Barbarian's Adventure in a Fantasy World-Chapter 214: The Wandering Merchant’s Quest (3)

For a while, the others couldn’t stop asking Ketal questions. They wanted to know who he had met at Kalosia’s holy land, what he had done in the City of Merfolk, and what he had experienced at the elven sacred ground. Each time Ketal answered, a look of disbelief, awe, or outright shock would cross their faces. The more he explained, the more they began to understand just what kind of person Ketal was.

By the time their curiosity had been sated, the party had arrived at the mountain said to house the dragon’s lair.

***

“This is it,” Seraphina murmured. They stood at the foot of a vast, forested mountain—the entrance to the legendary dragon’s lair. She glanced at Spellweaver. “Can you sense anything?”

Spellweaver stroked his beard, focusing for a long moment before shaking his head.

“Nothing at all. Not a trace,” he replied. His expression was grave.

Bloodedge narrowed his eyes, scanning the mountain as well. “Same for me. If there was a dragon here, I’d expect to feel its aura rippling through the place. But it’s as silent as the grave. My own senses feel muddled, like something’s interfering with my perception.”

“So the rumors were true after all,” Seraphina said quietly.

The existence of the dragon’s lair was one of the continent’s worst-kept secrets. Everyone agreed that somewhere, such a place existed. Yet, nobody had ever found it. The lair’s energy was so perfectly hidden that even the most sensitive magical tracking methods failed to uncover its location. For decades, the Mage Tower had scoured the world for a trace of the dragon’s lair, assembling the greatest minds among magicians and sorcerers. Still, nothing had been found.

Although the Tower Master hadn’t taken part in the search, if even the Mage Tower with all its knowledge and power had failed, then there was little hope for anyone else. The only option left was to physically search each suspicious place, but even that proved impossible.

It was now obvious to all that the entire mountain was shrouded in an unbelievably powerful field that disrupted perception itself.

“It’s a strange feeling,” Spellweaver admitted. “Even when I look right at it, my mind tries to wander somewhere else.”

“If you let your mind drift for even a moment, you’d probably lose track of the mountain altogether,” Bloodedge said. “I can barely keep my focus.”

And if this was the effect on beings as powerful as they were, then anyone weaker would never even realize the mountain existed, much less be able to find the entrance. The mountain itself lay deep within an untraveled range, in a place where no ordinary person would ever set foot. It was no wonder the dragon’s lair had stayed hidden for so long. The more they considered it, the more impressed they were with the Wandering Merchant’s information.

“So the legends were true, even dating back to the Divine-Demonic War,” Spellweaver mused. “But where on earth does the Merchant get this kind of information?”

“I did complain about the high price for the quest,” Bloodedge added, “but if this is the sort of intel he can provide, then I suppose I can’t argue.”

Seraphina nodded in agreement. They all murmured among themselves, quietly acknowledging just how exceptional the Wandering Merchant’s knowledge was.

At that moment, Ketal’s thoughts took a different turn. A high price?

The others were all talking as if they had paid something significant for this information. However, Ketal hadn’t paid anything. All he had done was accept the quest to hunt the dragon. The location of the lair had been given to him as a matter of course.

He kept silent, pondering this quietly, while Bloodedge drew his sword from its scabbard.

“Let’s head in,” Bloodedge said. “If the information is accurate, it’s going to be dangerous.”

Seraphina turned her attention to Ian, the boy trailing nervously behind them. “Ian... Are you sure you want to come? It will be extremely dangerous ahead. Even we can’t guarantee your safety.”

Ian looked terrified but shook his head. “N-no. I want to come with you.”

Seraphina let out a soft sigh. In her heart, she believed that Ian shouldn’t be here. She was responsible for protecting the vulnerable and the young. It was her sacred duty as a follower of the gods. If she could, she would have sent Ian back by force.

However, the Wandering Merchant had insisted Ian was supposed to be here, that he was one of their party. Defying that could have consequences. Seraphina hesitated, uncertain.

