| 1975 |

He was no ordinary man. He was the overlord of Gyangchun, a man with strength beyond comprehension. Raewon was known for his courage and valorous leadership on the outskirts of Korea.

Now, across from his castle, he traveled solo with just his dignity, hoping to come across his desired possession.

The scent of ash and scorched stone lingered in the air when the overlord arrived. Each step echoed through the cavernous ruins, his black robes brushing against the ground like drifting shadows. The world seemed to hold its breath around him—mountains trembling faintly in the distance, the remnants of magic still bleeding through the cracked earth.

Then he saw it.

The creature once called a god. A dragon—though not in its true form—lay collapsed against the shattered altar, its colossal frame twisted into a humanoid shape. Wings, torn and scorched, hung heavy behind him. Silver-black scales were dulled by blood and soot, the faint glow of ancient fire flickering weakly beneath the skin. The once-mighty being trembled, a low, broken growl escaping his throat as he tried to rise and failed.

The Overlord paused a few paces away, eyes gleaming beneath the fall of white hair. He said nothing at first. Power rolled from him in silent waves, the air rippling as if recognizing its master.

“You’ve fallen far, haven’t you?” His voice was quiet, deliberate—neither cruel nor kind, only absolute.

The dragon lifted his head, eyes burning gold through the pain. “Stay back,” he rasped, claws scraping against the ground. “I—will not be pitied.”

“Pity?” The Overlord’s lips curved faintly. “No. I do not waste pity on creatures of fire and ruin.”

He knelt beside him nonetheless, movements as fluid as a blade being drawn. A hand, adorned with dark rings, hovered inches from the dragon’s chest where light pulsed faintly beneath torn flesh.

“Tell me,” he murmured, gaze sharp as moonlight on steel. “Who wounded you so deeply that even your flames could not heal it?”

The dragon’s breath hitched—a sound half-growl, half-laugh. “Does it matter? You’ve come to finish me.”

The Overlord’s smile deepened, shadowed and unreadable. “No,” he said softly. “I’ve come to decide whether you’re worth saving.”