LGT Chapter 17

The Journey of Carlo and the Dragon

The mercenary band, famed for their skill, made the grave mistake of involving themselves in the political battles of high-ranking nobles. Now, they were paying the price for accepting that fateful request.

In the middle of the battlefield stood a man with golden hair, so radiant it seemed dusted with gold, leaning heavily on his sword, struggling to catch his breath. Known across the continent for his extraordinary swordsmanship, he had earned renown—and the ceaseless challenges of knights—since the day he emerged victorious in the continent’s grandest martial arts tournament with his godlike, flawless visage. His reputation only grew more formidable after he rejected the king’s offer and formed a mercenary band of his own, an unprecedented move that etched his name in history.

From the first request the band took on until now, they had never failed a mission. Until today.

Beyond the hill, they saw countless figures advancing toward them. Thinking they had just barely held off the enemy, the mercenaries groaned in despair at the hopeless sight. Most of the band had already fallen, their bodies scattered at their feet, and those who remained—including the leader—were in poor shape.

Unable to endure any longer, a mercenary staggered and finally collapsed. The Dragon, who had been leaning against his sword, tossed it aside and caught the fallen man in his arms. He, too, was wounded, with blood trickling down his chin. Droplets hit the ground with a soft thud. He shook the man’s body, trying to rouse him.

“Stay with me… Are you alright?”

“…Captain, I… I can’t… I can’t go any further. I’m sorry I can’t stay to the end,” the mercenary murmured through pained breaths, his face contorting in agony. Blood gushed from a fatal wound in his abdomen, quickly soaking the captain’s hand supporting him.

“…Until the next life, then.”

With the Dragon’s face as his last sight, the mercenary finally closed his eyes in peace. Around them lay a mountain of their comrades’ bodies, a testament to the mercenary band’s final mission. The captain’s supporting hand slipped slowly down as the mercenary’s body grew limp.

The Dragon gazed at the face of his deputy, now at peace in his arms. He had no intention of ending this dire situation himself. This was all part of his amusement, governed by self-imposed rules. The game was thrilling precisely because of those rules.

This was how he planned to bring this game to a close.

A mercenary, exhausted from the long battle, slowly pushed himself up.

“Damn it all, so we’re just supposed to drop dead here?” he cursed, casting a piercing gaze beyond the horizon. His speech was rough and colloquial, typical of him. The Dragon chuckled softly with his head bowed. He knew he would never hear Vanya’s earthy dialect again.

Thud-thud-thud—

A tremor was felt through the ground, caused by a wave of galloping horses from afar. As the silhouettes of countless soldiers drew closer to the weary, desperate mercenaries, a rider bearing the kingdom’s flag led the front. Judging by the colors, they were from the opposing faction.

“Again, those damned Ementals! How do those bastards keep multiplying like rabbits?”

The Dragon couldn’t hold back his laughter at Vanya’s grumbling. Blood from his wounds trickled down his chiseled face, trailing along his jawline.

“Can you really laugh in a situation like this? Damn it, I enjoyed working as a mercenary with you, but I never imagined I’d end up dying such a meaningless death,” Vanya grumbled as he sat down comfortably on the ground beside the captain. He did so because, indeed, a meaningless death was drawing near. Even the injured members of the mercenary band, who had survived countless battles, slumped to the ground, losing all will to resist the advancing army.

“So, what was it? What exactly is in that cave we’re guarding? Why is the entire continent going insane over this?” Vanya nudged the captain with his elbow as he spoke, his arm trembling slightly. Though he tried to hide it, he was clearly afraid of death. The captain chose not to point out Vanya’s nervousness. With a broad laugh, Dragon replied.

“…So it’s all over, and you’re not even trying to be polite anymore?”

The moment he took the mission, the captain had envisioned this very scene. Having lived a long life, Dragon quickly deduced that the mission would lead to a rebellion against one of the kingdoms. The circumstantial evidence, the suspicious origins of the mission, and the assignment details all hinted at it. Nonetheless, with a calm expression, he had written a brief letter of acceptance. In the commander’s room, he accepted his fate. The game was over.

“The cave we’re guarding is a dungeon. They say there’s a treasure inside—a treasure that could change the fate of the continent.”

Vanya’s eyes widened in surprise; he hadn’t expected the captain to actually answer his question. Until now, no matter how much he’d asked about the mission’s true nature, the captain had never answered.

“What? A treasure?”

Just to claim some treasure, they started a war? Vanya and the other mercenaries around him reacted with the kind of bafflement you’d expect from common folk.

“So, that’s why Duke Emental, Count Narri, and even the kingdom itself are acting like lunatics?”

“Pretty much.”

Vanya glanced at the captain’s face, who remained calm even on the brink of death. He had always thought the captain was unnervingly handsome, but this time, it felt different. His face showed no emotion, an eerie calm that made him almost inhuman.

“…Captain.”

The captain of the mercenary band met Vanya’s gaze slowly.

“I’ve asked you this question so many times, so why are you only telling us now?” Vanya asked, his suspicions fully justified. He was a man with a sharp intuition, honed by years of mercenary work. Dragon had carefully concealed his true identity from Vanya, up until the very end.

“Vanya, and everyone else,” Dragon addressed them one last time, the humans with whom he had shared years of hardship. “Thank you for everything.”

With a gleam in his eyes, he smiled brightly. The sound of hoofbeats and the marching chants of knights grew near. One of the knights from Emental’s cavalry rushed at the captain with his sword drawn, where the mercenaries had fallen.

“Captain!!!”

Vanya cried out with every ounce of strength he had left to warn him, but the exhausted leader of the mercenary band couldn’t dodge the knight’s sword. The blade of the Emental knight pierced deeply through Dragon’s chest, emerging from the other side. Blood spurted from his mouth in a red stream.

And soon, the remaining mercenaries faced the unrelenting steel of the knights, without a hint of mercy.

“Ugh! Argh!”

“Aaaargh!”

Thus came the end of the mercenary band that had long terrorized the land with their fearsome reputation. The knights remained on the hill until every last surviving mercenary, who had struggled to stand, fell amidst the piles of corpses. It didn’t take long for the massacre to reach its conclusion.

When even the dying groans and faint moans of the humans atop the hill had faded into silence, the Emental knights ensured every last one was dead before finally departing. Where the mercenaries had made their final stand, only ghastly remains of bodies were left in their wake.

Some time passed before something stirred in that nightmarish scene.

It was a hand—one belonging to the Golden Dragon.

He stretched it slightly, as if testing out a limb that hadn’t moved in a long time, flexing his fingers back and forth. Then, with a swift motion, he sprang up from where he had lain. Rising to his feet, he rotated his arm clockwise, checking each joint to ensure they were intact.

The mortal wound in the center of his chest was still bleeding profusely. Dragon closed his eyes once, then opened them slowly, and his golden eyes, glimmering like molten gold, flashed with a fierce light. He brought his hand over the deep wound on his chest.

“Recovery.”

A single word slipped from his exquisite lips. At the same time, his golden eyes shone, and a thick wave of mana surged through his body. It was a wound that would have instantly killed a human.

After a moment, the Golden Dragon removed his hand from his chest.

His chest was now flawless, as if he’d never been wounded at all, though the bloodstains and large hole in his clothing remained.

Having completed his recovery, Dragon looked back. It was the direction of the dungeon his band had been defending, and also the path the Emental knights had taken.