(Ryuta POV)
Dragons were seen as powerful, mythical beings in many cultures back in my old world. Countless interpretations existed—divine protectors, fire-breathing beasts, primordial gods. No matter the version, they were always larger than life. Naturally, they made their way into media because of their sheer "awesomeness" and creative variety.
This world, which feels like a literal fantasy novel, also has dragons. Real ones.
You've got the King Dragons, which manipulate gravity. Black Dragons, airborne predators with venomous claws. Sea Dragons, ruling the oceans like living whirlpools, dragging ships into the abyss. And that's just scratching the surface.
But if you ask which type is the most well-known? That'd be the Red Dragons. They inhabit the Red Dragon Mountains—a jagged range so deadly it splits the Central Continent into three regions. No one crosses it directly. Travel only happens through the edges.
Honestly, I don't get the hype.
Due to their size and numbers, they're considered the continent's strongest monsters. But they can't even fly—they glide. They're like squirrels with heat resistance and attitude.
So why am I downplaying a species ranked A-rank or higher by the adventurer guilds?
Because while I was searching for Mimir's remains, I ran into five Red Dragons. And I killed them. All of them. With one spell. In an anti-climactic battle.
Sure, it was an overcharged ice spell that flash-froze everything within a massive radius—but still. No dramatic struggle. No fire-breath counterattack. Just click, boom, five ice sculptures.
It was... underwhelming.
And yet, the concerning thing wasn't the Red Dragons themselves, but rather the number.
One of them would have been alright, but five at once leave things to be questioned.
It's a good thing I was here; otherwise, the people of Rosenburg would have experienced a rapid decline in adventurers.
"...Am I overpowered?" I muttered, staring at the frozen statues.
Maybe I caught them off guard with my instant attack. Either way, I didn't feel anything. No thrill. No fear. Just disappointment for the first Dragon Kill in my second life. At this point, most dragons are just giant targets for me if this is how it's going to be.
I know I'm stronger than most, but I can't let it get to my head. I've had one traumatic reminder too many already. The students at the Academy avoid me—not out of hate, but out of fear. They're afraid of ending up like Linia and Pursena... Maybe Cliff was right, and I am a tyrant.
But that's a thought for another day.
Right now, I've got five dragon corpses on my hands. I can't sell them—not without raising every red flag imaginable. If someone reports dragon activity in the area, it'll trigger an emergency quest. If I show up with the remains, I'll look like a glory-hog.
Ugh. Whatever. Into the inventory they go.
After that, I need to head back to the city... and return [Counter Arrow]'s healer. Or what's left of him, at least.
This is going to be rough.
***
It took a while to store the dragons properly. I had to open a huge portal and haul them in with concentrated Gravity Magic. Thank the gods Orsted taught me how to use it efficiently, though the mana cost was still murder.
By the time I reached the city, the sun had begun to set.
I was just about to ping the signals from [Counter Arrow] when I noticed something strange.
Sara's signal was separated from the rest of her party.
Worse, their signals were fading. Weak. Like dying embers.
"Oh crap, that's not good."
No time to waste.
I immediately went into a sprint instead and jumped over the city's protective walls and straight to where Sara was.
As cruel as it felt, going to the others would be pointless. Sara had a role in Orsted's plan. He wouldn't forgive me if I let her die.
Jumping rooftops and cutting through alleyways, I traced her signal to an old, rundown building.
Opening my pocket dimension, I pulled out one of the weapons I have been working on but haven't finished due to other things.
Magic Gloves, a replacement for a regular staff, suited to my more open-handed fighting style. The crystals are located at the back of the hand, and mana-conductive metal spikes pierce into the wearer's hand to ensure the use of the crystals. They're a hybrid of magic tool and martial weapon, letting me cast with more precision while striking—perfect for close-quarters engagements.
The pain from the spikes? Manageable. A small price for control at this level. After all, I will be fighting in an enclosed area with someone I don't want to hurt inside.
Once at the door, I didn't bother knocking.
I kicked it in.
Property damage? Not my problem.
Inside, every head turned to me. I ignored them. My eyes locked onto the men surrounding a tied-up Sara with a bag over her head. Two of them were already unbuckling their belts, while two others were holding her down.
My blood turned cold.
I'd read stories—sick fantasies with this exact setup. But fiction and reality are two different beasts. This? This was real.
My emotions surged. Twisting. Sharpening. I didn't understand them, and frankly, I didn't care.
