Type-Moon: Does even a sneak peek make it official?

Chapter 20: Chapter 20: The Crowned Dragon Who Perished from Exhaustion



A sea of wildflowers bloomed across the tranquil plains, with only the distant forests interrupting the endless view. Even turning in a full circle to gaze at the vast sky, all that met the eyes was the evenly divided earth and heavens — blue above, green below.

This was the scene that greeted Shiali upon crossing the English Channel.

A few days ago, after receiving an invitation from Novia, she had departed immediately from the Atlas Institute, setting off for this so-called Britannia, to fulfill the conditions of the contract she'd signed — helping him within the limits of her ability.

"If my calculations are correct, the mystery lingering here in Britannia will probably last for centuries."

The moment she set foot on the island, Shiali sensed how different this place was. The decline of mystery was far slower than on the continent. She had known that isolation from the mainland tended to preserve mystery longer, yet the extent still caught her by surprise.

"Haha, maybe it'll last five hundred years. Some places, the mystery lingers even a thousand years after," Novia chuckled.

"That's impossible… Enough small talk. Just tell me, what exactly do you need me to do?"

The violet-haired girl narrowed her eyes, her expression calm and steady, as she looked at the silver-haired Novia and the man standing beside him, his face marked by a cross. According to her intel, this man was Lucius Longinus — Governor of Britannia.

Since parting ways with Novia at the Atlas Institute, Shiali had buried herself in research. It was only a few days ago that she'd received Novia's message and set out. Along the way, she'd gathered what intel she could on him.

Sixteen years old, yet already occupying a position second only to the Emperor within the Roman Empire… But then again, hadn't she been named successor to the Director of the Atlas Institute when she was just ten?

The Roman Empire boasted at least hundreds of thousands of mages. The Atlas Institute had far fewer, but their strength made up for the numbers. The difference was undeniable — though for reasons even she couldn't quite explain, Shiali found herself mentally comparing them.

"Took you only three days to arrive. Don't you need to rest?" Novia asked with a smile.

"No need."

Her tone was firm and devoid of fatigue, her sharp violet eyes fixed on Novia with the unyielding pride of a girl who had something to prove.

Perhaps it was because, during their expedition to the submerged Library of Alexandria, her contributions paled in comparison to his. That only fueled her desire to showcase her true abilities — as both a lecturer of the Atlas Institute and its next Director.

"But I see you're traveling light," she remarked.

There was more to her words than the literal meaning. Novia's white robes might have seemed appropriate for winter in Britannia — clean and formal enough even for official occasions — but Shiali referred to something else entirely: mage equipment.

A mage of his status would normally carry a full arsenal of Mystic Codes at all times, ensuring both magical and physical protection. After all, mages of high standing were prime targets for assassination — to the extent that some, so laden with enchanted artifacts, were said to rival bounded fields themselves.

"Haha, well, when faced with overwhelming odds, no amount of little tricks will change the outcome," Novia replied casually.

Shiali's brows knit ever so slightly. From what she'd learned through her Ether Lines, the Roman court was a nest of vipers — schemes layered upon schemes. Everyone waited eagerly to see this naive fool walk into a trap… Yet so far, reality had defied those expectations.

"Whatever. Your funeral. So, what exactly do you need me for?"

"Come with me. Regardless of anything else, you're the only one I can entrust with this," Novia said earnestly, bowing his head slightly.

After arriving in Britannia, and judging from the excavation site Governor Lucius had uncovered, it was clear: the Dragon of Albion was well and truly dead. But its colossal body had not yet been broken apart by tectonic shifts. In other words, before them lay a two-kilometer-long corpse. Even after its body had shattered, its head had continued tunneling deeper underground — the very spot where the Mage's Association would one day build an observation tower.

"I'll do what I can. If it's your request," Shiali replied nonchalantly, turning her face away. But the fact that she hadn't immediately deployed her Ether Lines spoke volumes about how pleased she actually was.

The three of them soon departed, making their way to a location near Londinium, by the Thames.

In truth, from the moment she'd received Novia's message, Shiali had sensed — even if only for a fleeting second — that this expedition would be interesting.

The bell of the returning ship rang in the distance. The sun sank toward the horizon, staining the twilight mountains crimson. A chill rode on the dusk wind, but the silence that followed was peaceful and still.

The three walked along a winding, serpent-like path that twisted down into an endless wilderness, overgrown with weeds and dead wood — and beneath it, the underground.

The faint trickle of magical energy leaking from cracks in the soil made Shiali's body shudder instinctively. With every step forward, the ambient mana thinned. Speech would disrupt spells. All of it, a consequence of what lay not far ahead — an existence so vast that, from a human perspective, seeking it out felt utterly insignificant. Pointless.

"Novia… What is this?" she asked quietly.

Since the fall of the Age of Gods fifty years prior, humanity had claimed dominion over the world. The laws of physics no longer suited the survival of beings from myth. Those who understood and accepted this had departed. Nature itself, once alive with spirit, had become mere phenomena. Ether in the atmosphere thinned. Mystery dwindled. The magecraft of the mythic age was lost. True ancient sorcery vanished, leaving behind only scraps and whispers.

Compared to original magecraft, the magic of today was an empty shell. The disparity between the two eras was insurmountable.

And yet, what lay buried beneath the earth here was something different.

Not a deity born of human belief or worship — but an ancient, primordial entity.

An existence that far surpassed even the divine body of Osiris she had seen before. The overwhelming magical energy here was palpable — unmistakable.

"…"

Novia fell silent for a long moment.

He doesn't actually know, does he? Shiali mused to herself.

Finally, the silver-haired boy spoke slowly:

"Long ago, there existed a colossal Dragonkind. It is said its majestic body dwarfed even the mountains. For some reason, this Dragon lingered on this side of the world long after the Age of Fantasy had faded."

"When it finally chose to depart, mystery had already grown thin. The passage to the 'Reverse Side of the World' could no longer be opened. But even then, it did not despair. It did not give up. If it could not escape through magical means… it would do so through physical ones."

"And so, with its vast body, it burrowed deep into the earth — toward the places where mystery still lingers underground."

"…Huh?"

Hearing this for the first time, the violet-haired girl blinked in disbelief. There were no such records in the Atlas Institute.

"But in the process of burrowing underground… the Dragon exhausted its strength and died."

"A true-blooded Dragon. Its name—"

"The Dragon of Albion."


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