The meeting chamber was buzzing with murmured introductions as adventurers sized each other up. Names, titles, and badges glinted under the lanternlight, each one a quiet statement of pride. Ethan listened absently, arms folded, until a familiar laugh rolled through the room.

"Heh—well, if it isn't the brat himself."

Ethan turned, and there he was. Brad. The man's broad shoulders and thick arms were as he remembered, he had a few more scars and a thicker beard than previously, most likely gained when he crossed the monster infested forest. Brad's grin stretched wide when he spotted Ethan's badge, and his eyes nearly popped.

"Damn, kid! You really grew up fast!" he barked, clapping a meaty hand against his thigh. "A-rank already—and not even two months have passed? Hah! If that doesn't make me jealous, I don't know what will!"

His booming voice carried across the chamber, and like ripples spreading through still water, every gaze turned toward Ethan. Whispers stirred.

Even Xarion, who had sat slouched in his chair bored, raised a brow. His golden, slit-pupiled eyes studied Ethan with a glint of interest.

For a draconian who had rose his way to A-rank by regularly hunting A-ranked beasts, seeing another rise so swiftly was no small curiosity. But only Brad knew Ethan's truth—that his strength had been earned recently from zero. But Brad, wisely, kept his mouth shut.

---

When the introductions settled, the air grew heavier. Maps and reports were laid out on the great oaken table, and grim faces gathered around.

"According to intel," one of the B-ranks began, "the dungeon boss behind this tide is a Level 60 Wyvern. Any signature says it breaths fire."

The words struck the chamber like a hammer. A hush fell. Then—Xarion stirred.

The draconian leaned forward, aura rising subtletyas thought he got what he wanted. . His golden eyes gleamed with an almost feral hunger.

"I'll say this before anything else," Xarion's voice rumbled, carrying an edge of command. "Take every coin and gem. The treasure means nothing to me. But that wyvern… is mine."

His gaze swept the room. He didn't need to explain—everyone knew why. Wyverns weren't True Dragons, but their blood held much higher traces of purity then other draconic beasts, a key that could edge a draconian closer to ascending. And it seemed this Draconian was more hungry then others as his stories of his journey through continent was famous, always looking for beast which contained even a trace amount of fire dragon blood.

No one objected. In fact, many looked relieved. Dragon-type dungeons were famed for hoards treasures beyond imagination. If Xarion relinquished the treasure, that meant the rest of them would get more treasures.

But still—now the silence lingered, all eyes shifting toward Ethan. The only one present who could truly rival Xarion in facing such a beast.

Ethan's mind flickered inward.

System. Dragon blood, is there any? show me.

A neat list scrolled before his eyes.

> Fire Dragon Blood — 1,000,000 SP

Ice Dragon Blood — 1,000,000 SP

.

.

.

Magic Dragon Blood — 2,000,000 SP

Demonic Dragon Blood — 2,500,000 SP

Space Dragon Blood — 3,000,000 SP

Time Dragon Blood — 4,000,000 SP

Soul Dragon Blood — 6,000,000 SP

.

.

.

Ethan nearly choked. The hell?! For that price I could trade stat points that would could make me rival a dragon!

He exhaled slowly, masking his shock, and raised his head with a faint smile.

"Don't worry," Ethan said, meeting Xarion's piercing gaze.

He hesitated for just a beat.

"Xarion" said Xarion

"Yes, Mr. Xarion. I won't lay claim to anything tied to wyverns. But—" his grin widened, a spark of challenge glinting in his eyes— "would you allow me to fight alongside you? You see… I've always dreamed of testing myself against a draconian species."

A murmur rippled through the room. Some smirked at Ethan's boldness, others frowned at his audacity.

Xarion narrowed his eyes. But when he found no deception—only a fierce, unyielding will—his lips curved in the faint smile.

"…Very well." Xarion leaned back. "Fight beside me. And if you contribute notably, as fighting it alone might even risk my life" He paused, "The wyvern's bones are yours."

The chamber erupted.

"Whoaa.."

"Wyvern's bone? That's as precious as its blood!"

"Sure A rankers live in another sort of lives..."

Indeed, wyvern bone was a prize of unimaginable worth—craftable into weapons, catalysts, or armor that could rival relics. For Xarion to part with it even after saying he would not take treasure was very much was astonishing. This only high lighted the importance he gave ro his ascendance.

Ethan's heart gave a quiet thrum, but his face showed only calm satisfaction.

"Then it's a deal."

The faint smile lingered on Xarion's lips. For the first time, respect gleamed in those dragon-gold eyes.

The meeting hummed on, voices low and urgent as strategy bled into accusation. Maps were folded and refolded. Ranks were counted. When the origin of the monster tide came up, the room's temperature seemed to drop a few degrees—blame flared like tinder.

"According to scouts," one of the captains said, stabbing a finger at the mark on the map, "the wyvern was disturbed. Someone went in and took the treasures. It woke the beast, and everything beneath it scattered toward the city in blind panic after it rampaged."

Heads turned instinctively toward the guilty. The room found Karl. His name rippled through the gathered like a bitter aftertaste. Karl's group was one among those who had rushed into the dungeon without proper preparation—loud and careless. Someone in the back clicked their tongue.

"Tsk. He is a B-rank and still plays like a fool."

A hoarse laugh followed. "Heard he got his brain cells rearranged when he stumbled back into the guild. Serves him right."

Karl bowed his head as if in shame; his shoulders hunched so the lanternlight cut shadows across his jaw. Underneath that mask of pitiful defeat, anger seethed like magma. His hands curled into fists beneath the table; the sound of his nails creaking against leather was barely audible.

Just you wait, Ethan Cross, Karl breathed inwardly. Even if it costs me my life, I'll make sure you die in that dungeon. I'll repay this humiliation.

His vow slipped into the wood as if it had been burned there. Around him, the other conversations resumed; the collective focus snapped back to the plan at hand. No one bothered to notice Karl's promise to himself.

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