Verena looked like she wanted to say sothing. Her lips parted slightly, and for a mont I braced myself for another tirade—but nothing ca. She swallowed her words and looked away.
Smart move.
She probably realized that anything she said now would backfire. Mia’s current state was fragile—emotionally cracked open. She wasn’t going to listen to anyone else right now, not even her supposed "best friend." Especially not soone trying to wedge themselves between siblings.
Verena could try again later. She would. I knew her type—persistent manipulators never gave up that easily.
But for now? She shut her mouth.
Still, sothing gnawed at the back of my mind. Mia’s sudden change... it didn’t feel natural. Sure, it could’ve just been because we hadn’t seen each other in a while, and emotions were high—but still. Sothing didn’t add up.
But whatever. I didn’t have ti to psychoanalyze right now.
I pushed the unease aside and motioned for Mia to follow .
She offered Verena a faint, polite smile—one that clearly said "don’t follow"—and walked with , silent and steady. I didn’t speak until we were well off the main road, ducking beneath the broad shade of a tall pine-like tree. The leaves rustled gently overhead, but the air between us was heavy.
I turned to face her and exhaled, rubbing the back of my neck.
"Mia... I need to tell you sothing," I said, voice low. "There’s a high chance you’re not going to like what I’m about to do. But please, just trust , and go back. Go back to the academy."
She frowned, tilting her head like I was speaking another language. "What are you talking about? I don’t get it. Everything’s all over the place. Just slow down and tell from the beginning, yeah?"
I shook my head quickly. "No ti for the beginning. That’ll take too long. And honestly, you don’t need the whole story right now. All you need to know is that the safest thing you can do right now is run. Get away from this region. Get back to Rose Academy. Imdiately."
My voice must’ve sounded more desperate than I intended, because her expression changed. Her wide eyes locked onto mine, concern leaking into her voice.
"Why...?" she asked, barely above a whisper.
Simple word.
Brutal question.
And one I couldn’t answer—not without risking everything. If I told her, she’d start asking more questions. She’d try to stay. Try to bring back. Try to be stubborn again, and I couldn’t let that happen.
I needed to go back and search for the group not because I wanted to help them. No, it was because I wanted decimate Opalcrest...
I took a deep breath and looked her in the eye.
"I can’t tell you that," I said, firm. "Just... trust . Please. We already fought once about this. I don’t want another fight. Not again. Let take you to Miss Celia. If she agrees to send you back, take the offer. If not, then just stay close to her. She’ll keep you safe."
Mia hesitated.
Her lips pressed together like she was holding sothing back. Her eyes shimred with conflicting thoughts. Then, finally, she nodded. Quiet. Composed.
"Okay," she said. "If you say so... I might as well use the ti to finish sothing I had left pending."
Then she added, almost absently, "My anger almost made lose sothing precious again."
I frowned.
What did that an? Her tone was off—like her words were dipped in regret and taphor. What was she thinking about? Sothing beyond ? Was she philosophizing now?
I didn’t know. And honestly, I didn’t care—not right now.
If her weird poetic monologue worked in my favor, then good. I wasn’t about to question it.
I gave her a smile—this one genuine.
"Alright, great," I said. "Let’s get moving. Unless you’ve got sothing you wanna do first?"
She shook her head gently. "Nothing worth staying here for. Let’s go."
I grinned and gave her a thumbs-up. "Good."
Then, without asking for permission—because I was her brother and that’s what brothers did—I scooped her up in a princess carry and bolted.
I activated [Phantom Surge] again, letting my legs blur into motion, the scenery warping around us. I didn’t stop running until we reached Region 7.
Back at the Sapphire Hotel.
The guards posted at the entrance gave a look—recognition in their eyes—but they didn’t try to stop . Neither did the receptionist. They rembered . And they rembered Miss Celia’s warning not to interfere.
I went straight to Room 20 and knocked once, sharp and firm.
A few seconds later, the door creaked open, and Miss Celia peeked out.
Her gaze flicked from my face to Mia’s—and then back to mine.
Deadpan.
Flat.
Totally unimpressed.
"You got your sister," she said with the enthusiasm of a sleep-deprived librarian. "Now what? You want to babysit her?"
I chuckled softly, then deadpanned, "Yes."
Silence.
Heavy, awkward, suffocating silence.
It stretched so long I felt like I’d fallen into a void. The kind that echoed your own thoughts back at you just to mock how stupid you sounded.
