The Outskirts of Avras. Hidden within a hillside permanently shrouded in mist, the research facility did not look like a place of healing or study. It looked like a tomb carved for a god that hadn't died yet.

  The light inside was wrong—a dull, pulsating gray that was neither day nor night. It clung to the skin like a damp film. The air wasn't cold, yet it raised gooseflesh. It was the specific, heavy sensation of land saturated with mana.

  Veins of pale green light pulsed through sigils carved into the dark stone walls, expanding and contracting like the blood vessels of a living organism. Beneath the metal grating of the floor, conduits hummed with a low, bone-rattling frequency, feeding something into the empty corridors.

  In the center of the main hall, a massive transfer circle had been etched into the floor. Dozens of researchers in white coats crowded around it, their movements frantic. They lined up measurement plates carved from mana-sensitive stone, checking readings, shouting coordinates, and adjusting the flow of the magic lines.

  Watching the chaotic scene from a gantry, Naz scratched the back of his head, looking aggressively bored.

  “So,” he drawled, his voice echoing in the vast chamber. “This swirly thing is what let Claval pop over to our city whenever she felt like it, huh? Handy.” His tone was light, dismissive.

  “Instant travel between continents… It feels a little too broken to be real, honestly. It’s like cheating.”But beside him, Hanara let out a long, shaky sigh. In the gray glow, her profile was sharp, etched with a thin shadow of unease. She crossed her arms, hugging herself.

  Roa stood a little ahead of them, silent. She turned her gaze toward the circle. Power rippled outward in concentric waves, and the ring began to emit a soft, milky white glow. It was beautiful, in a terrifying way.

  “You don’t have to believe in it. In fact, it’s better if you don’t.” Her voice dropped, dry and cold. “If the existence of something like this ever went public… it would spark a war like nothing history has ever seen.” Following that light with eyes that reflected no warmth, Roa murmured.

  “Exactly.” As if summoned by her words, a man stepped forward from the shadows at the back of the room. Black robes embroidered with heavy gold thread.

  “That is why this must remain absolutely secret. A phantom technology.” The Lord of Avras. His expression was relaxed, almost sleepy, but his lips curved in a faint, mocking smile that didn't reach his eyes.

  Naz rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck.

  “Roa, what are you talking about? War?” Hanara frowned, looking between the Lord and Roa.

  Roa didn’t turn around. She kept her eyes fixed on the heart of the circle, watching the mana spiral into a singularity.

  “You don’t have to march soldiers across the border anymore,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion. “You don’t need supply lines. You don’t need strategy. Just send a small team instantly into the enemy king’s bedroom, assassinate the leadership, and vanish before the guards even wake up. The war is over before it begins.” She turned her head slightly, her gaze sharp enough to cut.

  “How could you not be interested in that kind of spell or system?” Roa’s comments, which captured the essence of the issue, managed to freeze the atmosphere at the scene.

  Now it seems like needles froze over measurement plates. Hands stopped mid-motion. The hum of the conduits suddenly sounds very loud. For a heartbeat, silence hit the room like a falling metal sheet. Roa exhaled slowly. This ritual hadn’t been created for transport. A technique that could tear down the concept of distance was a weapon capable of dismantling the very foundations of world order.

  The one who broke the suffocating silence was a young researcher holding a clipboard.

  “W-well, uh, due to the lack of detailed surveys and accurate maps of the destination, there is still… a certain margin of error in arrival coordinates.” His voice trembled, cracking on the last word.

  “…Let’s call it that, then. An ‘error.’” Roa narrowed her eyes. Her lips curved in a thin, understanding smile.

  “Rest easy, everyone. The Eastern Continent still needs quite a bit of… preparation… before we can map it properly.” The Lord laughed. It was a hollow sound, echoing off the stone walls like dry leaves skittering on pavement.

  Roa lowered her head slightly at his words. She understood exactly what his “quite a bit” meant.

  Overhead, the mana conduits flared. The lights surged from blue to blinding white. The circle reached critical output. The air itself began to roar—a sound like a jet engine starting up in a library.

  Naz, Hanara, and Roa all felt the fine hairs on their arms stand up as the static charge built.

  “We’re ready! Output stable!” One of the researchers screamed over the noise.

