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Even in the heat of battle, when his comrades fell to the monstrous creatures, he had always managed to survive with only minor scars that served as badges of honor.

The same had happened on the Gehiel Plains. Following the Red Spear Knights had been the right choice.

Although danger struck multiple times, they had somehow managed to overcome it.

I’m not going to die this time either.

That’s what he thought, without a doubt—until he inhaled the stench of rotting flesh.

“Cough, cough!”

His breathing became labored. A burning pain seared through his throat, and his strength left him, causing him to collapse.

Luckily, it didn’t seem to be a lethal toxin. His stomach churned, but there was no sense of his body mutating, and the pain subsided quickly.

‘I’m okay.’

He could endure this. It was only a temporary symptom.

If a monster were to approach now, though, it would be the end. But he wasn’t worried.

There were two knight orders here: the Red Spear and the Blue Flower. They would protect him.

With their strength, they could handle whatever might happen.

Beeeeep!

A ringing sound echoed in his ears, and his nausea worsened. His condition was rapidly deteriorating.

‘It hurts. Where’s the priest? Where’s the priest?’

If the ones serving the lord were here, he’d be safe. But he knew they likely wouldn’t be different from the others.

In a situation like this, they’d obviously be supporting the knights.

‘Mercenaries… have to survive on their own.’

That was reality.

Rumble…!

Suddenly, a tremor came through the ground. What was happening? He wiped the saliva from the corner of his mouth and looked up.

No.

‘No?’

The moment the thought hit him, he froze and glanced sideways.

Other mercenaries had regained their senses and stood up. He didn’t know what they were looking at, but they were retreating in fear. Something dangerous was definitely happening.

He hesitated for a long while. Should he keep his head down? But realistically, he had to look up to understand what was going on.

“D-Damn it.”

The moment he faced forward, a curse slipped from his lips.

A dragon’s skull, wreathed in dark fog, hovered in the air with its eyes open.

Seeing the Red glow in its eyes sent a chill down his spine, and for a moment, he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

‘This is bad.’

It felt as though someone had gripped his heart tightly. What do I do? How do I survive? If things go on like this…

‘I’ll die.’

Primal fear gripped his entire being.

He didn’t scream—instinct told him not to. He was terrified the noise might draw the dragon’s attention.

‘I have to run. But where? On this vast plain, how far could he possibly flee?’

Though his body was sluggish, his heart was racing faster than ever before.

His instincts painted the grim conclusion clearly in his mind.

‘It’s over.’

Not once had he ever thought like this before. There had always been a way out. But now, it felt like he was standing on the edge of a steep cliff.

Gasping for breath, his eyes darted around in desperation.

‘I can’t see.’

The world was turning black. His vision narrowed. He couldn’t think straight.

With growing panic, he forced himself up, gasping for breath, and frantically scanned his surroundings.

He wished someone would help him. But everyone was in the same boat. Then, a man caught his eye.

‘Ian.’

The third son of Berger, the guide leading the Red Spear Knights. The one who had inherited the hero Herwin’s relic, the mighty spear Parmael.

Recognized by the warrior, and recently, he had even saved the city of Flaming.

‘Save me too.’

If he could get to Ian’s side, he might survive. It was a far more realistic option than hoping for the lord’s aid that would never come.

He took a step forward. His armor felt constricting. His muscles suddenly ached, and his skin itched horribly.

“Grrr…”

A guttural noise rumbled from deep in his throat.

Rip!

His clothes burst apart, and his field of vision suddenly rose higher.

It didn’t matter. Ian Berger. If he could just get to him, the pain would only be temporary.

But the knights turned to look at him. They seemed fine—no, they looked at him with hostility.

Why?

Uncontrollable rage surged within him.

Why were they drawing their weapons at him and not the dragon?

Why were they pointing those filthy blades at him?

Why! Get out of my way! Let me—

“Ugh…”

Don’t block me!

“Aaaaahhhh!”

* * *

Ian turned his head. Even in this chaotic situation, he could feel the gaze directed at him.

“……”

A mercenary was staring at him with bloodshot eyes. His gaze was pleading for help.

He took a step forward, and then the transformation began.

The sturdy leather armor the mercenary wore ripped apart as his body mutated.

Horrific muscles bulged grotesquely, and in the blink of an eye, his body doubled in size.

The creature that had once been a man now exuded hostility.

Grrr…!

And it wasn’t just him. Most of the mercenaries, excluding the knights and priests, showed similar symptoms.

It was just like what he had seen in Flaming. The toxins from the rotting flesh and the pulse from the Black Dragon were likely the cause.

“Ian!”

Someone called out to him, but Ian remained unperturbed.

“Ugh… Aaaaaahhhh!”

He merely watched the monster approaching. The nearby knights reacted instantly.

Despite its size, to knights who wielded magic, it was just a big target.

The greatsword of a Blue Flower Knight flashed, slicing the creature’s body diagonally, and it was immediately consumed by the flames of the Red Spear Knight.

Screams echoed from all directions. Just then, someone grabbed Ian by the shoulder and shook him.

“Ian!”

“I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine.”

Dior stared at Ian for a moment before letting go of his shoulder.

“…Then that’s fine.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not in the mood for jokes.”

Ian gave a wry smile at Dior’s cold response.

“True enough.”

“Only the mercenaries have mutated. And only those below Level 4.”

