved from a single block of pure ice. The ice was so clear there were no bubbles, and cornflower patterns were intricately carved into its surface. The two men gently clinked glasses and drank the liquor in one go.
Bondarev toyed with the ice cup. "This is amazing—vodka encased in ice, as captivating as a stunning woman hidden beneath an iceberg. I feel like my hand will freeze to it."
"Most people use fur gloves to hold such ice cups. Only someone like you, Major, who is unafraid of the cold, can hold it bare-handed. It was carved from ancient ice, buried at minus 30 degrees Celsius, and it's kept in the same frigid environment. It's the coldest drinking vessel, paired with the most fiery liquor," the doctor explained. Despite his words, he too held the cup bare-handed, his long fingers steady and unaffected by the cold.
Dr. Herzog was dressed in an impeccable black suit, with a crisply starched white shirt and a rose-red bow tie.
"You don't look like you're about to kill someone, yet you're holding a gun," Bondarev remarked.
"It depends on your intentions. I'm dressed for a reception, as I might be the host welcoming a guest. But I wouldn't mind being the executioner, either," the doctor said, staring into Bondarev's eyes. "Who are you? Why are you here?"
"Bondarev, KGB major, from Moscow. That's the truth. I just didn't tell you my great-grandmother's name. She was Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova," Bondarev said slowly, pronouncing the long, twisted name as if casting a forbidden spell.
The doctor was taken aback. "The last grand duchess of the Romanov dynasty?"
Anastasia was the last princess of the Romanov dynasty, the final ruling family of Russia until they were overthrown in the October Revolution of 1917. In 1918, Tsar Nicholas II and his entire family were secretly executed by the Red Army. Anastasia, the Tsar's youngest daughter, though young, held the title of Grand Duchess, making her more esteemed than other European princesses of the time. Royal women had to curtsy to her and address her as "Your Imperial Highness." Rumor had it that she had escaped execution, and her name, Anastasia, meant "resurrection."
"Since I am still here as her grandson, you can't call her the 'last' grand duchess," Bondarev smiled.
"How can you prove that?" the doctor asked.
"I saw Rasputin's signature at the end of the tunnel. That heretic, once canonized, had been here, right? He was the one who discovered this cave, wasn't he?"
"Yes," the doctor said. "This cave is his legacy."
"Then you must also know that Rasputin was a close confidant of the Tsar and a friend of Princess Anastasia. The fact that I found this place proves that I know Rasputin's secret, which he passed on to my great-grandmother. This is the evidence that I am the last grandson of the Romanov dynasty." Bondarev proudly raised his head.
"Then, what secret did Rasputin reveal to the Grand Duchess?"
Bondarev smiled mysteriously. "I believe I know some things that you don't, and of course, there are things you know that I don't. Why don't we exchange information? Perhaps then we can sit down and discuss cooperation."
"Go ahead," the doctor gestured with his gun.
"This story begins with my great-grandmother's escape. The Red Army's bullet did pierce her heart, and her body was thrown into an abandoned mine shaft. But three days later, she awoke, and her wound had miraculously healed. Only then did she remember Rasputin's words to her. Rasputin had said he was willing to share the secrets of the world with her because, like him, she was one of God's chosen ones. She, like Rasputin, possessed unparalleled vitality and could even return from hell. Later, she married a Red Army officer. At that time, marrying a Red Army officer was her only way to obtain protection. My great-grandfather eventually rose through the military ranks. He was a good man who always protected her and never revealed her identity. Sometimes, my great-grandmother would wake up from nightmares, shouting, 'The Red Army is coming with guns,' and my great-grandfather would comfort her, saying, 'I am the Red Army, and as long as I live, the Red Army's guns will protect you.'"
"A touching love story," the doctor remarked indifferently.
"My great-grandmother decided to leave her past behind, so she rarely spoke of the Romanov dynasty. But there was one exception. She told my great-grandfather that in northern Siberia, there was a divine relic, as Rasputin had told her. The saint found a cave by the frozen sea where God had created life. But he didn't reveal it to the world. Instead, he sealed it with molten iron because the divine relic had fallen and become the cradle of demons—inside were fallen angels. Our family was warned to be vigilant, generation after generation, because if that cave was ever opened again, the end times would follow."