  “Ha! Let’s go!” Naz grinned, his teeth flashing in the strobe light.

  “…Whatever happens on the other side—can you say, without a doubt, that none of it will be your fault?” Roa nodded once. Then she fixed the Lord with a final, piercing look. The Lord didn’t answer. He didn't defend himself. He only narrowed his eyes with deep, predatory interest.

  “Step into the circle! That will trigger activation!” Another researcher shouted, his voice shaking with terror and excitement.

  “Then I’m counting on you to look after Craval while we’re gone! Don't let her get bored!” Naz gave a huge stretch, cracking his back, and laughed.

  “But of course. She is my—” The Lord shrugged, spreading his hands.

  “““She is NOT yours.””” Three voices—Naz, Hanara, and Roa—overlapped perfectly. For a brief instant, the heavy tension in the room shattered into something almost comedic.

  But the moment didn't last. The light swallowed everything.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  VOOOOM.

  Power surged up through the floor, lifting their hair, pulling at their clothes. The circle beneath their feet burned brighter than the sun. The boundary lines melted like ice on a hot stove. Sound receded. The hum, the shouts, the roar—it all faded into a distant, muffled underwater echo.

  “This is… really gonna work, right?” Hanara drew in a sharp breath.

  “Little late to get cold feet now, Princess!” Naz laughed, though his grin was tight.

  Roa said nothing. She stared into the white void.

  “Jump—initiating!” Somewhere far away, a researcher’s shout echoed like a memory.

  A magic blast of wind. Their bodies lifted. Gravity slipped away like a silk sheet sliding off a bed. Hanara screamed under her breath. Naz crossed his arms and grinned like a maniac. Roa closed her eyes.

  White swallowed the world. For a moment, only a high-pitched ringing remained—like thunder trapped in a bottle… or a massive heartbeat stopping. When the light finally faded, there was nothing left in the hall but the smell of magical something and the empty, humming circle.

  ?

  When their vision returned, the first thing they felt was cold. It wasn't just low temperature. It was a wet, clinging chill that soaked instantly through clothes and settled into the marrow. The air on their cheeks was heavy, suffocating. Beneath their boots, rock pressed up, uneven and sharp.

  A fog like thick, curdled milk veiled everything. It erased the horizon. It erased the sky. Even the position of the sun was a mystery, just a vague brightness in the gray soup. The smell of death—rot, old bones, and stagnant water—stung their noses. Their breath turned to white steam the moment it left their lips.

  “What the hell? Where even are we? This wasn't in the textbook.” Naz stumbled, checking his footing on the slick stone, and spat on the ground.

  “Definitely not anywhere I recognize. It feels… wrong.” Beyond the haze, Hanara folded her arms tight, shivering. She turned slowly in a circle, searching for a landmark, a tree, anything.

  Roa had been silent since they arrived. She stood perfectly still, her eyes closed. She moved one hand through the heavy air, fingers splayed, as though feeling the flow of unseen currents. Confirming something only she could sense.

  “…This is the Dragon’s Nest.” At last, she spoke. Her voice was a low murmur that seemed to drop straight to the ground.

  “The Dragon's Nest? You know this place, Roa?” Both of them whipped around at once. Naz narrowed his eyes, his hand drifting to his weapon.

  “I’ve been here once. A long time ago. I thought I’d never come again.” Roa opened her eyes. She kept her gaze fixed on the impenetrable fog ahead, choosing her words like she was pulling them out of a deep, painful memory. Just then—GRRRRRRRR…

  Something let out a low rumble beyond the haze. It wasn't a sound. It was a vibration. The ground quivered. Fine sand danced at their feet like water on a speaker cone. Something enormous was breathing in the depths of the fog.

  “What… was that?” Hanara’s brows knit together.

  Instead of an answer, multiple roars rolled out of the mist from different directions. ROAR. GROAN. GROWL. It was like listening to the heartbeat of the earth itself. The sound shook their eardrums from the inside, bypassing the ears entirely.

  “Looks like we’ve been… invited.” Roa narrowed her eyes.

  “What is even happening… This is insane.” Hanara instinctively took a step back, her face pale.

  “Who cares! Unknown land? Big monsters? OH YES! Let’s go have ourselves an adventure!” Naz stepped forward instead. His fear vanished, replaced by a grin that split his face.

