The end

Vermithor excitedly stretched his enormous, intact wings, which billowed like sails.

Baelon had always thought dragons' wings were beautiful.

Vermithor threw back his head and roared.

In a century of life, the dragon had never drunk so deeply of the exhilaration of battle as he had today.

After fighting to the death, he opened his eyes again to find every ache and wound in his body gone.

More importantly, the dragon once again sensed that invisible bond with his rider.

Solid and resilient, along with his rider's firm, unwavering will.

It put the dragon at ease.

Vermithor lowered his enormous head.

Baelon looked up into Vermithor's eyes, now a size larger, like golden nebulae in the cosmos.

Man and dragon gazed silently at each other without a word.

The dragon's hot, surging blood seemed to pass through his thick, molten-copper scales and along their touching bodies.

Like a summer flash flood in the mountain forests, carrying broken timber and stones, it thundered through every obstacle and surged into Baelon's veins.

He could sense the primal fire deep within Vermithor's heart. The exhilarating battle had set the dragon's blood alight.

The heart beating beneath Vermithor's flat chest did not pump dragon blood filled with fear of pain and death.

In short.

Vermithor: Fighting felt great!

Fighting without dying felt even better!

"In that case."

The corners of Baelon's mouth lifted high. He spread his arms and, calm and certain, stepped backward off the rock face.

The tiny human spread his arms, urging on the great beast crouching beneath the cliff.

Vermithor's slit pupils contracted sharply into needles.

"Come on." Baelon closed his eyes, urging Vermithor to set him alight.

He looked forward to bathing in dragonfire.

[Bond: lv.4 (10/1000)

Unlocked talent: Blood and Fire as One

Blood and Fire as One: The host will share the dragon's resistance to the heat of fire.]

A dragon's hard scales were enough to withstand its own dragonfire.

As dragons aged, their bodies grew larger and their scales grew thicker and harder, until even swords could not leave a scratch.

Thus, when adult dragons fought, they generally relied little on dragonfire.

Only their sharp teeth, claws, and massive tails could serve as weapons capable of inflicting effective damage.

Vast streams of gilded flame rushed past Baelon's sides, waves of heat towering as tongues of fire curled and rolled.

But the dragonfire swept past Baelon without ever leaping onto him.

Hmm?

Baelon opened his eyes and stared at Vermithor with a frown.

Vermithor met Baelon's gaze without much conviction. He had breathed dragonfire; his aim had simply been off!

A few seconds later, the dragon turned his enormous head away, his immense body taking on a somewhat furtive air.

Baelon: ...

Forget it...

Forcing a dragon to breathe fire at his rider was a little too much to ask.

A few lingering flames danced on the ground, and Baelon reached his hand into them.

Golden dragonfire danced and flowed across his calloused palm and between his fingers.

Like a burbling stream, the flames flowed gently through his fingers, washing away the grime without burning his flesh.

Baelon's lips curved in satisfaction.

He raised his hand high before Vermithor's eyes, displaying his pale, completely unharmed palm over and over.

"Reassured now?"

Smiling, Baelon threw himself against Vermithor. "Want to count how many hairs you burned off me?"

[Attempts remaining today: 2

Enter the Trial Space?]

He looked toward Vermithor, and man and dragon exchanged a glance.

Excitement and exhilaration flowed ceaselessly between them. No words were needed.

"Keep going!"

[Thirty-Ninth Level]

Man and dragon were given no time to react.

An endless, densely packed swarm of Pterosaurs swept toward them like locusts, blotting out the sky.

This time, Vermithor and Baelon were already prepared.

Just before their last death, Baelon had caught sight of a cave.

Unfortunately, Vermithor had already been knocked to the ground then and could not take flight again.

Vermithor was like a heavily armored knight of Westeros.

If a knight was thrown down or knocked over in battle, the full suit of armor protecting him became a burden.

Its considerable weight made every attempt to rise especially difficult.

Then the enemy would draw a small knife and stab it through a gap in the armor.

Vermithor beat his wings with all his might. Before the Pterosaurs could descend on them, he wheeled sharply around and reversed into the cave like backing into a garage.

The rock walls sheltered the dragon's body on every side.

Dragonfire erupted again and again, turning the entire sky into a boiling, rolling sea of fire.

