Her light green eyes reflected the crystal within Fang Hong's mind world.

It was colorless and plain, yet it revealed the final map of the Fairy Dragon Knights.

Non-Attribute Dragon Crystal.

And then the light seemed like the world's primordial birth.

...

Rolin coughed lightly.

He looked expressionlessly at the materials in front of him: metals, furs, fabrics, and crystals, along with some unnamed magical products, all cluttered together. Only a professional craftsman could possibly differentiate them one by one.

But he seemed not focused on this competition at all, his dark eyes even appeared somewhat vacant.

The square was very quiet.

Countless eyes silently watched, watching the movements of his hands.

People understood that Golande, the Shadow Throne, and the Ancient Tower People had all withdrawn from the competition, and the only one who could determine the outcome now was a contestant they had never heard of before.

A rather unremarkable Ragnarok team.

And how would this person, their supposed Dragon Slaying Hero of Idus, respond?

Rolin coughed heavily again, almost bending over in discomfort. He leaned on the table, slightly furrowing his attractive brows. After catching his breath for a moment, he palely raised his right hand, which wore an Artisan's Glove with mysterious patterns.

Dark and glowing with a dim golden hue.

He gently spread his fingers.

It was as though a low hum of astonishment emerged from the square.

Two dark gold arrays, intersecting lunar phases, covered with sun patterns, overlapped and rotated on a giant hexagram, unfolding before him. Like an invisible force descending from the square's sky—

In the next moment, all the materials seemed to automatically lift from the table, floating into the air.

Under the dark gold flames, the metal liquefied, and black light filled the star-like structural points.

People had seen that array before.

It was so incompatible with contemporary Alchemy—

"It's the technique used by those two Ragnarok contestants!"

"Ancient Alchemy!"

"But this array seems much larger than before..."

"He actually knows Ancient Alchemy!"

Like a pebble thrown into a calm water surface.

The ordinary spectators didn't understand much about this scene, but they could fully feel the immense force leaping from an unknown dimension onto the square. Just as they were unaware that the dimension had been known for over a thousand years by the Serpent People of Xinsas:

Shining Sea.

Ether Realm—

Inside the VIP box.

All the Alchemists stood up one after another from their seats, watching the scene with incredulous eyes. Some couldn't restrain themselves and walked forward to the railing.

They gripped the railing hard, even causing their knuckles to turn pale due to the force.

Some looked back at Count Westwood Sibika, whose face remained as serious as ever, but deep in his eyes was a faintly gratified light. Almost imperceptibly, he nodded lightly.

It's done.

Alchemists naturally understood more than ordinary people.

They knew it was not just Ancient Alchemy; it came from an even more legendary heritage—the Elf Legacy, Dragon's Mark.

In the faint sound of inhalation.

Only Phales was drawn to the noise of the backdoor opening because he saw the furry Dwarf Goblin nervously walking through the crowd, looking at him fearfully, and shakily pulling out a note.

The Dwarf jumped down from his seat, unnoticed by anyone, walked over, took the note from the Dwarf Goblin without disdain, and glanced at it.

Phales' eyelid twitched, and he looked up:

"He's in the field?"

His heart skipped heavily.

Dalu nodded earnestly, solemnly indicating he wasn't lying; the human said it clearly.

"You better hope this isn't a prank."

Phales lowered his voice and said harshly.

Dalu was extremely frightened but still reached out to tug the other's sleeve. Phales hesitated for a moment, recalling something, and reluctantly pulled out a gold coin, placing it in the other's hand.

"The rest will be given later."

He said.

The Dwarf Goblin nodded repeatedly.

Only then did Phales climb onto his seat to look at the arena, but once he did, he couldn't take his eyes off it.

What he saw wasn't Rolin.

But a pair of gentle, silver eyes.

Separated by nearly a hundred meters, yet that gaze still pierced into his soul, making him feel as if he instantly returned to many years ago. Back then, he was still an apprentice—

He remembered his mentor holding a silver star-shaped crystal and sighing to him: "...It's a pity you haven't experienced that era, otherwise, with your talent in Dragon Soul Crystals, you would have a place..."

The aging Alchemist set the crystal upright before him, and under the heavy silver light lay a tiny, peaceful figure.

"...I won't live to see that day, Phales, but perhaps you still have a chance..."

"Maybe someday, you'll find the only answer..."

"Remember our failure, Phales..."

"But it will succeed one day."

In that heavy crystal.

The silver-haired elf slept soundly, eyelashes drooping, motionless.

How much time has passed?

Yet it seemed like just a moment; even he gradually reached old age. If not for that fleeting glimpse under Fenris, he might have believed everything his mentor told him.

Just a benevolent lie.

But he was wrong.

Because the silver radiance came from the noble Dragon Soul, it seemed like the tip of the dark High Tower, passed down through the ages.

...

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