Strategizing Our Next Move

Back on the road, we continued our journey across the rugged landscape, carefully discussing our next move.

"The Ruined Spine…" Fafnir muttered, crossing his arms. "That region is barely explored, and for good reason. Many adventurers venture there, but few ever return."

"Which means it's dangerous, unpredictable, and—worst of all—mostly uncharted." I added.

Ingi gave a slow nod. "Even if the maps we have show some details, the truth is that 90% of the Ruined Spine remains unexplored. If Umbaxis is truly there, finding him will be nearly impossible without a lead."

Zarathorak let out a low chuckle. "So we're running on hunches and speculation, then?"

"Pretty much," I admitted. "Even if we make it to the Ruined Spine in one piece, we have no real way of confirming if Umbaxis is actually there."

Fafnir frowned. "Then what's our best course of action?"

I took a deep breath. "We go back to Asnor. We speak to Eldrin. He's the Guild Master—he knows more about the Ruined Spine than we do, and if any adventurers have managed to bring back any information about that place, he'd be the first to know."

Zarathorak rolled his shoulders. "Hah. So we're heading back first, huh? Makes sense. Running in blind would be a waste of time."

Fafnir agreed. "If we want to do this properly, we need a solid lead. We'll head back to Asnor and see what Eldrin knows."

The road back to Asnor was far from peaceful. The journey had been going smoothly until the air suddenly grew thick with a foul stench—one I recognized all too well.

"Something's coming," I muttered, halting in my tracks.

Fafnir sniffed the air and scowled. "Bloodhounds."

Zarathorak cracked his knuckles. "Hah. Finally, some entertainment."

The ground trembled beneath us as monstrous creatures emerged from the dense foliage. Their grotesque bodies were twisted beyond recognition—corrupted beasts, their flesh pulsating with a dark energy. Blood-red eyes locked onto us, saliva dripping from their maws as they growled.

There were five of them, each one larger than an armored warhorse.

Without hesitation, one lunged at me, but I sidestepped, slamming my Magicore-infused fist into its jaw. The impact sent it skidding across the dirt, but it quickly recovered, snarling in rage.

Fafnir leaped into action, unleashing a wave of fire that incinerated one of the beasts before it could strike. Meanwhile, Zarathorak barely moved, waiting for a creature to get close enough before he ripped through its flesh with ease.

Ingi held his ground, chanting under his breath before raising his hand. The sky darkened momentarily, and in an instant, lightning crashed down, reducing another beast to ash.

"These things just don't know when to quit," I growled, dodging another attack.

Zarathorak yawned. "They're barely worth my time."

Despite their grotesque appearance, these creatures were nothing compared to what we had already faced. Within minutes, the remaining beasts lay lifeless on the ground.

I exhaled, shaking off the blood splattered on my clothes. "Let's move before more show up."

Without another word, we continued our journey until the towering walls of Asnor finally came into view.

The Adventurers' Guild was lively as ever, but the moment we stepped inside, conversations quieted. Eyes followed us, some filled with curiosity, others with caution.

But it was Eldrin's reaction that caught my attention the most. His gaze landed on Zarathorak, his sharp eyes narrowing ever so slightly, but he didn't speak on it—not yet. Instead, he simply sighed and gestured for us to follow him.

Without a word, we moved through the guild, eventually reaching a hidden chamber beneath the building. Once inside, Eldrin leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he studied us. His gaze lingered on Zarathorak before finally speaking.

"So," he began, his voice calm but firm. "I take it things didn't exactly go smoothly. What happened to him?" He gestured toward Zarathorak. "And did you fail or succeed?"

For a moment, silence hung in the air. Then, I stepped forward and explained everything—the encounter with Queen Luviyah, the overwhelming power she wielded, and how we eventually convinced her to let us go. I told him of our meeting with Zarathorak, our battle, and, most importantly, how we had successfully lifted the curse from Fafnir.

Eldrin listened intently, his expression unreadable. When I finished, he let out a small chuckle. "So, you're telling me the Bloodweaver—who fled the borders—just happened to help you cure the stigmata?"

Zarathorak scoffed but said nothing.

Eldrin didn't pry further. Instead, he moved on, adjusting his posture as he spoke. "Alright, so what do you need from me now?"

I glanced at Fafnir before speaking. "We need information about the Ruined Spine."

At that, Eldrin frowned. "That place, huh? You're really trying to get yourselves killed."

He rubbed his temple before continuing. "The Ruined Spine is an absolute nightmare. Sure, maps exist, but they're mostly useless. The region shifts constantly, and most of it remains uncharted. You're looking at a 90% unknown land filled with things that have no business existing."

He paused, his eyes narrowing. "So, tell me… why in the hells are you even asking about that place?"

I met his gaze evenly. "We have business there. A dragon named Umbaxis."

Eldrin stiffened slightly at the name.

"So," he muttered, "another dragon, huh?"

He let out a dry laugh and leaned forward. "You know, every damn time you people come to me, it's always dragons, dragons, dragons. What exactly are you trying to pull?"

Before I could respond, a sudden surge of pressure filled the room. Eldrin had released his aura—not overwhelming, but strong enough to make it clear he wasn't playing around.

The weight of it pressed against us, and everyone's eyes widened slightly. Even Zarathorak narrowed his gaze.

"You're frying too much, old man," Zarathorak said with a smirk, and without hesitation, he unleashed his own aura in response.

A chilling wave of bloodlust filled the chamber. The walls seemed to tremble under the sheer weight of it, and for a brief moment, the space between them crackled with tension.

Eldrin's eyes flickered with understanding. "So that's it," he muttered. "You really did bring him here."

His expression turned more serious. "I'm not going to pretend I know what you're up to, but tell me… what exactly do you intend to do?"

Ingi, who had been quiet up until now, finally stepped forward. "Since it's come to this," he said, "we might as well tell you who we really are."

Eldrin raised a brow, waiting.

I took a deep breath and began. "Ingi is a dragon too, but he isn't just a dragon—he is the Dragon King. Fafnir and I… we're tied together by something greater. And as for Zarathorak—he is the Bloodweaver."

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Eldrin let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "That's a bad joke," he said, shaking his head.

Ingi merely smiled. And then, without warning, he released his full aura.

The room shook.

An unimaginable force weighed down on all of us, and even Eldrin, as strong as he was, kneeled under its pressure. His face twisted in shock, sweat forming on his brow as the reality of our words crashed down on him.

Then, just as quickly as it came, Ingi retracted his power. The chamber stilled once more, but the silence remained.

Eldrin, now back on his feet, stared at us in utter disbelief. He opened his mouth, then closed it, as if struggling to find the right words.

Eventually, he exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair.

"Well," he muttered, "I'll be damned."