When they passed into the grand central chamber of the Cult of the Dragon following after the Dragonwarden, all of them were stunned into silence. The size of the cavern that they saw wasn’t the only thing that inspired awe—it was what decorated it. Looming above them all was the gargantuan skeleton of a dragon enshrined on a pedestal. Its bones were black, standing in harsh contrast to the marble hall. Heat still emanated outward from the fossil.

  Like I’m in the Smithsonian again, Lucian thought, looking upon the skeleton. Only… this thing is way bigger than any tyrannosaurus I’ve ever laid eyes upon.

  “Why exactly did we come here again?” Bethany squeaked out. “Did we really think going after dragons was a good idea?”

  People fanned out around the room, looking around, but Rowan continued to follow the Dragonwarden to the base of the display.

  “The Final Martyr,” Rowan read, running his finger across the inscription. He looked up at the dragon skeleton.

  The dragon on display was the final one to give its life at the hands of the Dragonwarden. It was once he absorbed its strength that he was able to overpower the bondmail trapping him. The Cult of the Dragon preserved this body to pay tribute to him alongside countless other dragons that had fallen at that man’s hands.

  Vlad reached up his fingers to touch the chin of the skull, then winced and sucked his finger to get rid of the pain from the burn. Its bones remained hot. “Heavens above… a beautiful piece. How much would this go for?”

  Miriam moved to the Dragonwarden. “Do you think I could scrape his bones to get some powder?” The Dragonwarden stared down at her, perplexed. “It’s a very valuable ingredient.”

  His hand hovered near his axe, and he shook his head. Miriam got the message.

  “So, why did you bring us here?” Rowan asked, looking up at the giant.

  The Dragonwarden pointed to a series of stone tablets on the wall that a few of the Student Ambassadors were already reading. Slowly, their whole group converged around the writings.

  “It’s about becoming a champion of the dragons,” Denzel said, one of the few to start reading it first. “It appears to be some kind of ancient ritual.”

  Rowan looked back to the Dragonwarden, who’d moved closer. “Is this what you want us to do in order to leave?”

  The Dragonwarden crossed his arms and nodded. He pounded his fist to his heart, and then pointed.

  “…or else you’ll tear our hearts out?” Bethany said in horror.

  The Dragonwarden put his fingers to the forehead of his helmet in exasperation. He drew his axe, then offered it with both hands.

  “You’ll help us,” Maximilian said, enlightened. “You are a protector well and true, it seems.”

  “…I’m skeptical,” said Carolina Borsten. She was the mage of the Empire of Riverra. Gothic and well-endowed, she was a fan favorite. Lucian… might have been one such fan, and he might have been avoiding her out of embarrassment for some things he posted. Still, she knew her magic very well. “The magic of this ritual looks quite old. It uses mediums like… blood. A very bad portent.

  Ruth walked up the Dragonwarden cautiously. “Is there any more information that you can show us?”

  The Dragonwarden spread his arms out and gestured around.

  “Let’s look around, then,” Lucian encouraged.

  ***

  Ruth Goldhain crossed her arms, watching Lucian bubble away in front of some of the Student Ambassadors. They had spent the past few hours going through the stone tablets that have been left behind by this Cult of the Dragon. They were incredibly revealing about not only who the figure in armor was—they named him the Dragonwarden—but about this place in general.

  The Dragonwarden was a former slave-warrior, forced to hunt beasts like dragons for sport and glory. Eventually, he broke free of the bondmail and became their most stalwart protector. Some people were moved by their writings, but Ruth felt otherwise. She’d read the writings, too. And the cost-benefit analysis…

  Slaying a dragon allows you to absorb their power, she reflected. It dwarfs purified essence by a tremendous amount. Killing one dragon alone… it could be worth years of training. And depending on the element of the dragon killed, it can shift affinity, even grant powers like blessings. And frankly, I think we can kill them. We’ve grown very quickly.

