Chapter 3: Dragon's Dream (1)
There are countless legends and hidden realms passed down in this world.
Stories of a queen who rules a castle made of crystal, protected by twelve knights...
Tales of a dragon rider who traveled the world on the backs of three great dragons…
Of ogres who spoke human language and lived quietly among civilization…
Of a Goblin King who felled dragons with a branch and married a human princess…
And a hero who, with the wings of a bird and legs of a dog, ran endlessly through the skies…
The list is endless.
Yet among these myths, there is one legend that bears a trace of reality—the story of the "Phantom City."
I first heard this tale during a conversation with the great adventurer Parus.
Parus was no ordinary adventurer. He wandered through the most perilous lands—places even the bravest wouldn't dare enter—and left behind countless stories and records. He was a true hero.
That is why I, the author, believe this story carries weight.
While gathering accounts of his adventures, I happened upon a rare opportunity to speak with him directly.
When I asked him, "What was your most dangerous experience?", he listed three:
"Third, the time I was chased through the Beastman Kingdom by furious beastfolk with boiling blood.
Second, being poisoned in the Great Forest of Tob and pursued by a Crown Bear through toxic terrain.
And first… when I got lost in the Azerlisia Mountains, ran from a Quagoas pack, and discovered a strange—but fantastical—city."
According to what I know, the northern Azerlisia Mountains are home to powerful Frost Dragons, locked in constant struggle with the fearsome Frost Giants.
In the lower regions live Dwarven cities, while the Quagoas—beast-like demi-humans—dwell in burrows deep inside the range.
But as far as I'm aware, no nation or city has ever existed there.
When I asked about this anomaly, Parus gave me a wrinkled smile and said:
"It was a strange city. I never knew so many types of beastfolk even existed."
"Beastfolk?"
"Yes, beastfolk—but not like the ones we know. Sure, some had the heads of wild beasts, but others had much stranger features. Some looked like birds, others like livestock, and even more bore appearances I can't quite describe. The strangest part… was that humans lived among them."
"Humans? With beastfolk?"
He nodded slowly, his eyes growing distant—dreamlike—as he continued:
"That's right. Humans. I'd been running for days, chased by wyverns on the mountain ridge, then ambushed by Quagoas in a cave. I was exhausted, and when I saw them, I spoke up. I figured if I was going to die anyway, I'd rather fall to a fellow human than be eaten alive. But they didn't kill me. Instead, they led me into their fortress. What struck me first was their wall—it wasn't made of stone, but of a smooth, shining ore, as if carved from a single gem.
And inside… the streets were clean and orderly, the buildings tall and well-kept, glowing with crystal lamps. Beastfolk and humans walked side by side, chatting, laughing, even throwing arms around each other as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
I was so stunned, I fell to my knees. It felt like something out of a fairytale."
"Such a city… really exists?"
"Don't ask me. These days, I'm not even sure myself."
Parus let out a sigh, then continued:
"I stayed there a short while. Everyone was friendly. They asked me many questions, and I answered them gladly. Their city was rich, bright beyond belief for something said to be underground. At first, I didn't know why—but later I noticed: the streets were lined with high-grade crystal lights, more common than torches. And at set times, the sky above would glow as if sunlight were pouring in. My room was beyond comfortable, and the food I was served was so good I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. And their baths… hah! I've traveled the world, dined with kings and nobles, but I've never been treated with such hospitality."
"And then… someone came to visit me."
"Visited you?"
"Yes... and I think this will surprise you."
He sighed deeply, then looked at me and asked:
"By any chance... do you know Behern?"
"Behern? As in Behern the Fierce, one of the Thirteen Heroes from the Evil Deities War?!"
"That's the one. He was there."
"What?!"
Just as Parus had said, I was utterly stunned.
It had only been twenty years since the Thirteen Heroes defeated the Evil Deities and brought peace to the world.
These legendary figures were elevated by the people—granted noble titles, made lords, and given lands.
But not long after their separation, most of them had disappeared from the public eye, choosing solitude or fading into obscurity.
I myself had once tried to seek them out—but I never even got close.
And now Parus was telling me Behern the Fierce—the mighty warrior who swung a greatsword like a twig and always led the charge—was there?
"Lord Behern? Wasn't he supposed to be in the Empire? I heard he refused power, never started a family, and lived quietly in seclusion…"
"No. He was definitely there. I saw him once after the Evil Deities War, and back then he seemed… melancholic, mourning the days he spent with his comrades. But the man I saw in that city looked truly happy—he seemed ten years younger."
"That can't be…"
If the Empire knew about this, they would move heaven and earth to reclaim their hero. I was afraid, but for the sake of truth, I wrote everything down.
"He said to me, 'Parus! Has it been twenty years already?' And then, 'You're the first to find this place on your own! Truly worthy of the title greatest adventurer in the world!' He laughed heartily."
"I asked him what you're probably thinking now: 'Why are you here, when you should be in the Empire?'
