Chapter 829

Chapter 829

“Temares.”

A dragonkin is a creature that exists in isolation. This is their nature, and so they name themselves accordingly.

Temares, having just transitioned from the shadow of youth to the independence of adulthood, chose his own name using the ancient tongue that had stirred within him. The name translated to the core of existence. In many respects, it was a title that perfectly mirrored the inherent disposition of his people.

*Don’t we all choose names that reflect such things?* That was the thought Temares held during his naming. He was a being of exceptional design: unique eyes, lungs, digestive system, and skin, gifted with peerless natural aptitudes. They were a race that entered the world possessing everything. Yet, even with such gifts, true mastery requires the effort of study. Once Temares accepted this reality, he dedicated himself to the pursuit of all knowledge.

Of course, had Enkrid been a witness to his journey, he might have scoffed at the word “dedicated.” But for a member of a race that borders on the eternal, Temares exerted a level of effort that was truly remarkable. He lived through eras so vast that the mere act of tracking years became a fruitless endeavor.

*What is the purpose of my existence?*

This is the eternal riddle that haunts every dragonkin. They are spiritual transients, wandering the world to uncover a justification for their longevity. They are largely devoid of passion, hunger, or greed. This lack of desire allows them to walk their path alone, but it also necessitates their travels; they must find a reason to keep moving. Just as a vessel requires an anchor to find rest in a harbor, they require a purpose to ground their lives. A mind as sharp as theirs cannot tolerate a life devoid of intent.

To an outside observer, a dragonkin might appear to be a figure of supreme dignity or, perhaps, a being of impenetrable mystery.

“Dragonkin are entirely distinct from one another.”

Because they journey in solitude, they do not mirror their kin. While other species find common ground by imitating their peers, dragonkin only sharpen their unique, internal traits. They do not look alike—yet, they share a common expression: one of profound boredom. This was the tentative theory proposed by the continent’s most respected intellectuals.

They were only partially correct.

There is, in fact, a shared trait among them. It can be summarized as the “anchor.” More specifically, it is the mechanism that allows them to endure the passage of time. If one lacks all craving and ambition, what is the motivation to persist? How does one bring the vessel of life to a standstill?

Beastmen find their drive in physical pleasures; the Frokk are consumed by the need to investigate. Fairies desire social harmony, and dwarves are moved by the internal pressure to build. Giants are a breed defined by a primal urge for carnage—they are rightfully known as monsters intoxicated by slaughter. Humans, meanwhile, are susceptible to all these impulses, yet they possess the unique ability to master them.

Dragonkin, however, lack these innate fires. To stabilize their existence, they cast an anchor known as obligation. They select a task, transform it into an objective, and live through it to repel the encroaching boredom. Because they are immortal, they require a reason to remain anchored to this realm. And because they are immortal, they must remain unaffected by fleeting whims.

Life is a tempest of unending waves. Only those who are detached can survive forever. One might call it a design of the Architect. This detachment is a prerequisite for eternity.

However, this numbness is not without its costs. Should they succumb entirely to boredom, dragonkin fall into a slumber from which it is nearly impossible to wake. Such a sleep is indistinguishable from death. Thus, a dragonkin is a being capable of dying at any moment they lose their way.

*Obligation.*

The anchor was dropped.

Eons ago, Temares came upon the trail of a Salamander. He realized then that this creature was not merely a mindless engine of destruction.

*It was being manipulated.*

By whom? That was a question for a later date. He recognized the Salamander as a creature of myth, and in it, Temares found the anchor he needed to stay tied to the world.

*Safeguard it.*

In human terms, it was a hobby. It was the equivalent of playing a game of cards after a grueling day of labor. It wasn’t strictly essential—the world would turn regardless—but it provided enough of a “why” to sustain him. Just as a drink and a few laughs help a laborer endure his shift, Temares found his duty. To a dragonkin, a self-imposed duty is a vow kept even unto death.

His purpose grew from merely guarding the beast to preserving its spirit. As his goal sharpened, he vowed that no one would harm the Salamander, and conversely, no one would fall victim to the beast itself. The difficulty of the task gave it value. It provided a quiet sense of achievement. He was clinical in his boundaries, drawing a mental line.

*The chaotic fires that radiate from a phantasmal beast are unintentional.*

Consequently, those flames were outside his jurisdiction. Only the direct, willful actions of the Salamander fell under his protection and responsibility. With that calculation set, he drifted back into the vast, uncounted flow of time.

Generally speaking, a dragonkin is immune to the tug of desire. But “generally” implies exceptions. Beyond the anchor of duty, there is one specific thing that can earn a dragonkin’s favor. If put into words, it would be a “magnificent ambition.”

In Temares’s own internal vocabulary:

*A spirit that appears unbreakable.*

Throughout his long life, he had encountered such wills only a few times. To those individuals, Temares offered his sincere respect. Regardless of their morality, they were beings of pure intent who moved toward a vision rather than a craving. A dragonkin is incapable of feeling animosity toward such people. When a dragonkin chooses a side, it is for one reason only.

*Deference to the will.*

Such individuals radiate light. They shine like celestial bodies, burning through their lifespans with intensity. The sense of purpose that a dragonkin must manually manufacture, these people exude naturally. Dragonkin possess the heightened senses required to recognize that radiance.