  The personal benefit wasn’t even mentioning what could be made out of the corpse. Dragonbones needed to be removed of their heat, but once treated they were second only to Titanbone mined from the vast skeleton near Golvenne. Dragonscale could be used to contain incredibly high-ranking spells on scrolls—they were the only material that could handle highest-ranking spells, in fact. With her family’s connections, she could make this little club a fortune selling the dragon’s corpse. And yet…

  Lucian’s very insistent about protecting the Dragonwarden, she thought. Throwing all of it away for a ritual that binds us never to harm the dragons, to gain dubious benefits.

  Ruth tapped her arm in annoyance. Unlike most of the others here, she didn’t have some large emotional problem with Lucian. Her problem with him was more related to finances. He had killed several incredibly beneficial trade deals for what felt like nothing more than a whim. In her eyes, she was owed a debt, not an apology.

  “…why is Lucian fighting so hard for the Dragonwarden? He speaks as though about his personal idol.”

  As her question was asked aloud, she turned her gaze to listen in. Maximilian was speaking to Olivia, Helen, and Rowan.

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  Rowan didn’t answer directly, instead saying, “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “I assumed that he might’ve told you,” Maximilian pressed. “Has he not? It simply seems like he holds a great deal of affection for this… Dragonwarden. I cannot conceive why.”

  Rowan shook his head. Helen looked at him and said, “Isn’t it obvious?”

  Olivia looked at Helen. “What do you mean?”

  “A slave, bound by powers beyond his imagining…” Helen said, her voice distant and sad. “His entire life, he was forced to harm that which he didn’t wish to harm. Day after day, he sowed misery against his will. Is this beginning to sound familiar?” Helen asked.

  Ruth narrowed her eyes. Was she seriously…?

  “Lucian sees himself in the Dragonwarden,” Helen said. “Enslaved, then forced to do harm to others while heart of pure benevolence beats within your iron exterior… indeed, Miriam was right in what she said. A pure holy affinity cannot remain such if the actions of the individual are impure, no matter how he was experimented on. As the Dragonwarden didn’t succumb to evil, nor did Lucian.

  “Consciously or subconsciously, Lucian must see himself in the Dragonwarden,” Helen continued. “By saving the Dragonwarden… he seeks to save himself. He acts not only for the good of the deed itself, but for the idea that his own soul might be saved even after all the misfortune he brought upon us. The Dragonwarden gained strength through his suffering, killing the dragons he so dearly loved… and so too has Lucian, harming all of us in service of protecting his sister. And just as the Dragonwarden gained strength to break his bonds, Lucian now has strength enough to fight against the chains that bind him—Cyril.” She wiped away a single tear. “Truly, it’s… inspiring.”

  Ruth’s estimation of Helen as a person just plummeted. Still, Lucian was doing an excellent job making the Dragonwarden’s case.

  Should hire him as my campaign manager, someday, she thought.

  ***

  “Looks like the vote is 16 in favor,” Rowan declared. “Seems like we’ll be going through with the ritual.”

  Lucian didn’t bother to hide a small celebration. He’d done it. He’d campaigned for the Dragonwarden very subtly, and it looks like his clever manipulations paid off. Without even sparking one iota of suspicion, he managed to persuade everyone. Perhaps he was better at covert operations than he thought.

  “I feel the need to clarify that I only voted this way because I doubted we’d be able to stand up against the Dragonwarden,” Damien said.

  “…your vote was private,” Denzel said. “You didn’t need to clarify anything.”

  “Well, uhh… people could have recognized my handwriting!” he retaliated.

  “It is quite abominable,” Rowan agreed.

  “It says we’ll be made an ally to all of the dragons,” Carolina said. “Considering the copious amount of blood involved in the ritual, I suspect that this is some manner of blood magic. From a cursory analysis, I can’t say that the ritual is dangerous in and of itself… but I’m not thrilled at the prospect of being bound with such creatures.”

