Chapter 107, Before the Night

Translator: Barnnn

 

“Isn’t that name way too long?” Hal said.

“Fuya said the same thing,” the Fire Dragon replied. “He could never memorize the whole thing.”

“How about we give you a nickname?” Ize suggested. “Might help us feel more connected.”

“If it were shorter, I bet people would actually start using it,” Hal added. “Mister Volhelm, got any bright ideas?”

“Eh… is it really okay to give THE Fire Dragon a nickname?” Volhelm asked, clearly hesitant. “Feels kind of… blasphemous.”

“What did the Hero call him?” Fieda asked curiously.

“He used to call me… Karyu,” the Dragon answered.

“That’s just… literally Fire Dragon in Japanese,” Hal grumbled, raising an eyebrow.

“No big plot twist to be found, huh,” Ize remarked with a smirk.

 

As it turned out, there was no tale of erasure from history — no noble saga lost to time. More likely, the name was simply too long for anyone to bother remembering, or the townspeople gave up trying altogether. It had all the makings of a comedy rather than a tragedy.

And apparently, the Hero of old had zero talent for naming things.

 

“So,” Hal ventured, “you don’t mind us calling you something else?”

“I don’t mind,” the Dragon replied. “I was never particular about being addressed. If you have a name that people would consistently say, I’ll accept it.”

 

Still, it wouldn’t do to go too far afield. Names like Pochi or Chappie — no matter how endearing — were pushing it. Chappie the Fire Dragon… cute, maybe, but absurd.

Ize tried to recall the Dragon’s original name again, but not a single syllable came to mind.

 

“Could you say your name once more?” she asked politely.

“Abyureldo Fyuenzol Joekuelsch Voderia Gofnoden Drenmonies Baznejardetta Menoewz Bardukbozaveles,” the Dragon intoned.

“‘Abyu’…?” Ize tried.

“I caught ‘Veles’ at the end,” said Hal.

“I heard ‘Voderia’ in there,” Fieda noted.

“Did you say… ‘Jarljadda’?” Volhelm asked.

“Nothing like that,” the Dragon corrected. “It’s Baznejardetta.”

 

Ize and Hal could only catch the beginning and end of the name, which was fair. Volhelm, however, had butchered it so badly the Dragon had to step in and correct him. Fieda, as always, was the most competent among them.

 

“Is there a part of it you particularly like?” Fieda asked.

“Hmm… the ending, perhaps. Bardukbozaveles — it’s from an old, forgotten tongue. It means ‘Messenger of the God of Flame.'”

“That’s cool,” Hal said with admiration. “What if we tweak that part into something easier to say?”

[So that’s Hal’s go-to way,] Ize thought, [Start with what you have instead of inventing something from nothing, huh…] “Bard, Veles, Bados, Pares… anything else?” she offered.

“Ves, Dove, Baza…” Hal added.

“Bardress… Bardveles…?” Fieda suggested.

“Ooh, that sounds good, actually,” Hal agreed. “Bardveles. Still has some dignity to it — any shorter than that, and it might not feel majestic enough.”

“Bardveles,” the Dragon repeated. “So, you’ve just dropped the middle. It still retains meaning — roughly ‘Flame-Wielder.'”

“If it still works symbolically, that’s even better,” Fieda said.

“Indeed. Bardveles. I like it. From now on, you may call me that.”

 

With the Dragon’s blessing, the group finally shortened the long, unwieldy name of the Fire Dragon into something manageable.

 

“So, Ize,” Hal said, turning toward her. “What was it? The reason you called out to Bardveles in the first place?”

“Huh?”

“‘Huh?’ isn’t an answer. You were the one who started this whole thing.”

“Oh, right! I nearly forgot.”

 

She’d been so caught up in the naming discussion that her original intent had completely slipped her mind.

 

“I was admiring how beautiful his scales are. I wanted to ask if it’d be all right to touch them.”

“Is that all?” Bardveles rumbled, amused. “Touch them as much as you like.”

 

It shook its massive body with laughter, and Ize offered a small bow of thanks before stepping closer.

Up close, she was struck once again by the Dragon’s sheer scale. Even the claws on the foot near its wing were each the size of her entire body.

 

“It’s… huge,” she muttered to herself.

 

She reached out to the joint where scale met skin and brushed it with trembling fingers.