"So, you've come to check whether we're properly guarding the relic?"
"No, no. My great-grandmother was a devout and kind-hearted Orthodox Christian. I'm not. I have an enormous curiosity about everything. After inheriting this secret, I was determined to find the relic. If I find it, I will definitely open it. Not long ago, I found an old engineering map in an abandoned archive." Bondarev took out the map and rolled it across the ice toward the doctor. "It marks the elevator that leads deep into the permafrost."
The doctor glanced at the map. "This isn't the original—it was drawn from memory."
"It was drawn by a madman. He was once the commander of the engineer battalion of the 13th Guards Infantry Division and was tasked with participating in the excavation of the tunnel. Later, he was brainwashed with drugs and became a frequent patient in a mental institution. All he remembered was working on a major project along the northern coast of Siberia—the project was to dig into a cave. I suddenly realized I had found a breakthrough. But as I investigated further, the mystery deepened. Many years ago, the military built a port in the far north of Siberia, where navigation is almost impossible. There are no records of this port—its coordinates have even been erased. Underneath the port, engineers dug through the permafrost to open a long-sealed cave. So, I decided to come and see for myself. As a KGB officer, it was easy for me to obtain special permission to investigate this mysterious port, allowing me to arrive here as an 'Imperial Commissioner.' Sure enough, I found Rasputin's signature at the end of the tunnel, and I finally reached the place I had dreamed of since childhood."
Bondarev looked around. "But it doesn't seem all that interesting here."
"You probably noticed when you arrived: the closer you get to Rasputin's signature, the more bones you see embedded in the permafrost. Those bones all crawled out from the cracks in the rock. Rasputin said this cave would give birth to demons—he was referring to those creatures. But now this cave is dead. Its mysterious power has faded."
"I don't think so. If this cave were truly worthless, you would have left long ago."
"If this cave really were valuable, I should shoot you and keep its secrets to myself."
"Wait! I brought you a gift! Wouldn't you want to see the gift before you shoot?" Bondarev took an envelope from inside his coat and slid it across the ice toward the doctor, showing that he had no intention of resisting.
The doctor tore open the envelope. Inside was a bank draft from a Swiss bank—for two hundred million dollars.
"A rare large check. What are you trying to buy with this?" the doctor asked.
"Not buy—just a gift," Bondarev smiled. "We believe this gift will be useful to you. Your research has been ongoing for decades, consuming massive amounts of state funding each year, and it's still unfinished, right? But now the Soviet Union is about to collapse. Your supporters have already fallen, which means you can no longer get funding to continue your research, nor can anyone protect your secrecy anymore."
"It does sound like I'm facing quite a dilemma," the doctor said.
"Why not cooperate with my family then? We understand politics, technology, and war. As long as the secret of this cave yields results, we are willing to invest in it. We can continue to support your project and share in the profits it brings. I've shown my sincerity and told you everything I know. Shouldn't you now share the part I don't know? And after that, you'll still have time to shoot me."
"You are very calm, Comrade Major. You think that presenting a two-hundred-million-dollar bank draft will prevent me from shooting, don't you?" There was a hint of sarcasm in the doctor's tone.
"There aren't many people in the world who can turn down two hundred million dollars," Bondarev smiled. "And killing me wouldn't be the best choice. If I don't return safely to Moscow, my family will know that something has happened to me, and they will never let you go. The secrets of Black Swan Bay will be revealed to the world."
"Ten times," the doctor tossed the bank draft back to Bondarev.
Bondarev was stunned. "What did you say?"
"Your family needs to increase the offer tenfold. I need three years and two billion dollars to complete this research. Then we will share the entire world."
"That amount is beyond what I expected, even for my family. It won't be easy to raise."
The doctor gave a cold smile. "It seems you truly don't know the secret of this cave. In comparison, two billion dollars is a trivial amount. The things here are priceless! Your family should be proud to invest even two billion dollars."
"Everything has a price—weaponry, women, secrets, even souls," Bondarev said.
"But who can put a price on God?" the doctor asked.
Hundreds of spotlights above suddenly lit up, illuminating the ice like a crystal stage. The sudden brightness made Bondarev squint.
