232: The Mystery of the Ancient Dragon

John and the black dragon locked eyes. 

Neither of them spoke, and the atmosphere gradually grew awkward. 

At that moment, the Welsh Green, who had been diligently climbing, finally made it up. 

It had a sense of triumph, as if all its struggles had finally paid off. Just as it was about to let out a victorious roar to release its emotions, it saw John staring directly at it. 

The Welsh Green hesitated and took a step back in fear. 

And that single step... 

"Oww—!"

It missed its footing and slipped, tumbling straight down from Dragon's Homeland. 

John: "..." 

Romanian Longhorn: "..." 

Pfft~!

Neither of them had expected the Welsh Green to be that cowardly. 

After this unexpected event, the tense atmosphere eased a little. 

The Romanian Longhorn finally spoke, "I am the Elder guarding Dragon's Homeland—Thunder-Piercing Spear." 

John's breath hitched. "…?" 

Is that name for real? 

What was with this suffocatingly dramatic and ridiculously over-the-top name? 

It was almost as unreasonable as "Amoham."

From the expression on Thunder-Piercing Spear's face, it seemed quite satisfied with its own name. 

After confirming that no other dragons had made it up, Thunder-Piercing Spear spoke: "You have ascended to Dragon's Homeland. As per tradition, I will take you to the Dragon Grounds to obtain your name." 

Dragon Grounds? 

John remained silent. 

Amohan had mentioned this place before—it was a site within Dragon's Homeland, somewhat like an altar. 

It was also a graveyard for dragons. 

But John remembered—wasn't the elder supposed to bestow the name? 

A hint of doubt flashed in his eyes. 

Thunder-Piercing Spear didn't offer much explanation. It simply led John toward the peak of Dragon's Homeland. 

At the mountaintop, there was a cave—the location of the Dragon Grounds. 

The moment John stepped inside, he felt his body suddenly lighten. 

The oppressive pressure of Dragon's Homeland vanished instantly. 

Before his eyes, countless silver threads floated in the air. 

All of them drifted toward a single point—a round stone. 

That stone seemed to have been placed there for thousands of years, almost fused with the stone platform beneath it.

The surface of the round stone was smooth and polished, as if it had been meticulously refined. 

But that seemed impossible. 

John narrowed his eyes. Dragons shouldn't be capable of such a thing, right?

They were masters of destruction—it would take them less than half a day to raze an entire town. 

But getting them to polish a stone so flawlessly, without a single dent or scratch? That was like asking a troll to take college entrance exams. 

"Ah.. Are these… souls?" 

He locked his gaze on the silver threads—each one was a fragment of a soul. 

Thunder-Piercing Spear, having escorted him to this place, turned to leave. 

John was dumbfounded. He quickly called out, "How am I supposed to get my name?" 

He had come here with a mission—he had endured all the trials, fought his way through, yet he still hadn't obtained a name. 

Thunder-Piercing Spear seemed to think for a moment before answering seriously, "That depends on your own efforts." 

What the fuck..?

Even the most patient dragon would curse at this point. 

After struggling through a blood-soaked path to get here, the grand reward was… "figure it out yourself"?! 

Even Dumbledore wouldn't mess with people this badly.

John took a deep breath, calming himself down. 

He stepped into the Dragon Grounds. The space inside was enormous—despite his current height of 55 feet, he could move freely. 

"This must be some kind of magic, similar to the Undetectable Extension Charm." 

John, well-versed in various magical phenomena, quickly deduced that enchantments had been used here. He was a little surprised—so fire dragons knew more than just breathing fire? 

Proceeding cautiously, he watched as the silver threads floated before him. John reached out to touch one. 

In an instant, a force yanked him away. 

This sensation was all too familiar—exactly like when he had encountered Nagini. 

Under this mysterious pull, his transformation was undone. 

He found himself in a new space—desolate, silent. 

Darkness stretched endlessly in every direction. 

John looked down at his hands, now human once more. A cold sweat dripped down his forehead—this was the first time external magic had forcibly dispelled his transformation. 

In the distance, he saw a small mountain. Raising his wand, he flicked it. 

"Super Lumos Maxima!" 

A bright orb shot into the sky, exploding with radiance like a miniature sun.

Only now did he realize—those weren't small mountains at all. 

They were dragons. 

Everywhere he looked, there were skeletal remains and lifeless dragon corpses. 

"This seems far more complicated than I thought." 