Celia stared at like I’d grown horns.
Mia tilted her head slightly, a look that said she was questioning every life decision that led her here.
I shrugged. "Look, I don’t have a teleportation skill or so portal device in my back pocket. I can’t send her back myself. That’s why I brought her to you." I raised a brow. "You, on the other hand, can either teleport her back to the Academy—or let her stay glued to your shadow. Either way... if sothing happens to her, Miss Celia, I swear I’ll make you beg for your death."
Blunt.
Direct.
A little over the top?
Sure.
But effective.
Celia’s brows slowly arched upward. "Oh my~ what a terrifying little gremlin of a student I’ve raised," she cooed, smiling as if I’d just given her flowers and not a death threat.
I smirked. "That’s a creative way of calling unhinged. Honestly, I’ll take that as a complint."
Without waiting for a response, I turned to Mia.
"Mia... just stay away from here. Don’t linger. Not even for a second." My voice dropped into sothing low. Raw. "Please."
She smiled gently.
I gave her a nod. Quiet and decisive.
Then Celia gave her a slight wave, ushered her inside like so sleepy innkeeper welcoming a late guest.
Mia glanced back once. I raised my hand in a lazy farewell before blurring from the spot.
I had sowhere else to be.
Next destination: find the group.
Which also ant: find the goddamn dragon.
Yeah, maybe I did have mud in my skull. Or a few screws loose. Or maybe I was just dumb. Real dumb.
Because what kind of lunatic actively goes looking for a dragon?
.
Of course.
I wasn’t going to miss this ss. I had no intention of watching from the sidelines while Opalcrest pulled their fancy little sches. No—I wanted to burn it all down. Every. Last. Trash piece.
Why?
Simple.
Almost every person in that damn faction was garbage.
I was garbage too.
But unlike them—I couldn’t be killed by them.
So the stronger trash wins. Survival of the filthiest.
Call it hypocritical? I don’t care.
I’ve been a walking, talking hypocrite ever since I was nine.
So what?
...
Blurring from region to region with [Phantom Surge] on repeat was finally catching up to . The overuse of the ability wasn’t kind. My head kept throbbing behind the eyes, a sharp ache stabbing into my temples like hot nails.
I needed to rest.
Badly.
But I couldn’t stop.
I couldn’t afford to.
Still—my legs slowed down before I even made the choice. My body moved on its own, dragging deeper into a dense forest with no signs or labels. I didn’t even know which region I was in anymore. Sowhere green. Sowhere quiet.
Sowhere forgotten.
The trees were tall, thick-trunked, and almost suffocating in how tightly packed they were. The canopies above ford a heavy ceiling of leaves, muting the world beneath. You couldn’t see anything properly unless you really looked.
Which was why I almost missed it.
While dragging my deadweight body around like a zombie, sothing glinted in the corner of my eye.
A flash of silver.
No—white.
Like the sun bouncing off a polished blade.
I narrowed my eyes, curious despite the exhaustion, and pushed through the undergrowth. Sothing instinctive pulled toward it, like a magnet.
Nestled among twisted roots and bramble, hidden halfway between branches high above, I saw it:
A shimring white scale.
Luminous. Cold. Reverent.
The second I laid eyes on it, my body reacted.
Goosebumps spread across my arms. My skin prickled. A shiver crawled down my spine, and my fingers twitched.
And then—
Ding.
The system chid.
« The White Dragon of Grief »
Type: Dragon
Rank: ★★★★★★★★ (Weakened—Healing)
Description: An ancient dragon long forgotten by the march of ti. Once beloved by humankind, it was the only known dragon to willingly co-exist with them—kind, gentle, affectionate.
This deviation led to its exile. Banished by its kin, it defied extinction by bonding with a human, birthing a diluted legacy that spread through the generations.
What remains is a husk of its original power—but still incomprehensibly dangerous.
Status: ntally Unstable
Alignnt: Neutral (Currently Aggressive)
Drops:
Drop of Ichor ★★★★★★★★
Dragon Core ★★★★★★★★
Dragon Hide, Scales, Fangs, Nails, Flesh, Organ
« Close »
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
I stared at the word "Healing" like it had personally offended .
’Healing?’
No, no, no. That word didn’t belong next to an eight-star dragon.
That thing—that thing—was healing?
Why the fuck was it healing? Was it trying to regenerate its full power? Awaken its true form?
’What the actual hell kind of monster are you, you grieving lizard fuck?!’
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