The voice in my ears was actually extremely unfamiliar.

Young, cold, with a clear and crisp articulation, with a natural arrogance, quite different from the vague and immature voice that Scott remembers, always preferring to drag out a syllable.

As soon as he opened his eyes, he could confirm if it was Is...... He prefers to keep his eyes closed and lie to himself that it is not.

But who else could that be?

The boy, who had only been ten years old since he left, was now a powerful ice dragon. It was proud and cruel, but at least it didn't seem to be vile—should he take some comfort in it?

For a moment he almost wanted to laugh out loud at himself. Despair swam through his body like a cold snake, and the heat that followed was a burning rage.

He didn't know if it was for Is, or for himself.

Maybe it was wrong in the first place...... As Keller Brian said, "That's a dragon, and any of you have ever heard of a good dragon?"

The half-elf is always right. Cold, but absolutely right.

Scott lay there in a trance, not wanting to move, until he remembered that Ed-the elf was so sure that Iss would not hand him over to the necromancer, but he might be wrong.

It was Vala's son, who was born on the same day as Is, his true relative, but he still failed to protect him.

He didn't know if Ed was still alive and had escaped with the barbarians. He's got to figure it out...... No matter what, he had to save a loved one.

When he opened his eyes, he remained motionless, just trying to move his eyes and look around. His hands were tied behind his back, his mouth was gagged, and his face was painfully strangled by a belt.

Of course, he was a priest, and there was no way the necromancers would have left him his most powerful weapon.

There were four undead standing outside the cage, and two more a little farther away. Guarding Tum, the old man who was angrily yelling at the necromancer in front of him, "Then drag all the corpses back!".

Master Toom, who needed to clean up the mess, didn't seem to care about him for a while.

Scott closed his eyes and waited quietly, listening to the footsteps coming in and out. until the surroundings are quiet.

He squirmed and sat up, only to hear a beastly roar and the sound of something hitting the bar.

There was also a barbarian in the cage next to him, who was now screaming and shaking the iron bar frantically, and even desperately stretched out his hand to his side, as if trying to grab him and tear him apart.

Scott stood up, walked closer, and looked at him suspiciously, unable to tell if it was a runaway undead or a mad living man.

The loud sound alarmed the others, and a necromancer ran over.

"Ah, you're awake. He said. "Lucky fellow, Master Tum is a little busy right now, but he'll be back soon—trust me, you'd rather be dead by then. ”

He looked at Scott for a moment, looking up and down. As if studying how Master Tum would carefully slice open the priest's body, Scott turned around with a frown before snickering and walking away.

Scott looked down at the barbarian, still roaring and reaching out to him. There was a slight distance between the two cages, and no matter how hard the barbarians tried, only the twisted fingertips could reach into Scott's cage. Almost all of the nails on the jet-black fingers had cracked or fallen off, and even white bones could be faintly visible, but they still looked very powerful. But the blood oozing from the wound was still not red, but grayish-green.

The liquid kept the body incorruptible for longer - but it also proved death. But the undead in front of him was clearly suffering from another kind of painful torment. Its broken soul still refuses to give up. but doomed.

Anger overshadowed sadness and exhaustion little by little, giving Scott a little strength to persevere.

He cautiously approached the barbarian, judging the angle, and letting his face get closer and closer to the fingers that were constantly bending and stretching, as if they would not give up until they caught something, and said nothing as their cheeks were deeply bloodied. It wasn't until the fingertips tugged tightly at the edge of the belt that sealed his mouth that he jerked up.

With the sharp pain when the muscles on the right side of the face were torn, the belt was torn off. Scott spat out the ball of cloth in his mouth, chanting the incantation low and fast as the barbarians roared even more frantically.

Purification may be ineffective, but there is a power that no flesh or blood, not even rock or metal, can resist.

Tuscany Tum stopped in astonishment. Seeing the bright light of the fire suddenly rushing out of his laboratory, a terrible scream rang out suddenly, as if it had been cut off by someone.

While ordering the guards to move forward, Toom quickly stepped back. He instinctively sensed danger.

A figure strode out of the laboratory, not too tall for an old mage accustomed to seeing barbarians, but the fading fire behind him cast his shadow onto the rocks, a large, hideous shadow barely humanoid, covering most of the cavern.

