Chapter 9: The Dragon’s Warning

Chapter 9: Chapter 9: The Dragon’s Warning

One week had passed since their first visit to the Hollow Root, a place the three of them had bravely explored for the sake of wealth.

Allan was learning an awful lot in a short space of time.

Life was full of expensive, profitable decisions that nearly got you killed.

Preparing for weeks, or even months in advance, was typical for an adventurer, but Seris and even Allan were stunned at how much he had prepared for this short expedition.

The food, the rope, the combat gear, the huge amount of potions, and even information they hadn’t even thought to bring were all perfectly stacked and ready to be used.

He still felt that same feeling of unease, standing in front of the entrance of the Hollow Root, holding the very same piece of parchment he had held to his chest for a few days now.

Allan had finally come to realize why the folks of the city had been so desperate to stop him from adventuring in the Hollow Root, long before he’d discovered the hidden treasure, the powerful dragon, and the secrets below.

And perhaps, from their perspective, they had been right.

Allan peered into the dark entrance of the Hollow Root, a mix of emotions and thoughts tumbling around in his head.

He had nearly died down here earlier in the week, but had ultimately been proven right in his earlier assertion that there would be plenty of "good stuff" for them to collect. And there was.

In addition to all the monster materials they needed for making their potions, the hidden treasure chamber they had discovered contained all sorts of rare and exotic things. Things that would make them a pretty penny at the auction house.

The result had been far better than Allan expected.

But money was not why he had returned.

He was here because of the dragon.

More specifically, because of what he had found beside it.

Allan looked down at the ancient parchment in his hand. The writing was faded, but there was no mistaking the language.

English.

His language.

The language of Earth.

The language of players.

Now that everything that had happened, had happened, one thing was clear.

The Hollow Root had never been a dungeon.

It had been a prison.

A massive prison that, over time, had turned into a massive dungeon through the enormous amount of mana given off by the creature locked away here for centuries.

Allan stepped through the entrance of the Hollow Root and felt the familiar darkness close around him.

He continued down the tunnel, killing some hobgoblins and goblins once more, and eventually arrived at the secret passage he had discovered some time before.

It looked different now. Perhaps because he knew what lay at the end of the tunnel, or perhaps because he had gained so much insight into the Hollow Root in the time since he had last played through it.

Eventually Allan reached the massive chamber.

As Allan continued to search around the room, he began to realize his previous thoughts of this being a treasure room had been very wrong. What appeared to be stacks of old containers were in reality vast amounts of material for alchemy: crystals, herbs, minerals, bones, and old sealed potions, to name but a few, all stacked up on massive shelves stretching high above him, covered in thick layers of centuries old dust.

Allan smiled faintly.

"Still here, I see."

A low rumble answered him.

Allan turned.

The dragon was still chained to the enormous platform in the center of the room. It was a large, dark silver dragon, with blue running like veins of starlight beneath its scales. It had a chain around each of its limbs, its wings, and its neck. Its enormous golden eye opened and immediately fixed on Allan.

"Player."

Allan walked closer.

"Dragon."

The dragon’s eye narrowed.

"You returned, huh. That usually doesn’t happen."

"Obviously."

"You have the key now? Did you come here to free me?"

"No."

"Haaa, then why are you here?"

Allan stopped several meters from the creature.

"I have a question, that’s all."

The dragon remained silent as Allan glanced at the chains.

"What exactly are you imprisoned for?" he asked.

The dragon’s golden eye narrowed into a slit.

"That is a complicated question you ask. Are you sure you came all the way here just to ask me that?"

"Yes... and." Allan shrugged. "We’ve got time."

The dragon stared at him as Allan settled himself on one of the stone blocks nearby.

"So talk. It’ll make both of us less bored."

For several seconds the dragon simply watched him. Then,

"Hmmm."

The ancient creature slowly lifted its head.

"Bold human, you are."

Allan smiled.

"I’ve been called worse."

The dragon released a low breath.

"Where do I begin then? It’s been a while since I spoke of him."

It looked toward the ceiling.

"I was brought here three hundred years ago."

Allan’s expression changed.

"Three hundred years, huh? That’s quite a lot."

"Yes. For your species. But for us it’s just been a week, I’d guess."

