Chapter 230: The God of Hunger, Ferderica

That night, with her daily tasks finally complete, Milayna at last had the chance to sit down and listen to Ketal’s story. She sat across from him in a quiet parlor of the Akasha family estate, the light of the lanterns flickering softly across her face.

She listened in growing disbelief as Ketal recounted the events of the past several days: the quest from the Wandering Merchant, the journey to the dragon’s lair, the battle that had nearly shattered the world itself, and the final confrontation with Ignisia, the legendary Elder Dragon.

When he finished, she was silent for a long moment, trying to process everything she had heard. Then, her voice trembled. “You mean... you actually killed a dragon?”

Ketal nodded, utterly calm. “That’s right.”

For Milayna, the words carried a weight that almost seemed to bend the air around them. To kill a dragon meant only one thing.

She spoke again, almost in awe. “A... Dragon Slayer.”

Ketal looked momentarily surprised, then broke into a sheepish grin. “Ah. I suppose that does make me one, doesn’t it?”

He had been so focused on the battle itself, and then the aftermath with Ignisia, that he’d completely forgotten the legendary title that now belonged to him.

Milayna just stared, wide-eyed. The mere thought of the title, Dragon Slayer, was enough to shake the entire continent. For her, an ordinary person, it was like being told that someone had single-handedly scaled the tallest mountain on the continent and then casually came home for tea. Yet Ketal seemed to treat the whole matter as if he had picked up an interesting new trinket.

She managed to find her voice. “Is that... all there is to it?”

Ketal shrugged, still wearing a satisfied smile. “I didn’t do it alone. We fought as a party.”

Milayna nodded. “You mean Lady Seraphina, Lord Bloodedge, and Spellweaver, correct? The four of you killed the dragon together?”

“That’s right. We all combined our strength and took it down.”

If the others had been there to hear it, they would have objected at once. They had been utterly outmatched, nearly killed by the dragon’s overwhelming might. In truth, it had been Ketal alone who struck the decisive blows. After the fight, each member had gone their separate ways, none of them daring to claim credit for the dragon’s death. Only Ketal thought of it as a shared accomplishment.

He sounded a little wistful. “It’s a shame I didn’t get to say a proper farewell before leaving. There was more I wanted to talk about, but the Wandering Merchant sent them back before I could.”

He brightened after a moment. “Still, I’m sure we’ll meet again. I’ll save those conversations for next time.”

Milayna struggled to reply, still reeling from the scale of what she was hearing. Ketal spoke with such lightness, as if recounting a pleasant stroll or a day spent playing a game. However, she couldn’t imagine taking any of this lightly. After all, the people he had fought alongside were the most famous heroes on the continent.

Seraphina was the Chief Inquisitor of the Sun God, known across the continent as the representative of the Sun God’s Church and the very embodiment of her faith. Bloodedge, the Mercenary King, was a living legend among warriors, a man whose presence alone could influence the fate of entire nations. Spellweaver served as the Headmaster of the Void-Reflected Shadow School within the Mage Tower, and he was celebrated as a master among mages.

Even Maximus, the greatest Swordmaster in the Denian Kingdom, and the king himself could not compare to the renown these figures commanded.

Ketal had called them his party. It was a story that seemed impossible to accept, especially for someone like her.

Ketal tilted his head, noticing her stunned silence. “Something wrong?”

As he thought it over, he realized why she was so taken aback. If he compared it to his life on Earth, it was as if a friend had suddenly returned from a camping trip with a group of the world’s most famous movie stars. The comparison made him smile; no wonder she was having trouble believing him.

However, even those renowned individuals weren’t the main characters of this story. There was someone who outshone even them. With a sigh, Milayna said, “And... you met the Elder Dragon, Ignisia, as well?”

Ketal nodded. “Yes. I heard she’s known as the Architect of the Mage Tower. Is that true?”

“It is,” Milayna confirmed.

She explained the story as it was told throughout the continent. The Mage Tower, home to all the greatest mages, was a miracle that not even its master could have built alone. In the end, the tower’s founder sought the aid of the dragons, the race born of pure magic. Only with their help could such a feat be achieved.

Among those dragons, it was Ignisia, the great Elder Dragon, who agreed to lend her power. But not without a price. She demanded that the Tower Master prove himself worthy, that he demonstrate he had the right to build such a grand edifice.

It was a story of pride and challenge, ending in Tower Master finally overcoming Ignisia through a battle of wit and will, and winning her cooperation. It was a tale known throughout the land.

Ketal listened, his interest piqued. “So the Tower Master is even stronger than Ignisia?”

Ignisia’s power was overwhelming. Ketal knew that better than anyone now. Their battle had been the first time since leaving the White Snowfield that he’d truly fought with all his might. The idea that the Tower Master had managed to best Ignisia made him grin. There was still so much he didn’t know about the Outside. He looked forward to the future with genuine excitement.

“I think I’ll be happier not trying to understand all this. It’s just too much for me.” Milayna could only shake her head, a rueful smile on her lips. She decided to let go of her attempts to make sense of it all. “So, you achieved what you wanted, then?”

“I did.” Ketal grinned.

The rewards of his quest were beyond what he had hoped. He had obtained Myst—the legendary power of the world.

“Congratulations,” Milayna said, smiling at last.

“Thank you.”

She looked at him, concern flickering in her eyes. “Are you sure you can control the Myst? There won’t be any problems?”

“It’s not perfect,” Ketal admitted, glancing inward. Even now, the Myst rumbled within him. It was restless and savage, like a wild beast bound in chains, bristling with resentment.

“Stay still,” he commanded silently, projecting his will into the core of his being.

The Myst pushed back, straining to be free, but his forceful intent made it lower its head, subdued for now.

