When Stalian V’s face turned pale with confusion, Zakurak slowly turned his head.

“Why is that?”

A calm question.

Stalian V wondered if he’d misheard and asked again.

“...So you just said Marquis Palatio?”

“I did.”

His head started spinning.

Had he ever been this flustered even while managing state affairs?

“What do you mean by that?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m asking ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) about what you just said.”

“Exactly what I said. We’re going to confirm whether Marquis Palatio is truly His friend.”

Silence fell instantly.

Honestly, he needed an explanation, but Stalian V still couldn’t say anything.

He had no idea where to start, or how.

After a long moment of untangling his thoughts, Stalian V spoke cautiously.

“...Can I ask just one more thing?”

“Ask whatever you want.”

Zakurak waved a hand lightly.

“The one the Lizardmen serve—isn’t He the Sage God?”

“Yes. A great being.”

“...Then if he’s His friend, does that mean he’s also a Sage God?”

In truth, there were countless points where he wanted an explanation.

But he also knew he wouldn’t get a kind response even if he asked.

The Lizardman before him never seemed to enjoy explaining anything.

That was why Stalian asked the most important question first.

“You understand well.”

At Zakurak’s answer—

“...This is insane.”

A curse slipped out before he could stop it.

For the first time since he was fifteen, when he had barely dodged a prince’s sword during the throne succession war and cursed out loud.

And he—

“...Marquis Palatio is... a God...?”

Reached a bizarre truth in a different way than Carmaxes III.

*****

Having reached the upper floors of the tower, Alon picked up the pendant and the letter that had been left behind.

The pendant had a red gemstone embedded in it, with cracks spreading outward as if crackling lightning were trapped inside.

Alon unfolded the letter.

“Hmm—”

It wasn’t too long or too short, filling only the front page.

Along with a brief greeting, it contained two key points.

First: because he had exhausted his power crafting the gem he mentioned last time, he wouldn’t appear for about half a year.

Second: the gem would speak on its own in a month or two, and Alon should handle it well when that happened.

After reading it, Alon let out a soft sigh of disappointment.

‘...There were things I wanted to ask.’

He had planned to ask the Dragonkin about the mental realm, but he had no choice now.

Leaving his regrets behind, Alon packed up the pendant and the letter and headed outside.

“Huh? Marquis, you’re out pretty quickly this time!”

Alon shrugged lightly.

“Well, it just turned out that way.”

“Are we heading back right away?”

“Yeah. There’s nothing else to see anyway.”

As they walked, a thought suddenly crossed his mind.

‘...I was planning to meet Kylrus again today, so maybe I’ll ask him then.’

It hadn’t been long since he’d organized his schedule and left the ruins.

Soon, the scorching sun greeted him as he stepped out.

“Marquis really looked so cool back then!”

“Mm-hmm—I know, right!”

Perfectly in sync, Karsem and Seolrang were having a heated (?) discussion within view.

A duo that oddly resembled a comedy act.

For some reason, the scene gave him a sense of déjà vu.

His gaze dropped to Seolrang’s busy hands.

[Meow-]

There, his eyes met Blackie’s as Seolrang roughly petted him.

It was a pitiful look, full of resentment.

*****

By the time the sun reached its zenith, the group—escorted by Karsem—returned safely to the Colony.

Alon immediately entered Seolrang’s guild building and took out the “Footsteps of the past.”

‘I could’ve used this a long time ago.’

By the time they crossed into the desert on the way to the Colony, the required mana had already been filled.

But he’d waited for the right moment to use it somewhere fixed.

According to Evan’s testimony, the moment Alon used the “Footsteps of the past,” his whole body disappeared somewhere, then reappeared.

If he got sucked into it, that was fine.

But if he used it while moving and ended up stranded in the middle of the desert, it would be a disaster.

“Well then, I’ll be off.”

“Yes. Just in case, I’ll stand guard.”

“Me too!”

[Meow-!]

As Alon lifted the “Footsteps of the past,” Seolrang and Evan nodded vigorously.

Perhaps relieved to be free of Seolrang’s grip, Blackie wagged his tail more energetically than usual.

Watching them, Alon channeled his mana.

In an instant, his vision flashed white.

And he entered the place he had seen before.

Where everything was in ruins.

According to Kylrus, it seemed to be Alon’s own mental realm.

“You’re here, brat.”

Kylrus was standing there.

*****

“...Are you asking if the mental realm can manifest in a different form?”

“Yes.”

The moment he saw him, Alon immediately asked about the mental realm.

“Impossible.”

“Is that so?”

“Brat, if you’re walking the path of magic, you should understand this much after hearing it once.”

Kylrus scolded him lightly, and Alon clicked his tongue.

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand—he was asking because he did.

‘In any case, it’ll be hard to get answers about the mental realm from Kylrus.’

Reaching that conclusion, Alon spoke again.

“...Can I ask something else, following up from last time?”

“Go ahead. If I had no intention of listening, I wouldn’t have come. But keep your questions concise.”

With a casual nod, Kylrus sat on a pile of stones.

Alon organized the questions he hadn’t asked last time.

“I want to ask about spell formulas.”

“...Spell formulas?”

“Yes.”

When Alon nodded, Kylrus’s expression turned strange.

“...Brat, I have to ask—are you serious?”

“I am.”

“...A guy walking, even halfway, the path of a mage doesn’t know about spell formulas?”

“Is that a problem?”

“......”

Such confidence.

Kylrus’s mouth fell open, as if dumbfounded.

Then, as though brushing off the irritation, he lightly shook his head.

“A spell formula is, as the name suggests, a formula.”

He began explaining.

“All mages basically recite incantations to draw out their mental images. But as you know, incantations are long and slow.”

“......”

