#165

The Dragon rose after two days.

He needed to compose his reason, numbed by the emotions raging within him. It was unlike him. The human had often called the Dragon rational when he was alive. As he said, the Dragon always tried to separate himself from the phenomena around him. Otherwise, he would have gone mad long ago due to his surroundings.

To avoid going mad, the Dragon always tried to separate his emotions. He had done quite well. He hadn’t been completely successful, but he had endured for a long time. Through endless betrayal and disappointment, he had learned to detach his emotions from situations.

But the Dragon’s iron rule, maintained for so long, had been in disarray for the past few days. It felt like falling endlessly from the bottom. It had been even more so since facing the human’s death.

The Dragon wanted to return to his past self. That was comfortable. He couldn’t even grasp how terrible the assumption of an immortal going mad was.

The Dragon stood up and looked down at the human within the ice. He had shown all the respect he could. It would be alright now. In a little while, the emotions that had shaken him would all be sorted out.

He had grieved when a bird died, but soon forgot. Because he had done many things with the human for the first time, unlike other humans, emotions were leaking out, but eventually, with time, he would bury them as he had before. That was certain.

Even thinking so, it was difficult to turn away. As he turned halfway, the Dragon suddenly recalled that the human was prone to loneliness.

If he left him in the ice like this, the expression he would make came to his mind too vividly. Under his handsome, dark eyebrows, his pupils would waver, and he would look at him yearningly, not knowing what he wanted himself.

The moment he recalled that image, the Dragon spun around and lowered his gaze. But the expression he had recalled was gone. He was just dead, as he had been before.

Yes. He was dead.

The Dragon realized he kept forgetting that fact and recalling it again and again. He had never felt so pathetic.

Clenching his fist tightly, the Dragon somehow turned his body. He passed through the shimmering Cullen flowers, no, Kilen flowers… no, Kiercharus flowers.

Like a madman, he panted and thrashed through the flowers, running. Every minute, every second, he associated everything with the human. Though he hadn’t done so in the past. He hadn’t thought of humans this way back then.

…Had he?

Running aimlessly back to the cabin, the Dragon stopped abruptly. As if struck on the back of the head, another realization dawned. He was constantly becoming aware of things he hadn’t known.

Looking back, there wasn’t a day he hadn’t thought about the human. Because the human had always been by his side. Never apart, always, behind him.

Even when they were apart sometimes. Because of that audacious act of trying to protect him, despite being so weak. To the question he had thrown, unable to understand that action, the human had replied.

Because he loved him.

Because he loved him.

The goddess’s words overlapped. The words that he thought only of him until the moment of death were etched into his mind like a brand. The word ‘love’ echoed in his head, and at that moment…

He cried without realizing it.

Tears welled up without giving him time to realize. The moisture in his eyes was so fleeting that the Dragon didn’t notice what had happened. He only realized he was crying after the tears flowed down his cheeks.

Tears that flowed down his chin fell on the instep of his foot. The Dragon raised his hand, looking as if he had seen something bizarre. Wiping his cheek, he found moisture.

Confused, he frowned and looked at the sky. But there was no rain, nor was it snowing. Only the darkened sky was visible. The dark purple sky was so vast and deep that it took his breath away.

With a dull, silent sensation that choked him, he decided to stop thinking. He fiercely suppressed the memories that kept surging and entered the cabin. He barely managed to resist his gaze falling on the small letters that read Cullen.

He walked to the table where he had left the egg and slowly pulled out a chair. The old wooden chair creaked.

In the dusty, old cabin, he stared at the egg.

Ignoring the tears that kept falling, he touched the egg.

It’s fine. I just have to stop thinking from now on.

Once the egg hatches and my kind is born, it’s certain that it will all disappear.

Even though the surest way to shake off humans was to leave this place, the Dragon ignored that whisper too.

Instead of finding a new home, he chose the small, humble house where humans had lived.

He decided to move to shake off his distracting thoughts.

Looking around the empty room, he placed the egg where the bed was.

After wrapping the eggs in a worn-out, tattered blanket, the Dragon stepped outside.

The vast mountain range, scorched and collapsed, came into view.

He didn’t know when the egg would hatch, so he needed something to do in the meantime.

The Dragon gazed at the space he had annihilated.

He hadn’t wanted to, he had refused, yet it was a place he had destroyed.

He decided to restore the mountain range until the egg hatched.

Perhaps then he could find peace.

The Dragon wandered the mountains without eating or drinking.

He didn’t need to consume anything in the first place.

He had merely adapted to human actions.

Because he didn’t dislike the smiling face of the human priest who brought pretty food,

because the human who went hunting was interesting,

and because the sight of other humans laughing while watching them was curious.

The feeling of being among them wasn’t bad at all.

