Dragon Slayer - Part 6

"This is your plan?!"

Hector's voice thundered through the control room. "This is suicide!"

"I agree with Hector…" Matthew's tone was grave. "I don't know what the hell you're thinking, kid, but your plan sounds like you're sending all of us to our deaths."

Holland sat in his chair, fingers idly toying with the cigarette balanced between them. Ash crumbled onto the strategy table, glowing for a brief moment before fading into darkness.

He had never trusted this boy—not from the moment he first set foot aboard the ship.

There was something unnerving about him.

Something wrong.

And the way he spoke…

No child his age should talk like that.

"What do you think, Captain?" Despite being boxed in by both Matthew and Hector, the boy—Satoru—only smiled, as if he were enjoying the scrutiny.

"Does my plan sound reasonable to you?"

Holland had distrusted Satoru from the start.

Yet now, the boy was the one proposing a strategy to take down the dragon.

More than that—he had persuaded the crew to follow his lead.

Why?

Why go to such lengths to convince everyone, including Holland himself, to take part in a plan that was practically suicide?

What did he gain from leading the entire ship—and himself—into certain death?

Was he a spy?

An agent sent by an enemy nation to sabotage the Washington?

It was the only explanation that made sense.

But no spy would be so blatantly obvious.

Not like this.

"You said its body is armored with volcanic rock," Holland finally spoke. "How the hell do you expect us to pierce that?"

"That is the key part of the plan," Satoru replied smoothly. "If we don't penetrate its armor in time, we're dead. That's why using the heavy gun turrets to break through before it reaches us is critical."

"We don't have heat-seeking missiles," Hector growled. "And rocket launchers won't hit it."

"They're not meant to." Satoru's grin widened. "They're meant to counter its fire breath."

Hector frowned.

Satoru continued, his voice sharp and confident.

"A dragon expels flammable gas through its nasal cavities before igniting it with flame. Those cavities only stay open for a short window. If we time it right, we can strike—detonating the gas before it ignites. That'll force it into close-range combat. And that's when we strike." His eyes gleamed. "Once we've weakened its armor, we'll unload the final barrage—launching rockets into the exposed weak spots at point-blank range. That's how we'll bring it down."

It sounded logical.

It sounded possible.

And more than anything—

It was the only plan they had.

But one misstep—

And it would cost them the Washington.

And everyone on board.

"You seem to know an awful lot about this dragon…" Holland finally spoke after a long, heavy silence. "Especially for a kid."

Satoru let out a small, amused chuckle at the thinly veiled accusation.

"Does it matter where I learned all this?" he replied. "My plan is the only way to kill that dragon without losing a single life on this ship."

The sheer audacity of the statement made Holland pause.

How could he say that?

Where did this kid get that kind of confidence?

Holland had long since learned not to judge people by appearances. But how the hell was Satoru expecting him to agree to what was essentially a suicide mission?

Because it's the only plan we have.

The voice in his head was bitter.

"I can only say this," Satoru continued, still smiling as he cast a glance toward the radio console in the corner of the room.

"Probability is on my side."

As if on cue, a chair scraped against the floor.

A radiowoman stepped forward.

"You have an incoming transmission, Captain," Diz said, holding out a headset.

Holland didn't take it right away.

His gaze drifted back to the green-haired boy, meeting his unwavering stare.

That damn smile was still there.

Probability, huh?

Holland narrowed his eyes as he finally took the headset.

Who the hell was calling the ship now?

The room fell into a tense silence as everyone watched him listen.

And then—

Without a word, Holland removed the headset and stood.

With a flick of his wrist, he pressed his cigarette into the strategy table, snuffing it out with deliberate indifference.

Alright.

Let's see this probability of yours.

"Prep the fuel and set up the machine gun turrets. Load the rocket launchers and ammunition."

He exhaled smoke, glancing at the stunned faces of Matthew and Hector.

"Get everything onto the deck."

Finally, he turned to Satoru.

"And you—you're coming up top with us."

His voice was firm.

"I want you to see this probability of yours firsthand."

Satoru's smile didn't waver.

"Wouldn't dream of missing it, Captain."

…

"This is your plan!?"

Will's voice shook the armored transport.

"I have to agree," Kikyo said, arms crossed as she mulled it over.

"This sounds like a suicide mission."

"That's exactly why I only asked for one vehicle," Esther replied. "I just need a driver willing to go with me. The dragon will follow."

"You sound awfully sure about that," Takeda said, voice cold.

The question made Esther pause.

She had only recently realized the answer herself.