  “Perhaps this alliance goes both ways,” Ruth suggested. “Having these creatures as allies could be a boon in the fight against the devils.”

  “I’m unsure that we can call them creatures any longer. If what these cultists wrote was true, they’re sentient creatures just like us, albeit with a far different culture,” Maximilian said. “It’s a shame that my ancestors never attempted to commune with these creatures. No benefit can outweigh taking the lives of intelligent beings. Dragonslayers were little more than demons themselves… excepting one, perhaps.”

  Rowan nodded, then turned around and looked at the Dragonwarden. “It looks like we’ll be going through with the ritual. Are you ready to help us?”

  He was sitting underneath the skull of the dragon located in this temple. When called upon, he rose, standing tall. He walked toward the exit of this shrine. They followed.

  ***

  The Dragonwarden didn’t take them to perform the ritual immediately. Instead, he took them to a cemetery removed from the village in the grove. There, he kneeled down before a monument, then looked at them expectantly.

  “Is this… a cemetery?” Rowan asked, looking around.

  He nodded in confirmation. Lucian tried to read the text of the monument, but it was too faded for him to make out.

  “Are these the cultists?” Rowan asked. The Dragonwarden nodded, and then shook his head. “Yes and no,” Rowan concluded. “Meaning… there are others, buried here. Does that mean we weren’t the first to find this place?” Another nod.

  “Did they die in the ritual?” Carolina asked. The Dragonwarden shook his head, then pointed to the village. She looked back. “They died there. Meaning… they lived there, until they died?”

  The Dragonwarden nodded.

  “I get the sinking suspicion he’s warning us this ritual is very dangerous, and he’s imploring us to live a quiet life, dining on carrots and each other’s company until such a time we wind up joining the rest of the nameless gravestones,” Miriam said sarcastically.

  The Dragonwarden ignored her sarcasm, rising to his feet and pointing to various farms he’d set up. He pointed to a pasture full of cows, then held his arms out wide. He was clearly indicating the bountiful life that they could enjoy, subsisting on vegetables and milk until their dying day. Lucian had to agree with Miriam’s point, though. It didn’t sound the best.

  “Sorry,” Rowan said. “We can’t do that. You may have to protect this place, but we have to protect our home. One way or another, we have to leave this place.”

  The Dragonwarden gave a single, solemn nod, then set off walking. They followed him once more. He wordlessly led them out of the grove and into the open fields beyond it. There, the remnants of the dragons might could be seen on full display. Their elemental might ravaged the landscape beyond at countless points. In the distance, there was a gigantic colosseum standing half-ruined, partially overrun by greenery and with much of it caved in.

  They hiked across the trail, each of them acutely aware of the dragons that would occasionally fly by in the distance. Their destination couldn’t be clearer: the arena of marble. Everyone save Bethany was quiet—she muttered prayers to herself constantly. With this tense atmosphere dominating, they made it to the arena.

  Once inside the arena, they didn’t head to the spectator’s seats. They went right into the center of it all, right on the arena grounds. Once they were there, the Dragonwarden looked back for a moment. After making sure they were all accounted for, he effortlessly jumped what was probably around fifty feet to a distant bell tower. He drew his axe, then slammed the bell so hard it hurt Lucian’s ears even from here.

  Once, twice… eight times he rang it. Then, he climbed out of the bell tower to stand atop it. Lucian felt chills, just as he had in War of Four, as the eight dragons began to converge on this spot. How many times had he done this fight? Too many. There was nothing more challenging than fighting all eight dragons at once, which could be done here if the player chose. They weren’t locked into the ritual.

  One by one, each of the eight dragons took their place on the outer walls of the colosseum, peering inward as they stood around uneasily. They were all different colors—it was a pride parade of biological nukes. Despite how much he enjoyed fighting all eight dragons at once, he still did the ritual most often. It was a challenging test, and also the fastest way to complete this quest.

  Would it change with 26 people here, though?