Allan nodded.

Yeah, they do live long lives, longer than even elves, he thought.

"By whom, if I may ask?" he muttered, gripping the paper in his hand hard.

The dragon’s answer came immediately.

"Of course. Humans."

Allan raised an eyebrow.

"Humans locked up a dragon? Were you that weak before, or...?"

"They did not do it alone."

The dragon’s voice grew colder.

"They had... him."

Allan leaned forward.

"This ’him’ seems talented."

His eyes moved toward the magic circles covering the floor.

"Those spells aren’t exactly simple."

Allan got down on one knee beside one of the circles. The lines in the floor had been meticulously etched into the stone, the same sort of magical recording that had been laid into the Grid all those years ago.

As he read through them, he noted the basic underpinnings of the various sorts of magic involved and felt a stab of nostalgia for the old Grid.

But the rest...

The rest was absurd.

Even by Yggdrasil standards.

"Whoever made these," Allan muttered, "wasn’t messing around."

The dragon laughed softly. A deep, scraping sound echoed throughout the chamber.

"Of course not."

Allan looked up.

"Tell me, then. Stop beating around the bush. Why did they lock you here?"

The dragon’s eye met his.

"Because I knew too much."

Silence.

"Because I knew too much, and I spoke too much."

Silence again.

"The secrets of players."

Allan’s expression froze.

The dragon continued.

"And the disaster they could bring."

The temperature inside the chamber seemed to drop.

Allan slowly stood.

"Can you tell me?"

The dragon laughed again.

"You still speak like them."

"Them?"

"Players, of course, with their mumbo jumbo accent."

Allan’s pulse quickened.

"You knew other players?"

"Not many. You lot were rare, very rare."

The dragon lowered its head.

"But I knew one."

Allan’s breathing stopped.

"I see. I guess that’s the one who, with the help of other humans, imprisoned you here?"

"Yes."

"Left the materials in this chamber?"

"Yes."

Allan stared at the dragon.

"Then that’s why you recognized me right away, when we arrived."

The dragon did not answer immediately. Instead it said:

"...The one who imprisoned me carried a unique skill. That’s why I recognized you."

Allan’s fingers tightened.

"So you already know...?"

The dragon’s golden eye narrowed.

"Investment skill. I can still see that reality blemishing curse on you, plain as day."

Everything went silent.

Curse? Why a curse?

Allan’s System suddenly appeared.

[Hidden Information Detected.]

[Previous Investment Class User Confirmed.]

Allan stared at the notification. For several seconds he could not move.

Another player, huh. Then that decides it, people from my world have arrived here before. And they called themselves players, it seems.

And a previous Investment user, at that.

Maybe someone the same as me, who had walked these same halls. Someone who had discovered the same secrets.

And someone who had imprisoned a dragon. But more questions arise. Are there people like me here, in this time? And if so, where are they?

And why did one of the players deem the beast here worth caging, a talking dragon at that? That’s rare among rare.

Allan unfolded the parchment he had brought with him. It had been written a long time ago, but the words were simple enough. They were in English, the only language he could read in this world. And of that, only one sentence was relevant.

DO NOT FREE THE DRAGON.

Allan’s smile disappeared.

"...What the hell did you really do?"

The dragon watched him in silence for a long moment. Then it spoke again, more slowly this time.

"Allan, was it? Let me tell you a story... He came to this world the same way you did. He carried the same class. He built something large, something that touched many cities. He gathered people, resources, knowledge. And then he learned things that should not have been learned..."

Allan kept his eyes on the parchment.

"Like..."

"...Things about the nature of this world. The systems that govern it. The consequences of the presence of players in this world for too long a time." The dragon’s chains shifted slightly as it readjusted its position.

"He spoke freely of them to the wrong people at the wrong time. The humans came for him, and he used this creature as a shield. He bound it here with the same power that had created him, and left the materials of his making as a warning, and as bait, for the next player to come along. He vanished shortly after leaving the warning."

Allan’s grip on the parchment tightened. Part of him believed it, and another part took it as a lie.

"Vanished how? Did he die, or is he still alive?"

The dragon did not answer.

Allan stood there for a long time, the silence of the chamber growing heavier than before. He folded up the parchment, put it away in his coat, and stood.