Why 'something' hadn't answered the voice in her head.

Why, during that desperate chase, she had suspected that Kikyo had been deliberately slowing down—just enough to keep the dragon on their tail.

What could possibly drive a creature that massive to fixate on something as insignificant as a human?

It wasn't even hunting—she was too small, too fragile to be prey.

Why had it pursued the armored convoy this deep into the underground hall?

From the moment Esther had locked eyes with the beast, she had known—

it was hunting her.

She didn't understand why, but it had to be connected to 'something'.

The reason 'something' had stopped responding to her thoughts.

Could the dragon sense it? Could it hear the echoes of her mind, the same way she had?

There was no way she could explain that to Takeda.

"It's… complicated," she said instead.

The words felt hollow under the weight of their judgmental stares.

Not good.

Not good at all.

Esther glanced around, silently pleading for someone—anyone—to break the heavy silence.

Kikyo finally spoke.

"Assuming the dragon really does follow your transport," she mused, "what happens after you lure it east? How do you know your ship can even kill it?" She paused. "More importantly—how do you know they're still here?"

It was a fair question.

The truth was—she didn't.

For all she knew, Holland had already ordered the Washington to depart.

But—

"I believe they're still here," she said, forcing her voice to stay firm. "I came back to save my friends. And my friends came back to save me." 

She turned toward Glenn and Rain—then to Will and Sonia.

They met her gaze, nodding in silent affirmation.

Even Will and Sonia, though hesitant, didn't look away.

"I know how foolish it sounds, To ask all of you to risk your lives for people you don't even know." she admitted. "But if there's anyone who can kill that dragon—"

She locked eyes with Kikyo.

Then Takeda.

"It's our captain."

That was it.

She had said everything she could.

Esther inhaled sharply, waiting for a response.

But the first person to speak wasn't who she expected.

"I'll drive."

Takeda stepped forward.

A stunned silence fell over the group as he made his way toward the driver's seat.

He turned, meeting their dumbfounded stares.

"One vehicle. One driver," he stated flatly. "We can prove her theory easily enough. If the dragon follows, it means the rest of you have a clear escape route west." 

His gaze flicked to Kikyo.

"And if this is all just a setup to steal an armored transport?"

He shrugged.

"Then we'll know soon enough—because the damn thing won't even chase us."

Kikyo nodded slowly, considering his logic.

"Fair enough," she murmured. "Worst case, we call it a recon mission. If the dragon doesn't follow, we turn back and regroup."

"Then I'm coming too." Glenn stepped forward. "You're not seriously expecting her to man the turret, are you?"

Esther noticed Rain moving as well.

"I'm in," Sonia added, standing up from her seat.

"Thanks, Sonia." Esther smiled at her. "But you need to stay here—with Will and the kid."

Sonia opened her mouth to argue, but then hesitated.

She must have realized it, too.

Someone from the Washington had to stay with Will—he couldn't move, and the last thing they needed was to leave him defenseless.

The redhead scowled in frustration.

"You're not planning to throw your life away for this, are you?"

I'm not that brave.

The thought remained unspoken.

Instead, Esther just smiled.

"I'm not dying," she promised. "Not until I hear that song again."

Sonia's scowl softened.

She smiled back.

"God, I hate being a background character," Will muttered from his makeshift bed. "Don't get too reckless, Esther. And don't trust that green-haired kid too much."

It was fair advice.

Esther had never spoken to Satoru directly.

What little he'd told her was only part of the plan.

Luring the dragon east—that part was straightforward enough.

But what came next?

What was Satoru's actual plan for killing the damn thing?

Would Holland even agree to it?

Or was Satoru planning to kill it himself?

Impossible.

Esther shoved the thought away.

It didn't matter.

This was the only plan they had.

She had to make it work.

She would make it work.

Kikyo's sharp gaze never left her.

She had been watching Esther the entire time.

Reading her doubts like an open book.

But instead of calling her out, the commander merely sighed and turned to Takeda.

"You're a real pain in the ass."

Takeda smirked—just a small, knowing tilt of his lips.

"I've found that the best way to stop you isn't fighting you. It's helping you." The expression made him look years younger. "You may be the better driver, but I'll be damned if I let our commander put her life on the line."

Kikyo huffed.

"Right-hand man of mine…" She gave him a long, appraising look. "Driving a transport while running from a dragon shouldn't be too much for you, right?"

Another sigh.

"Let that dragon eat your dust, Lieutenant."

Takeda snapped a salute.

"Yes, ma'am."

And just like that, Kikyo turned and stepped outside the transport.

