Iris sat alone beside Anya, as if the world here had been put on Pause.
Anya and Allen remained frozen in their final moments, unmoving, caught in that last instant.
Earlier, Iris had watched helplessly as Anya suddenly stiffened.
She called out anxiously, but Anya was like a statue frozen by time, utterly unresponsive.
Iris wasn’t particularly clear on what was happening here, and now she could only feel resigned.
Her gaze couldn’t help but drift toward the old Heavy Sword behind her, sensing a power within it she couldn’t comprehend.
She stood up and walked over, wanting to take a closer look at this ancient thing.
“I can’t sense little Anya’s presence at all,” Iris muttered as she leaned closer, “Maybe she’s entered that so-called Secret Realm? I really didn’t expect this Heavy Sword to be the Key to unlocking it.”
“The Human who forged this Artifact was truly remarkable. This Secret Realm can even cut me off from little Anya. Who knows what she’ll face in there alone?” She reached out to touch it, but her hand passed through without resistance.
The sword wavered slightly before her eyes, but there was no sensation, nothing tangible.
Iris pursed her lips, looking a bit disgruntled.
“Looks like I’ll be stuck here for a while.” She shrugged, but then something fun seemed to come to mind and her eyes lit up. “The flow of time here is probably thousands of times slower than outside. Just as well—didn’t little Anya earn a bunch of Fame Points not long ago?”
She smiled, and at her thought, the familiar System Panel appeared before her.
She deftly brought up the Mall Interface and began picking out some Comic books.
Her finger slid nimbly over the virtual screen, humming a tuneless little song, a picture of easy contentment—just like that saying, “Since I’m here, I might as well enjoy myself.”
“It’s been a while—my comic-reading time.” As she shopped for a few Comics, she even snagged a couple of corner items for free.
The System Mall was really generous this time—even buying games came with a bonus dƧ5. Not bad!
But right now, Comics were the most important. As for conquering the Protagonists in those games? That could wait.
Iris hugged her newly purchased Comics, ready to open the first page and savor this rare moment of leisure.
But just then, the Heavy Sword at her side let out a deep, lingering hum, like a slumbering beast suddenly awakened.
“Hey, you stupid sword, what are you howling for?” Iris was startled by the sudden noise, frowning, a hint of annoyance in her tone. “Making such a loud sound all of a sudden—don’t you know it’s scary?”
Before her words finished, a change occurred.
Beside her, space itself seemed to tear open, a pitch-black rift appearing out of nowhere, bottomless and dark.
A graceful figure slowly emerged from within.
It was a woman—long, jet-black hair cascading to her waist, her features cold and stunning, eyes deep as a wintry lake, seemingly able to draw in one’s very soul, and faintly laced with a breath of death.
She wore a gothic black dress, the hem swaying with her steps, her whole person exuding a powerful aura that warned others to keep their distance.
Most striking of all were the gently curving horns atop her head, and the long dragon tail behind her, covered in fine, glimmering scales.
“Gulp…” Iris’s eyes were drawn, against her will, to that dazzling whiteness on the woman’s chest, her heart skipping a beat in spite of herself.
She hurriedly averted her gaze, cheeks tinged with red, muttering quietly, “So all the Dragon Clan…are this, uh, well-endowed?”
“But…isn’t she from the Dragon Clan? How did she end up here?” Iris wondered aloud.
She only had a general idea about this place—no matter how much knowledge Goddess Oli had crammed into her head, she couldn’t remember it all.
The black-haired woman strode straight to the Heavy Sword. The moment her gaze touched the blade, something in her eyes seemed to quietly melt—a trace of hidden longing flickered by.
She reached out, her fair hand gently caressing the cold blade.
The Heavy Sword seemed to recognize her, letting out a joyful hum. A faint purple glow shimmered around the blade, as if greeting an old friend.
“Isn’t…isn’t this where the Humans hide their Artifacts?” Iris was dumbfounded. “But this Heavy Sword seems more like her weapon!”
The interaction between the dragon woman and the sword was as natural as that between friends long parted.
“It’s been a long time, old friend.” The black-haired woman’s voice was cold, but there was a hint of gentle warmth in it.
She looked up, gaze passing over Iris to the frozen Anya and Allen.
“A Dragon-blood…was the one who opened this place?” Since Anya had her back to her, the woman didn’t see Anya’s face at first. All she saw was Allen’s twisted expression, which made her frown.
“And he’s even in Half-Dragonization… How did that happen? That shouldn’t be possible.” She paused, confused, then glanced back at the Heavy Sword as if seeking an answer.
The sword only replied with a low hum, as if murmuring a tale.
“How long has it been since last time?” she whispered, slowly approaching Anya. “For hundreds or thousands of years, this place must have been forgotten by all… It truly brings back memories.”
“The Dragon Clan…has vanished from the world for a long time now.” Her gaze drifted far away, lost in memories. “Northern Border…what is it like now? Maybe it’s still the same as ever.”
There was a hint of melancholy in her voice, the breath of death around her seemed to thicken.
“Things change, people leave… Perhaps, this is the Dragon Clan’s fate.” She let out a soft sigh.
Iris listened in confusion, only thinking this strange woman was talking in riddles, completely lost as to what she was muttering about.
“What is she babbling about? Does having a big chest make her so impressive?” Iris grumbled under her breath, unhappy.
If not for this inexplicable woman and that noisy sword disturbing her, she wouldn’t even care.
And now she couldn’t even read a Comic in peace!
The black-haired woman finally stood before Anya. The emotionless face she wore all this time froze when she saw Anya’s face.
Her pupils suddenly shrank, as if she had seen something impossible. She reflexively took several steps back.
“How…how could this be?” she whispered, eyes full of shock.
She blinked hard, checked again, then spun to look at the Heavy Sword.
The sword only glimmered faintly, offering no special sign. She quickly turned her eyes back to Anya, her gaze now unreadable.
“So what that person said was true.” Her voice trembled. “It’s been hundreds, thousands of years, and yet…you’ve really appeared.”
In her eyes, the breath of death seemed to be replaced by a flicker of life.
“That person had me stand guard here—did he already foresee this day?”
Iris watched the woman’s ghost-seeing expression, even more bewildered.
Why did it seem like this woman knew Anya? But the Dragon Clan’s lifespan is so long—judging by her appearance, she’s at least a thousand years old!
At that time, even Anya’s ancestors might not have been born yet!
Suddenly, the black-haired woman smiled. That smile was breathtaking, but held an indescribable sadness.
She left Anya’s side and returned to the Heavy Sword, gently stroking its blade, speaking softly, “So it was because your master returned that you woke up?”
After that, she turned around, a look of reminiscence flashing in her eyes.
“Long time no see, my friend—Anya…”