Dragon's Lair

Noah had been gone for an hour.

Cana lay slumped over the table, clutching a bottle of booze and looking utterly bored. She had magnanimously offered to accompany Noah, only to be ruthlessly rejected.

His reason was that he wasn't used to fighting in a team.

"What the heck? He's just a newbie, and he dares reject the kindness of a senior guild member?"

Muttering to herself, Cana was still worried something might happen to Noah. That would mean he'd get hurt—and she'd lose out on her commission.

Even if the Magic Item was a defective model from the 998-tier, five percent commission would still be almost 5,000 jewels...

Doran sat down with a small ice bucket and dropped a cube into his glass. "Cana, what's the story with that kid Noah? His magic power is actually greater than yours in quality."

"Tch, last time you said Erza's magic power wasn't inferior to mine, either! And how did that turn out? She became an S-Class Mage at fifteen, two years ago, while I'm still going around in circles."

Cana felt like Doran was deliberately teasing her. When it came to their strength, Erza was now leagues above her. The gap was so enormous that Cana had lost the drive to catch up.

Doran smiled helplessly. "You underestimate yourself too much, Cana. You have plenty of potential; you just haven't discovered it yet."

"I don't believe you. If you can tell how powerful someone's magic is just by looking, why are you still here hammering metal?"

"Because this is my people's home."

Doran's gaze seemed to pass through the walls and settle on Iron Furnace Ridge, shrouded in scorching heat.

Cana had known Doran for a long time, but this was the first time she'd heard him mention "home." She wanted to hear him say more, but was too embarrassed to ask, so she just kept chugging her drink.

"Lord Doran! This is bad! Something terrible has happened!"

A middle-aged man dressed as a tailor rushed into Doran's shop, his face panicked. "Lord Doran, we've learned that those people from the Dark Magic Cult are heading for Lord Iron Dragon's lair!"

"What! Those scum actually dare to lay hands on Lord Iron Dragon's old home!"

"Get everyone together! We're going to wipe them out!"

Doran was as furious as a lion. His fiery magic surged with overwhelming force, and Cana felt as though she were seeing the brawny old man for the first time.

This old man was actually an expert!

Who was he, really?!

At Doran's command, a deep, resonant horn sounded across the market. Almost all the Magic Blacksmiths stopped their work, left their shops, and gathered at Doran's store.

The customers in the market watched in confusion. What was going on?

But the Magic Blacksmiths weren't the only ones heading to Doran's shop.

A soldier captain in uniformed armor found Doran, his expression grave. "Chief Doran, you've heard the news too? That Dark Magic branch was deliberately exposed to draw our attention away."

"Two Dark Magic priests are leading the elite members of their cult into the depths of Iron Furnace Ridge right now."

Doran had been about to give his people their orders, but his expression changed. "Dark Magic priests! This is bad!"

"Damn it, old man Doran! You've really screwed me over!"

Cana shoved past Doran and the soldier captain, who were blocking the doorway, and hurried off to find Noah.

Two Dark Magic priests meant two S-Class Mages. They were vicious and cruel, and if a newbie who'd just joined a guild fell into their hands, he'd be in grave danger.

Cana was consumed by guilt. If anything happened to Noah, she'd never forgive herself.

But she hadn't even taken two steps when a thunderous roar burst from the depths of Iron Furnace Ridge.

It sounded like a dragon roaring, but also like machinery rumbling.

A valley deep in Iron Furnace Ridge.

The valley was vast, its low-lying terrain suggesting that some enormous creature had made its home there for a long time. Mountains surrounded it, and the surface was covered in seemingly endless ore.

A squad of about twenty soldiers in black-and-white armor marched forward in perfect formation, stopping only when they reached the far end of the valley.

There were two leaders at the head of the squad: Haomen, a burly man with the word "Matcha" written on his forehead, and Jerome, a handsome blond man carrying a long sword.

"We found it. The lair of Iron Dragon, Metalicana."

Haomen bowed deeply toward the stone wall of the valley, lowering himself at a perfect ninety-degree angle.

Jerome was already used to his colleague's strange behavior. After all, what normal person would join the Dark Magic Cult?

He ordered his men to wait where they were, then drew his sword and poured magic into it. In an instant, the blade was covered in pitch-black magic that gave off an ominous aura.

Several fierce arcs of sword light struck the stone wall.

With a series of squeals, the wall was corroded away by black magic almost instantly, revealing a huge cave.

"There's hardly any defense. Did time wear it away, or was that Iron Dragon just too weak?"

Jerome sounded contemptuous. His Dark Sword was black magic that could corrode anything. He wouldn't have bothered exploring a dragon's lair from four hundred years ago if the bishop hadn't ordered him to.

Jerome believed in strength above all else. As far as he was concerned, the dragons' extinction proved that they hadn't been as powerful as the legends claimed.

Haomen, however, seemed quite interested. "An Iron Dragon who was friendly to humans, huh? Since you were so fond of humanity, you shouldn't mind if we take your things, right?"

"Heh heh, I forgot. That Iron Dragon's been dead for almost four hundred years. He can't hear me~"

Jerome didn't bother mocking Haomen's lame joke. With his back to his men, he made a hand signal telling them to enter the cave and scout ahead. In the eyes of a priest like him, the so-called elite members of the cult were nothing but slightly tougher cannon fodder. If they died, so be it.

Yet a minute passed, and his men still hadn't moved.

"Didn't you hear my order, you worthless trash?!"

Jerome turned around in anger, only to be stunned by the bizarre sight before him.

Of the eighteen men in the squad, seventeen lay unconscious on the ground. The only one left stood silently in place.

"Hey! What happened? Answer me!"

Jerome never bothered remembering the names of those too weak to matter. He merely issued his command arrogantly.

But the man still didn't move.

Jerome realized the man couldn't answer him anymore. Someone had silently taken out all of his men. Whoever had done it was clearly an expert.

Before Jerome could draw his sword, Haomen made the first move. A huge axe appeared out of thin air, and he hurled it in an instant.

The powerful throw brutally sliced the soldier in half at the waist, spilling his guts across the ground in a gruesome mess.

They had expected someone to be hiding behind the soldier, but there was nothing there.

Just as Haomen went over to investigate, a figure appeared behind Jerome like a ghost and grabbed his right hand, stopping him from drawing his sword.

"All your magic is in that sword. What will you do if you can't even draw it?"