Deep within the Abyss—
far below the training grounds, far below the noble halls, past the guarded layers where even monsters walked carefully—
stood the prison chambers.
Cold stone. Iron chains. The kind of place built for things too dangerous to leave free.
And at the center—
a injured blue dragon.
Collared.
Chained.
Dragged in by force.
Two demon generals held the iron restraints, their expressions tense despite the prisoner's condition.
Because even like this—
he was dangerous.
His wings were torn, scales got a lot of cut marks, blood running down old and fresh wounds alike.
One horn chipped.
Claw marks across his chest.
Signs of serval days of relentless battle.
He looked like someone who had fought the Abyss itself—
and refused to apologize.
Yellow eyes. Still sharp.
Still proud.
Still stupid.
Ebruhan.
One of the generals bowed low.
"This pest breached the fourth layer, my lord."
"He has killed five dragons…"
The general hesitated slightly.
"…and over nine hundred of our troops in the last eighteen days."
Silence.
Even Varkryth paused for that.
"…five dragons?."
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
The general lowered his head further.
"Yes, my lord."
Another general stepped forward.
"May we execute him now?"
Varkryth stood there in silence, looking at the prisoner before him.
At the wounds. At the defiance.
At the sheer stupidity required to invade the Abyss alone.
Then—
"No."
The word landed like stone.
The generals froze.
"My lord…? He—"
Varkryth's gaze shifted.
Just once.
It was enough.
"Leave."
A pause.
Then colder—
"Us."
The room became very quiet.
The generals immediately bowed.
"…As you command, my lord."
They secured the chains to the floor and left without another word.
The heavy doors shut behind them.
Silence.
Only the sound of distant lava. And blood dripping slowly onto stone.
Varkryth walked closer.
Slowly.
Studying him.
Ebruhan looked back without lowering his head.
Of course he did.
Varkryth sighed.
Not angry.
Almost… tired.
"What," he said at last,
"were you even thinking, Blue Dot?"
Ebruhan said nothing.
Varkryth folded his arms.
"You crossed four layers of the Abyss."
"Alone."
"You killed dragons."
"You slaughtered hundreds of soldiers."
"You are either very brave…"
He tilted his head.
"…or catastrophically stupid."
A pause.
Then—
"Are you tired of living?"
His purple eyes narrowed.
"Or are you simply stupid?"
Varkryth stood before him, arms folded, looking down at the chained blue dragon like one might examine a very stubborn storm.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
"What made you believe…"
He stepped closer.
"…that you could successfully invade this place, Blue Dot?"
Ebruhan coughed, blood staining the stone beneath him.
Every breath hurt.
Yet he lifted his head anyway.
Yellow eyes steady.
"…Because…"
A pause.
"…I made a promise."
Silence.
Even the lava seemed quieter.
Varkryth narrowed his eyes.
Ebruhan's voice was rough, but it did not shake.
"I said I would bring her back."
Another breath.
Pain.
Didn't matter.
"So I came."
Varkryth stared at him for a long moment.
Then—
"To bring her back?"
And suddenly—
he laughed.
A deep, ancient laugh that echoed through the prison chamber.
Not mockery alone.
Something almost impressed hidden inside it.
"Hahaha…"
He shook his head.
"Not going to happen, Blue Dot."
His eyes glowed faintly in the dark.
"You will die before reaching the next layer."
"You will die here."
His voice lowered.
"Like an insect."
Ebruhan spat blood to the side.
"…I don't give a damn."
That made Varkryth stop laughing.
The blue dragon pulled against the chains, even exhausted, even broken.
"Dragons keep their promises."
Every word landed like steel.
"If I have to crawl through every layer of your abyss…"
"If I have to fight every dragon you command…"
"If I die at your gates…"
His gaze never moved.
"I will still come."
Silence.
Heavy.
Ancient.
Then—
Varkryth laughed again.
Louder this time.
"HAHAHAHAHA!"
The prison walls almost seemed to shake with it.
"Oh…"
"Such bold words."
He leaned down, face to face now.
Purple eyes against yellow.
Monster against dragon.
Father against protector.
"And yet…"
His voice dropped to something quieter.
"…I respect that."
Ebruhan frowned slightly.
Probably because respect from Varkryth somehow felt like a threat.
Varkryth straightened.
"Few would walk willingly into death for a promise."
"Fewer still would make it this far."
He folded his arms again.
"You are either the bravest dragon I have met…"
A pause.
"…or the stupidest."
Ebruhan managed the faintest smirk.
"…Probably both."
Varkryth nodded once.
"Yes."
"Definitely both."
"Tell me, Blue Dot…"
He walked slowly around him.
"Did you truly believe that even if you killed every soldier, every dragon, every beast in the Abyss…"
He stopped behind him.
"…you would not still have to face me?"
The room felt colder.
Ebruhan said nothing.
Varkryth stepped forward again, purple eyes calm and merciless.
"With your current condition?"
He glanced at the blood, the torn wings, the broken scales.
"I doubt that."
Ebruhan let out a rough laugh.
Tired. Bloody. Still arrogant.
"…Haha…"
He lifted his head.
"Then why don't you free me…"
A small grin.
"…and find out?"
Silence.
Then—
Varkryth smiled.
Not warmly.
Never warmly.
"Oh?"
Dark mana gathered around his hand.
Ebruhan tensed—
but instead of attack—
light spread across his body.
Warm.
Powerful.
His wounds began closing.
Broken scales repaired. Cuts vanished. Pain faded.
Even the damage in his wings eased.
Ebruhan blinked in genuine surprise.
That was probably rarer than solar eclipses.
He looked up sharply.
Varkryth stood there like this was perfectly reasonable.
"…What are you doing?"
"Making this interesting."
He stepped closer.
"Here is a deal."
He leaned down slightly, voice low.
"If you can land even a single scratch on me…"
A pause.
"I will allow you to leave."
Ebruhan narrowed his eyes.
Varkryth continued.
"With your little friend."
Silence.
Then colder—
"If you fail…"
His smile thinned.
"…you are dead meat."
No joke. No metaphor.
Just fact.
SNAP.
With a flick of his fingers, the iron collar shattered.
The chains fell to the floor.
Heavy.
Loud.
Freedom.
Ebruhan slowly stood.
His body still remembered pain, but now—
he could move.
Across from him, Varkryth took a single step back.
Relaxed.
Hands behind his back.
Like a teacher humoring a student.
Like a king allowing entertainment.
Like a man completely certain of the outcome.
"Go on, Blue Dot."
His voice echoed through the chamber.
"Show me…"
Purple eyes gleamed.
"…what you've got."