Without hesitation, I raised both hands and launched a storm of [Rock Bullet]. Precise. Lethal. Bone shattering.
Some managed to dodge or block, but most weren't that lucky.
Before they could react, I slammed both hands on the ground and activated [Earth Hedgehog].
Spikes erupted beneath their feet, impaling half the room. Screams died out mid-breath.
Only three were left—and I could feel it. These weren't ordinary thugs. They were professional fighters.
The one in heavy armor stepped back, but he was too slow.
I conjured [Flood Flush], washing him away in a tidal burst. Before he could break free, I followed up with [Icicle Field], flash-freezing him inside a jagged coffin, just like the Red Dragons.
Two left.
The next one was quick. White-gray ninja outfit. Tossed throwing knives as he closed the distance with a curved shortsword.
North God Style.
The best counter? A direct approach.
I coated myself in Touki and activated my [Barrier Gauntlet] on both arms. The knives bounced harmlessly off as I closed in.
I met his rush with a right hook as fast as a [Longsword of Silence]—a lesser version of Orsted's brutal barehanded technique.
The blow struck square in his ribs. I felt them crack. He crumpled with a gurgle, blood soaking through his ninja mask like reverse waterboarding.
The last one charged at me, reckless but fast, his sword blurring. A [Longsword of Light]. That means he's a Sword Saint.
Too bad for him—I wasn't just trained in one style.
I raised my Touki-coated left palm. As his blade connected, I forced my own Touki onto the blade, redirecting his attack with the Water God Style's signature technique: [Flow].
He lost control instantly due to the sheer unexpectedness of my counter with the bare hand.
Flipped backward behind me, head-first into the ground with the force of my Gravity Magic.
A sharp crunch followed by silence. That was the last of them.
The only sound now was Sara's muffled sobbing.
I ignored the corpses, walked straight to her, and removed the bag over her head.
Her puffy blue eyes met mine immediately. Trembling. Broken. Understandably. They probably talked before trying to act. Told her what they'd done to her team. To her party.
I removed the rest of her restraints and began checking for injuries.
"Are you hurt? Any wounds or—"
"They're dead," she interrupted, voice cracking.
So they told her everything.
I hadn't seen the bodies myself, but I didn't need to. Her face said it all.
I didn't know what to say. Didn't know what to do. But the look in my eyes must've said enough—because she just started crying harder.
I held back a sigh.
Leaving her like this would be cruel.
Good thing I left one of the bastards alive.
I had questions.
And he was going to answer every single one of them.
Sara was still shaking as I gently guided her to sit by the wall. She didn't resist, just curled in on herself like a wounded animal.
Her breathing was shallow, her eyes vacant. She flinched at even slight movements, one hand hovering near her throat, the other clenched in her tunic. This wasn't just fear—it was shock. She looked hollow, like her mind had fled somewhere safer.
I placed a box that would put up a barrier around her, thin enough not to feel restrictive, but strong enough to block sound.
She didn't need to hear what was about to happen.
I turned toward the one I'd left alive—the last man standing—the Sword Saint. Or rather, 'I regret all my decisions in life '- guy.
I restrained his arms and legs with my mana hands, propping him up to face me as I held his head by gripping his hair.
He was conscious, barely. Blood trickled from his scalp, but those eyes still had that fighter's glint, defiant to the end.
That was fine. I'd break that, too. Just enough to keep him awake and aware.
"You're lucky. I saved you," I said coldly, looking down at his miserable figure.
The brunt of the fall was as if he had fallen down a ten-story high building, but he seemed to have instinctively adjusted his Touki to ease the damage to a fractured scalp. He was definitely having too much of a concussion to use his Touki efficiently enough.
He spat out blood, grinning with broken teeth. "So what? You gonna play hero now?"
I gave him a deadpan expression. "Hero? No. Just someone who enjoys making garbage like you talk."
His smirk faded when I shattered all four of his limbs with my mana hands, his upper body falling backwards as I let go of his head.
A silent scream escaped from him for a moment. I healed his legs, keeping the arms broken, then shattered them again. Then I continued the progress.
I didn't enjoy this. I told myself that. But sometimes pain is the only language monsters understand. Yet I didn't stop my method until after the fifth time healing each leg.
"I'll talk! I'll talk! Just stop this! PLEASE!!!" he gasped.
I paused, leaving his legs half healed. "Then talk."
He coughed and wheezed before muttering, "We're not slavers. We're… assassins. Mercenaries."
