The eting chamber was buzzing with murmured introductions as adventurers sized each other up. Nas, titles, and badges glinted under the lanternlight, each one a quiet statent of pride. Ethan listened absently, arms folded, until a familiar laugh rolled through the room.
"Heh—well, if it isn't the brat himself."
Ethan turned, and there he was. Brad. The man's broad shoulders and thick arms were as he rembered, he had a few more scars and a thicker beard than previously, most likely gained when he crossed the monster infested forest. Brad's grin stretched wide when he spotted Ethan's badge, and his eyes nearly popped.
"Damn, kid! You really grew up fast!" he barked, clapping a aty hand against his thigh. "A-rank already—and not even two months have passed? Hah! If that doesn't make jealous, I don't know what will!"
His booming voice carried across the chamber, and like ripples spreading through still water, every gaze turned toward Ethan. Whispers stirred.
Even Xarion, who had sat slouched in his chair bored, raised a brow. His golden, slit-pupiled eyes studied Ethan with a glint of interest.
For a draconian who had rose his way to A-rank by regularly hunting A-ranked beasts, seeing another rise so swiftly was no small curiosity. But only Brad knew Ethan's truth—that his strength had been earned recently from zero. But Brad, wisely, kept his mouth shut.
---
When the introductions settled, the air grew heavier. Maps and reports were laid out on the great oaken table, and grim faces gathered around.
"According to intel," one of the B-ranks began, "the dungeon boss behind this tide is a Level 60 Wyvern. Any signature says it breaths fire."
The words struck the chamber like a hamr. A hush fell. Then—Xarion stirred.
The draconian leaned forward, aura rising subtletyas thought he got what he wanted. . His golden eyes glead with an almost feral hunger.
"I'll say this before anything else," Xarion's voice rumbled, carrying an edge of command. "Take every coin and gem. The treasure ans nothing to . But that wyvern… is mine."
His gaze swept the room. He didn't need to explain—everyone knew why. Wyverns weren't True Dragons, but their blood held much higher traces of purity then other draconic beasts, a key that could edge a draconian closer to ascending. And it seed this Draconian was more hungry then others as his stories of his journey through continent was famous, always looking for beast which contained even a trace amount of fire dragon blood.
No one objected. In fact, many looked relieved. Dragon-type dungeons were fad for hoards treasures beyond imagination. If Xarion relinquished the treasure, that ant the rest of them would get more treasures.
But still—now the silence lingered, all eyes shifting toward Ethan. The only one present who could truly rival Xarion in facing such a beast.
Ethan's mind flickered inward.
System. Dragon blood, is there any? show .
A neat list scrolled before his eyes.
> Fire Dragon Blood — 1,000,000 SP
Ice Dragon Blood — 1,000,000 SP
.
.
.
Magic Dragon Blood — 2,000,000 SP
Demonic Dragon Blood — 2,500,000 SP
Space Dragon Blood — 3,000,000 SP
Ti Dragon Blood — 4,000,000 SP
Soul Dragon Blood — 6,000,000 SP
.
.
.
Ethan nearly choked. The hell?! For that price I could trade stat points that would could make rival a dragon!
He exhaled slowly, masking his shock, and raised his head with a faint smile.
"Don't worry," Ethan said, eting Xarion's piercing gaze.
He hesitated for just a beat.
"Xarion" said Xarion
"Yes, Mr. Xarion. I won't lay claim to anything tied to wyverns. But—" his grin widened, a spark of challenge glinting in his eyes— "would you allow to fight alongside you? You see… I've always dread of testing myself against a draconian species."
A murmur rippled through the room. So smirked at Ethan's boldness, others frowned at his audacity.
Xarion narrowed his eyes. But when he found no deception—only a fierce, unyielding will—his lips curved in the faint smile.
"…Very well." Xarion leaned back. "Fight beside . And if you contribute notably, as fighting it alone might even risk my life" He paused, "The wyvern's bones are yours."
The chamber erupted.
"Whoaa.."
"Wyvern's bone? That's as precious as its blood!"
"Sure A rankers live in another sort of lives..."
Indeed, wyvern bone was a prize of unimaginable worth—craftable into weapons, catalysts, or armor that could rival relics. For Xarion to part with it even after saying he would not take treasure was very much was astonishing. This only high lighted the importance he gave ro his ascendance.
Ethan's heart gave a quiet thrum, but his face showed only calm satisfaction.
"Then it's a deal."
The faint smile lingered on Xarion's lips. For the first ti, respect glead in those dragon-gold eyes.
The eting humd on, voices low and urgent as strategy bled into accusation. Maps were folded and refolded. Ranks were counted. When the origin of the monster tide ca up, the room's temperature seed to drop a few degrees—bla flared like tinder.
"According to scouts," one of the captains said, stabbing a finger at the mark on the map, "the wyvern was disturbed. Soone went in and took the treasures. It woke the beast, and everything beneath it scattered toward the city in blind panic after it rampaged."
Heads turned instinctively toward the guilty. The room found Karl. His na rippled through the gathered like a bitter aftertaste. Karl's group was one among those who had rushed into the dungeon without proper preparation—loud and careless. Soone in the back clicked their tongue.
"Tsk. He is a B-rank and still plays like a fool."
A hoarse laugh followed. "Heard he got his brain cells rearranged when he stumbled back into the guild. Serves him right."
Karl bowed his head as if in sha; his shoulders hunched so the lanternlight cut shadows across his jaw. Underneath that mask of pitiful defeat, anger seethed like magma. His hands curled into fists beneath the table; the sound of his nails creaking against leather was barely audible.
Just you wait, Ethan Cross, Karl breathed inwardly. Even if it costs my life, I'll make sure you die in that dungeon. I'll repay this humiliation.
His vow slipped into the wood as if it had been burned there. Around him, the other conversations resud; the collective focus snapped back to the plan at hand. No one bothered to notice Karl's promise to himself.
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