Takeda climbed into the driver's seat. Glenn followed.

Esther exhaled, glancing around for the least uncomfortable seat she could find.

When she turned back—

A pair of dark, round eyes were staring at her.

The Saipan girl.

Her gaze, deep and inquisitive, watched Esther with quiet intensity from beneath her uneven bangs.

"Why did you save me?"

The girl asked again.

Esther realized—this might be the last time she would ever speak to her.

Those deep, black eyes…

That expressionless face…

That mouth, which had never once curled into a smile…

Slowly, Esther knelt before her and pulled her into an embrace.

The Saipan girl flinched, stiffening at the unexpected touch.

To be overlooked.

To be disregarded—simply for being younger.

To be silenced, ignored, because others saw you as inexperienced.

I understand you.

"You want to see the world burn, don't you?"

The girl's eyes widened, startled.

"How… how do you know?"

"It doesn't matter," Esther murmured, staring into those colorless, empty eyes.

"But I intend to kill that dragon. So you can't just sit back and hope it will burn the world down for you."

If this was truly the last conversation they would have—

If this girl, who had just lost everything—her home, her family, her quiet, familiar life—was to be left with nothing but the ashes of her past…

Then Esther wanted to leave her with something more.

Something to hold onto.

Something to live for.

"You have to grow," she whispered. "Learn the world."

"And if you still want to destroy it—then do it with your own hands."

"That's why I saved you."

For the briefest moment, something flickered in those dark eyes.

A spark—

Small, fragile, but there.

And Esther hoped that, one day, it would burn just as fiercely as the flames consuming her island.

…

They had been following the cavern wall for a while when they saw it—

Another fissure.

A break in the concrete where light bled through.

"There's a mountain road outside," Glenn called from the gunner's seat.

Takeda gave a silent nod, then turned the wheel.

The transport rumbled forward, breaking through the narrow gap.

And beyond the cracked stone walls—

The same sight awaited them.

A sky painted in the red glow of fire and destruction.

Thick plumes of black smoke choked the air.

And below, an island slowly being swallowed by flame.

Glenn shifted, rising slightly from her seat.

She reached up, unlatched the metal hatch above, and cracked it open just enough to peek outside. Her gaze lifted toward the sheer mountains towering above them.

"You think it's smart enough to ambush us here?" she asked, forcing out a nervous laugh before sinking back down.

Esther sat stiffly in her seat, strapped into the safety harness.

Rain sat beside her, both of them rocking slightly with each jolt of the armored vehicle.

The silence between them was growing unbearable.

So Esther turned to Takeda.

"Lieutenant, how long will it take to reach the base of the mountain?"

Takeda kept his eyes on the road.

"And what makes you think I'm taking you east?" His voice was neutral, unreadable. "You heard the commander. This is just reconnaissance." 

"I just need an estimate." Esther didn't waver. "If I call it now, we might not outrun it."

Takeda was quiet for a moment.

Then—

"You really believe that when we lure that dragon east, your friends will show up and kill it for us?"

"I believe in Captain Holland," she answered without hesitation.

She didn't even have to think about it—

Because she did believe.

Holland had traveled the entire Sunless World and returned alive.

If anyone could kill something like this—

It would be him.

Something in Takeda's expression shifted.

His hands tightened slightly over the controls.

"What did you just say?"

There was a change in his tone.

"You know Captain Holland?" Esther asked, surprised.

Takeda hit the brakes.

The vehicle lurched.

Rain's shoulder knocked into hers.

"Captain Holland is a legend," Takeda murmured, almost reverent. "A war hero. He saved Saipan ten years ago. I wasn't enlisted back then, but… Every soldier knew his name. A submarine captain unlike any other."

"Then believe me when I say—" A quiet pride swelled in Esther's chest. "—He won't let this island die without a fight."

Takeda stared at the dashboard.

Then—

"Fifteen minutes to the base of the mountain. If we take the main road, we'll reach the eastern docks in ten—if we push top speed." Finally, he turned back to her.

"You said you were going to call it? How?"

Esther hesitated.

"It's… complicated."

She glanced at Rain, hoping he'd help her explain.

"It's like…" Rain started, thinking. "Like she can release a scent that it can track."

"Sound!" Esther blurted out, heat rising to her face. "I can emit low-frequency sound waves—it can sense them!"

She could feel her own frustration mounting.

Why did he have to phrase it like that?

Rain turned toward her, visibly puzzled, as if he had no idea why she was getting so worked up.

Esther sighed.

Annoyance shifted into exasperation.