"Open your eyes," the doctor's voice boomed like a bell, "the secret of this cave, the fallen angel, even God, lies beneath your feet!"
Bondarev slowly looked down. The ice beneath him was transparent and pure, allowing him to see all the way to the bottom of the cavern. He felt a dizzying sense of vertigo, as if he were standing at an unfathomable height. The world seemed empty, with only him and the colossal being encased in the ice staring at each other in silence.
He shivered slightly. "My God!"
A massive bluish-green skeleton lay in the ice. Its grandeur, antiquity, and majesty defied all description, yet it could be summed up with one word—"dragon."
The shadow of dragons had appeared in myths across civilizations. Poets had exhausted their vocabulary trying to describe this mysterious creature, but its exact image had always been elusive. Sometimes it was portrayed as a fearsome lizard, sometimes as a multi-headed beast with wings, and others said it was a gigantic serpent with one leg. Yet Bondarev knew at first glance that this was a dragon—a real dragon. It was so powerful, so perfect, that every detail seemed crafted by the hand of God.
The skeleton was about sixty meters long, and even without its slender tailbone, its body still measured over thirty meters. The long tail and hindquarters were decayed down to the bone, but the entire front half, including the head, remained intact. This mysterious creature was massive, covered in scales, with spines along its spine, and its face full of sharp bone protrusions. Its pale eyes were still intact, glistening with the sheen of white marble. Bondarev had the eerie feeling that the dragon was looking directly at him.
It was a dead dragon, yet even in death, it retained the majesty of an emperor.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" the doctor said softly.
Bondarev took a deep breath. "You're right! It is priceless!"
"When the engineers opened the cave sealed by Rasputin, they didn't see a fallen angel; they saw this magnificent creature. In the mythic age, they coexisted with humanity. Sometimes humans called them gods, sometimes demons," the doctor said. "Rasputin used the term 'fallen angels' as a metaphor for dragons. In the Bible, the fallen angel Lucifer is depicted in the form of a dragon. Revelation describes how Lucifer, the fallen angel, rebelled against heaven and transformed into a red dragon, bringing one-third of the stars down with him. That one-third of the stars was one-third of the heavenly hosts, who took seven days and nights to cross the boundary between heaven and earth and collide with the ground."
"To Rasputin, this might indeed have been the fallen angel," Bondarev said. "He was a zealot who believed in his own doctrines."
"But I must say that dragons have nothing to do with God. They were an ancient intelligent species, rulers of the world before humanity."
"Humanity isn't the only intelligent species?"
"Exactly. According to modern biology, we believe that all species on Earth evolved from a single origin, like branches growing from a tree. We call this tree the 'tree of evolution.' The tree of evolution has three main branches, known as three 'domains': Bacteria, Archaea, and Eukarya. Every known species belongs to one of these three domains. But dragons are an exception—they belong to none of the three."
"So, there's a fourth domain on the tree of evolution?" Bondarev asked.
"Precisely. There was once a mysterious evolutionary path—a fourth path of evolution. Along this path, a superior intelligent species evolved, more advanced than humanity and once the rulers of the world."
"No wonder you call this project 'Project δ.' δ is the fourth letter of the Greek alphabet. It represents the fourth domain," Bondarev said.
"Yes, the fourth domain—the dragon domain! To this day, the species of this domain are not extinct. There must still be living dragons in the world!"
"How can you be so sure?" Bondarev was astonished. "If there are still living dragons, how has humanity never captured one alive in thousands of years? Not even a fossil—except for this one."
"A fossil? No, when Rasputin arrived here, it was still alive!" The doctor pointed at the dragon's back through the thick ice. "Look at the middle of its spine—that black object."
Bondarev followed the doctor's direction. It was easy to mistake the black spike for one of the bone spines along the dragon's back, but upon closer inspection, Bondarev recognized it as an old military bayonet. Bayonets were often forged into sharp blades with complete hilts, allowing soldiers to remove and wield them like swords.
"Judging by the design, it's an old British Lee-Enfield rifle bayonet, and its metal is rare—probably forged from meteoritic iron," Bondarev said.