That tracked. Their formation, their skill. Too organized for back-alley thugs.
"We're called the [Tri-Daggers]. Not that it matters now," he said, lacing sideways around he room.
"Who hired you?"
He shook his head weakly, his breathing steadying despite the pain across his face. "We weren't the first choice. Another group had the contract first. But they ran into a Red Dragon at the border between the Northern Territories and the Asura Kingdom. Got wiped out."
"All of them?"
"Except one," he said. "A guy with his head wrapped in bandages. He was the only survivor with the remaining reward money. Real calculating type. He gave us the rest of the reward and the contract. Said the job had to be done or he'd die. We took it."
"And the job?"
He took another deep breath before replying. "Kill the adventurer archer, Sara. That's all. The rest of her team? Wasn't part of it. That… was just... a messy cleanup. Wrong place, wrong time."
My fist clenched. This scum has his perspective mixed. He's the only trash to clean up here, but we'll get to that soon.
"Name," I said, pointing the palm of my glove at his chest. "Who was the contractor?"
He hesitated. "You're not gonna like the answer."
I grabbed his right leg, twisted and jammed it at the wrong angles, this time healing him only improperly. His scream echoed, and he was starting to swell red at the head.
"Name," I repeated.
He was panting through his teeth now, jaw clenched, eyes bulging.
"It's useless," he said. "Even if I tell you, it won't change anything. You'll still kill me."
"Yeah," I replied flatly. "But if you don't tell me, I'll make sure it lasts for a while."
To prove my point, I ran healing magic through him again, closing internal wounds just to prolong the pain. Then I twisted his fingers one by one.
He started sobbing.
"Stop! Please! I get it, I get it! You're insane!"
"Name!"
His gaze met mine, and I saw it. That moment. When the last of his resolve died. When he realized the only peace left was in death.
"…Philemon. Philemon Notos Greyrat."
Everything froze once I heard this unusually out-of-place name.
"…What?"
He flinched at my voice, but I continued.
"Philemon? That Philemon? Part of one of the Greyrat branches? The one forced to step down from the Notos family?"
He nodded quickly. "Yeah! That guy! I don't know how, but he still has connections. Money. Enough to arrange a hit from the shadows."
I stood in silence for a long second.
Then I chuckled. Just once.
"You idiots," I muttered.
He looked confused. "Huh?"
"You believed a man with no power, no authority, no influence—because he handed you someone else's reward money and wore bandages like a bad villain. God, I'm doing this world a favor by killing such a bunch of morons."
His confusion turned to panic. "W-Wait, what're you—"
Interrupting him, I cut off his head from the body with the edge of my hand covered by Barrier Magic.
His head fell forward, rolling with a soft thud. His body slumped seconds later.
I stared down at the corpse, eyes blank.
"Congratulations," I said quietly. "You died for a broken noble's vendetta. You really were trash to the end."
Even though I said that, it's obvious that the man with the bandages around his head was the one to trick them—an apostle of Hitogami.
Orsted's mission to save Sara and her attackers coming around was nothing but a stroke of luck.
Yet there is still something I don't understand.
The adventurer party that was supposed to save her isn't here. Yet, Hitogami saw that I would be saving her instead, despite the artifact Orsted gave me- a bracelet with the Dragon God symbol that is supposed to block Hitogami's sight on me.
Was there the possibility that Sara is gonna do something in the future that affects Hitogami? I'll have to talk this over with Orsted. We might need to keep an eye on her for the moment. And maybe figure out why a disgraced noble wanted her dead.
I walked over to her and disabled the barrier once I approached.
Sara was still there, huddled against the wall, her arms wrapped around herself like she could hold her broken world together with just pressure.
"Sara…" I knelt in front of her slowly, my expression softening. "It's over. They won't touch you again."
She didn't answer.
Just stared at the ground, shoulders trembling. Her breaths came shallow and rapid.
"Sara, listen… I need to tell you something. About the people who sent those guys. About why this happened."
Still nothing. Then I noticed it.
There was something wrong with the way she held herself. Too still. Too calm. Like the eye of a storm.
Her right hand—tucked beneath her thigh, clutching something.
I reached forward, just a little. "Hey. What's that you're—"
*Shink*
My eyes widened as her hand moved in a flash, steel glinting in the fading sunlight. Her motion was quick. Too quick for me to stop her in time!
"Sara, no—!"
I reached out my hand, but it was too late.
The dagger traced a sharp red line across her throat, deep and deliberate.
///