For Sale. Fallen Lady. Never Used.

The ruins of the lair overlapped with the past scenery.

Staring at the wealth he had accumulated throughout his life, Fafnir muttered softly.

[I need an heir.]

However, all dragons perished during the Great War.

They fought at the forefront because they were the strongest, and thus were the first to fall under concentrated attacks.

The Evil Gods, wary of the dragons’ strength, even sought out the hiding places of the hatchlings and slaughtered every last one.

Fafnir, who had barely survived with his harsh temperament, was the last dragon remaining on the Eurelia Continent.

And alone, he could never produce an heir.

No matter how powerful a dragon might be, asexual reproduction was impossible.

It was not for nothing that one of the main agendas of the Dragon Council was the encouragement of reproduction.

There was a growing fear that the dragon race might actually go extinct because they were more attracted to humans than to their own kind, a natural-born humanophobia.

If Fafnir were to be the last of the dragons, how could he create an heir?

As curiosity grew, time accelerated, and Fafnir’s actions were revealed at a faster pace.

Although he greedily hoarded wealth, he didn’t hesitate to indulge in luxuries from time to time.

But this time, he decided to spend lavishly without any restraint.

Throwing gold around like it was nothing, he began gathering all kinds of rare materials.

For the nations that were just recovering from the Great War, the appearance of such a wealthy figure was nothing short of good news.

In exchange for supplying Fafnir with their now useless war materials, they received the massive gold stockpiled in his lair.

With preparations complete, Fafnir’s next move was to raid other dragon lairs.

It wasn’t because he was after the gold and jewels, though he did covet them.

What he truly sought was the research records of the dragons, each one equivalent to an archmage in power.

Utilizing the teleport gates in the square before the Dragon Council, Fafnir plundered the lairs of the 99 elder dragons.

Some of the gates broke or malfunctioned due to the mismatched mana being injected into them, but… it didn’t matter, as he only needed to pass through them once.

So, that’s why they were all destroyed.

Even though every dragon lair had been emptied, nothing had been found for the past 300 years because Fafnir had already looted everything…!

After stealing the magic of all the elder dragons, Fafnir immediately began new research.

It was an insane experiment—dragon cloning.

If there was no suitable heir, why not create one? If there was no mate? Then just clone himself.

This crazy idea led to his choice.

Unsurprisingly, all of the attempts failed.

At first, he couldn’t even get past the crystal phase, but eventually, he succeeded in growing them to the hatchling stage. However, the moment they came into contact with him, their minds collapsed and they either died or became empty shells. Ŕ

When he raised them without any contact, this time, the problem was their lifespan.

Ten years.

That was far too short a life span for a dragon, the apex of long-lived species.

What’s worse, the clones, with minimal interaction, began to resemble his younger self in personality.

To put it simply, they all turned out to be reckless fools.

Imagine this: a clone he created to one day become a hero, hunting the cultists and turning the tide like Rahim, suddenly decides to conquer the world and holds a sword backwards.

Even the more mature Fafnir, having gone through many experiences, would feel his blood boiling.

Realizing that his approach was wrong, Fafnir sought advice from the Circulating Life.

The Circulating Life, who had once spread roots in the Eurelia Continent in the form of the World Tree, and made its interior her sanctuary, was the only god left on Earth.

-You’re insane, Fafnir.

Of course, seeking advice didn’t mean you would always get the answer you wanted.

The massive tree, so large it covered the sky, shook its branches, as if sighing.

However, the massive dragon, wounded all over, didn’t waver in his resolve.

[O Circulating Life. Great overseer of life, mother of the elves… and my old comrade.]

-To call a god like me a friend… Such arrogance is typical of you, and yet, that statement isn’t in line with your usual vile personality.

[Do you know the future of this world?]

-The future is unknown to all. Even gods are no exception to this rule.

[We all learned the hard way that gods are not omnipotent. But more than that, I seek your wisdom. How can I perfect the Chimera Dragon?]

-It’s impossible. The strength of a dragon lies not only in its extraordinary body but also in its immense sense of self. Yet, a clone’s sense of self can never grow that strong.

[…They couldn’t accept the fact that they were my clones, and their minds collapsed.]

-The sense of self blooms from distinguishing between “me” and “you,” and grows while embracing individuality. A being with a blurred sense of others and no uniqueness finds it incredibly difficult to become an archmage.

[Indeed, it’s only by becoming an archmage that a dragon fully matures. So, these were children who could never grow into adults.]

Fafnir nodded quietly. Perhaps he had already known.

He had come to the Circulating Life just to gain certainty.

Seeing Fafnir, whose fiery spirit from the battlefield had completely faded, now reduced to ashes, the leaves of the World Tree drooped sadly.

As if lamenting the change in an old comrade with whom she had fought for so long.

-…There is one way.

[What is it?]

-Dragons are special. A species that naturally attains archmage status simply by aging cannot be ordinary. That’s why they cannot be easily imitated.

[It sounds as if other species are different.]

-Not exactly. Elves, beastmen, and dwarves all have their own unique traits.

[What about humans? What makes humans special?]

-There may be exceptional humans, but humans themselves are not special.

A cryptic statement. But it was enough for Fafnir, who nodded lightly.

[…Thank you.]

As Fafnir turned to leave, the Circulating Life stopped him.

-Wait a moment.

[What is it?]

-A moment ago, you asked me if I knew the future of this world, Fafnir?

[Yes, I did.]

-I have heard that you’ve been learning the magic of other dragons. If you manage to make the magic of all the elders your own… Even if you cannot open the door to the Dragon Council, you will surely gain great understanding.

[Hmm.]

-Fafnir, the Black Calamity, the last dragon, and my longtime comrade. Now, I will ask you a question.

[Speak.]

-Do you know the future of this world?

[……]

After a brief silence, Fafnir answered in a calm tone.

[I do not believe in prophecies.]

-Then…!

[But predictions are a different matter.]

At those words, the Circulating Life gasped.

There was so much she wanted to say, but so much that no words could come out.

Even I could feel it, so Fafnir must have sensed it too. However, he didn’t wait for the Circulating Life to gather her thoughts.

Without a word, he turned and teleported directly back to his lair.

After hearing the advice of the Circulating Life, Fafnir locked himself in his lair and began focusing on new research.

Although the research process was fully visible to me, it was so complex that I couldn’t grasp what he was attempting at first.

But soon, as Fafnir established his hypothesis and proceeded with his first experiment, I realized everything.

This insane dragon had combined the knowledge of the Dragon Council and gathered information from across the continent to create a magic capable of predicting the future.

If one could create non-existent spaces and enforce certain rules, then it would be possible to control and analyze already-existing spaces.

…Of course, saying it is one thing, but achieving it in reality is something else entirely.

Had he not mastered the knowledge of the entire Dragon Council, had he not grown even stronger through the Great War, and had he not stockpiled countless rare materials and used them without hesitation, Fafnir would have failed. No, anyone else would have failed.

A prediction magic that was nearly indistinguishable from a prophecy. It was a remarkable achievement, but for Fafnir, this was only the beginning.

He ran countless simulations, searching for a path where the world wouldn’t end.

Failure, failure, failure, and yet more failure.

The Good Gods perished or turned into new Evil Gods, mortals of all races became the playthings of the Evil Gods, and in the end, nothing remained.

No matter what variables he introduced, the world always headed toward destruction. As if it were the fate of this land.

But even so.

Fafnir never gave up. He couldn’t. It was all he had left.

How much time had passed? By the time a significant portion of Fafnir’s already short life had been consumed…

At last, Fafnir found a way.