"Low-frequency waves?" Glenn chuckled, amused. "What, is that some kind of special ability?"

She kept laughing—until she realized neither of them were joining in.

Takeda glanced at her for the first time.

"Alright, then," he said, tone even. "What's the plan?"

"We drive straight to the eastern shore," Esther answered without hesitation. "I'll call it as soon as we reach the base of the mountain."

"Ten minutes?" Glenn shot her a skeptical look.

"We can't afford to stop and check if it's following us. By the time we know for sure, it'll already be right above us. When running from an airborne predator, constant speed is the only real advantage we have." She glanced at Takeda, making sure he was listening. "That ten-minute window also gives Holland's crew time to prepare. I don't know how he plans to kill the dragon, but I do know one thing—he won't want to engage it near civilians. He'll either set up an ambush or use some kind of decoy to draw it into a kill zone."

The cabin fell silent.

Takeda's gaze flicked toward the rearview mirror.

Everyone was staring at him.

The lieutenant let out a slow, measured sigh.

"I know a route down the mountain," he admitted at last. "A narrow pass. Cliffs on both sides."

He shifted slightly in his seat.

"Just don't get the wrong idea. I'm not doing this for you—I just want to see a so-called 'god' get killed."

Esther had noticed this before.

The way the Saipan soldiers spoke about the dragon. Even Takeda himself.

They called it a god.

A protector of the island.

The legend had been passed down for generations—

The legend speaks of a dragon god who forged a pact with Hattori Danzo, the leader of the first Kyushu settlers, to protect these islands. This belief is deeply ingrained in the way of life of the Kyushu people.

As Esther observed the architecture around her—the gabled roofs, statues, and intricate wall carvings—she noticed a striking consistency in how the Kyushu people depicted their deity. The dragon god was portrayed as a long, serpentine creature without wings.

In the texts about dragons from the Old World that Esther had once read, she had learned that the people of the Old World classified dragons into two types based on their habitat. The form of the Kyushu island deity was known as an Eastern dragon, whereas the bat-winged dragons were referred to as Western dragons.

And yet…

The thing they had encountered—

It had wings.

It was nothing like the dragon god that people on this island had worshiped.

Was this simply a coincidence?

Or was there something else they had yet to understand?

Esther jolted from her thoughts as she felt a nudge against her knee.

"This isn't Holland's plan, is it?" Rain murmured beside her. "This is his plan. That kid's."

She turned toward him.

"You know Satoru?" she whispered back.

Rain shook his head. "I just think he's too much of an enigma."

"Agreed."

"Then… can we really trust him?"

Esther hesitated.

"Do you have a better plan?"

A long silence followed.

"I don't like that you're using yourself as bait," he finally said.

"Then why aren't you stopping me?"

Rain stared into the empty space before him.

"Because I think you're right." His voice was quiet, but firm. "That thing—it's a threat to everything on this planet. And we have to do whatever it takes to stop it."

The cabin trembled as the armored vehicle rumbled over uneven ground. Dust kicked up from the impact, swirling in the emergency lights along the floor—thin wisps of mist suspended in the dim glow.

"We're at the foothills now," Takeda's voice called from the cockpit.

A fleeting thought crossed Esther's mind—

How different would her life have been if she had met Rain before all of this?

Before the expedition.

Before every second of their life turns into a struggle for survival.

Before the burden of saving the world had fallen onto their shoulders.

"Do you trust me?" she whispered.

"Of course."

His answer was steady. Certain.

And that was all she needed.

Esther closed her eyes.

Blocking out the world.

Blocking out everything but the steady hum of the engine beneath her.

You hear that, don't you?

You don't have to stay silent anymore.

You don't have to keep hiding me.

Because this time—I'm going to kill that dragon myself.

For a long moment, there was only darkness behind her eyelids. Only the distant rumble of the engine filling her senses.

And then—

A quiet realization.

A gnawing doubt creeping at the edges of her mind.

What if she had been wrong all along?

What if something had truly gone silent for another reason?

And if that were the case—

Then there might be no way to lure the dragon to the eastern shore at all.

'I didn't do this to help you.'

The voice in her mind finally answered.

'I remained silent because you chose to ally yourself with the true enemy of our kind. And that made me question whether I should continue supporting you at all.'

Esther hadn't expected a response like this.

She took a moment to process the weight of those words.

So… it had seen the same vision she had—the one where Satoru had revealed his plan.

The true enemy of its kind.

Did that mean Satoru?

Her mind drifted back to that day aboard the Aurora, to the words it had spoken when Satoru first set foot on the Washington.

