The Crimson Dragon Mansion remained silent beneath the burning evening sky.
Outside, volcanic winds howled softly through the ancient towers while crimson banners fluttered weakly above the estate like wounded remnants of forgotten glory. The once-mighty bloodline residence now carried the atmosphere of a dying empire—grand yet hollow, beautiful yet abandoned.
Inside the mansion—
The silence felt heavier.
Kel followed Velor deeper through the enormous crimson halls while retainers quietly moved aside from their path. None dared obstruct the black dragon outsider now.
Not after today.
Not after the arena.
Whispers still echoed throughout the mansion corridors.
"The Demonic Black Dragon…"
"He defeated four noble heirs…"
"Even succession candidates…"
"Could he truly support the Crimson Bloodline?"
Hope and fear mixed together dangerously.
Because fallen houses feared many things.
But nothing frightened them more than possibility.
Meanwhile—
Velor remained silent while leading Kel through the upper floors of the estate.
The crimson-haired heir's posture stayed straight despite obvious pain. Blood still stained parts of his torn robes while bruises spread visibly across his exposed scales beneath flickering crimson lantern light.
Yet he never once complained.
Never acknowledged weakness.
Kel quietly observed him while walking behind.
And internally—
He understood why this dragon survived long enough to become emperor someday.
Because suffering had already become natural to him.
Eventually—
They entered a private chamber deep within the mansion.
The room looked vast yet strangely empty.
Gigantic crimson curtains hung beside tall volcanic-glass windows while ancient bookshelves lined the stone walls. A massive dragon-carved bed rested near the center chamber alongside a long obsidian table covered with old maps and scattered documents.
Yet despite the luxury—
Loneliness filled the room completely.
No warmth.
No personal comfort.
No life.
Only responsibility.
The future Dragon Emperor lived inside a prison disguised as nobility.
Velor slowly removed the torn upper portion of his robes afterward before sitting near the obsidian table.
Fresh bruises and cracked crimson scales covered his chest, shoulders, and ribs.
Several wounds still bled lightly.
Sairen softly whispered through the soul-link.
"…He should honestly be unconscious."
Kel calmly walked toward one of the side cabinets inside the chamber.
"He's endured worse before."
The guardian fell silent afterward.
Because unfortunately—
That was true.
Kel opened several ancient drawers calmly before examining their contents.
Medicinal herbs.
Dragon-grade recovery leaves.
Mana stabilizers.
Basic noble healing compounds.
Expensive ingredients.
Poorly combined.
The black-haired man quietly sighed beneath his breath.
"These people waste medicine."
Velor narrowed his crimson eyes slightly from across the room.
"…You know alchemy?"
Kel calmly gathered several ingredients together.
"Enough."
Not a lie.
Just an absurd understatement.
After inheriting Velthor's medicinal knowledge combined with his own player experience from Destiny—
Kel's understanding of medicine bordered monstrous.
The black-haired man slowly began crushing herbs together using a volcanic stone mortar while carefully controlling mana pressure through precise spiraling flow.
The room gradually filled with the sharp scent of medicinal leaves and burning mana essence.
Velor quietly watched him throughout the process.
Observing carefully.
Because once again—
This black dragon contradicted expectations.
Strong.
Calm.
Knowledgeable.
And strangely—
Gentle with his movements despite overwhelming combat ability.
Eventually—
Kel created a thick dark-red medicinal paste shimmering faintly beneath the lantern light.
"Sit still."
Velor obeyed silently.
The room grew quiet afterward except for distant volcanic winds beyond the windows.
Kel calmly stepped closer before applying the medicine carefully across Velor's cracked scales and bruised wounds.
The medicinal paste hissed softly against damaged dragon flesh.
Immediately—
The pain lessened.
Velor's crimson eyes narrowed faintly in surprise.
Because the quality of the medicine exceeded even noble-grade recovery treatment.
"…This is advanced."
Kel calmly continued applying the medicine across his shoulder wound.
"Pain means you're alive."
Velor quietly stared at him afterward.
The black dragon's expression remained calm beneath the flickering crimson lanterns while his hands moved with precise familiarity across damaged wounds.
No hesitation.
No nervousness.
As though he had treated countless injuries before.
Then eventually—
Velor spoke quietly.
"What is your name, Mister Black Dragon?"
The room fell silent again.
Kel's movements paused briefly.
Sairen softly muttered through the soul-link.
"…Here comes another fake identity."
Kel ignored her completely.
The black-haired man quietly resumed applying medicine afterward.
Then calmly answered.
"My name isn't worth speaking before nobles."
Velor's crimson eyes narrowed slightly.
Not mockingly.
Curiously.
Kel continued softly.
"But…"
A faint pause followed.
"…when I met a silver dragon noblewoman recently…"
The image of Seralyth beneath the moonlit silver tree surfaced briefly in his mind.
"…she gave me a name."
Velor silently listened.
"She said no one in this world is worthless."
The volcanic winds drifted softly beyond the chamber windows while crimson lanterns flickered across the stone walls.
"That everyone has worth."
Kel's dark eyes lowered briefly toward the medicine coating Velor's injuries.
"They simply need to find it."
Velor quietly stared at him.
Something about those words felt strange.
Not because they sounded false.
Because they sounded too sincere.
Meanwhile—
Kel calmly finished wrapping medicinal cloth around one of Velor's injured ribs.
Then quietly spoke.
"She called me Vael."
The name settled softly inside the silent chamber.
Velor slowly repeated it internally.
Vael.
Meanwhile—
Kel softly smiled faintly beneath the lantern light.
"And perhaps…"
His eyes shifted toward Velor briefly.
"…she was right."
Silence lingered afterward.
The future Dragon Emperor quietly watched the black dragon before him while countless thoughts moved behind those burning crimson eyes.
Because no one had ever spoken to him like this before.
Not politically.
Not manipulatively.
Not fearfully.
Simply honestly.
Then quietly—
Kel continued.
"I found my worth today."
Velor's expression shifted faintly.
"When I saw you getting beaten by those four…"
A small pause followed.
"…I thought I could help."
The room felt strangely quieter afterward.
"So I did what I believed was right."
Silence.
Long silence.
The crimson-haired heir slowly lowered his gaze slightly afterward.
And for the first time in many years—
The hatred inside his chest hesitated slightly.
Because deep down—
Velor no longer remembered what genuine kindness looked like.
Yet somehow—
This strange black dragon named Vael carried it naturally.
Or perhaps—
That was exactly why it felt dangerous.