And he answered, 'I'm exactly where I want to be!' with a booming laugh."
"But the real surprise came after that. As we talked, others arrived—and each of them was just as shocking."
"Every single one… was a hero I'd once heard had vanished before I even began my adventuring days.
I won't name names, but if word got out that all those heroes were alive and well, laughing and enjoying life together… the entire continent would erupt in chaos."
"W-what? You mean those people, those heroes are really…?"
I tried to ask for their names, but Parus raised his hand to stop me.
His hand, though wrinkled from age, belonged to a man who had once been the greatest adventurer in the world. His sharp blue eyes carried a weight that silenced me.
I understood—he couldn't say. In this age where heroes are slowly disappearing, even their names carry immense power. The thought that they were all gathered together sent chills down my spine.
"Well, in any case, they seemed happy. And then they said to me: 'Parus! You actually made it here? Impressive! You meet the conditions!' I asked, 'Conditions? What do you mean?' And they told me, 'You're eligible to live here. Consider yourself lucky—less than ten people a generation manage to reach this place!' They congratulated me, but I didn't understand what they meant.*
"I thought they were teasing me, so I replied, 'Why would I live here? I still have adventures to finish!'
They looked surprised—but nodded and left. After that, I never saw them again."
Parus let out a deep sigh. There was emotion in that breath—something like regret, I thought.
"After recovering my strength, I left the city. A few people came by and asked if I intended to leave.
I said yes, and they led me to the same gate I had entered through. The massive door opened, and I walked out of the city. Strangely, although I had wandered underground for days before finding it, after just a few steps… everything around me brightened. Before I knew it, I was standing on the grasslands at the base of the mountains."
"Was it… magic?"
"I don't know. I'm no magician. But if it was magic, then it's on a level no modern sorcerer could reach…
A few years later, I went back to search for the city again. I scoured every cave in the Azerlisia Mountains. But I never found it."
At that point, Parus leaned back in his armchair, clearly exhausted.
"I wanted to find that city again… To meet those beastfolk and humans once more. To sit with them and talk—about everything and anything. But I've grown old. My legs can no longer carry me on adventures. So instead, I searched through every old record I could find—myths, legends, folklore…"
"And…?"
"I found this."
Parus lifted his head and picked up an old book from the side table.
He flipped through its worn pages, then pointed to a passage and handed it to me.
At the end of the mountains, in the unreachable darkness below—there, they were waiting. By chance, my companions and I witnessed the Phantom City at the end of the White Mountains. But we shall never again attempt to find them.
They came in countless forms—beings both fearsome and yet not to be feared.
Their city glowed with light and abundance, yet desired nothing beyond itself.
But do not seek them out.
Do not provoke them.
Do not touch them.
Do not involve yourself with them.
And above all else—never dishonor their slumbering sovereign.
Not even in a dream. Not even in jest.
If you do, you will spend the rest of your life slowly dying, unseen by eyes that never close.
All fled. I alone escaped. And now, while no one is watching, I leave behind these words.
These few lines, almost poetic in structure, were saturated with menace and dread.
After I finished reading, I returned the document to Parus, who smiled and said:
"This is an excerpt from an old manuscript I discovered about ten years ago. It wasn't that old when I found it. But contrary to the ominous tone of this warning, the ones I met were remarkably polite, noble even. They followed their own strict codes and maintained order among themselves. That's why, at the time, I didn't connect this writing to them. But after recalling my conversations with them… I realized this must have been referring to them."
"What part gave it away?"
Parus pointed to one line.
'The Slumbering Sovereign.'
"They told me their king was in a long sleep. I didn't think much of it then—but looking back, I realize that detail may have been central to everything. Had I, like the companions of the man who wrote this, unknowingly disrespected that king, I might not have returned. From the writer's note that 'everyone else disappeared,' it seems they were not forgiven. But since this one person survived, perhaps only the offender was punished."
"Then… do you think there are still people alive in that place?"
"Who knows? Only they would. But considering how well the heroes were doing there, I wouldn't be surprised. If I were given another chance, I too would wish to return to that city... And perhaps you've heard—lately, many of the still-active heroes have started disappearing, one by one. I wonder... could they be headed there as well?"
Parus let out a quiet laugh.
"I'm too old now to keep adventuring, but before my time is up, I'd like to try one more time—to seek out that mountain range. If luck guides me again, and if they allow it, I'd like to spend the rest of my days in that phantom city. It sounds silly to say, but maybe… even this old man is being called a hero now."
With those words, Parus ended our conversation with a smile.
...
When I returned some time later to visit him again, he was no longer at his estate. His children said he had left for the mountains—to find them one last time.
Did the great adventurer Parus ever find what he was searching for?
Years have passed, and he has never returned.
Now, as I pen the final lines of this book, I find myself thinking of that city again—a city of wonder, hidden somewhere deep within the mountain range.
A phantom city, that may still exist, unseen by all but a chosen few.