Home/The Reincarnated Hero Is Melancholic/ch18

Chapter 18

After that, events unfolded as they did, leading to the present.

It was ultimately his decision—to allow the Black Dragon, who now appeared about Werner's age, into the house, and to accept his request to stay at the ducal residence for the time being.

That was precisely why his head throbbed all the more.

If word ever got out that the Black Dragon Isid was currently staying at the Valentine ducal residence, the situation would become immensely complicated. No—not just complicated; the entire Empire would be thrown into chaos.

The Guardian Dragon's presence had been the very reason the Empire had remained safe from external threats for the past five hundred years.

Moreover, the Black Dragon Isid only appeared once every fifty years, circling the Empire's skies, yet he never gave anyone the chance to meet him face to face.

Thus, the people could only know that he had not abandoned the Empire through the barrier that enveloped it and his unfailing appearance every fifty years.

However, there was one more token granted to the descendants of the three heroes among the five who had fought alongside him in the past—excluding the Great Spirit Mage Roel.

Click—

The necklace he held was that very token.

But since Isid had said it would no longer be of use, it likely no longer served its original function.

What he meant by that remained a mystery.

"…This is truly maddening."

Not a single question had been clearly answered, yet the situation had only advanced—his head throbbed.

With an uncharacteristically low curse, Calips sighed and rose.

"…"

Through the door his two sons had left ajar in their haste, the source of his headache sauntered back in. The Black Dragon.

Having barged into another's home in the dead of night, the Black Dragon claimed the sofa with a posture so lax it bordered on insolent. He then gave a slight nod toward the opposite seat—a demeanor incomparably more crooked than before.

In that moment, a passage from some book describing dragon temperament crossed his mind.

Dragons, called the mightiest magical race, were supreme beings. The book, which said they were more noble and arrogant than any other being in this world, naturally praised them—the author, of course, being a mage.

In any case, Calips, who had been staring blankly at the figure now devoid of any softness, swallowed a sigh and sat back down.

"…"

A brief silence passed.

The Black Dragon, staring at him with an almost oppressive intensity, finally spoke just as Calips swallowed his third sigh.

"Rowel is asleep."

The pronunciation between 'el' and 'well'—a faint light flickered in his otherwise lifeless gaze for an instant.

"…I see."

Calips replied slowly, swallowing the questions that rose within him.

In truth, he had many things he wanted to ask.

What exactly was his relationship with Rowena? Since when had he known her, a child who had yet to even turn seven? What was the bond between them that could not have been built in a short time? And why did he look at her with such tender eyes?

Given that this was a bolt from the blue, it was only natural to have such questions.

But he couldn't voice them. The Black Dragon before him would not kindly answer his questions, and Rowena, who had fallen asleep, was likely part of this secret as well.

'…I hope I can hear it from you someday.'

More important than resolving his curiosity was the fact that the child who had always been so mature had finally, for the first time, shown herself relaxed and at ease.

That was precisely why he had accepted the Black Dragon, full of mysteries, into his home—not because he was the Empire's Guardian Dragon, but because Rowena had looked so utterly comfortable beside him.

Ever since Kizef was born, and from the moment Unis had breathed her last in his arms, his most precious beings were his three children. Nothing else held greater value.

"One thing. I'll give you a chance to ask what you value most."

So when the Black Dragon said that, Calips opened his mouth without hesitation.

"Are you safe for Rowena?"

Isid gazed at Calips silently.

"Is that your question?"

"Yes."

There was no hint of regret on his face—it spoke the truth.

"I, as a subject of the Empire, hold you in reverence. But if you are a being who would harm Rowena… I will stake my very life to destroy you."

The words, harsh at first glance, were a warning.

Meeting those unflinching, sharp eyes, Isid was silent for a moment. Then he smiled, a deep satisfaction settling on his face.

He still didn't care much for Roel's 'family,' but with that level of resolve, they were worthy of being considered hers.

"Your concern is unnecessary."

And so, Isid added a single heartfelt truth.

"Rowel is… also more precious to me than anything else."

---

The dawn sky, having descended into stillness, was pitch black.

The territory of the Tesernia Empire, spanning over half the continent, was so fertile it was said to be blessed by the gods. Except for the far north, the land was mild year-round in every direction, with abundant fields suitable for farming, yielding plentiful harvests each year, and its vast expanse offered many beautiful resorts.

Yet not all of Tesernia's territory was like that.

There was the far north, where even midsummer brought biting cold; a desert perpetually ravaged by sandstorms; and jungles so hot and humid that monsters swarmed, where humans could not even set foot.

What these natural extremes had in common was that they rejected human presence.

But just because humans could not live there didn't mean they were devoid of value—beasts, animals, insects, and other non-human races called those places home.

However, there was one place—and only one—that was different.

Whoosh—

An eerie wind blew across a land so black it made the bright moonlight pale in comparison.

Click, clack.

Tumbling weakly across the cracked ground was a shell—more precisely, a dried-out, hollow skeleton.

Rolling with the wind, the skeleton shattered against a rock blackened like the earth, scattering into pieces.

Crunch—

The bones, crumbling as if made of compressed sand, scattered into the air—more like vanishing than breaking. Soon, they left no trace of having ever existed, reduced to dust.

Whoosh—

The wind, saturated with the stench of death, raked across the blackened ground once more.

The phenomenon—as if space itself had swallowed the bones—was grotesque, but there were no 'living beings' here to feel such fear.

Because this was that kind of place.

A land so utterly devoid of life that not even a blade of grass could be found—a place where vitality had perished completely.

This was the 'Black Zone,' where no living thing could survive.

It hadn't always been this horrific.

Centuries ago, this had been a beautiful plain where flowers bloomed in vibrant colors among green grass. Trees reaching toward the sky were refuges for animals, and the river that wound through the plain quenched the thirst of both flora and fauna.

Though occasionally touched by human feet, it was fundamentally a land of preserved natural beauty.

That land had turned into this grim landscape five hundred years ago.

The final battle between the dark mages, who sought to revive their god and destroy the world, and the allied forces formed to stop them.

That battle, five hundred years ago, was unprecedented in scale and ferocity.

Both sides had squeezed out their remaining strength, and in the end, victory went to the allied forces.

They slew the leader of the dark mages, secured their artifact—the 'Orb of Sin'—and halted the resurrection ritual.

But that victory came with irreversible losses, and this land was one of them.

The malice emitted by the dark mages and their summoned minions had dyed this land with death.

After the long battle, the temple undertook purification efforts, but they could not revive this land.

After the war that staked the world's fate, the world moved on busily—farewells to the fallen, reconstruction of ruined cities, and rooting out fleeing remnants.

Amid all that, the land that had already died and could not be revived was gradually pushed aside.

The purification rituals, once held at intervals, became more sporadic and eventually ceased altogether after the death of Emperor Kyle—who had seen all his comrades depart before him, save for the Black Dragon Isid.

After that day, purification of the 'Black Zone' was completely abandoned, and only occasional maintenance was performed on the magical array to block access for safety reasons.

Thus, one hundred years passed, then two hundred—and now, five hundred years since that tragedy.

Crunch—

Someone stepped into the Black Zone, where even ordinary people who set foot inside would suffer from hallucinations and auditory delusions.

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