“In battle, speed is tied directly to survival. Not only that—speed matters in everything magic touches, from research to application. That’s why mages created formulas: to manifest spells without reciting incantations.”

“So spell formulas are formulas made to cast spells quickly?”

“You can’t define it that simply. Ultimately, spell formulas function as a mage’s unique trait. Well—”

Kylrus trailed off, as if thinking, ‘Though this isn’t something someone like you—who hasn’t even properly acquired spell formulas—would understand.’

“...How do you acquire these spell formulas?”

“It’s not difficult. If you truly understand your mental image, you just have to weave it together and engrave it into your body.”

“Weave it together and engrave it into the body...?”

“Exactly. Like the mental image you have—or, wait.”

Kylrus paused mid-explanation, his expression turning peculiar as he glanced around at the ruined world surrounding them.

“Come to think of it, brat, you do have a mental image, don’t you? Then why is your mental realm like this?”

“Ah.”

Alon immediately understood what he meant.

‘Right. I dealt with Kylrus before using the Ice Crystal Strike.’

Recalling it, Alon hesitated briefly before explaining that he could use incantations and spells even without having a mental image.

“That’s absurd...”

Kylrus’s expression twisted even more.

But after a moment, he let out a light sigh.

“So, in conclusion, you’re saying you can use spells without understanding your mental image.”

“That’s right.”

“Hah, ridiculous.”

Kylrus let out a dry laugh and shook his head.

“In that case, there’s no need for me to explain spell formulas at all. Someone like you, who hasn’t even formed a proper mental image, wouldn’t understand my explanation.”

“Was there, by any chance, no mage like that before?”

“Of course not. There’s no way a mage like that would exist—”

Kylrus was about to deny it outright, but then paused.

“...No. Now that I think about it, there might’ve been one.”

“Who was it?”

“I only heard about it, but they said one of the elven mages used magic like that.”

“...You don’t know who it was?”

“I don’t. I never had a reason to meet them. But—”

Digging into distant memories, he continued.

“Yeah. I think they were called the ‘Primordial Elf’ or something like that.”

“The Primordial Elf?”

“Yes. That’s all I know.”

“......”

It was the moment Alon found yet another reason to visit the elves’ village.

‘The Primordial Elf also used magic without a mental image... huh.’

Maybe he could unravel more mysteries if he went there.

After sorting his thoughts, Alon decided to ask—or rather, request—one more thing.

“I heard you used to handle Spirit Dragons. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“Then can you teach me how to use a Spirit Dragon?”

“How to use a Spirit Dragon?”

The corners of Kylrus’s mouth curled into a smirk.

“Do you even know what you’re asking? You can only use a Spirit Dragon if you’ve formed a contract with one.”

He looked at Alon like he was staring at an idiot. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Instead of explaining further, Alon simply said,

“I have one.”

And pulled Blackie out from his arms.

When Kylrus saw the black fluff in Alon’s hand—

[Meow?]

Seeing the unexpected Spirit Dragon—

“What the hell—”

He blurted it out, pure shock written across his face, unable to control his reaction.

*****

Kylrus, who had kept his cool until now, was completely flustered the moment he saw Blackie.

He looked back and forth between Blackie and Alon as if he couldn’t comprehend it.

“How did you do it?”

“...Do what?”

“How did you manage to form a contract with a Shadow Dragon—not just any fragment, but its actual core body...!”

Kylrus exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly exasperated, while Alon replied nonchalantly.

“Just kind of happened.”

“...Are you seriously brushing this off with ‘just kind of happened’ after pulling off something this absurd?”

Muttering to himself, Kylrus glanced past Alon and sighed.

“Well, I suppose that might be possible.”

Seeing him calm down a little, Alon asked something that had been on his mind.

“I know there’s a difference between a Spirit Dragon and a Shadow Dragon, but is it really that big?”

“There’s a tremendous difference.”

“...That much?”

“Yes, that much. In fact, today is the first time I’ve ever seen someone form a direct contract with a Shadow Dragon.”

While Kylrus made a fuss, Alon looked down at Blackie, nestled comfortably in his arms, looking like he was baking an imaginary loaf of bread.

[Meow?]

Blackie tilted his head cutely.

Alon knew Blackie was powerful.

But honestly, he’d only read about it—never witnessed it firsthand—so he was still skeptical.

‘Is it really that significant?’ he thought, idly stroking Blackie’s back.

“...It seems you don’t fully understand how lucky you are.”

Kylrus stared at him for a moment, then let out a hollow laugh.

“Well, fine. Since we’re in this place, I suppose I can show you.”

He raised both hands.

“...Show me what?”

“Watch closely. See for yourself what kind of fortune you’ve stumbled into.”

Without further explanation, he began forming seals with his fingers.

Holding his left hand straight out, he moved his right behind it, intertwining his fingers into a strange posture.

“Void Heart.”

The moment he murmured the words—

CRACK-CRACK-CRACK—!!!

From his shadow, something dark began to rise.

And then, as if it had been waiting—

“Path of the False Image.”

The ruined world began to be devoured by shadow.

The ashen sky.

The cracked earth, the rotting trees.

The twisted grass.

Everything was consumed.

As if everything that existed were being dragged into an abyss.

“Dragon.”

The moment the word left Kylrus’s lips—

The shadow that had devoured everything began to take form.

Creating something from nothing.

Breathing life into the dark shadow.

And what finally formed—

“Sin-Bearer Dragon of the Void Heart.”

A dragon.

A colossal dragon that loomed over the desolate world.

Covering the ruins all on its own.

And then—

“This is the final stage of your Death Dragon.”

Hearing that, Alon could only gape in stunned silence.

In a world that felt frozen under the weight of an overwhelming presence—

[Meow?]

Only Blackie’s adorable cry echoed faintly, filling the void.