"The Lee-Enfield rifle is barely a century old. This dragon was killed with a bayonet, meaning it died less than a hundred years ago. And we have even more precise information—it died in 1909. The first people to discover it were a group of Romani. They reported to the Patriarch of Moscow that they had found a demon in the Arctic Ocean," the doctor said. "In the winter of 1908, the Romanov dynasty still ruled Russia, and your great-grandmother was a Grand Duchess admired across Europe.
During that harsh winter, a group of Romani ventured onto the Arctic Ocean to fish. Their method was primitive—they cut a hole in the ice and used a bucket to catch fish that came up for oxygen. It was an effective method in the frozen sea, but that day, no fish appeared—not a single one. An elder among them warned that the day wasn't fit for fishing because if even the fish had disappeared, it meant a great predator was prowling the waters. It could burst through the ice and attack them. But some were too hungry to care; they thought that whatever predator was in the sea wouldn't dare leave the water, so they decided to wait a little longer. Just as the sun was about to set, the water in the ice hole started to ripple. The sea surged upwards, and then a gigantic head emerged from the hole, roaring deafeningly.
Everyone around suffered fatal nerve damage, and those who survived went insane. The people farther away were spared, and according to their descriptions, the creature had a thick neck and massive head, its face resembling an iron mask, like Satan himself, with eyes that blazed like golden fire."
Bondarev carefully examined the dragon's face. Its bony, angular features were an iron-black color, indeed resembling a face covered by an iron mask.
"The Romani people fell to their knees in terror and prayed to God, and the enormous creature immediately disappeared. Looking back now, it probably meant no harm—it was merely coming up to breathe fresh air. But to the Romani, it was their devout faith that drove the demon away. They searched the ice and saw a huge shadow moving beneath, with red blood floating up as it swam. The blood was abnormally hot, melting even the hard ice. The dragon had sustained a fatal injury before it got there. Some people curiously touched the blood seeping through the cracks in the ice, and those who did underwent varying degrees of mutation. Some had deformed skulls, some grew scales on their skin, and the most terrifying of all, one person grew another head from their shoulder."
Bondarev thought of the polar bear remains with double spines.
"The Romani became even more convinced it was a demon, and the demon's blood had tainted their families. So they sent a young man all the way to Moscow to report to the Patriarch, hoping he could use his holy power to help them. But the Patriarch refused to acknowledge that what the Romani had seen was a demon. How could he claim that a demon had appeared in his parish? That was when Rasputin entered the scene. He volunteered to lead an expedition to investigate in northern Siberia, and the Patriarch approved his request. However, Rasputin's intentions were not pure. We later found his expedition log. At first, he wanted to use this incident to make a name for himself. He intended to declare that he had found and subdued a demon in northern Siberia—he needed some achievement to prove himself as a hero, as a prophet bestowed by God. But in his heart, he thought it must be some kind of rare whale that the Romani, in their fear, had mistaken for something else."
"He was trying to exploit religion?"
"Exactly," the doctor said, "but there was one thing that couldn't be explained by a whale—those who touched the blood mutated. To be cautious, Rasputin brought several priests and many animals. The priests were to deal with the demon, and the animals were for blood experiments. Their dog sled team arrived on this icy plain and found a massive opening along the shoreline. Most of the time, this opening lay below sea level, and only a small part became exposed at low tide. The entrance seemed freshly dug, as if a lizard had bored through the permafrost. Judging from the diameter of the tunnel, however, the 'lizard' was as large as a whale. The expedition members were terrified, but they realized this was their only chance. It was summer when they arrived, and in a few months, the seawater would flood the hole, freeze, and collapse it, leaving whatever had dug the tunnel permanently trapped in the permafrost. Of course, the creature itself had the strength to bore its way out. Rasputin decided that, no matter what, they needed to enter and take a look. The tunnels dug by the creature were extensive, and Rasputin used hunting dogs as guides until they finally reached the rock wall. At the base of this wall, they found the dragon. It had used the hollow within the rock as its lair. After boring in, it blocked the tunnel and entered a state of hibernation. However, it overlooked the crack in the rock wall. Rasputin and his team entered the dragon's lair through that crack. This was humanity's chance—by various coincidences, Rasputin's expedition had stepped into the world of dragons. The expedition members were stunned, and everyone suggested sealing off the cave and leaving immediately. But Rasputin realized that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—he might be able to uncover the greatest mystery in human history. He told the Orthodox priests in the group that this was a miracle—a wounded fallen angel, a creation of God, which they should study and report to the Patriarch. To those who believed in science, he said it was an ancient species and that they must leave a valuable research report."