"What if I say I’m not freeing you? Our previous contract, it’s voided," he said at last.

He turned to head back the way he had come, the sound of the dragon following after him.

"Player."

Allan kept walking, not looking back.

"When the time comes," the dragon said, after Allan had been walking for several moments, "you will have to decide whether his warning was protection... or fear."

"You will free me, Allan. You will. All you players are the same... all of you!" it growled.

Allan was back at the mansion. He laid the parchment on the table. His eyes were vague and lost in thought.

Seris and Lira stood on either side of him but didn’t say a word.

Finally Seris looked down at the notes Allan had written beside the parchment.

"So that’s the actual plan."

Allan leaned back. "That’s the whole plan... for now."

"I thought you wanted to establish just one business... these are—"

"I know. It’s not just one."

He tapped the table.

"Adventurer supplies. Potions. Monster materials. Weapons."

Another tap.

"Food. Rope. Torches. Maps. Information."

Another.

"Storage for adventurers who don’t want to drag half a dungeon across the country."

Lira’s eyes slowly brightened. "Transportation between cities."

"Exactly."

She immediately nodded.

"We already have the warehouses."

Seris crossed her arms.

"And the carriages."

She hesitated.

"...And the contacts who still know how to keep their mouths shut."

Allan smiled.

"See?"

He leaned back in his chair.

"We can do this."

Lira smiled. It was the first time Allan had seen her smile in a completely different light. She was no longer the nervous servant trying to please her master, but someone who could actually see a future.

"We can. We actually can."

Seris pulled a piece of paper from her pocket.

"Speaking of the business..."

She glanced down at the numbers.

"We’ve sold four items so far."

Allan raised an eyebrow. "Only four?"

"Four."

She paused.

"...And all four of these items sold for considerably more than expected, Master."

"How much?"

Seris didn’t answer, but pulled a heavy leather bag out from beneath the table.

CLINK.

The sound of gold echoed through the room. Lira’s eyes widened as Allan stared.

Seris opened the bag. Gold coins spilled across the table, and Allan’s eyes practically turned into coins themselves.

"Diggity damn," he muttered.

He grabbed one. Then another. Then another.

"We’re rich."

Lira stared at him.

"Master..."

"We’re rich!"

"Master."

"WE’RE RICH!"

Seris sighed.

"Unfortunately, we aren’t."

Allan froze.

"What? Huh? Why, though? We have money."

"That’s the same thing."

"No."

Seris pointed at the coins.

"We have enough money to start something. Not enough to be... rich."

She then pointed at Allan.

"...And you have a habit of spending everything you own on your next ridiculous idea, or so called investment."

Allan slowly lowered the coin.

"...That’s unfair. I am usually right, you know that."

"It’s accurate. Even in the case of the alchemist, you’d wasted ten silvers. If you hadn’t found the alchemist, all five silvers we trusted you with would have been wasted."

Lira nodded.

"Seris is right, Master."

Allan looked between them.

"Why are you both against me?"

"Because we know you," Seris replied. There was no hesitation in her voice.

Allan sighed.

"Fine."

Seris picked up another sheet of paper.

"There are still several items we haven’t sold. We could put them through the auction house."

"No, not all of them."

Seris looked up.

"Why, Master? You were right about their value. These are some very precious and valuable things we’ve found. If we sold all of them, we could start your business in a jiffy."

Lira reached toward the table and picked up the small black crystal they had recovered from the Hollow Root.

Allan immediately placed his hand over it.

"Not that one."

Lira blinked.

"Why?"

"Because it’s too valuable."

Seris frowned.

"Master, it’s worth nothing in our hands. We can only sell it to people who can use it."

"Exactly."

Allan lifted the crystal between his fingers.

"This is what we’re playing for."

He looked at both women.

"The long game."

Seris stared at him for a moment. Then she understood.

"You think its value will increase."

"I know it will. That’s a thousand percent."

"And the others?" Seris asked.

"Sell them."

"Who appraises the rest?"

Allan’s grin returned.

"Bela."

Seris raised an eyebrow.

"The alchemist?"

"Not just any alchemist, but a genius alchemist. The one who will one day be called the Witch of Alchemy."