“It’s dangerous, but I can manage it. I don’t foresee any real trouble,” Ketal explained.

Milayna gulped nervously at his words. The way he described it, it sounded as though he was wrestling a caged monster inside himself.

Is Myst supposed to be that dangerous?

she wondered. She had never heard of such a thing, but if the one who wielded Myst said so, she would have to believe it.

Feeling the conversation drawing to a close, Milayna let out a sigh. “That really is a lot. It’s just too much for someone like me.”

“It’s all in the past now,” Ketal assured her. “But, could I ask a favor?”

“Of course. What do you need?”

“Could you help me find a teacher? Someone who can help me master Myst through swordsmanship or magic?”

He knew he needed guidance to master these new powers, and it would be impossible to figure everything out alone.

Milayna nodded at once. “Certainly. Which do you prefer—swordsmanship or magic?”

“Swordsmanship, if possible.”

“In that case... what about Maximus? I’m sure he would teach you, if you asked.”

Ketal considered this, then shook his head. “He’s an impressive teacher, but his style is based on physical strength. I’d rather learn a sword art with a more mystical aspect.”

If only Kain were here

, he thought. The way Kain’s blade could give birth to illusions fascinated him. It was precisely the kind of mysterious technique Ketal wanted to master.

Sensing his disappointment, Milayna nodded. “I’ll look into it. It might take some time to find someone of that level, at least an Advanced master or better.”

“I don’t mind waiting. Please, take your time.” Ketal’s easy smile seemed to reassure her.

***

With that, Milayna began the search for someone who could teach Ketal the subtleties of swordsmanship infused with Myst. Ketal himself settled into a rare state of leisure. However, he didn’t intend to do nothing; since Milayna was helping him, he decided to repay the favor by assisting her with her own work, specifically the crafting of artifacts.

He called Fiego into the workshop.

“What is it this time...?” Fiego said.

“I’d like you to help me make some artifacts,” Ketal said.

Fiego grumbled, but ultimately began working without further protest. “So, did you win your battle with the dragon?”

“I did,” Ketal replied simply.

Fiego didn’t look surprised. It had always believed in Ketal’s strength. Even a young dragon, fresh into adulthood, would have no chance against him. However, Ketal’s next words made even Fiego hesitate.

“After that, I met Ignisia as well,” Ketal said.

“Ignisia? You don’t mean... the Elder Dragon?” Fiego’s disbelief was obvious.

“Yes. The boy who was traveling with us turned out to be Ignisia.”

“What?” Fiego nearly dropped the artifact it was working on. The powerless boy who had tagged along with them had actually been Ignisia in disguise. “Now that I think about it, that really was strange... No ordinary boy would have survived a hunt for a dragon. But at the time, it didn’t occur to me. Some kind of interference with perception, maybe.”

Ketal smiled. “Exactly. You figured it out.”

“Wait. Don’t tell me, you fought Ignisia, too?”

“I did. She was incredibly strong. I’d like to fight her again someday.”

Fiego could only stare, aghast. “You’re insane.”

Ignisia wasn’t just any dragon. She was a being whose power likely exceeded even Karin, the High Elf Queen. To say that out loud was to claim that, among all the elves, there was none who could stand against Ketal.

Fiego had always known Ketal was powerful, but it had thought him to be on par with Karin, not far beyond her. If Ketal was telling the truth, the gap was far larger than Fiego had imagined.

“If you’re that strong, do you even need me anymore? Maybe you should release our contract,” Fiego said.

“That will never happen,” Ketal said with a gentle smile that left no room for argument. “I need you by my side.”

Fiego found itself speechless. It had no rebuttal.

What a strange, crazy man I’ve gotten tangled up with,

Fiego thought. For the first time, Fiego found itself cursing the Spirit God.

After that, life in the capital settled into a peaceful routine. Milayna continued her search for a worthy instructor, while Ketal enjoyed the rare luxury of taking things easy. The only interruption came from Maximus, who stopped by to ask what had happened during Ketal’s absence, but nothing else of note occurred.

It had been a while, but Ketal was finally enjoying true leisure, no battles, no urgent quests, just quiet days and restful nights.

This is new,

he thought, savoring the sense of belonging he felt. For the first time, he truly felt like a part of the world. He planned to continue this slow, peaceful existence until a teacher was found for him. However, fate had other ideas.

One evening, as he was returning to the Akasha family home after a day spent exploring the city, he noticed the streets were beginning to empty as darkness fell. The people who passed him no longer gave him a second glance. By now, he had become an accepted presence in Denian’s capital.

However, as he was about to turn the final corner, someone blocked his path. He looked up, surprised.

There were several of them, standing in the middle of the street. Their clothes were filthy and tattered, resembling beggars more than anything else. Their hair was matted, their faces smudged with dirt and grime. Unless one looked very closely, it would have been impossible to tell that these were the robes of priests.

Ketal thought nothing of it at first, and reached into his pocket to offer some spare coins. But then, the woman at the front spoke, her voice trembling with excitement and exhaustion—a person who had suffered for months and finally found what she was looking for.

“At last... At long last, we have found you. Sinner of the Revelation.”

Ketal blinked in confusion. “Are you talking to me?”

The woman stepped forward, her gaze intense. “Your name is Ketal, is it not?”

“That’s correct,” he replied.

A look of grim certainty flashed in her eyes. She raised her hand, and light gathered in the air, coalescing into the shape of a sword.

Ketal’s eyes widened. He recognized the nature of that light immediately—it was holy power.

The woman drew the sword and pointed it directly at Ketal, as if passing judgment.

Her voice was solemn and unyielding. “I am Riltara, priestess of Ferderica, the God of Hunger. By the will of the great Ferderica, I will bring you to our holy land. Come, Ketal the Barbarian.”