[Damien Pov]

The transition was abrupt.

One moment, the Iron-Horse Mark II was rolling over the grey, paved roads of the Dwarven mountain passes, surrounded by snow-capped peaks and the smell of pine.

The next, the road ended.

The carriage hit a ridge, and suddenly, the world turned red.

Ahead of them lay the Western Continent. It wasn't a forest, and it wasn't a kingdom. It was a scar on the face of the world.

Endless canyons of jagged, rust-colored rock stretched to the horizon. The ground was cracked and dry, baking under a sun that seemed twice as large and angry here as it did in the East.

Heat haze shimmered off the ground, distorting the air like a mirage.

"Ugh..." Lyra groaned from the backseat, fanning herself with a large leaf she had conjured. Her grey skin looked pale and sweaty.

"This air... it's dead. There is no moisture. No life. Just dust and fire mana."

"It feels nice," Leona countered from the driver's seat. She had rolled up her sleeves, basking in the sun. "It feels like a kiln. Good for the muscles."

"It feels like an oven," Isabelle muttered, though she was currently eating a Frost-Melon she had bought in Ironforge to keep cool. "Young Master, are we really going in there? My horns are starting to itch."

Damien sat by the window, looking out at the desolation. He wore his new black combat coat, the thermal regulation runes woven into the fabric by Lyra keeping him comfortable despite the blistering heat.

"We are," Damien said, his eyes scanning the distant, towering rock formations that looked like dragon teeth gnawing at the sky.

"The Western Dragon Lands. The graveyard of empires."

He pulled out his notebook from the Void Gem. He flipped past the pages about the Dwarves and landed on a section marked: [Year 2025 - The Gold Rush].

'In the original novel,' Damien thought, tapping the page. 'This is the year it happens.'

'A nameless adventurer, fleeing from a debt collector, stumbles into a fissure in the canyon. He finds a scale. Not a wyvern scale. A True Dragon Scale.'

'He brings it back to the Guild. The news spreads. The Gold Rush begins.'

'Thousands of mercenaries flood the canyon. They wake up the beasts. They trigger the traps.'

Damien looked at the horizon.

'If I'm right, that adventurer hasn't found it yet. But he's close. Fate is moving.'

If the event triggered before Damien arrived, the canyon would be swarming with high-level S-Rank parties from the Human Empire within weeks. The chaos would make finding Ignis nearly impossible.

"We need to hurry," Damien said, closing the book. "Leona, push the horses. We need to reach Wyrm's End before sunset."

"Understood!" Leona snapped the reins.

The Iron-Horse surged forward, its runic suspension dampening the bumps as it tore across the rocky wasteland.

Damien leaned back and closed his eyes.

"System," he whispered. "Open."

He hadn't checked his status since the battle in the Plaza. He had been too busy drinking with the King and planning his business empire.

A blue screen materialized in his mind.

[System Alert!]

[Arc Completed: The Iron Rebellion.]

[Achievements:]

• Tyrant Slayer: Executed Regent Thrain.

• Savior of Iron: Rescued the Prince and the Loyalists.

• Dragon Slayer (Construct): Obliterated a Tier 6 Bone Dragon.

• Kingmaker: Restored King Durin to the throne.

[Calculation Complete...]

[Reward: 25,000 DP.]

Damien's eyes snapped open.

25,000 DP.

It was a fortune. The most he had ever held at one time.

'The Bone Dragon alone was probably worth 10k,' Damien calculated. 'Plus the plot impact of saving the Dwarven Kingdom... giving them back their tech...'

He looked at his balance.

[Current DP: 25,000]

He was rich.

But in the Dragon Lands, money didn't buy survival. Strength did.

He looked at his skills.

[Name: Damien Voss]

[Rank: 4th Order (Greedy King Intent)]

[Physique: Celestial Life Physique (Peak)]

[Skills:]

• Golden Dragon Aura (Tier 4)

• Voss Shadow Magic (Tier 4)

• Shadow Step (Modified)

• Will Materialization (Low)

'I'm strong,' Damien analyzed. 'With the Pantheon Sword and Dual-Core, I can fight a 5th Order. But mobility is my bottleneck.'

'Shadow Step is great for short bursts. But in these canyons? I need to cover miles in seconds. I need verticality.'

"System," Damien commanded mentally. "Upgrade Shadow Step. Evolve it."

[Processing...]

[Proposed Evolution: Shadow Warp.]

• Cost: 5,000 DP.

• Effect: No longer limited to line-of-sight. You can travel to any shadow within your Mana Sense radius (Currently 1km). Instant cast. Reduced mana cost.

"Do it."

[Upgrade Complete. Remaining DP: 20,000.]

Damien felt a shift in his mana circuits. The shadows in the carriage didn't just look like darkness anymore; they looked like doors.

He looked at his next skill. Golden Dragon Aura.

It was stuck at Tier 4. To reach Tier 5, he needed the external catalyst: Dragon Blood. No amount of DP could skip that requirement; the System couldn't generate biological material out of thin air.

'I have 20,000 left. I should save it. If Ignis is hostile... or if the Empire sends someone heavy... I might need a miracle.'

"Young Master," Isabelle's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Look."

Damien looked out the window.

The sun was beginning to set, turning the red canyons into a landscape of blood and long, jagged shadows.

And nestled at the base of a massive cliff, like a fungus growing on a corpse, was a town.

It wasn't a city like Ironforge or Silverwood. It was a shantytown.

Tents made of wyvern leather. Buildings cobbled together from driftwood and monster bones.

Smoke rose from hundreds of campfires.

Even from this distance, Damien could sense the chaotic, lawless mana of the place.

Wyrm's End.

"It's crowded," Lyra noted, her elf eyes narrowing. "There are thousands of signatures down there. Mercenaries. Hunters. Criminals."

"The scum of the earth," Damien agreed, a smile touching his lips. "My kind of people."

"Leona," Damien called out. "Slow down. We don't want to look like we're attacking. We want to look like we're arriving."

"Arriving as what?" Isabelle asked, checking her maid outfit which looked ludicrously out of place in the desert.

Damien adjusted his coat. He let a bit of his Greedy King Intent leak out, just enough to make his presence feel heavy, expensive, and dangerous.

"We aren't fugitives here, Isabelle," Damien said smoothly. "We are investors."

"We are a wealthy, eccentric Noble party here to 'sightsee' the dragons. We have money to burn and guards to kill anyone who tries to take it."

He looked at the dusty, dangerous town getting closer.

"Keep your weapons close. In Wyrm's End, a conversation usually ends with a knife."

"Understood," Leona grinned, cracking her knuckles. "I hope they're rude."

The Iron-Horse Mark II rolled down the final dune, its black steel chassis gleaming in the dying light, heading straight into the belly of the beast.

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