 

“Why that spot?” came Hal’s voice, suddenly over her shoulder.

 

She flinched a little as he leaned in, studying the claw she was touching.

 

“If it hit me with that, I’d be minced meat in a second.”

“Not minced,” Hal said, skeptical. “More like… half your body would just disappear.”

“Being erased is way scarier, thank you.”

“Worry not,” Bardveles said gently. “I wouldn’t do such a thing to you.”

 

It was a comforting sentiment. Sort of. On the one hand, they were safe. On the other, it suggested others were not.

Ize lifted her gaze and turned to the Dragon’s wings — vast even in proportion to its massive frame. Surely, it relied on some form of magic to get its body airborne, but still, they were enormous.

She couldn’t even imagine what it would look like when both wings unfurled in full.

Peering closely at the scales, each one wider than her own face, she saw hues of red and blue shimmer within, as though fire spirits were trapped beneath the surface.

 

“So beautiful…”

“Yeah,” Hal agreed softly.

 

Ize stared for a moment longer, then reached out with a hesitant hand. The moment she touched it, the scale felt cold, but beneath that surface, a warmth pulsed — gentle and unmistakably alive.

 

“Is it hard?” Hal asked.

“Not at all,” she replied.

“Bardveles,” Hal said, stepping forward, “Would it be all right if I touched too?”

“You needn’t ask,” Bardveles said with a soft rumble. “Touch as you wish.”

 

Hal moved to stand beside Ize, placing his fingers on the scales near the base of Bardveles’s wing. Slowly, he slid his hand over them, the pads of his fingers tracing the surface.

 

“They’re warm,” he murmured.

“They are,” Ize said.

 

As their hands moved, shadows danced across the scales, shifting the shimmer into new patterns and shades. The colors seemed to change with every angle, every moment.

The two of them remained there, spellbound, tracing the scales of Bardveles over and over again — fascinated by the creature before them.

 

◆

 

“You lot are just… completely beyond the norm, aren’t you…”

 

With a weary sigh, Volhelm muttered the words more to himself than to anyone in particular.

Fieda, long accustomed to his companions’ antics, gave him a pat on the back and said lightly, “Might as well give up trying to understand.”

What exactly he was supposed to give up on wasn’t clear.

 

Hal and Ize exchanged a glance, shrugged, and returned to their work.

First came the container house. Then the bath and toilet were set up in neat order. Around them, they laid out the futons they’d received as part of their supply package, spreading them across a thick, insulating carpet.

 

“There aren’t any enemies in this area,” Hal said with a grin. “Might as well make it a big group sleepover.”

“A pajama party, then! I’ve always wanted to do one with the girls!” Ize replied cheerfully. “Are potato sticks allowed on the bedding?”

“Just for tonight, I’ll allow it,” Hal replied solemnly.

“What about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, cookies at most. No drinks.”

“Deal!”

 

With a spring in her step, Ize continued arranging the futons. Beside her, Sato rustled its leafy head, visibly excited.

 

“Ah, Sato — no rolling on the futons yet! You were digging around in the dirt earlier, weren’t you?”

“Ke…”

“See? Now there’s soil on the bedding. Come on, I’ll wipe you down a little. We’re all getting a bath later.”

“Kekyo…”

 

She scrubbed Sato’s round face with a towel until it squeaked, then set it down gently. Freed, the round little turnip — no, the Mandragora — began gleefully rolling back and forth across the soft futons.

 

“Kyo! Kyooo!”

“…That thing really is a Mandragora?” Volhelm asked, one brow raised.

“A genuine Sugar Mandragora,” Hal said with exaggerated gravity. “Fetches a high price if sold.”

“Hal,” Ize said flatly, “don’t say things like that. Even if we were selling anything, it’d only be the leaves. And not the big one — that’s Sato’s best feature.”

“Speaking of Mandragora leaves,” Volhelm said, tone suddenly shifting, “did you know that after that business with Wardon, most of the A-rankers started resenting the nobles?”

“Huh?” Hal frowned. “What do you mean?”

 

The unexpected turn caught them all off guard. They tilted their heads in unison, and Volhelm gave a faint smile as he watched Sato tumble about, then spoke again.

 

“Hmm… so you haven’t heard the news. Well, I doubt Wardon mentioned it either.”