'Your kind created a god.'

A shiver ran down her spine.

Satoru… a god?

That kid—the same smug, infuriating boy—was the one entity this thing feared?

'He is merely a tool of God.'

The voice pressed on.

'But if you choose to follow his plan, then you are following the will of God. And God is the enemy of all life.'

Questions swarmed her mind.

What was God?

A concept? A metaphor? Or something terrifyingly literal?

It refused to answer. Either because there was no way to explain it in terms she could understand—or because it simply couldn't be bothered.

'You should not trust the tool of God.'

So it was telling her not to follow the plan?

'Trusting him will lead you to death.'

And in that instant, something clicked.

She thought back to that dream—

The vision of herself, speaking to Satoru at the bottom of the ocean.

And the thing lurking in the dark.

Something vast.

Something predatory.

Watching her with reptilian eyes.

Could that have been Satoru's god?

A god with the gaze of a beast?

Before she could think further—

A violent jolt threw her forward.

The armored vehicle veered sharply.

The impact hit her harder than expected.

And then—

Darkness.

…

A rhythmic motion jolted Esther back to consciousness.

Her vision swam as she blinked herself awake—only to realize she was being carried.

Her body was slung over Rain's back, the boy moving with swift, purposeful strides, weaving his way up a moss-covered hillside.

Behind them, the thunderous roar of heavy gunfire tore through the night—like a relentless war drum pounding in the distance.

Straining to turn her head, Esther caught a glimpse of the overturned armored vehicle lying on its side, sprawled across the scarred earth fifty meters below. The ground bore deep gouges, scorched black from impact.

The vehicle's turret was still operational, its gun spitting out a rapid stream of fire, tracer rounds cutting through the darkness like searing threads of light.

It was aiming at something above.

Wait—why was Rain taking her away from the transport?

The fog clouding her thoughts cleared in an instant.

The wreckage. The charred earth. The way the vehicle had been upended—it had been attacked.

She must have lost consciousness the moment it went down.

And now, Glenn and Takeda were using the armored vehicle as a distraction, keeping the dragon's attention while Rain got her to safety.

"No… Rain, stop—"

Her voice came out hoarse, her throat raw as if lined with sandpaper.

Rain didn't respond. He pressed forward, his pace steady, unwavering.

They knew.

Glenn and Takeda knew how dangerous this plan was. They had accepted the risk, knowing they might not make it back.

But this was her plan.

And she was leaving them behind.

"Rain, stop! We have to go back!" Esther struggled weakly, but her limbs felt leaden, as if she were being weighed down by stone.

"Quiet, Esther."

His voice was calm, but the grip around her legs tightened, securing her in place.

"We have to help them!"

Her desperate plea was swallowed by a deafening roar from the sky.

The gunfire stopped.

Silence.

A hollow, gut-wrenching silence.

A pit of dread opened inside her.

Without thinking, she swung her fist—striking Rain hard across the face.

"Let me go! Now!" Her voice cracked with fury. "I won't leave them behind!"

The impact sent Rain stumbling forward.

They tumbled together, rolling across the moss-covered ground before coming to an abrupt halt.

"We can't save everyone, Esther," Rain's voice came from beside her, steady and unyielding. "If you go back for them, their sacrifice—everything they did to get us this far—will have been for nothing."

Her fists clenched against the damp earth. I'm not trying to save everyone. Just them. Just the two who had believed in her. The two who had placed their trust in her reckless, suicidal plan.

The thought shattered as she pushed herself upright.

They had reached the top of the ridge.

Beyond the crest, the island of Kyushu stretched out before her—a land bathed in fire and shadow.

The Sunless Sea shimmered far below, its blackened waves reflecting the infernal glow of the burning island. The shoreline was marked by a wooden pier jutting out into the water—a makeshift harbor.

And it was crowded.

A sprawling refugee encampment had overtaken the dock, with wooden planks and tattered canvas strung together to form temporary shelters. Torchlight flickered like scattered fireflies, illuminating clusters of huddled figures.

Boats—so many boats—were moored along the shore, most of them small wooden fishing vessels, some already overflowing with desperate passengers.

Esther felt her breath hitch.

A refugee camp.

This was where the people of Kyushu had gathered—the ones who had fled both the Saipan invasion and the impending volcanic eruption.

The ones waiting for a way off this island.

Don't take unnecessary risks with this plan, Esther.

I don't trust that green-haired kid.

Can we really trust him?

You shouldn't trust a tool of the gods.

Her knees buckled.

For the first time, true horror settled over her.

Satoru never intended for her to lure the dragon here to kill it.

