"That shithead, it’s not a fucking bed!!"

One of the older guardians of the Dracontis family cursed loudly, staring across the platform at the dragon sprawled flat across the altar’s surface, its bulk taking up nearly the entire stone slab like it had every right to be there.

This wasn’t the first time.

That particular dragon had made a habit of disrupting their summoning rituals, treating the altar as nothing more than a convenient place to nap whenever it pleased. It was maddening in a way that had worn thin years ago, harassing every group that came through with the same casual indifference.

"Senior, let’s use the Blood Poison Coder to chase it away."

One of the younger guardians offered the suggestion carefully, trying to smooth the older man’s temper before it boiled over completely.

It wasn’t an unreasonable idea. This exact situation had played out before, more times than any of them cared to count, and each time they had managed to drive the creature off without much trouble.

"Sigh. Can’t you see the difference?"

The old guardian snapped, frustration bleeding through every word.

All those previous encounters had gone smoothly because the beast, despite being a dragon, had still sat at tier 7. Manageable. Predictable within reason.

But now?

"It has evolved to tier 6."

Hela’s voice cut through cleanly, calm and certain, her gaze fixed on the sleeping creature without a trace of hesitation.

Given the beast’s temperament, it wasn’t likely to face them directly. Far more probable that it would strike from above, using the sky as its advantage the way it always had. At tier 7, that kind of aerial assault would have been survivable, even manageable with the right coordination.

A tier 6 dragon attacking from the air was an entirely different equation. The kind of overwhelming force that turned an organized retreat into a massacre before anyone fully understood what had happened.

"What does this mean? We can’t do the ritual anymore?"

"No, my father promised I would get a dragon."

"You people do something about this. Our Dracontis family depends on this."

The complaints came rapid-fire from the group of younger Dracontis members clustered behind the guardians, their voices tangled together in a mix of anger and rising panic, each one more insistent than the last.

None of them offered a solution. Only demands.

Then, cutting through the noise, Ethan spoke.

"Why can’t we pull the creature away without letting it know what we’re here for?"

He raised his eyes, glancing across the group with the same flat, unbothered expression he wore for most things, as though the answer had been obvious from the start and everyone else had simply been too worked up to see it.

"That’s suicide. We don’t know enough about this dungeon. Moving around without a solid plan will get us lost or dead before it accomplishes anything."

Someone objected immediately, clearly convinced Ethan’s suggestion belonged nowhere near a serious conversation.

"Don’t worry about that. Two of us have incredible mobility."

Ethan moved toward Fin without waiting for further argument, wrapping an arm around his shoulder with a faint, coy smile settling across his face.

"Let them try."

"Mister Fin, I don’t know whose side you’re on, but this is a great plan."

Once it became clear Ethan was genuinely willing to risk himself drawing the beast off, the younger summoners from the Dracontis family fell in line behind the idea almost instantly, their support arriving without hesitation.

It wasn’t concern for Ethan’s safety driving the enthusiasm.

They simply wanted their summoning ritual finished, and if someone else was willing to gamble their life to make that happen, none of them intended to argue against it.

"Okay, okay. I suppose it’s alright."

The old guardian finally relented, though the look he gave Ethan from the corner of his eye carried something closer to pity than approval.

This kid was going to get himself and his friend killed chasing a plan built more on confidence than sense.

"Mister Algar, you understand this is suicide, right? I don’t believe..."

As Ethan, Hela, and Fin began working through the details of what came next, Lorn approached them, a deep frown carved across his features.

He had watched the Dracontis family maneuver people into deadly situations more times than he wanted to remember. It wasn’t new to him. But standing by while it happened to White Tower’s people, people he was actively traveling alongside, sat uneasily in his chest.

"It’s fine, Lorn. We aren’t doing this for no reason."

Hela spoke first, her tone level, clearly understanding the full shape of the situation better than anyone else standing there.

Ethan’s role was straightforward at its core. Break away from the main group and head west, toward the nesting grounds where the flying dragons gathered. The three of them, Hela, Ella, and Fin, would hold the tier 6 beast’s attention here at the altar.

Tier 6 carried serious weight. But two of the three holding the line carried S-Ranked summons of their own.

They might not win outright.

But they wouldn’t fall easily either.

"Then let me help you with this."

Lorn spoke after a short pause, working through something internally before pulling a whip free from his belt and extending it toward Hela.

Leather, wrapped ten times over with dragon skin, the surface etched with old enchantments that had clearly seen use across generations.

His parents hadn’t been weak. Whatever else had happened to them, they’d left behind treasures meant to carry him forward, and this particular weapon carried a reputation for being especially effective against flying dragons.

"Ethan, you could use that."

Hela glanced toward Ethan the moment she saw the whip pass into her hands, already turning over how it might serve him better than her.

Every one of them carried some advantage, some trump card built from years of preparation. But where Ethan was heading carried more risk than anything the rest of them would be facing at the altar.

It only made sense he walked into it with every possible edge available to him.

"Thank you, Lorn. I misjudged you."

Ethan crossed the distance and took the whip from Hela’s hands, the leather cool and heavy against his palm, just as a notification surfaced sharply in his mind.

[You have received a dragon whip]

[This weapon is compatible with dragon dive. Do you want to bind it temporarily to summon Morgan le Fey?]