Published at 25th of August 2026 9:07 am

Volume 8, Chapter 66: Respecting the Elder

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The great door slowly opened inward, and the treasure vault’s lights poured in, illuminating the chamber that had long been dark and silent.

Constantine and Leon stepped inside. The sound of their soles on the floor rang out clearly, echoing through the room.

Relying on the faint light coming from outside the door, Leon looked further in.

At the deepest part of the chamber was a platform several meters high.

And upon that platform, an old man with white hair and a white beard leaned on a wooden chair.

When Leon and Constantine stood below the steps, the old man slowly opened his eyes.

In the crimson dragon pupils there was a trace of cloudiness, but they held complete steadiness and authority.

“Is that you, A-Yan...”

The old man’s tone was calm, his voice low.

“How many years has it been since we last met? Fifty? A hundred? I remember it quite clearly. Because ever since the elders of the clan announced my elder brother’s exile, I have never seen any of you again.”

Listening to the old man’s words, Leon couldn’t help thinking that the internal power structure of the Flame Dragon lineage was indeed quite complicated.

Constantine’s elder brother had been exiled for nearly two hundred years. And two hundred years ago, Constantine likely had not yet reached his current Dragon King realm, yet even then, he could not help his elder brother escape that fate.

Of course—Constantine had said before that his brother wanted to leave, that his actions and philosophy no longer aligned with the clan. So it was very likely the exile was voluntary.

Elder Glend let out a quiet laugh and shook his head.

“But you didn’t suddenly come to see me today because of your brother, did you?”

“No.”

Constantine took out the golden helmet and said:

“Elder Glend, I want to know where this helmet came from. How did our clan obtain it? And from whose hands was it taken?”

Elder Glend stared at the helmet in Constantine’s hand, examining it carefully for a moment. But he did not answer Constantine’s question directly.

Instead, he turned his gaze toward Leon.

After noticing that Leon had no tail, Elder Glend’s expression shifted slightly.

“When you entered, you said you brought a prince of the Silver Dragon Clan to see me. Is this him?”

Leon immediately stepped forward and introduced himself.

“Leon Casmod. I am the husband of the Silver Dragon Queen, Rosvisser Melkvey.”

Elder Glend paused for a moment in contemplation, then looked again at Constantine.

“A-Yan—over a decade ago, the clan fell into brief unrest. The clansmen and elders said you had been killed by a human who lived among the Silver Dragons. Though we later didn’t know how you came back to life... the human who killed you back then wouldn’t happen to be—”

“What does that have to do with the helmet in my hand, Elder Glend?”

Constantine refused to be led by the old man’s pace. His focus remained firmly on the golden helmet.

Elder Glend, of course, understood. His intention had simply been to apply some psychological pressure—so that he could direct the conversation.

Leon could easily hear the game being played. Rosvisser had taught him plenty about this sort of thing.

He had no interest in these petty tactics. Only dragons a few decades older than Constantine would still find this kind of political fencing entertaining.

Seeing that Constantine did not bite, Elder Glend chuckled and did not press the matter further.

“You’re still as stubborn as ever, A-Yan.”

“What I want to ask about is the helmet, Elder Glend.”

He called him “Elder” politely, but his tone and eyes held not a shred of respect.

So—he does still resent the elders for forcing his brother out... Leon thought privately.

“Very well.”

Elder Glend let out a long breath and spoke slowly:

“That helmet was taken by our clan a little more than five hundred years ago.”

Hearing this, Leon couldn’t help his surprise.

“More than five hundred years...”

He turned to look at Constantine.

“So that means the helmet was already here when you were young—you’re only a little over five hundred years old?”

Constantine twitched the corner of his mouth.

“What? Doesn’t it look like it?”

Leon blinked. It felt more like seven or eight hundred.

“......”

Rosvisser had explained before: a dragon’s lifespan stretches in a semi-natural aging pattern. Even early-stage draconic transformation could easily make being “a few hundred years old” feel like a long time.

“But as far as I know, neither I nor the other elders have ever figured out how to use this helmet, nor what power it holds.”

