Little Pink Starfish

“The bite marks are identical in all cases. That means it must be the work of a single being—or at least a single species. A species that eats the hearts of dragons, the so-called supreme beings of this world—how exhilarating is that?! Ahh! What could it be? I want to see it for myself!”

“Could it be camouflaged by magic?”

“You’ll understand the moment you see it yourself.”

The moment he finished speaking, Kaiedel cast a spell. It was one of the highest-tier illusion-type spells, projected right in the middle of the corridor—comparable to a holographic video in a past life.

‘Indeed, it’s far too brutal and disorderly to have been caused by magic.’

As Ishar carefully examined the corpses—from the first discovered to the most recent—a thought suddenly struck him, and he furrowed his brows.

‘Where have I seen something like this before? Ah… the monsters. Rasmoth. Rasmoth’s corpse had the same marks.’

The realization made goosebumps crawl down his neck. If the unknown species consuming the dragons’ hearts were monsters…

They could be a new form, like Rasmoth or Trphros—something never seen before.

And right now, they may be targeting dragon hearts, but what if they started going after human hearts?

All intelligence in the Empire funneled to Ishar—nothing excluded. As soon as dragon corpses began appearing, he ramped up information gathering, so he knew.

‘Rasmoth and Trphros first appeared three years ago, and the first dragon corpse was discovered three years ago in the Aternia Mountains… Could it be? Is this world unraveling because the original protagonist—Veloan—died? But because Jin is still alive, total collapse hasn’t begun yet, and instead, it’s manifesting in these monsters or new species capable of world-ending destruction?’

As that troubling thought rose, something else resurfaced in his mind.

When the Central Ceremonial Shrine and Sanctum of the Imperial Palace had finally been restored and he entered the Sanctum again—Eoris never appeared before him.

In fact, it was as if Eoris no longer existed there. That overwhelming divine presence was completely gone.

‘If the being devouring dragons is an intelligent species capable of becoming Eoris’s vessel… and Eoris chose to abandon me in order to win them over…’

Should such a being become the vessel of Eoris, it was obvious they would plunge the continent back into war.

‘…Should I kill it before it becomes the vessel of Eoris?’

Almost instantly, he shook his head.

No. He had no concrete evidence, no clear leads. To act rashly would be a waste of time. Ishar had something else he needed to do first.

‘Zischka. I have to find Zischka.’

Two years ago, Zischka had evaded every surveillance system Ishar had built and even collapsed the entire region around his lair before vanishing.

Since then, it was as if he had vanished underground—completely untraceable.

Even if Veloan was dead, that didn’t absolve Zischka of his crimes.

Ishar intended to make him pay—to be used as a sacrifice to soothe even a fraction of Veloan’s tormented soul through the most excruciating death.

“Former Tower Lord, do you… perchance… know something? If you share it with me, I will bow to you every day for the next thousand years!”

“Did you investigate the surroundings where the dragon corpses were found?”

“Huh? Why would I do that?”

Of course. Ishar already knew the fool had likely rushed in, snatched the corpses, and ran without looking back. He wasn’t even surprised anymore.

“Then by tomorrow, write down everything you remember about where the corpses were found and under what conditions.”

“Eh? I really don’t remember much…”

“You’d better use a memory-enhancing spell if needed. Unless you want to see next year’s research budget cut in half.”

Kaiedel’s mouth fell open in horror—this was more terrifying than being told the Mage Tower would be dismantled. He clasped his hands together like a groveling sycophant.

“Where’s Rekayan? That guy brewed amazing memory enhancement potions. I’ll drink some and write everything down!”

---

As always, night fell over the dense forest.

And in one place, it fell earlier than anywhere else and lingered the longest.

That was the Batergeman Mountain Range, an extension of the great Numeried Mountains stretching southwest.

The area was unusually dark—black as pitch—and a prime environment for monsters.

Once called the Abyss of the Continent, darkness ruled over light for long stretches, creating an eerie, oppressive atmosphere.

Humans avoided the Batergeman range. Despite rumors of rare herbs and alchemical treasures, no one dared enter.

Too many had gone missing or were found dead after trying.

In truth, the Batergeman mountains were home not only to monsters, but to many wild beasts and non-human species.

From ancient times, dwarves of small stature, fairy-folk with traits of insects or plants, flame-spirits, and beastkin lived here—each race forming its own territory.

They generally kept to themselves, but disputes over borders or food led to frequent skirmishes.

Thus, each mountain had its own “lord.”

Except for one.

Mount Bateron—the largest and most mystical peak in the Batergeman range, rich in magical resources and rare plants—was untouched.

No one dared even consider trespassing.

Because that mountain was home to one of the oldest and most vicious dragons in existence.

Once, a prideful young flame-spirit had trespassed. The dragon sealed him in a sphere of water and suspended him in the air until his flames died out.

Another time, a dwarf who came to harvest materials was fed alive to the dragon’s chimeric creation.

Terrified by these acts, several races tried to offer alliances or trade.

The dragon refused them all—and slaughtered them instead.

Whenever it grew bored, it would abduct other races or humans from the mountains for unspeakable experiments.

It even raised hybrid children born from crossbreeding with other species, only to conduct horrific tests to see if their flesh tasted like that of half-dragons.

This dragon had been the first to show Zischka the taste of a half-dragon—and was Zischka’s progenitor.

So when Zischka later began a human-assisted breeding program for half-dragons, the dragon had even provided materials in support.

But it should never have done that.

A man with a seductive smile now stood before it, crimson eyes gleaming as he laughed.

The dragon, Bylrom, instinctively wanted to shift back from its beastkin form to its true form—but could not.

“Fascinating, isn’t it… Bylrom.“

Only Zischka had ever known that name. Hearing it now, slipping from the man’s lips, paralyzed Bylrom with terror.

He couldn’t ask where the man had learned it. He couldn’t ask what he meant by “fascinating.”

All he could do was tremble helplessly—watching, horrified, as the man held up something red and pulsing.

His own heart.

The man’s smile only deepened as he looked down upon the crushed dragon.

“Answer me. How does it feel… to have your heart ripped out by one of those ‘inferior species’ you used to think were livestock?”

A breeze blew. The man’s long golden hair whipped in the wind, like blades ready to pierce Bylrom’s chest.

To Bylrom, even the man’s hair looked like a weapon.

Paralyzed by instinctive terror and the sheer absurdity of the situation, Bylrom looked up, barely able to comprehend what had happened.

He wanted to run. He didn’t understand why this was happening to him.

His instincts screamed to cast magic. But he knew—doing so would be suicide.

With his heart forcefully removed, any magical movement would surely detonate it.

Nor could he physically overpower the man holding his heart. The moment it was seized, all magic flow inside his body had stopped. Any shock could shatter him like stone.

A once-great dragon—reduced to the same powerless state as the “inferior” races he had scorned.

“S-spare me…”

He begged, as his blood flowed out with each beat of the heart still pulsing in the man’s hand.

Even a dragon would not survive much longer like this.

And with his heart still beating in the enemy’s grasp, he had no idea what might happen next.