He wanted her to lead it here—to the docks, where thousands of refugees were gathered, waiting, trapped.

There was no plan to slay the beast.

Holland might not even know about this. He might have already set sail, abandoning them all to their fate.

And even though she still didn't know why—what Satoru stood to gain from orchestrating this massacre—Esther no longer cared.

She had been tricked.

And now, she was about to become the executioner of an entire island.

Tears fell unchecked, slipping down her face in silent surrender.

At last, she understood.

She understood what Sonia had felt—that crushing weight of guilt, the unbearable burden of knowing she was the reason so many lives had been lost.

But shouldn't she feel nothing?

She didn't know the people down there. Not a single name, not a single face. If sacrificing them meant Glenn and Takeda could survive, would she do it? Would she make that choice?

Every comforting thought, every justification she had crafted to keep moving forward, now felt like nothing more than hollow excuses—excuses to live, excuses to justify her own selfishness.

She sat frozen, paralyzed by despair, her vacant gaze locked onto the shore.

Even when a mountain crashed to the earth before her—when the ground trembled beneath the impact, sending dust and debris billowing into the air—Esther did not move.

The massive shape had landed just ten meters away.

A thick veil of smoke obscured most of it, save for the immense, jagged wings folding behind the curtain of dust.

"Esther! Move!"

Rain's voice rang out from behind her, sharp with urgency.

She barely registered it.

She did not move.

Even as the colossal head emerged from the shifting haze.

The dragon's snout was long and narrow, its silhouette vaguely reminiscent of the crocodilian sketches she had seen in books—except for the pronounced ridges, the jutting horns that curved backward like the tip of an arrow.

A deep, rumbling growl reverberated through the ground, vibrating up through her bones. Twin slits—nostrils, perhaps—vented thick plumes of steam, the heated air searing against her skin.

The scent of sulfur clawed at her lungs, making her dizzy.

A hide of obsidian scales—rough, cracked, like molten rock cooled too quickly.

And those eyes.

Luminous, burning red.

Fixed upon her.

If I die here… the guilt will die with me, won't it?

A figure moved between them.

Rain stepped forward, placing himself between her and the beast.

The katana in his grip—so sharp, so steadfast—felt utterly meaningless in the face of a foe they could never hope to defeat.

She should have screamed at him to run.

To leave her.

To let her face the judgment she deserved.

But as she stared death in the eyes, something strange happened.

Everything—her dreams, her friends, her family—became small.

Insignificant.

All of it paled before the inevitability of her end.

Perhaps the world should be destroyed.

Who was she to think she could change it? That she could protect it?

She had changed nothing.

She was born.

She lived.

And soon, she would die.

And no one would remember her name.

No one would speak of her story.

Because she was not special.

She was not different.

"I'm sorry…" Esther's voice barely rose above a whisper. "You trusted me, and I led you here."

"It's not your fault," Rain said without turning.

"If I hadn't come up with this plan, you wouldn't be dying with me."

The dragon's gaze remained locked onto them, unblinking, its low growl now faded into silence.

"I don't regret it," Rain replied, his tone as steady as ever.

But I do, Esther thought, watching as the dragon slowly parted its massive jaws. A deep orange glow flickered within its throat, embers coiling in the darkness.

How different would things have been if they had met somewhere else? Anywhere but here—anywhere but on the Washington.

I would have liked to know you better too.

In that final moment before death, the dragon hesitated.

It lifted its head, gaze shifting away from them.

It turned—toward the sea.

Esther followed its stare.

Far beyond the shore, miles out into the open water, a blaze of light scorched the horizon. The sea itself was aflame, fire stretching across the waves in an unbroken line, so vast it seemed as though the world's very edge had ignited.

And amidst that inferno, floating silently in the depths of the burning ocean—

A single submarine.

The dragon roared.

A sound so deep it shook the earth beneath them, rattling through Esther's bones. She clapped her hands over her ears, but the tremors rippled through the very air, through the world itself.

Then, as the final echoes faded, the beast unfurled its wings.

And with a single, powerful beat, it took flight—soaring toward the wall of fire at the horizon of the Sunless World.

…

"It's spotted us, Captain!"

Matthew's warning was unnecessary. Even without binoculars, Holland could see the dragon's massive silhouette, a dark specter against the flames of Kyushu, its vast wings outstretched like the shadow of some primordial bat.

"All gunners, stand by!" he barked.

On the Washington's deck, two multi-purpose machine gun turrets and a single missile launcher stood primed. The gunners worked feverishly, spinning the cranks, angling the weapons to track the incoming behemoth.