Fieda turned to him with a serious look. “Mind telling us? Since we’ve been traveling with Sato, I’d like to know what’s going on.”

“Right. You deserve to hear it…” Volhelm nodded. “So, ordinarily, A-rank adventurers — especially the dedicated Dungeon explorers among them — are treated as national assets. You understand the weight of that, don’t you? …But when Wardon’s party members were struck down by Basilisk venom, not a single noble stepped forward to help. Sure, it wasn’t immediately life-threatening, but the detoxification process took half a year. That’s absurd.” He paused, his voice growing darker. “And during all that time, the nobles were still eating Mandragora in their damn salads…”

 

Disgust twisted his face as he spoke, brows furrowed deeply.

 

“Since then, A-rankers have started distancing themselves from the nobility. After the upcoming operation ends… some might leave the kingdom entirely.”

“So tensions are rising between high-ranking adventurers and the big shots?” Hal asked.

Volhelm gave a humorless chuckle. “It might not stop there.”

“What do you mean?”

“The anger isn’t just at the nobles. It’s also directed at those who prioritized coin — those who sold their Mandragora to the rich instead of providing it to the Adventurers’ Guild.”

“So now there’s internal division as well…” Fieda muttered.

“Exactly. On one side you’ve got the high-rankers and those loyal to them. On the other, nobles and the adventurers who cling to their favor.”

Hal grimaced. “Ugly business.”

“It is,” Volhelm nodded. “I doubt Wardon wants to be the face of all this, but he’s being dragged into it whether he likes it or not.”

 

He let out a long sigh, eyes falling to the ground. The longer strands of hair framing his face cast shadows beneath his downturned gaze.

Wardon’s situation was truly unfortunate. Perhaps people were making a fuss without his consent, but in the end, all eyes landed on him — the one suffering the most.

 

“Kekkyo kekekke?”

“Hmm? What is it, Sato?” Ize turned toward the Mandragora.

“It’s asking if it would be better to stay hidden,” Bardveles translated.

“It’s okay, Sato,” Ize said, crouching beside it. “You only come out when it’s safe. That hasn’t changed.”

“Kekyo… Kekke gyegyegyon gyoo…”

“Yes, I understand…” Bardveles nodded. “But this is beyond your control. No need to burden yourself with worry, little one.』

“Gyo! Kyo!”

“It’s worried about its fellow Mandragora. But alas, this is a matter for humans to resolve.”

 

As Bardveles interpreted Sato’s cries, Ize’s expression softened.

Indeed, there was nothing Sato could immediately do about it. Seated atop the futons, with its large leaves drooping and round back hunched, the Mandragora looked every bit like a dejected office worker burdened by the weight of the world.

 

“Sato, your friends in Jasted are fine,” Ize said softly. “And if we meet any of the others in another Dungeon, we’ll figure out together how best to protect them. All right?”

“Kyon!”

 

With that, Sato’s leaves perked up. It launched itself into Ize’s arms and nuzzled her cheeks, making her laugh in delight.

 

“So heartwarming,” Volhelm murmured, eyes narrowed in a smile despite himself.

“I know, right? It’s our mascot character,” Hal said with a chuckle.

“Mas…cot?” Volhelm repeated, puzzled.

“Something that makes people smile,” Ize tried to explain. “Well, sort of.”

“An object of affection,” Hal said.

“Practically our designated pet unit,” Fieda added.

“I get it now,” Volhelm said, his smile deepening. “I was surprised at first, but… seeing Ize and Sato play together like this is really charming.”

 

The sternness from earlier had melted away, replaced by an easy, genuine smile. Clearly, the magic of a mascot character’s presence could work wonders.

 

Satisfied, Fieda gave a firm nod and scanned their surroundings. With the futons laid out and everything in order, they were ready to rest.

 

“All right. Time to bathe and sleep,” he announced. “We’ve got more time tomorrow.”

“Okay! Who’s going first tonight?” Ize asked, bouncing to her feet.

“Mister Volhelm, you want to go ahead? I can show you how to use the bath,” Hal offered.

“That would be helpful.”

“Great! I’ll go last with Sato, so just call me when it’s time.”

“Got it.”

 

Yet for all of Fieda’s foresight and careful planning…

The first night of their A-rank special mission was only just beginning.