"You want to deal with the dragon?" Trevor asked, turning to leave.
Then he paused. Malrik had been punched once before. As much as Trevor hated the guy, Malrik still had value. Losing him would ruin too many plans. He needed his gold-rank support.
"Relax," Malrik said. "That dragon's more messed up than you realize."
"And I've already got a plan. I'll kill it for you, but I want 3,000 souls afterward."
Trevor didn't even blink. "Fine."
He left without another word, flames lighting up under his feet as the last of his robes burned away.
***
The story had completely gone off the rails. That was the only conclusion Elara could come to after hearing the latest update.
In truth, it had probably started unraveling the moment their group showed up at the Ice Spirit's resting place.
Worse yet, Elara herself had interfered with the plot, her actions, along with Bryella's unexpected help, had exposed the Deep Abyss Cult's stronghold far earlier than intended, drawing attention to the hidden puppet Dark God behind it all.
Originally, the plan was for the Northern Region to fall in a flash, so quickly that no one could respond. A swift and brutal downfall that would leave the region a lifeless wasteland.
The Draegarn Empire had even preemptively set up a Northern Defense Line, trying to block out the horrors that lurked in the snow-covered wilderness. Official reports claimed the cause of the collapse was a massive wave of magical beasts, spreading like a deadly plague.
But Elara had read the novel. She knew the truth. It wasn't just beasts. The Deep Abyss Cult had been conducting a large-scale sacrificial ritual in the north, one that summoned an evil god from the void between worlds.
They called it the Scorching Calamity God. Its appearance wiped out everything, transforming the frozen tundra into cursed ruins. The only way to stop it was through the Ice Spirit's ultimate sacrifice, breaking her body apart to form a powerful seal and trap the god beyond reach.
That world-shaking event had only been background lore. The real boss of Volume One was supposed to be a surviving cultist trying to restart the ritual and shatter the seal.
Even that fragment of godly power had made him ridiculously strong. It took Bryella's self-sacrifice and a legendary hero's sword just to barely stop him.
But now?
Things were… weird.
The beast tide was still threatening, sure, but reinforcements had arrived, and strong warriors had taken the field. For the first time, it looked like humanity might actually hold the line. Even stranger, the number of beasts had suddenly dropped, and the attack was slowing down.
And then came the craziest part.
People across the land were reporting sightings of a massive white dragon tearing through the monsters, burning them to ash wherever it flew. It had started cleaning up the chaos before the disaster could even reach its peak.
Although the main altar hadn't been found yet, several important ritual sites were already destroyed. The cult's ceremony was falling apart. Their ranks were thinning, and rumors of infighting were spreading.
But that wasn't the end. The latest news dropped like a bomb, one of the cult's high-ranking priests had appeared in a remote town, only to be killed almost instantly by the white dragon.
Yes. That Trevor.
Elara stared at the message, mind blank. For most people, a High Priest of the Deep Abyss just sounded like a fancy title. But for her, someone who had read the story, they were nightmares made flesh.
High Priests weren't just strong. They were vessels, chosen by the evil god to carry a sliver of its will. Their presence alone spread despair. In the novel, even one of them could carry an entire volume's worth of conflict.
And now? One had been flattened like a bug. No buildup. No epic showdown. Just, poof. Gone.
It felt like the hero had finally gathered the sacred sword, rallied his allies, stocked up on potions, and kicked down the Demon King's door, only to find the boss had slipped in the bath and died hitting his head on the soap.
The Four Heavenly Kings? Accidental die because of accident. Total joke.
Yes, the white dragon was strong. Maybe even ridiculously strong. But come on! Some archmages could go toe-to-toe with a dragon. This thing was steamrolling cultists like they were dried snacks.
Elara's thoughts turned into static. The sheer ridiculousness of it made her brain short-circuit. And the fight wasn't even over.
Cultists were still creeping out of shadows, and the deeper threat remained hidden.
What truly bothered her, though, was how easily the villains were falling compared to how many of her former allies had died in the original timeline.
Something felt off. That priest couldn't be really dead. He was probably hiding, preparing something worse. And then came the cherry on top, the Dawn Church.
Normally, divine light was the natural enemy of void-born gods, but the Radiant Dawn faction had been caught in delays. They were supposed to send a top bishop from the Holy Church. That was the plan. But now?
The situation didn't look dire enough anymore. The crisis had "stabilized," so the politicians in Draegarn Empire began arguing over who should take credit, who deserved rewards, and who should control what.
The bishop? Trapped in red tape and pointless meetings. Reinforcements were coming, but they weren't sending their best. Some nobles even started treating it like a joke.
"Oh, you're scared? I'm not. Let's wait and see."
Elara could feel her blood pressure spike. She had almost forgotten, this world's noble classes included some of the most entitled parasites imaginable. And right now, their help was still essential to stop the cult.
Then something strange happened.
Bryella, flipping through an old book, looked up and said with a blank face: "Hey… about the Holy Church. I think I remember where it is."
Elara blinked. "Huh?"
Without further warning, Bryella and her counterpart teamed up. Together, the two ice spirits summoned a storm, blasting apart a frozen mountain range and revealing a massive doorway buried beneath centuries of snow.
The marble was worn and faded, but the golden leaf carvings depicting the Dawn Goddess still shimmered faintly on the surface. What they'd found wasn't just a ruin.
It was the lost Dawn Cathedral, one of the original three holy temples built by the Radiant Faith during ancient times. Each temple aligned with the sun's path: the Dawn Cathedral for sunrise, the White Sun Hall for noon, and the Twilight Sanctuary for dusk.
A long time ago, an earthquake had destroyed the Dawn Cathedral. Its location had been forgotten, and no one ever rebuilt it.
But now, they had uncovered its remains. According to the story, the heroine would one day be guided here by Bryella to retrieve a powerful sacred relic. But in this version?
It had been under their feet all along, beneath Bryella's personal hideout.
And when they pushed open the giant frozen doors, brittle from the cold, they shattered, releasing a cold wind and revealing something hidden within.
A sword.
It didn't glow. It didn't shine. It wasn't wrapped in holy light or magic. It simply sat there in a pedestal covered in frozen flowers, plain and silent.
The second sacred sword. The true Hero's Sword.
Elara stared at it and whispered, stunned, "The Hero's Sword…"