"That libertine was really something else," Bondarev said.
"One way or another, he convinced everyone to stay and study the dragon. Everyone who approached it was uneasy and could only endure by relying on their faith in God or scientific spirit. They dared not disturb it and instead collected the scattered scales and bone fragments. By then, the dragon's lower half had already decayed. The portion above the bayonet embedded in its spine remained intact, while the part below had rotted away to the bone. That bayonet seemed to possess an extraordinary power. But Rasputin wasn't satisfied with merely sketching and collecting scales. He also injected the dragon's blood into animals for experimentation. Rasputin had some alchemical knowledge and suspected that dragon blood was a kind of elixir. Medieval alchemists had mentioned this—a red liquid with immense power. Some people who consumed it would turn into demons, while others might attain immortality."
"The mutated remains must have been the results of those experiments," Bondarev said.
"Yes, his pursuit of science led to disaster. The mutations were far worse than he imagined. The polar bear's spine split, growing a second head. A snake sprouted dragonfly-like wings from its back, and after devouring the other animals, it grew to an enormous size. A cat grew leopard-like fangs, and its ribs grew uncontrollably, piercing its own chest. Worst of all was the cross-species mating. Can you imagine a snake mating with a polar bear?"
"Sounds horrifying and disgusting," Bondarev said.
"It was bloody." The doctor handed Bondarev a roll of paper. "Take a look at Rasputin's expedition sketches."
Bondarev took one glance and immediately felt his scalp tingle, a wave of nausea rising. The copies appeared to be from Rasputin's expedition journal. Each sketch was accompanied by small explanatory notes. The first drawing depicted a giant snake mating with a bear. Though it was just a sketch, the strokes were sharp and masterful, capturing the blood-soaked scene with a frenzy of power. The two-headed polar bear howled in agony, wrapped in coils of the giant snake. The snake used its spiked tail to pierce the bear's abdomen, while its massive mouth swallowed one of the bear's heads. The other bear's head viciously bit down on the snake's neck.
"The male snake mates by tearing open the female bear's womb," the doctor explained.
"I've finally found something in this world that disgusts me enough to make me want to vomit," Bondarev said.
"The expedition wanted to stop the experiments, but it was too late. The mutated animals began mating and breeding, and their numbers multiplied beyond imagination. The young were born with tenacious vitality, and this place eventually became a breeding ground for abominations. Rasputin realized that the cave had to be sealed, or the mutated creatures would become a disaster. He melted all the iron they had brought and poured it into the cracks in the rock. But as he was about to complete the task, the mutated creatures sensed the impending doom, and their intelligence increased significantly. Hundreds of animals began to flee frantically, with about a hundred escaping the dragon's lair. Rasputin decided to forcefully seal the lair. In the end, he even pushed the priests into the molten iron as sacrifices, hoping their presence would keep the 'demons' within at bay. After sealing the entrance, the expedition members trekked through the tunnels dug by the dragon, while the mutated animals fled in every direction. Everyone wanted to leave first. But Rasputin was the most despicable of all—he gave his companions fake maps, keeping the real one for himself, and quietly left the group. Soon, the rising seawater flooded the cave, and it froze and collapsed, leaving Rasputin as the only one who made it back to Moscow from the dragon's lair. Over the next half-century, he only revealed this secret to one person—your great-grandmother, proving that he genuinely believed she, like him, was one of 'God's chosen.'"
"As long as that libertine wasn't trying to court my great-grandmother, I don't care," Bondarev said.
"In the following decades, this mysterious creature remained frozen beneath the permafrost in northern Siberia, with no one exploring Rasputin's legacy, until a Red Army general named Golitsyn accidentally found Rasputin's expedition notes. By then, the tunnel the dragon had dug had collapsed, and the Golitsyn family could only dig out the dragon's lair again. After decades of exploration, they first found the remains of the mutated animals, then the rock wall sealed by Rasputin, and finally, the dragon."