While she deliberated, Bloodedge spoke up with his usual bluntness. “Let him do as he wants. The boy made his choice.”

Bloodedge’s worldview was simple. Mercenaries risked their lives for gold and glory; if someone made a decision, they had to live with the consequences.

“Whatever he’s after, it doesn’t matter. He chose to come, so he comes. Whatever happens along the way is his own burden to carry,” he continued.

“But he’s just a child,” Seraphina protested. Her instincts as a protector made it hard to accept such a callous answer.

Bloodedge shrugged. “What would you do, force him to leave? Do you know how the Wandering Merchant would react to that?”

“I just... I can’t put a child in harm’s way. Maybe we should summon the Merchant and talk it out again.”

Bloodedge shook his head. “The Merchant already said there was no problem. I’ve never heard of them going back on their word.”

Tension grew as their principles clashed—mercenary pragmatism against the sacred duty to protect the weak.

Spellweaver glanced at Ketal. “You’re not going to try to stop them?”

Ketal only smiled, visibly enjoying the argument. “Stop them? Why would I?”

Bloodedge and Seraphina couldn’t have been more different, yet both were leaders in their fields. Their disagreement was almost like a miniature clash of worlds, which was one of the reasons Ketal found it all so entertaining. He wanted to see how it would play out.

Spellweaver made a small, exasperated noise. He could see the conflict was going nowhere. Clearing his throat, he stepped in to mediate. “Both of you have good points. There’s no need to fight about it. How about this?”

He turned to Ian, who was still trembling in fear. “The boy clearly isn’t going to change his mind. That being the case, let him come with us, and Seraphina, you do your best to keep him safe. Would that work?”

Seraphina was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, that sounds best.”

Neither side was completely satisfied, but Spellweaver’s compromise was hard to argue with. After all, both Seraphina and Bloodedge represented the honor of their organizations. If one of them were to back down easily, it might damage their order’s prestige. However, with a mediator’s suggestion, everyone could accept the compromise without losing face. Spellweaver’s own status, being nearly their equal, helped settle the issue.

Ketal watched the whole exchange with clear amusement. “Fascinating, isn’t it?”

“I... I guess so,” Ian replied nervously, uncertain whether he really wanted to be here after all.

“Well, it looks like everything’s settled. Let’s go,” Ketal said with a cheerful grin, setting off into the mountain.

***

They entered the dragon’s lair.

Inside, they were greeted not by a dragon, but by a horde of powerful monsters.

“GRAAAAH!”

“KAAAAAH!”

“It’s like the monsters are holding a festival,” Spellweaver remarked with a dry laugh, surveying the chaos.

The party quickly realized that the rumors about dragon lairs were true. Though there wasn’t much public knowledge about them, there were some tidbits: dragon lairs were never normal mountains. Instead, each one became a prison for monsters from across the world—abominations the dragon had collected, imprisoned, or perhaps just brought for its own amusement.

Nobody knew if it was a hobby or some sort of perverse collector’s instinct, but the result was the same: dragon lairs were packed with monsters, each one more formidable than the last, and the monsters in front of them were proof.

“Basilisks, wyverns, drakes... Even a hydra. It’s a regular menagerie,” Spellweaver commented, taking in the variety. Even ogres looked weak in comparison.

Any one of these creatures, set loose in the wild, would devastate an entire region. Even the bravest warriors would hesitate to challenge such monsters alone.

However, for Ketal and his party, these threats posed little concern.

The hydra struck first, a monstrous beast with nine heads, each one dripping venom potent enough to kill a man before he could take three steps. Its skin was so tough that ordinary weapons would barely scratch it, and as long as even one head remained, it would not die. Such monsters were only seen in the most dangerous, AAA-Rank Dungeons.

“Been a while since I saw a hydra,” Bloodedge said, lifting his sword with an easy confidence. In a blur of movement, he launched himself forward. Before the hydra could react, Bloodedge was on the other side of it. The beast twisted, trying to snap at him, but then its massive body fell apart in dozens of pieces, blood pooling across the stone. Bloodedge calmly wiped the blade clean.

