The human who called himself Arnulfati hovered silently in the air, his figure suspended against the open sky as he faced the Golden Dragon from a distance.
The Golden Dragon's molten-gold vertical pupils contracted sharply, narrowing into thin slits.
So it wasn't an illusion after all.
This human truly harbored power—vast, profound, and deeply unsettling. Power so well concealed that even the dragon's senses had failed to detect it earlier. He hid it better than most beings hid their aura, almost perfectly masking its presence.
Yet now, he had chosen to reveal it.
Why now?
With a powerful beat of its wings, the Golden Dragon adjusted its direction and surged forward, stopping roughly twenty meters away from Karl. The violent airflow stirred by its wingbeats whipped the hem of Karl's clothes, yet his body remained unmoving, as steady as a mountain anchored to the earth.
For several heartbeats, an oppressive silence settled between them, thick enough to suffocate.
Then, unexpectedly, it was the Golden Dragon that spoke first.
Its voice was low and heavy, carrying the coarse resonance unique to dragonkind. It reached Karl's ears clearly and echoed faintly throughout the valley below.
"You—are not a sorcerer," it said slowly, each word deliberate. "And you are even less like an ordinary mortal."
"I have seen sorcerers who command Djinn, wielding terrifying power," the dragon continued. "I have encountered humans capable of reshaping battlefields with magic alone. But you are different from all of them."
Its massive head tilted slightly, as though carefully sensing the fluctuations of energy radiating from Karl's body.
Below them, the crowd erupted once more. Gasps, shouts, and panicked exclamations spread like wildfire as people realized that someone—another human—was actually flying.
The dragon briefly cast its gaze downward at the chaotic mass of humans. Then it lifted its head again, its voice rising effortlessly above the noise.
"Among all the humans gathered here," it declared, "you are the only one who makes me uneasy. The only one who makes me sense danger."
There was confusion in its tone, mixed with genuine curiosity.
"As a being of strength, you should have principles. Honor. A path of your own." Its eyes locked onto Karl's. "So tell me—why are you helping these humans? These creatures blinded by greed, swarming like locusts?"
Karl rotated his neck slowly, then rolled his wrists, his movements relaxed and casual.
Yet within his clear blue eyes, there was no mockery, no disdain—only seriousness and the respect reserved for a worthy opponent.
"Helping?" he replied calmly. "I never said I was helping them."
He raised his hand and pointed directly at the Golden Dragon.
"I need a powerful opponent," Karl continued, his voice steady as his Battle Intent began to rise. "Someone strong enough to help me verify certain things. Someone who can give me a real fight—one worth savoring."
"And you," he said, meeting the dragon's gaze without hesitation, "are qualified."
Their conversation rolled across the valley like thunder, reaching the ears of everyone below.
When Karl's blunt and almost arrogant declaration rang out, the reactions of the two Zerrikanian Maidens were immediate—and explosive.
Tia curled her lip, glaring skyward. "Viya, this man is unbearably conceited!"
"So what if he can fly?" she scoffed. "Lord Velentretremes can fly too!"
She gestured angrily. "Look at his build—thin arms, fragile body. Nothing compared to the Lord's might! I bet the Lord could swat him away with a flick of his tail!"
Viya nodded vigorously, her expression filled with unrestrained admiration. "Exactly! He doesn't understand what kind of existence he's challenging!"
Without hesitation, the two maidens raised their Zerrikanian scimitars and began waving them enthusiastically toward the sky.
"Defeat him, Velentretremes!" they shouted in clear, ringing voices. "Let this arrogant human witness the true majesty of the Dragon Clan!"
Their sudden and utterly "treasonous" cheering stunned the surrounding crowd into silence.
"What the hell are those two idiots doing?!" someone screamed.
"Didn't they come with Borchi? Where is he? Have his women gone mad?!"
"Are they here to hunt a dragon—or to worship it?!"
A flood of curses followed. Vile insults and accusations were hurled at Tia and Viya like filthy water. Some cursed their families. Others called them brainless fools, claiming their minds had been bewitched by the dragon.
Tia and Viya ignored it all.
To them, the furious crowd was nothing more than a swarm of buzzing flies. Their eyes remained fixed on the Golden Dragon in the sky, their loyalty unwavering as they continued to cheer with genuine fervor.
Nearby, Geralt frowned deeply.
Watching the two maidens, then lifting his gaze to Karl and the Golden Dragon, a vague suspicion took shape in his mind.
"They're Borchi's guards… and Borchi suddenly vanished," he muttered. "Velentretremes?"
A name clicked into place.
"Borchi… Could it be—"
The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. Geralt sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes widening in disbelief.
In the air above, the Golden Dragon had naturally heard the voices of Tia and Viya.
Its golden pupils shifted downward, and for a fleeting moment, warmth—and helplessness—flashed within them.
Those two foolish little ones… Tia…
The dragon quickly refocused its attention on Karl.
Dragons were born powerful. Born to fight.
Within the dragon lineage existed countless beings far crueler and more bloodthirsty than itself. Even as a Golden Dragon, its blood carried instincts of belligerence and reverence for strength.
But centuries of life had taught it restraint.
It could no longer remember the last time it had faced an opponent capable of forcing it to take a battle seriously.
Humans and other beings had challenged it countless times across Zerrikanian lands and beyond. Without exception, those encounters ended the same way—its overwhelming victory.
Predictable. Boring. Meaningless.
Until today.
Until this human calling himself Arnulfati appeared.
His power felt nothing like Chaotic Magic. It was alien, refined, and profoundly dangerous. That sense of unease stirred something long dormant within the dragon's instincts.
For the briefest moment, the muscles around the Golden Dragon's mouth twitched, revealing a faintly human expression—anticipation. Desire.
The urge to fight.
But the expression vanished as quickly as it appeared.
The dragon turned its head slightly, glancing toward the deep cavern behind it.
There was something there it had to protect.
Slowly, it shook its massive head and faced Karl once more.
"I'm sorry," it said, its voice heavy with resolve and regret. "I refuse. At least—not today."
If it were only the two of them, the duel would have been inevitable.
But it was not alone.
Below them lurked humans like hyenas, their eyes burning with greed and fear. If the dragon were injured—even slightly—they would swarm without hesitation.
They would devour everything.
It could not allow that.
Hearing the dragon's words—words that carried both longing and refusal—Karl immediately understood.
And he smiled.
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