This was why, while exchanging blows with Enkrid, Temares felt an unprompted warmth, a sense of thrill and anticipation. Much like the Frokk admire beauty or fairies love the pure air, a dragonkin finds exquisite joy in encountering a rare, potent will. It is the experience of witnessing a masterpiece or hearing music that resonates with the soul. To be blunt, it is a form of addiction.

Yet, it does not supersede his duty. They do not care for grand causes, justice, or ethics. But they also harbor no innate malice. For Temares, duty remains the summit. It is his reason for being.

Temares processed several streams of thought as he assessed the current crisis. In ages past, when the phantasmal beast stirred, fire-born entities would manifest in droves, and any who strayed too close would be lost to madness and hallucinations. That was its natural aura. Temares had no intention of allowing the people behind him to perish.

*The beast’s spirit has been corrupted.*

He didn’t know the cause. Even a dragonkin cannot be in a hundred places at once, nor are they masters of all magic; they command authority instead. Thus, he had failed to notice the subtle, parasitic evil taking root here.

*Sabotage.*

He could sense it intuitively. This was the work of an outside force. The “why” could wait; the “now” required action. Temares felt it would be a particular shame to lose the man he had just fought. He had found that one remarkably interesting.

*A shame?*

He wondered if he was even supposed to feel such things. It was a foreign sensation, another mystery to solve later. For the moment, he had to ensure those caught in the hallucinations didn’t become fuel for the inferno.

Just as he made that resolution, a voice rose from the group behind him.

“Enki.”

It was the mage with the dark hair. She had dismantled the Salamander’s illusion with shocking speed, opening her eyes in a mere instant. And then, Temares witnessed something he had never seen in all his years.

“What kind of pathetic joke is this?”

A man with gray hair had also shattered the vision. He wasn’t the only one. For one of the few times since his birth, the dragonkin felt a genuine surge of astonishment.

—

In recent times, through her mastery of the Illusory Sense, Esther had felt her magical constructs bleeding into the physical world. The rush of that power was nearly intoxicating. But she knew there was no benefit in losing oneself to that sensation. The line between what is real and what is imagined must remain sharp. A sorcerer must be the master of that boundary.

*To drown in illusions is to wander a labyrinth with no exit.*

If one becomes content with the phantoms of their own creation, they lose the drive to exist in the real world. Having already conquered the Illusory Sense, tearing through the Salamander’s glamour was a simple task for her.

The image of her deceased mentor speaking cruelties?

*Even a puppet raised by a necromancer wouldn’t speak like that.*

The deception was amateurish. It didn’t truly understand the human psyche; it was merely a crude vibration intended to upset the emotions. While such a thing could easily destroy a normal person’s mind, the group gathered here was anything but ordinary.

“What kind of pathetic joke is this?” Rem’s voice cut through the air.

Hearing Esther’s voice, Enkrid looked back and replied simply:

“Why do you ask?”

He sounded bored. He had brushed aside the ghosts and shadows without effort.

“I am certain the Creator has not yet called for me.”

Audin prayed, allowing a radiant, holy light to emanate from his form.

“I am the greatest scout on this continent.”

Ragna offered her typical bravado.

“I’ve stared down demons and lived. You think this will break me?”

Shinar looked upon the vision with contempt. As a fairy, her emotions were subtle, hidden behind a thin veil. Demons are predators of the mind. Facing a Balrog means overcoming a pressure so intense it can collapse your lungs before the blade even strikes.

And the entity that had tried to claim her? A single touch was lethal, and he had sought to consume her entire civilization. Fairies don’t just feel fear; they sing of it from the depths of their souls. To her, this illusion was almost cute compared to the literal death of her city.

As for Enkrid’s resolve, it was beyond question. He does not falter. Even when faced with the memory of the children he couldn’t save, he keeps walking. If he were susceptible to this, he would have remained trapped in the “today” of his past long ago. He had no trouble seeing the world for what it was. He was never one to be blinded by a sense of false power.

*If Dunbakel were here, he might have struggled a bit.*

He actually had the mental room to worry about his absent comrade. Giants and beastmen are naturally more vulnerable to mental manipulation. In terms of raw power, Dunbakel was a match for Teresa and could hold his own against warriors like Rophod or Peld.

*Even so…*

Dunbakel would have broken through it eventually. During their time in the East, she had learned to master her terror. She had grown. Even if the whispers tried to shake her, she wouldn’t fall. The others were more than capable of handling themselves.

“If I were a beastman, maybe I’d be stumbling, but me? Not a chance,” Rem declared. A barbarian might be blunt, but they are often the most grounded. The fact that he brought up Dunbakel was his own way of showing concern for the one who wasn’t there—even if his way of showing it was usually a headache for the giant.

“Clumsy.”

Enkrid heard the soft voice of the Ferryman.

It was indeed clumsy. The fire hanging above them looked like a ceiling of crimson clouds. A canopy of scarlet heat had replaced the sky. They weren’t actual clouds, but massive, undulating curtains of flame.

“Look up. The fire is descending,” Temares, the dragonkin, warned. He continued, his voice steady.

“My name is Temares.”

“I am of the dragonkin.”

“You are of humankind.”

The beast had fully awakened, and his path was set. To cement his intent, he spoke the words once more.