Whenever a Pterosaur squeezed through a gap into the cave, it was Baelon's turn to act.

The seawater, soil, and wood in his inventory had all been used up, and he had not yet had time to replenish them.

But he still had two or three inventory slots full of huge chunks of meat!

Who said enough meat could not bludgeon a Pterosaur to death?

Vermithor roared in delight as countless Pterosaurs became fireballs, falling from the sky like burning meteors.

Amid this romantic meteor shower, man and dragon occasionally exchanged affectionate looks.

Their affection kept growing.

Baelon: Was this his honeymoon with Vermithor?

He loved Vermithor even more now.

[Level Forty-Nine]

Atop a snowy mountain.

A sharp sword burning with black fire drove viciously through Vermithor's wing membrane.

Large drops of scorching, crimson dragon blood fell onto the white snow, sending up wisps of white vapor.

The blade followed through with a slash, shearing half of Vermithor's wing clean off. It crashed heavily into the snow, throwing up a blizzard of flakes.

A piercing pain suddenly struck Baelon.

"Aah-"

He and Vermithor cried out in pain at the same time.

"Fuck!"

The hundred-meter-tall Balrog, wreathed in black fire, raised his burning greatsword.

Black flames curled around the blade, its cold gleam menacing.

The pain and wounds did not make Vermithor retreat or fear. Instead, they roused the dragon's savage fury and fighting spirit.

With only half a bleeding wing, Vermithor forced his mountain-sized body upright and charged forward recklessly.

The dragon opened his jaws, roared in fury, and slammed into the Balrog.

Wildness, exhilaration, and blazing fury poured into Baelon's heart.

"A Balrog, huh!"

"You're the fucker who cut up my dragon!"

Scalding dragon blood splashed all over Baelon.

Gritting his teeth, he cut through the rope tied around his waist.

He broke into a run along the violently shaking dragon's back, nearly falling off several times.

He leaped, throwing himself onto the Balrog like a moth into a flame.

Baelon grabbed the vicious barbs covering the Balrog's body and used both hands and feet to climb laboriously toward the top of his head.

As it turned out, children who loved climbing were never too unlucky.

No knight suddenly emerged from the Balrog's enormous body to push him off.

The Balrog himself was absorbed in fighting the dragon and did not notice the little bug that had landed on him.

Not until Baelon reached the top of his head.

Just then!

The flaming greatsword broke through Vermithor's scales and pierced his deeply furrowed chest.

Scalding dragon blood sprayed out, feeding the black fire on the sword until it burned ever fiercer.

A spike two or three meters tall appeared out of thin air before Baelon.

He hugged the spike tightly and planted it between the Balrog's two sharp horns.

Right atop his skull.

"Vermithor!"

With the blade piercing his chest, Vermithor forced himself forward, letting it sink even deeper.

Summoning the last of his strength, the dragon jerked his chin upward. Amid his rider's ringing laughter, he slammed it into the spike like a massive hammer.

The tremendous friction tore Baelon's flesh to shreds.

He clenched his teeth and jumped with all his might, narrowly avoiding becoming a meat patty beneath Vermithor's headbutt.

The spike pierced the Balrog's skull, and scalding black blood sprayed out.

Black flames instantly sprang up on the snow.

The Balrog no longer jeered or roared. Like a collapsing mountain, he crashed toward the snow.

Baelon glanced at himself.

Both legs broken, white bones shattered, his entire body a bloody mess from the friction against the spike.

In his field of vision, the flames covering the Balrog went out, and the enormous figure toppled toward him.

Baelon closed his eyes and waited for death...

No!

His eyes flew open, and he wriggled like a maggot! Wriggled!

He had to survive, damn it!

At least until he got this level's buff!

He and Vermithor had fought so hard. It could not all be for nothing!

Indeed, with both legs broken, waiting where he lay for death would be easier, or at least less painful.

But that was how a loser thought!

Baelon clenched his teeth!

Where there was a will, there was a way!

By wriggling, he successfully managed to turn himself over.

"Roar-"

With half a wing, Vermithor struggled to shield Baelon.

Amid the thunderous crash of the falling body, swirling snow obscured everything.

An unknown amount of time passed before movement came from beneath the accumulated snow.

An enormous bronze-gold eye emerged amid the blanket of white.