"It really is drawn to the fire," Matthew murmured, casting a wary glance at Satoru—the boy leaning casually against the railing, watching the scene unfold like a child waiting for the best part of a play. "Not that it wasn't a steep price—draining every last drop of our fuel to set the sea ablaze."

Holland still wasn't convinced.

Satoru had assured them the dragon would be drawn to heat, but if that were the case, wouldn't the inferno on land be a stronger lure than a controlled burn in the water?

Holland had no doubt that Satoru had lied—perhaps in several places in his plan. The dragon wasn't coming for the Washington because of the flames.

It was coming for another reason entirely.

Narrowing his eyes, Holland glanced toward the boy. Was this his real plan all along? Was this about sinking the Washington from the start?

"Captain!" Matthew's shout snapped him from his thoughts.

"Not yet, Matthew."

It was too late for second-guessing now. Regret wouldn't change anything. He had agreed to this plan because it was the only plan anyone had dared to propose. Even if that person happened to be a boy he didn't trust in the slightest.

Holland focused on the water.

Here and there, some of the obsidian-like plating covering the dragon's body pulsed faintly with heat, glowing a dim, molten orange. That same glow shimmered across the surface of the waves, casting a perfect reflection of the creature above.

He waited.

Waited until that reflection crossed the first set of floating buoys—painted in luminescent dye for this very moment.

"Fire!" he roared.

His voice was drowned in an instant.

Twin machine guns erupted with deafening fury, their barrels spitting fire into the darkness. The metallic clatter of empty casings echoed across the deck, shells raining down in a steady rhythm as the belts of ammunition fed hungrily into the guns.

Holland didn't follow the arc of the bullets. He didn't need to. He hadn't expected the shots to land—not yet.

Instead, his eyes remained fixed on the water.

The dragon's reflection crossed another buoy.

He looked up.

It was closer now.

Far closer.

The sheer scale of the beast loomed more imposing than ever before. Against its monstrous frame, the Washington seemed pitifully small—nothing but a fragile speck adrift in an uncaring sea.

The continuous stream of bullets carved through the dark like a river of light, a relentless barrage tearing toward the air. And finally—contact.

A few rounds struck the creature's hide.

It didn't flinch.

Didn't even acknowledge the impacts.

Can we break through its armor before it reaches us?

Or had Satoru lied about that too?

Holland clenched his jaw, watching the dragon's reflection cross the next buoy.

"Lock onto the target—prepare to fire missiles!"

He hefted the launcher beside him, bracing the weight against his shoulder. Around him, five other soldiers, along with the deck's main missile operator, moved into position.

The dragon was almost on them now.

Its massive form swelled larger with every passing second.

The machine-gun fire had found its mark, striking true more often now at this range. Chunks of volcanic stone chipped away, scattering in the air like embers.

At least that much was true.

Satoru hadn't lied about the beast's armor.

But Holland noticed something else too.

The dragon was no longer flying in a straight line.

As the machine guns continued hammering its body—pummeling the same weak spots over and over—the beast finally seemed to realize it was under attack.

It began weaving through the sky, shifting its flight path erratically.

It was dodging.

"Don't forget to lead your shots!" Hector shouted from nearby.

Holland waited.

He tracked the dragon's reflection as it streaked past the ten-kilometer buoy, his grip tightening on the launcher. He held his breath, eyes locked onto the beast through the targeting scope—adjusting, anticipating, leading the shot.

"Fire!"

A plume of smoke erupted across the Washington's deck as half a dozen rockets tore through the air, streaking toward their mark.

Most missed.

A few shot past, too slow to intercept. Others detonated too early, flashing brilliantly against the empty air.

But then—impact.

Two direct hits.

Explosions thundered through the ship, twin bursts of fire swallowing the dragon midair. Cheers erupted across the deck, triumphant voices rising over the chaos.

But the celebration was short-lived.

From within the swirling haze of fire and smoke, the dragon emerged.

Its armor—once an unbroken obsidian shell—had fractured. A jagged, broken mask now covered only half of its face, revealing the glowing, molten flesh beneath.

And it was furious.

The beast let loose a roar of sheer rage, the force of its voice shaking the air itself.

"Reload!" Holland bellowed, already ramming another missile into the chamber. He snapped the launcher back to his shoulder, locking onto the incoming threat.

The dragon was closer now.

Far too close.

There was no time to check the range markers. No time to reassess.

Holland knew.

If this next shot didn't kill it—they would die instead.

Was Satoru lying? Had this ever been possible?