"The Golitsyn family must be your backers—the family has several generals and technical officers who were in charge of weapons development within the Red Army. They had considerable means to embezzle state funds to support you," Bondarev said.
"Yes, but General Golitsyn suddenly died early last year, leaving no heirs. Since then, I've had no supporters. Even if the Soviet Union hadn't collapsed, I couldn't be sure whether I could continue receiving funding."
"It seems I came just in time. You lost your backers, and my family happens to have enough power to replace them."
The doctor smiled silently. "If General Golitsyn were still alive, we wouldn't be having such an in-depth conversation—I would've already pulled the trigger. But during our conversation today, you said something that struck me."
"Oh?"
"'People of value are respected in any era,'" the doctor said slowly. "That's the truth—only cowards are bound by the times; those with ability create the times."
Bondarev raised his glass. "To the truth then. So, is this dragon dead now?"
"Unfortunately, by the time we broke through the rock wall, this dragon had already died. It was bitten to death by the mutated animals. After Rasputin sealed the lair, the remaining mutated animals could only hunt each other. Dragon blood ignited their bloodthirsty genes—they became extremely frenzied, attacking everything they saw, and eventually turned on the dragon itself. They survived by gnawing on the remaining tissues on the dragon bones."
"I imagine it didn't taste very good," Bondarev said.
"Not only did it not taste good, but the dragon's muscle tissue was full of toxins. After consuming the decaying dragon meat, the mutated animals were poisoned and died one after another in this cave. When we reopened the lair, the first thing we saw was piles of bones. The dragon had been bitten to death; they even ate its heart, leaving only the hardened upper half that they couldn't bite through."
"Didn't the dragon wake up to fight back?"
"It was too severely injured—it couldn't wake from its deep slumber and just died."
"Let's talk about your research. We've found a mysterious ancient species, but how do we turn it into money? Twenty billion dollars isn't a small sum—we can't recover the cost by just publishing a few papers," Bondarev said.
"You didn't find my file, did you?" the doctor smiled. "So you don't know my research direction."
"No, I had been speculating what kind of person was in charge of Black Swan Bay until I got here," Bondarev admitted.
"Because I have no file, you couldn't find anything. In the Soviet Union, I am one of the few who has no record. Originally, I could have been sent to court as a war criminal—my research in Germany was in genetic engineering. I helped build the largest gene bank in the world for the Nazis. Under Hitler's racial theory, the German academic community once believed that the Aryans were the world's superior race. We hoped to prove that Aryan children could run faster, jump higher, and be smarter by collecting the genes of all other races worldwide. But as our work progressed, we were surprised to find from the gene samples collected from Japan that the Aryan genes were not special—instead, some humans possessed mysterious 'perfect genes.' These genes were not of the same origin as human genes, yet they granted humans extraordinary abilities, such as incredible explosive strength, or like what appeared in your great-grandmother—the ability to resurrect after death. Each individual manifested different extraordinary abilities. We boldly hypothesized that these people only possessed part of the 'perfect gene,' and these genes should have a common source, originating from a single perfect creature."
"A dragon?"
"Yes, but at that time, I didn't know that the perfect creature I was searching for was a dragon. After the war, the Golitsyn family chose me to be the chief scientist at Black Swan Bay. When I saw this enormous skeleton, I realized that this was the ultimate pursuit of my life. This perfect creature could change the fate of all humanity—using its genes and cloning technology, we could create an entirely new human species, an entirely new era!"
"Have you extracted the perfect genes from the dragon's bones?"
"Unfortunately, we couldn't extract any viable genes from the dragon's bones. The moment this dragon died, all its cells carrying genetic information died as well. The death of a Fourth Domain creature is entirely different from that of a human—life ceases instantly, and every part, from the brain to the nerve endings, dies completely. But the perfect gene doesn't necessarily have to come from a perfect creature!"
He knocked a pair of black clappers together, and an unseen door opened in the rock wall. A stoic officer pushed out a wheelchair. Seated in it was an emotionless boy Bondarev had seen in the courtyard—blond, thin, with large pupils. The boy slumped in the wheelchair, expression blank. Bondarev instinctively took a step back; the boy gave off an unsettling feeling, somewhere between being alive and dead.
"The place where the perfect gene is most concentrated is within the human body," the doctor said quietly.