"Quack-"

The greatsword was still embedded in Vermithor's chest, making his roar sound strange.

The dragon's muscles clamped tightly around the greatsword, and its hilt trembled faintly.

"Uh... you sound... like a duck now," Baelon said, lying in the snow, unable to help laughing.

Vermithor extended his rough tongue and gently licked Baelon's battered body.

Baelon could not help quipping, "Stop licking. I'm telling you, Targaryen blood is something special."

"Don't... cough, cough. Don't suddenly work up an appetite while you're licking."

"And go, 'Lord Rider, you smell so delicious.'"

Vermithor quacked again, making Baelon laugh despite himself and sending pain through his whole body.

The dragon propped himself up with his remaining half-wing and limped along, using his mouth to push and roll the wood scattered over the ground.

He pushed each piece to Baelon's hand, and Baelon put it into his inventory.

Dragon blood spilled all along the way, like flames blooming in the snow.

[1. Field of Fire: Dragonfire temperature +47%

2. Behemoth: Body size +45%

3. Defense lv.7: Overall defense +14%]

Baelon hesitated between options two and three.

The eyes were a dragon's only weakness. Strengthening their defenses would better safeguard the dragon's life.

But in the end, he still chose size.

As a dragon grew larger, its scales would thicken, indirectly increasing its defenses.

More importantly, he liked them big.

"Want to check out the next stage?"

Though in their current state, going to the next stage would mean going to their deaths.

They had exhausted every trick they had just fighting a hundred-meter-tall Little Fire Demon.

Even if they left the Trial Space, used up one attempt to refresh their condition, and came back in, they might not be able to defeat the next stage's monster and obtain a buff.

But Vermithor gazed at Baelon with bright, intent eyes.

Baelon burst out laughing, his whole body trembling with pain.

"Stage fifty!"

"Onward!"

The man and dragon, both barely clinging to life, entered another new environment.

It was a sprawling range of volcanoes.

Baelon moved his eyes to survey their surroundings. Volcanoes were good. Volcanoes were a dragon's home turf.

If the monster on stage fifty couldn't fly, he and Vermithor might just beat it with air superiority!

The earth rumbled and shook. A volcano suddenly erupted, sending billowing black smoke straight into the sky.

A sharp-beaked giant bird soared out of the crater. The gale whipped up by its wings blew Baelon, who lay flat on the ground, straight into the air.

Baelon: ...

"Hahahahaha!"

He tumbled and spun freely through the air, laughing with abandon.

"Woohoo! Targaryens can fly!"

He had finally proved it!

Even without a dragon, I, a Targaryen, can still fly!

Hahahaha!

Newton? Universal gravitation?

Hah!

[Sky King Rodan

Health

...]

Rodan?

Baelon performed all sorts of difficult maneuvers in the air, twisting a full three hundred and sixty degrees, spinning...

He stopped Vermithor, who was about to rush toward him.

Would Vermithor really hold back from attacking just because his opponent was the Sky King?

"Vermithor, get him!"

Vermithor had no fear of death. He let out a strange roar.

With the greatsword still lodged in his body and his tattered wings scraping the ground, Vermithor charged at Rodan.

And then...

Vermithor bravely plastered himself against Rodan's wing.

As for Baelon?

No one cared about a Little Dragon Fula flying through the air.

Except for a large black rock, which planted a kiss on Baelon's forehead.

Beneath a vast, imposing natural rock face, a dragon lay hidden.

The dragon's entire body was concealed in shadow, almost filling the space beneath the rock face.

The lurking dragon slowly crawled out of the rock face's shadow. His bronze scales were even more dazzling than before, like freshly quenched bronze.

Vermithor loomed over Baelon like a black cloud, his enormous shadow enveloping everything.

The man and dragon stood at the edge of the cliff, quietly watching the glittering sea and the clear blue sky.

They quietly felt their whole, uninjured bodies, like gravely ill patients who had suddenly recovered.

Baelon spread his arms.

This time, he and Vermithor accepted their defeat wholeheartedly.

They couldn't win. That was all there was to it.

There was nothing to say.

But they wouldn't be able to defeat Rodan anytime soon, which meant the Trial Space wouldn't be able to provide Vermithor with any more buffs for the time being.