“It’s unfortunate, but at least it’s a small mercy, isn’t it? To be honest, they wouldn’t have made much difference against the Black Dragon anyway.”

They should consider themselves lucky this didn’t happen in the middle of battle. While they might not have contributed much, their sudden transformation could have impacted morale significantly.

Mental stress, in particular, was something that couldn’t be quickly recovered from and required attention.

Ian gazed at the incomplete form of the Black Dragon. It didn’t seem poised to attack just yet, so there appeared to be time for a bit more conversation.

“By the way, I’ve got some good news.”

“…Do you have a way to call the warrior?”

“Not exactly, but I think we can handle the Black Dragon ourselves.”

“Hah, are you saying we should all just die together?”

“Some of us will die. It could be you. It could be me. But we have a chance.”

Dior let out a heavy sigh.

“On what grounds?”

“Remember when I overextended and threw Parmael earlier? It wasn’t in vain. Look.”

The black mist that formed the dragon’s body was distorting and reforming repeatedly.

“Even its physical body isn’t stable. It rushed its form together to repel the intruders. Sure, it’s still floating in the sky, but even that’s just a matter of time. Can’t you see it’s slowly sinking as we speak? It’s burning through a massive amount of magic.”

“If it’s not attacking us outright, doesn’t that mean it has at least some intelligence?”

“…Hmm, maybe. Whether it’s driven by intellect or instinct.”

Ian smiled bitterly.

“Is there really much to think about?”

“……”

“You already know none of us can escape this unscathed.”

Of course, Ian was ready to respect whatever choice Dior made. Even though he had Parmael and a holy sword of unknown origin, he wasn’t confident in defeating the Black Dragon alone.

Rumble!

A heavy, resonant sound from the Black Dragon reverberated through the air, sinking deep into their minds.

That strange noise was more than enough to stir fear in anyone’s heart. The longer they dragged this out, the more the knights’ morale would drop.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

As Dior nodded, finally making up his mind, the distant Black Dragon began to move.

Its maw opened wide, and it spewed forth a deadly, ominous breath.

Kwoooooosh!

The sight of it was like a storm cloud surging forward in waves.

“Barrier!”

Gawain responded immediately.

Crack!

With his shout, pillars of ice surged up from the ground in a wedge-like formation.

Sizzle!

The dragon’s breath crashed into the barrier just as it reached the frontlines.

The ice began to melt rapidly, but new pillars rose to replace them, one after another.

“Hear me!”

Taking advantage of the moment, Dior shouted at the top of his lungs.

“We will fight the Black Dragon! Should we flee before a dragon with only its skull left? Today, we will carve a glorious achievement into the annals of history! ”

“Yes!”

“You will lead the troops!”

“What should I do?”

“Move in teams and throw the Meteor Lances from a distance!”

“Understood.”

“And Sir Gawain!”

Gawain, who was maintaining the barrier, turned around.

“Yes, my lord?”

“If possible, I’d like the Blue Flower Knights to guard the Red Spear Knights.”

“Then who will lead the main attack?”

“Ian and I will. If you feel confident, you can join us.”

Gawain didn’t hesitate for long. While he wanted to say he’d take part, he painfully recognized his limitations.

“No, I’ll leave it to you. I have no desire to throw away my life out of arrogance.”

“Then prepare yourselves!”

The dragon’s breath began to wane, and the priests hurriedly bestowed blessings upon the knights.

Though brief, having time for conversation before battle was an enormous stroke of luck. It allowed them to at least agree on a course of action, even if it wasn’t a perfect plan.

“Brother.”

“What?”

“Take this, now.”

Ian handed Dior a pill.

“Is this an elixir?”

“No, a stimulant.”

“…Have you been taking this all along?”

Relying on drugs to reach a higher state was something one should never do. Such words rose to Dior’s throat but were difficult to voice with death looming so close.

“I understand if you feel uneasy, but it’s made by Cordelia. Think of it as medicine and take it.”

“Fine. In a situation like this, I suppose anything will help.”

As Dior briefly removed his helmet to quickly swallow the pill, Ian also took one of Neridiel’s Tears.

Of the three pills he had received after rescuing Audrey Prethus of the Green Tower, only one remained.

‘I’ll have to stop by again once this is over.’

He hadn’t thought he’d need them, but two were already gone. Given their effectiveness, it seemed wise to stock up for the future.

The seemingly endless breath from the dragon was finally weakening. The priests continued to hurriedly bless the knights.

“Whew.”

Just as they were about to rush forward, Ian noticed the ground beneath them turning black.

“!?”

The darkening ground spread, centering only on the spots where people were standing.

“…Wait! Get back!”

Urgent shouts erupted from all around as the knights quickly pulled their comrades to safety, but there were some who couldn’t rely on the knights for help.

Those left behind were the priests who had been safely giving blessings from behind the lines. Slow to move, they chose a different approach instead of retreating.

Seeing the ground beneath them bubbling and boiling, the priests leapt into the air and deployed a barrier imbued with sacred light over the ground.

“No, don’t.”

Dior muttered as he saw this. He recognized the technique from documents about White Fang.

He wanted to shout for them to retreat again, but there wasn’t enough time.

Whoosh!

“Damn it!”

One of the priests cursed, eyes wide in disbelief. From the blackened ground, a dragon-like head burst forth.

———–