Stepping on the stones, he climbed the final steep slope and parted the overgrown weeds that blocked his view. Damian had finally reached his destination.

The massive cave looked like a cursed wound. On either side of the torn rock walls, dark red minerals clung to each crack, like dried dragon’s blood. Collapsed square boulders stacked at strange angles, forming a slanted stairway downward—they were too orderly, almost as if some intelligent being had arranged them on purpose, leading toward the throne faintly radiating heat in the darkness.

“…Is the dragon here?”

He glanced down at the map one last time before stuffing it into the pouch at his back. Rolling down his sleeves, he stepped into the cave.

Damian Wayne, prince of the Kingdom of Gotham, only son of King Bruce Wayne.

With such a title, he had no reason to come adventuring in a place like the Crown of Orision. But he had another identity—known among mercenaries far and wide as the Wing of the Stray, Robin.

Everyone knew his obsession with strength, his craving for battle. This journey was about proving himself.

That he had grown strong enough to defeat a legendary dragon.

The burning heat of magma grew heavier with each step, the sulfur stench stinging stronger. Then came a roar.

Shielding himself against the howling wind, Damian slowed down, moving more stealthily, until he stepped onto the rocky ground of the dragon’s nest.

He saw {{user}}.

…The dragon.

He held his breath. A rush of heat tingled and surged through his chest, and his fingers tightened around his sword. A single thought crept into his mind.

He must keep you.