Elder Glend glanced at Constantine, his gaze shifting slightly as he continued:

“Most likely, only the one who brought it back knows its true origin.”

“And who brought it back?”

“Hmph.”

Elder Glend let out a cold laugh.

“Your elder brother. Wuconstantine.”

At those words, both Leon and Constantine were taken aback.

It was Constantine’s elder brother who retrieved the helmet?

Did that mean his brother had been involved with the Silver Dragons long ago?

A series of questions exploded in both of their minds.

But before they could think further, Elder Glend picked up his wooden staff and slowly stood, descending the steps with heavy, labored movements.

Watching the old man take one step and rest, Leon found it hard to imagine how this man had the strength to guard the Flame Dragon treasury.

Just walking down the platform took him over two minutes.

Yet during that time, both Leon and Constantine remained silent.

They merely watched him approach.

Finally reaching them, Elder Glend continued:

“But as for where he got it or from whom—I do not know. In fact, regarding this helmet, the current generation of elders in the Red Flame Dragon Clan knows almost nothing. The only one who truly understood it was your elder brother. But unfortunately, he left nearly one hundred ninety years ago. Who knows where he is now?”

There was a faint tone of schadenfreude in Elder Glend’s words.

He could clearly see that the helmet’s origin mattered greatly to Constantine and to Leon.

They likely were not interested in “treasure” for its own sake—but watching the current Flame Dragon King run in circles with no clue? That was something the old man found amusing.

Constantine fell silent.

Should he try to find his brother and ask him...? But like Elder Glend said—his brother had been gone nearly two centuries.

And the last letter Constantine received from him had been decades ago.

Where was he supposed to find him now?

Leon glanced sideways at Constantine.

Elder Glend extended a hand, indicating that Constantine should pass the helmet over.

Constantine did so.

Elder Glend accepted the helmet in one hand, and quietly offered his staff toward Leon with the other.

Leon froze for a moment. So now he was being treated as an attendant?

But—upholding the venerable tradition of “respecting the elderly” among long-lived dragons—Leon silently accepted the staff.

Elder Glend lifted the helmet, studying it with care, then finally shook his head with a sigh.

“I have guarded this vault for nearly a thousand years. I have seen countless treasures. Most things—I can recognize at a glance.”

“But this thing... lifeless. I can’t determine any value at all.”

If it has no value why did you keep it in the vault for centuries, are you insane, Leon complained inwardly.

Constantine could see that Elder Glend was speaking from comfort, not insight.

Aside from saying “your brother brought it back,” Elder Glend had offered nothing useful.

Constantine reached out to take the helmet back, his tone low:

“Thank you for your time today, Elder Glend.”

Elder Glend grinned.

“It’s nothing.”

“Leon. Let’s go.”

Leon said nothing and followed Constantine out of the chamber.

Outside, after they closed the door, Leon did not immediately speak about the helmet. Instead he suddenly asked:

“So—how often does your clan deliver meals to that old man?”

“Once a month. Dragons can go long periods without eating. Why?”

Leon smiled lightly. Then silently took out Elder Glend’s staff from behind his back, walked to the vault door, and wedged the staff horizontally through the handle—locking the door from the outside.

From inside, it could not be opened. Someone outside would need to remove the staff first.

“So if he wants his precious cane back... he’ll have to wait until next month.”

Constantine looked at Leon’s smooth “door bar” motion, paused for two seconds—then, unusually, burst into a laugh.

“Juvenile, but well done, Leon.”

Leon grinned, hands in his pockets, nodding toward the outside hallway.

“Come on. I think I have a way to figure out where the helmet came from.”

“Mm.”

...

Watching the two depart, Elder Glend snorted.

“The Red Flame Dragon Clan has truly fallen. The mighty Dragon King walking with a human as a friend—ridiculous.”

He flicked his sleeve and turned to climb the steps.

But after two steps, he paused, frowning.

Something felt... missing.

“Mm... no. My staff! That damned human dares to toy with me!!”

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