Every day, the Dragon forcefully suppressed the memories that tried to surface whenever he let his guard down, and began to restore the mountain range.

In the morning, he checked on the egg, and after that, he was outside all day.

The first thing to do was to revive the soil.

The goddess gave him this ability, even though he couldn’t heal or save humans or animals.

He revived the scorched soil one by one, making trees grow.

No matter how great a Dragon he was, he couldn’t restore the vast land all at once.

It took a full two years just to sprout young trees.

Though not as large as trees that had grown for tens or hundreds of years, he made them grow as much as possible.

The Dragon didn’t rest.

He moved his body ceaselessly, focusing his thoughts entirely on the mountains.

Otherwise, he instinctively felt that other memories would engulf him.

Even when he visited the cabin to see the egg, he stayed for the shortest time possible.

He wanted to avoid the emotions that the house evoked more than the anxiety about the unhatched eggs.

It was strange.

Even though more than twice the time he had spent with humans had passed, he felt flustered whenever he set foot in a place associated with humans.

It was time he should have long forgotten, yet it was like this.

It had far exceeded his expectations.

The Dragon pushed himself even harder.

After bringing forth the trees, he now decided to plant flowers and grass.

It was time to bring life back to the dried-up streams.

He became engrossed in reviving the mountains, recalling ancient plants he had forgotten.

That process took a year.

After three years of rebuilding Mount Tesnia, on the day he finally completed it so the mountains could grow on their own, he encountered people.

Adventurers, who must have found it strange that the dead mountains were turning green, seemed to have come nearby.

Their whispering voices reached the Dragon’s ears from afar.

After the humans died, the world seemed to have changed a lot.

They spoke of how all the crown princes had disappeared, the Imperial Palace had crumbled, and without any form of nation, only wandering people filled the continent.

He also heard that Demonic Beasts had rapidly increased, throwing the entire continent into chaos.

Meeting people after three years made him feel disgusted.

He didn’t know the exact reason.

However, seeing people with swords immediately reminded him of someone.

The solid back that blocked his path and drew its sword.

Without any chance to stop it, it unfolded before his eyes.

Fire surged within the Dragon.

The back that stepped forward to protect him was etched into his mind.

The pain he had barely suppressed was coloring his soul at a terrifying speed.

…Ren.

The Dragon almost called out his name while looking at the mercenaries.

Even though their faces didn’t resemble him at all, the mere fact that they held swords made the Dragon think of the human.

How he had buried those memories.

How he had tried to erase them, and yet…

It enraged the Dragon to an unusual degree.

He revealed himself and chased the people away.

Just the appearance of his massive wings made the people lose any will to fight and flee.

A murderous intent he couldn’t explain surged, and the Dragon, uncharacteristically, almost breathed fire but managed to calm himself.

Swallowing his growl, he spread his wings wide.

His menacingly sharp wings cast a huge shadow on the ground.

Watching the adventurers flee, the Dragon flew towards the cabin with powerful wingbeats.

Having come to the very end of the mountain range, he hadn’t visited the cabin for two days.

He descended hastily, folded his wings, and landed in front of the cabin.

The afterimage of the mercenary holding a sword kept flashing in his vision.

He felt nauseous. Suppressing his churning stomach, he went inside.

“……?”

And as soon as he entered the cabin, he sensed something.

It wasn’t a presence, but there was definitely something.

It was towards the room where the eggs were. The Dragon spun around. A face flashed in his mind.

Something that could absolutely not happen, and yet, so much time had passed.

The Dragon, foolishly, ran to the room with the thought that the human might have returned.

“Cullen?”

He didn’t know why. It wasn’t rational at all.

Yet, the Dragon just thought that. Because it was the human’s house.

So he was mistaken.

He thought, perhaps the human had returned.

However, what the Dragon faced were children with small bodies.

He stopped abruptly in front of the room.

Before the Dragon were children with different hair colors, sitting there.

The Dragon’s eyes slowly widened at the sudden appearance of the cabin.

“…Is that our name?”

One of the three children, the one with golden hair, asked.

His curious golden eyes were sharp.

The children had elongated pupils, not unlike his own.

The small wings that sprouted from their backs were meager compared to his, but without a doubt, they were the same wings. The Dragon could feel it.

“No. There are three of us. That can’t be right.”

As he listened to the black-haired child, who was calmly assessing the situation, he became certain.

They were clearly different from the being who had impersonated him.

The calmness he felt in their voices was something the Dragon himself was familiar with.

Beings who perceive everything from birth.

Immortal life.

The Dragon lowered his head and looked at the broken eggshells at his feet.

What he had yearned for over eons was happening before his eyes.

His own kind, whom he had so desperately wanted and wished for… finally—

The Dragon had obtained them.

But on the face of the one whose wish had been granted, no joy appeared.