Was he leading them to slaughter—just like Yoru's crew?

"Fire!!"

At less than five kilometers, three more rockets shot forward.

And this time, all three struck true.

Brilliant bursts of flame bloomed in the darkness like flowers in full bloom.

Another round of cheers erupted.

This has to be it.

But then—

Silence.

One by one, the cheers faltered.

The smoke cleared.

The dragon was still there.

The strikes had landed, yes. But they had struck its torso—its back—the thickest, most heavily armored part of its body. The blackened stone plating had shattered, revealing its true form beneath.

And for the first time, Holland saw the beast as it really was.

At first, the dragon had appeared massive—its body an impenetrable fortress of volcanic rock, bulging with immense muscle.

But now, as the last of its armor crumbled away, Holland saw the truth.

Beneath the jagged stone shell, the creature was lean—too lean. Its skin shimmered with an almost translucent quality, revealing the searing currents of molten gold, orange, and crimson coursing through its veins. Four limbs clung tightly to its underbelly in flight, while its wings—bat-like and immense—spread far wider than its skeletal frame, an evolutionary necessity to support the tremendous weight of the armor it had shed.

Holland let the spent rocket launcher drop from his hands, barely aware as it clattered against the deck.

His eyes snapped toward the green-haired boy.

Satoru remained leaning lazily against the railing, chin propped against one hand, his expression one of amused boredom.

"So that was your plan all along," Holland growled. "You were sent here to sink this ship."

Matthew and Hector turned sharply at his words.

Satoru only smiled.

"Tell me, Captain," he mused, his tone infuriatingly casual. "Do you know the difference between man and beast?"

Holland moved before he could think, closing the distance in a single step. He grabbed the boy by the collar, hoisting him clear off the ground.

Behind him, the dragon hung suspended in the air, its massive wings keeping it aloft as it watched them—its glowing eyes assessing, weighing its next move.

"Who sent you?" Holland snarled. "The Soviets?"

Satoru's smirk never wavered.

"When a best gets caught in a trap," he said lightly, "it will gnaw off its own leg to escape. But humans? They don't." His voice dropped lower. "That's what sets us apart, you know."

Behind the boy, Holland saw the dragon shift, its talons flexing.

"Captain…" Matthew's voice was a whisper now.

Holland didn't care.

"So you're not going to answer me." His grip tightened. He drew back his fist.

Satoru simply laughed and raised a single hand in mock surrender.

"Come now, Captain," he said. "I told you—I wouldn't miss this moment for the world."

"You mean the part where I beat you to death?" Holland snapped.

But the boy was already lifting his left hand.

Palm open.

Fingers stretched toward the darkness above.

From Holland's perspective, it was as if Satoru was holding the dragon itself within his grasp.

Then—he clenched his fist.

A deafening crash.

A rush of wind slammed into Holland with the force of a tidal wave, throwing him onto his back. The world blurred as his ears rang, his skin drenched in freezing spray. The deck beneath him buckled, the ship groaning under the sheer force of whatever had just happened.

The only one left standing was Satoru.

Holland gasped, struggling upright—his body unsteady against the wild, rolling waves.

Then he saw it.

Rising from the depths of the ocean.

A pillar.

A massive, cylindrical column had erupted from the sea, towering into the darkness above like an impossible monolith.

Water cascaded from its surface in torrential sheets, roaring like a waterfall. The sheer scale of it was staggering—its diameter alone easily exceeding a hundred meters. The surface was covered in interlocking, elliptical scales, impossibly intricate in their pattern. Most were encrusted with thick algae and barnacles, but beneath the grime, the structure remained eerily pristine.

The design. The pattern.

Holland's breath caught.

It wasn't a pillar.

It was alive.

"I did say," Satoru murmured, lowering his hand, "that I wouldn't miss this for the world."

As his fingers slowly unfurled, the massive structure began to sink—descending back into the abyss.

But just before it vanished beneath the waves, Holland saw it.

A glimpse.

A single, unblinking green eye—colossal, alien, watching.

And beside it—something that, in that fleeting instant, looked like teeth.

Rows upon rows of jagged, overlapping fangs.

Not a pillar.

Not a structure.

A creature.

Satoru turned toward him, offering a hand. His smirk was as insufferable as ever.

Holland ignored it, staggering to his feet as the ocean convulsed, waves rolling outward from where the behemoth had surfaced.

The dragon was gone.

There was no sign of it anywhere.

"Oh, and Captain," Satoru added, his voice light, almost teasing.

"I did tell you… that dragon was never the god of Kyushu."