Dozens of wyverns swooped down next, claws slashing through the air. Seraphina clasped her hands in prayer. “O Sun God, shine your brilliant light upon us.”

A radiant sphere of sunlight appeared above, drenching the wyverns in searing light and heat. Their leathery wings caught fire, and one by one they plummeted from the sky, dead before they hit the ground. It was just a simple prayer, yet the power Seraphina invoked far surpassed anything most priests or even Aquaz could muster.

Spellweaver’s gaze swept over the remaining monsters, his eyes shining with scholarly interest.

“Such precious specimens,” he muttered, sounding almost regretful as he raised his staff. With a sweep of his hand, shadows erupted across the ground, snaking out to engulf the monsters.

It was high noon outside, but the mountain’s shadows moved as if night had fallen. One after another, monsters flailed helplessly as the shadows dragged them down, swallowing them as easily as a swamp.

Spellweaver watched, deeply satisfied. “I’ll have to study these later.”

Ketal watched the display in wonder. He had known many powerful people like Aquaz, Baker of the Mage Tower, and Swordmasters Maximus and Cain. All of them were classified as Transcendents, able to accomplish feats that ordinary people could only dream of.

However, these three, Seraphina, Spellweaver, Bloodedge, were on an entirely different level.

So this is what the highest level of Transcendent strength looks like, Ketal mused.

Ketal had never seen a human who stood at the peak of the Transcendent tier. The ones he had encountered were either simply Transcendents or already at the level of Heroes. He had met a few demons that were in the highest level of Transcendent, but their powers were so unusual that they couldn’t be directly compared.

However, now, watching his companions battle, Ketal could clearly feel the difference. There was a real, unmistakable gap.

Meanwhile, his companions were also watching Ketal with growing amazement. Ketal had not yet joined the fray, but that didn’t mean he was idle.

With a thought, Ketaal summoned his own power. A wave of primordial fire swept through the forest, incinerating the monsters without leaving even ash behind. The flames, so intense and ancient they predated the world itself, did not harm a single blade of grass or tree.

Spellweaver gaped in awe. “So that’s the power of a Legendary spirit!”

Bloodedge and Seraphina looked equally astonished. For as long as anyone could remember, only elves had been able to contract with spirits of that magnitude, and they never left their sacred ground. To see such power firsthand was a rare privilege.

“With power like that... there’s not much difference between him and the rest of us,” Bloodedge remarked, still stunned by the display.

The group continued to watch Fiego, Ketal’s spirit, as the bull of fire swept through the enemy ranks. Fiego seemed to grow more irritable the more they stared at him, and its flames flared even hotter.

“What is this? Why am I being treated like some zoo animal?” Fiego muttered, its voice brimming with annoyance. It never imagined it would ever face such indignity.

However, what truly unsettled Fiego was something else.

Beside it, Ketal continued to watch the others fight, marveling openly at their strength. “Amazing. This is what true power looks like.”

“What are you doing?” Fiego grumbled.

“I’m observing. These people are truly formidable.”

“They’re certainly not weak, I’ll give them that.”

From Fiego’s perspective, the strength of Seraphina, Spellweaver, and Bloodedge was indeed extraordinary; only a few on the continent could rival them. However, compared to Ketal, Fiego knew that their power was on par with its own, and Ketal had defeated Fiego with a single strike. If Ketal truly wished to, he could crush any of them just as easily.

To Fiego, all this was as meaningless as watching children play pretend. Yet, Ketal was watching the battles with genuine admiration, fascinated by the very people he could easily overpower.

“Are you seriously impressed by them?” Fiego asked Ketal, dumbfounded.

“I am. Their skills are incredible. I’d like to learn from them,” Ketal replied earnestly.

Fiego could only mutter to itself, “Unbelievable. The man’s insane.”