John observed the dragon carcasses. They showed no signs of life—some had been here so long that only bones remained. 

Gripping his wand tightly, he moved forward. 

Beneath his feet was a smooth, flat surface. Ahead, a staircase led downward. 

He stood on a platform shaped like a small mountain, and as he descended, the sheer size of the dragon corpses became even more apparent. 

The smallest among them was at least 50 feet long. He even spotted a dragon whose skeletal remains alone stretched 100 feet. 

Such a size had never been recorded in the wizarding world—it would completely redefine the known limits of dragons. 

The path through the sea of dragon corpses was intentionally left clear, as if guiding those who came after. 

With each step, John noticed ancient magical markings on some of the dragons. 

These inscriptions spoke of a history buried in time. 

He followed the path until he arrived at a mountain. 

John stopped in his tracks, his expression more serious than ever before.

"That's not a mountain." 

As John spoke, he felt a dull ache in his molars. 

That "mountain" was a dragon. 

A dragon as massive as a mountain. 

And most importantly—it moved. 

"..."

Pebbles on the ground trembled and bounced wildly. John steadied himself. 

Then, a pair of colossal eyes came into view. 

Old and clouded, those eyes were devoid of any light. 

"You have arrived." 

For a moment, the silver dragon seemed dazed. Its voice, deep and aged, sent another wave of vibrations through the ground. 

It was the voice of an ancient being, making John wonder just how long this dragon had lived. 

"1,007 years." 

As if reading his thoughts, the silver dragon spoke again. "I have been waiting for you." 

"You know me?" 

John was stunned. This old dragon seemed to possess some kind of mind-reading magic. 

"My name is Heimdall—Gatekeeper Dragon, Observer of the Future, Sage of the Dragon's Homeland." 

Unlike ordinary dragons, Heimdall's feathered wings stirred lightly, yet the force they generated sent dust and debris flying around John.

John didn't make a move because he could see that Heimdall had no intention of attacking. 

It wasn't until Heimdall took flight that John realized there was no path behind him—only a cliff, plunging into an abyss as deep as the void itself. 

"That is the final resting place of the ancient dragons." Heimdall spoke. "The ancient dragons come here to die." 

"When an ancient dragon perishes, a Dragon King is born among the dragons every hundred years." 

"It has now been a thousand years." 

"Once, someone with the same origins as you came to the Valley of Breath's End. He taught me the art of prophecy, and through those prophecies, I saw your arrival." 

As Heimdall landed, the dust and moss covering its massive body vanished. 

It turned its gaze toward the path John had taken. "Those buried here were all once hopeful contenders for the throne." 

"These dragons were either powerful or intelligent, but without exception, they were all slain by those stronger than them." 

John hesitated before asking, "What do you want me to do?" 

He knew Heimdall wouldn't be telling him all this for no reason. 

As for the "King" Heimdall spoke of, John didn't even consider himself as a possibility. 

No matter how much he resembled a dragon, he was, in the end, still human.

So instinctively, John felt that Heimdall wanted him to accomplish something for him. 

Just like the wizard Heimdall had encountered before—most likely, the two had struck some sort of deal. 

At the same time, John was curious about what Heimdall had seen in his prophecies—what kind of "him" had been foretold? 

Lowering his head, John felt Heimdall's breath blow against his face. 

"I hope you will pass this final trial." 

John didn't quite understand Heimdall's words. The final trial? 

Where was there another trial? 

Suddenly— Oh.. shit..

John's gaze fell upon the abyss, its depths unseen. He forced a chuckle. "The trial you're talking about… it's not jumping down there, is it?" 

He half-joked, but Heimdall gave a slow, deliberate nod. 

John's heart sank, and he fell silent for a moment. 

"Have you ever gone down there yourself?" John asked Heimdall. 

Heimdall gave a slight shake of his head, his voice tinged with sorrow. "Once, the dragon I cherished most entered that place… and never came back." 

"No one knows what's down there."

You don't even know what's down there, and you want me to go?

John's eyebrows twisted together—he was so annoyed that he actually laughed.

Did they really think he was an idiot? It wasn't like he absolutely had to do them this favor.

He took two steps back, ready to turn and leave.

However…

[Ding! Challenge quest triggered: Enter the abyss. Rewards: +2 to any stat, Blessing: Unknown.]

A journey with two unknowns.

System, if you're going to play like this, you're making things really difficult for me.

John let out a sigh. This system was getting out of hand.

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