CHAPTER 109: DRAGON OF THE RIVER

"I don’t even know what I’m doing."

Marcus laughed under his breath, a dry chuckle escaping as he stood barefoot in the shimmering mist. He wasn’t bluffing—but he wasn’t empty-handed either.

’Rune creation.’

’Create recommended rune.’

He spoke swiftly in his mind, not even bothering to wait for the system interface to blink into existence. There was no time for hesitation—the scene demanded action, not menus.

A second passed.

Then it responded.

[Rune Created: Anti-Magic Rune (S)]

Marcus’s lips curled into a grin, eyes gleaming with quiet confidence. The soft pulse of magic forming in his palm caught the attention of the others nearby.

Victoria tilted her head.

Cynthia blinked, alert.

The Archmage squinted, monocle glinting.

"Did you find something, young man?" the Archmage asked, voice warm with curiosity.

Marcus looked up, flashed a casual thumbs-up, and replied with a smirk.

"Definitely."

Without any grand gestures, Marcus activated the rune. His palm shimmered—its surface glowing with intertwined runic lines.

The rune pulsed once—warm and reactive—before he pressed it to the waterfall.

He trusted the system completely, even if it meant risking an explosive backfire. If the rune failed or backfired, he’d likely be reduced to a cautionary tale in seconds.

The mist clung to his skin, cool and strangely thick—like it resisted being moved through. Up close, the waterfall wasn’t just water; it hummed with layered enchantments, the sound more song than splash.

Marcus’s gaze lingered on the runes in his palm.

"Please don’t explode," he muttered under his breath, half-joking, half-praying. This was either genius or recklessness, and he wasn’t sure which yet.

But it didn’t fail.

A soft crack echoed across the riverbank—a sound like fragile glass fracturing under pressure.

The seal shattered.

In an instant, harmless blue particles erupted like sparks from a firework, swirling upward in a quiet cascade. The spell’s veil dissipated, revealing a narrow opening hidden behind the enchanted waterfall.

Cynthia stumbled back a step, shielding her face instinctively as glowing mist spilled out from the opening.

Even the Archmage took a moment to whisper something under his breath in a language Marcus didn’t recognize.

The river’s path continued inward, but now the water shimmered with radiant blue light, glowing as if infused with divine enchantment.

"Incredible..." the Archmage murmured, adjusting his monocle with slow reverence. "How did you dispel it so easily?"

Cynthia’s jaw nearly dropped. An Archmage, revered across the empire, had failed to lift the seal—and Marcus had cracked it in moments.

Victoria only smiled, watching him with narrowed eyes and a teasing glint.

She had her suspicions.

Marcus gestured toward the now-visible entrance with a casual sweep of his hand.

"After you, Archmage."

The Archmage chuckled heartily, a spark of amusement in his weathered expression. "How respectful of you."

He walked forward, his robe billowing behind him like a cape—untouched by mud or riverbank. Unlike Marcus, he didn’t remove his shoes or roll up his hems.

He simply walked on water.

Just like Trearch had done.

As the seal’s enchantment weakened, the waterfall no longer resisted—it parted like silk curtains, shimmering in place as if offering them entry.

"Let’s head inside," the Archmage said over his shoulder. "You three deserve to see this."

The trio exchanged a quick nod before following him in.

The cave beyond was breathtaking—an inner sanctum hidden behind the waterfall, glowing not from torches or crystals, but from the water itself. The liquid light along the floor cast rippling reflections onto the smooth stone walls, creating a dreamlike glow.

"Detection..." the Archmage murmured, waving a hand.

A soft pulse of mana surged forward like sonar, rippling invisibly through the cavern’s depths.

"Nothing," he confirmed after a moment. "It seems safe."

The four of them continued deeper into the glowing cave, their steps echoing faintly as questions finally broke the silence behind the Archmage’s lead.

"How did you do it?" Cynthia asked, still baffled.

Victoria grinned knowingly. "Don’t tell me you just happened to have the one rune that could unlock it."

Marcus shrugged, keeping his face straight despite the teasing.

"Yeah. I just happened to have a rune that unlocked it."

"Wait... I thought you only had three?" she asked, squinting—not suspicious, just genuinely trying to piece it together.

Marcus laughed, briefly forgetting he’d ever shared that information. "Well... I managed to learn a new one."

Cynthia didn’t buy it.

With a mischievous smirk, she flicked her fingers—and a drop of river water beneath Marcus shot up, hardened for a second into a slick platform.

Marcus tripped forward slightly.

"Nice try." He smirked, catching himself just in time.

"For now, maybe," Cynthia replied, laughing.

Victoria chuckled softly at their banter, her eyes drifting toward the Archmage ahead—who had stopped walking.

"Guess we’re here," she said, halting.

Cynthia and Marcus followed her gaze.

The Archmage stood in the entrance of a vast chamber. Light shimmered brighter here, the water along the walls cascading down from unseen heights.

He stroked his beard slowly, voice low and reverent.

"Seems like this is a greater find than I initially thought."

Inside the enormous cave lay something ancient.

Something legendary.

A massive serpentine dragon—green-scaled, with a long, winding body—slept at the chamber’s center. Its form coiled like an eternal guardian, its breath slow and deep, untouched by time.

The water trembled around its form, vibrating softly like the surface of a drum.

A distant, echoing thrum filled the air—more felt in the bones than heard.

Then... its massive chest expanded with a slow inhale. The sound was like a storm trapped beneath the surface.

One eye cracked open. Then the other. Both glowing. Watching.

The weight of its gaze pressed down on them—not hostile, but vast, like staring into a thunderstorm that hadn’t decided whether to break.

Its pupils contracted, adjusting to their presence, and the chamber itself seemed to exhale. The dragon was awake. And it was aware.

"...?"

A low, resonant voice filled the air—telepathic, ancient, and echoing.

"Humans. Again. It has been... long."

The voice wasn’t spoken—it arrived in their minds like a memory they hadn’t lived.