The military outpost grew larger with every beat of our wings.
From above, it looked less like a fortress and more like an entire city built around a single purpose.
Countless stone buildings spread across the canyon's edge.
Watchtowers overlooked the abyss.
Supply caravans moved continuously between reinforced warehouses.
Imperial banners fluttered beside those of dozens of Hunter Guilds.
Researchers hurried between enormous dragon bones laid across examination platforms while armored soldiers patrolled the walls in disciplined formations.
It was...
Far larger than I remembered.
Then again...
I didn't remember writing an outpost at all.
I had written the Dragon's Grave.
Not the thousands of lives that would eventually gather around it.
Reality had filled in the blanks.
And somehow...
It had done a better job than I ever could.
Ceal and I descended toward one of the landing platforms.
The moment my boots touched the stone, conversations around us gradually died away.
Not because people recognized us.
Nobody here knew who we were.
It was because of where we had landed.
Everyone standing here had come from the Dragon's Grave.
Or had watched others disappear into it.
Seeing two young men calmly walk toward the entrance was...
Unusual.
A scarred man wearing battered black armor stepped forward.
His left sleeve hung empty.
The missing arm had long since healed.
The claw marks across his breastplate hadn't.
He looked us over before speaking.
Hunter: "Turn around."
I stopped.
"..."
His expression didn't change.
Hunter: "I'm serious."
Beside me, Ceal remained as calm as ever.
Ceal: "We noticed."
The hunter jabbed a thumb toward the canyon behind him.
Hunter: "Three A-Rank expedition teams entered yesterday."
His voice remained flat.
"They never came back."
I studied him quietly.
He wasn't trying to intimidate us.
He wasn't boasting.
He wasn't exaggerating.
He was warning us.
There was a difference.
Several more hunters gradually wandered closer.
None carried hostile expressions.
Only tired ones.
One woman couldn't have been older than thirty, yet white streaks already ran through her hair.
Another man's armor looked as though something enormous had tried to bite him in half.
Nobody laughed.
Nobody mocked us.
Places like this stripped arrogance away long before they stripped away lives.
An elderly man in research robes adjusted the spectacles resting on his nose.
His gaze lingered on the two of us.
Then he sighed.
Researcher: "Students?"
Ceal: "Galia Military Academy."
The old man's eyebrows rose.
Researcher: "...Students.."
Ceal: "Final year."
He tilted his head toward me.
Ceal: "First year."
The researcher stared at us for several long seconds before letting out a slow sigh.
Researcher: "...That's somehow even more worrying."
Apparently our age inspired more fear than confidence.
The crowd slowly parted as another figure approached.
Unlike the others, his armor bore the Imperial crest across the chest.
The commander, judging by the insignia.
His eyes swept over us once before settling on Ceal.
Commander: "Purpose?"
Ceal: "Entry."
A brief silence followed.
The commander glanced toward the canyon.
Then back at us.
Commander: "...Denied."
That was expected.
He continued.
Commander: "The Dragon's Grave has been under restricted access for almost a year."
I blinked.
That...
Was new.
When I had written this place, anyone reckless enough could attempt it.
Apparently reality had decided otherwise.
Interesting.
The commander folded his arms.
Commander: "Casualty rates exceeded acceptable limits."
Commander: "Only licensed expeditions receive authorization now."
I mentally filed the information away.
Another difference.
Another blank the world had filled without asking me.
Ceal calmly reached into his storage pouch.
A metal identification plate appeared in his hand.
Not an Ashford crest.
That would have been useless here.
This carried an Imperial authorization seal.
The commander accepted it.
His eyes narrowed as he read.
Then he looked up.
Then back down.
Then up again.
His expression changed ever so slightly.
Respect.
Not for the Ashford name.
For the qualifications engraved into the plate.
He returned it.
Then looked at me.
His gaze lingered considerably longer.
Commander: "...He's Five-Star."
Ceal: "I know."
Commander: "You're responsible for him."
Ceal: "I know."
Commander: "If he dies—"
Ceal: "He won't."
There wasn't the slightest hesitation in his voice.
The commander stared at him for several seconds.
Then sighed.
He turned toward the soldiers stationed beside the enormous stone gate.
Commander: "Open it."
The entire outpost seemed to pause.
Workers stopped moving.
Hunters looked up.
Even the researchers abandoned their notes.
For a moment...
Nobody spoke.
A horn echoed across the canyon.
Deep.
Ancient.
Almost mournful.
Massive chains began rattling somewhere beyond the cliffs.
The sound alone made the ground tremble beneath my feet.
Then—
The gate moved.
Not quickly.
Deliberately.
Stone scraped against stone with a deafening groan that rolled through the canyon like distant thunder.
Dust poured from ancient seams.
One by one...
The draconic runes carved into the gate awakened.
Golden.
Crimson.
Then a deep obsidian black.
I couldn't look away.
I'd imagined a grand entrance when I first wrote this place.
What stood before me now...
Made that imagination seem childish.
The opening widened.
Darkness greeted us.
No monsters.
No roars.
No howling wind.
Just...
Silence.
An unnatural silence.
The kind that made even breathing feel intrusive.
The moment the gate fully opened—
Something inside me stirred.
Not my mana.
Not my senses.
My bloodline.
The dragon sleeping within my body reacted before I did.
Warmth spread beneath my skin.
I lowered my gaze.
The scales hidden against my dark complexion had become visible, faint golden lines weaving between them like molten veins.
They pulsed once.
Twice.
Then settled into a slow rhythm.
Around us, I noticed several nearby bloodline users quietly take a step backward.
Interesting.
They'd noticed.
I hadn't intended to release anything.
The Dragon's Grave had simply awakened something buried within me.
A low vibration echoed through my chest.
For the briefest moment...
I thought I heard a roar.
Not through my ears.
Through my soul.
Ancient.
Endless.
Waiting.
I placed a hand against my chest.
The sensation vanished.
Beside me, Ceal glanced sideways.
Ceal: "...Still want to go?"
I looked into the darkness beyond the gate.
Toward the place I had once imagined.
Toward the place that had somehow become more real than the memories of the man who created it.
I smiled.
Astaroso: "...More than ever."
Without another word, we crossed the threshold.
Behind us, the ancient gates began to close.
Their thunderous echo rolled across the canyon.
No one tried to stop us.
No one wished us luck.
They simply watched.
As though they had just witnessed two more names disappear into a grave that had never learned how to return the dead.