  ?

  With every step, the fog thickened. A damp wind blew from nowhere, carrying the scent of wet iron. The drip of water on stone echoed faintly from unseen cliff faces. Plip. Plop. Sunlight half reached this place. It was a murky, monochrome world of gray and white.

  Even so, Roa’s steps didn’t falter. She climbed the rocky slope with the confidence of someone walking into their own living room. Sometimes she stretched out her hand to touch the rock face.

  Across the dark stone surface, lines of magic ran like glowing veins—so thin you couldn’t see them with the naked eye unless you knew where to look. Old. Ancient. But still alive. Every time her fingertips brushed them, a pale light scattered like diamond dust.

  “…Definitely not just a mountain. The mana density here is suffocating.” Hanara watched her back, exhaling a plume of white breath.

  “If you throw random magic around here, I don’t want to know what happens. You might blow us all up,” Roa warned without looking back.

  “Then we just climb without magic. Easy.” Naz snorted over his shoulder.

  “The muscle-brain approach won’t always save us, you know!” Hanara snapped back.

  And then— The fog thinned. They stood on a massive circular plateau. Steep, rock walls ringed them on all sides like the walls of a coliseum. At the center, an ancient circle was carved deep into the bedrock. It was etched with symbols that predated any human language—Runes of the Age of ancient. The center of the circle was charred black, glassed over by heat, as if a nuclear explosion had occurred there centuries ago.

  All three could feel it. The pressure. A faint vibration rose from the stone under their feet, tingling in their legs.

  Roa stepped forward. She walked to the edge of the blackened circle and lifted her voice to the empty gray sky.

  “I am Roa Sefi-Nort! By the old pact—open the gate!” Her voice shook the air like a physical blow. The fog rippled. It peeled back like a curtain being torn down. For a heartbeat, everything went still.

  The clouds split. From the heights above, a red streak of light speared down.

  BOOOOOOM.

  Thunder. Light. Shadow. A dragon with wings large enough to blot out the sky descended. Wind detonated on impact. The ground shook violently, nearly knocking them off their feet. Naz squinted against the gale; Hanara’s hood whipped back, revealing her terrified face.

  Scarlet scales reflected a light like liquid flame. The massive body rose slowly from its landing crouch, unfolding like a mountain standing up. It folded its wings, the tips scraping the canyon walls. Its tail slammed into the ground with a CRACK that made the stone tremble and sent gravel flying like shrapnel.

  Two eyes—each bigger than a person’s head—glared down at them. Two eyes— iris vertical slits, burning with an intelligence that was cold and metallic. Its breath was hot, thick with the smell of sulfur, magma, and blood.

  “…It has been some time, Senior Disciple. I’m glad to see you alive.”

  When it spoke, the voice didn't come from a throat. It crawled along the rock, vibrating through the soles of their boots.

  “Big-ass dragon! And it talks!?” Naz reflexively stepped back, his hand gripping his sword hilt.

  “Forget that—Roa! ‘Senior Disciple’!? Since when!?” Hanara’s eyes went wide, her jaw dropping.

  Roa stared up at the dragon. She didn't flinch. She didn't bow. There was no fear in her eyes—only a quiet, weary resolve.

  “I welcome you, Senior Disciple. However—” The red dragon tilted its massive, horned head slightly, narrowing those burning eyes.

  “Those two may not pass. It would break the pact. Only those of the Lineage may enter.” Its huge body shifted. Scales ground against scales with the sound of metal on stone. A shadow fell over Naz and Hanara, plunging them into darkness.

  Naz’s lips twisted. The shock faded. The grin returned—sharper, more dangerous.

  “Oh yeah…?” He stomped a foot into the stone, cracking the bedrock. He stepped forward, putting himself between the dragon and the path. “Then we’ll just force our way in. I hate exclusives. Power is justice. Simple. ”

  “Exactly! That is the way of this place!” The red dragon took a step as well. The ground groaned in protest. Hot wind exploded outward from its nostrils.

  “If you wish to bend the rules—then do so with your own strength, Human!!” The red dragon roared, a sound of pure joy and violence. The fog blew away completely. Red wings spread wide again, casting a shadow over the entire plateau. With the sound of the sky tearing open, the battle began.