The surrounding undead had already discovered the enemy's presence and quickly surrounded it. But most of them were surrounded by raging flames before they could rush in front of the man.

It wasn't your average flame, it had a strange golden red color, and it wouldn't take long to burn a barbarian's body to a pile of ashes, and even if he was far away, Toom could already feel the heat in his face.

He immediately called back the guards, pulled up his robes, turned around and ran back. At this age, having lived in hiding for decades, he already knew when to throw aside his grace and dignity.

He still underestimated the power of the human priest - he might have been a mage at the same time, but at that age, he was still incredibly powerful...... Maybe he's actually an elf or half-elf?

The old necromancer fled to his vault while regretting that he had been too hasty to take a closer look at the unconscious man who had been carried back by the undead. Or, he should have simply pulled out his tongue first, spell silence has long been a legend, whether it is a priest or a mage, it is equivalent to a waste if he can't speak,......

He turned a corner and almost hit one of the necromancers, who quickly turned sideways and said sarcastically, "Still running fast, Master Toom." ”

It was Bingmang—the young ice dragon.

Tum stopped and eagerly grabbed Bingmang's shoulder, "We need your help!"

Bing Mang frowned and said, "I seem to have made it very clear......"

"That priest!" Tum interrupted, "he's definitely not an ordinary priest, he's capable of manipulating flames...... No, it's not an ordinary flame either, it's like ...... Dragon's Breath!"

Looking at the ice dragon in front of him, the old mage finally thought of the most appropriate description: "It's like the flame spewed out by the legendary flame dragon! Who else can deal with this besides you?"

The look of disbelief on Bingmang's face made Toom feel that his panic was completely understandable - how much could there be in the world that could shock a dragon?

"Pastor?" he asked, his voice soft as if he were talking to himself, "S...... The man you caught? The blonde one?"

"That's him!" Tum affirmed.

Bing Mang glared at him with a strange look for a moment, then jerked him away and rushed towards the path he had come from.

There was a short, short period of time when those memories that belonged to humans did not exist in the minds of the ice dragons.

When it returned to its original form, broke through the dark and cramped prison beneath the Temple of Collins, and burst out of the water and into the sky, it had nothing but the memory of its ancestors that it had not yet had time to absorb. And about itself, there is only a blank space except that it knows that it is an ice dragon.

Blank memories, and full of anger, the rage is overwhelming, burning everything.

It instinctively flew north. When Christus, the small, human castle came into its sight, the first thing it could remember was Ankramarat Iceman, its mother's memory of what the castle had been when it was first built.

Then a human face popped out out of nowhere. Short blonde hair, transparent light blue eyes, young and handsome, bright smile without a hint of shadow.

Scott -- It hears that childish voice in its own heart.

Scott.

Brother.

I'll be obedient.

Will you pick me up soon?

Where the hell are you?......

Countless images swarmed in it, making it almost unbearable to fall headlong to the ground, barely gliding and crashing into the castle of Criess.

Is-Christus. That fragile and useless human has an incredibly resilient soul. Even if his short life was nothing more than a phantom of lies, it still stubbornly entrenched in its soul, refusing to disappear no matter what.

Scott's face was so clear in its memory. It took Ise too long to stare at the face—as Scott coaxed him to sleep as a baby and died of his own sleep, as Scott walked backwards and tricked Ace, who had just learned to walk, to stagger towards him, as they passed the long afternoon together with ridiculous games......

But those are all fake.

The ice dragon roared and almost destroyed the entire castle of Chrysers, if it weren't for the fool who claimed to be his friend who called it its name—the name it once had, the name it didn't want to admit but couldn't get rid of.

Anger is replaced by blankness. It flew away from Christus without looking back, but it never escaped the human's name.

The confusion of that time still haunts me today. It never figured out who it really was and who it should be. Even if Ed Singal catches up with it and unrelentingly makes it admit that they are still friends, the confusion of not knowing where to go is still the same.

The most familiar faces in my memory are still as clear as ever.

Laughing, in a daze, angry, serious, sad, impatient...... It knew his every expression.

- Except for the one in front of me.