[Dragon Lands] Year 5, Day 75 (around time when Dirty Dog lost his old self)

  Two dragons rested in a massive cave. Ancient. Comfortable. Overlooking the city far below.

  The city was beautiful. Humanoid architecture. Dragon statues everywhere. Temples. Monuments. Tributes.

  But to the dragons, it was barely noticeable. Ants building anthills. Worshiping gods who rarely acknowledged their existence.

  The red dragon shifted. Scales like rubies catching light.

  "You felt that?"

  The green dragon, coiled comfortably, opened one eye. Emerald brilliance.

  "Yes... he's dead?"

  "It seems so."

  Pause. Processing. Thousands of years of existence made even death feel distant. Abstract.

  "The mighty one. Actually gone."

  The red dragon's tone carried something. Not quite pleasure. But... relief maybe.

  "Never liked him."

  "Nobody did." The green dragon stretched. Casual. "Too powerful. Too arrogant."

  "Everyone's probably rushing to his hoard right now."

  The green dragon laughed. Deep. Rumbling. "His harem already did that. Guaranteed. They hated him most."

  "They were just weaker. Forced to stay."

  "Now they're free AND rich."

  "Good for them."

  Silence. Comfortable. Two ancient beings sharing satisfaction at a rival's demise.

  The red dragon perked up. Greed stirring. "The pink one though. From his harem. You sense anything?"

  The green dragon focused. Feeling out. Searching. Nothing.

  "Nothing. Dead maybe?"

  "But who kills pink one?" The red dragon sounded skeptical. "They're weak but not that weak. Stronger than most ants at least."

  "Maybe accident during fight over the hoard?" The green dragon considered. "Other harem members scrambling, or maybe someone external got mixed in? Pink one caught in middle either way. Not strong enough to defend properly. Collateral damage."

  "Possible. Or..." The red dragon paused. Different theory forming. "Already captured? Someone got it, hiding it, shielding from world?"

  The green dragon thought about that. "Would make sense. Pink dragons are prizes. Beautiful. Rare. Someone powerful enough claims it, keeps it hidden, enjoys privately."

  "Would be nice to have," the red dragon admitted. Casual greed. "But if it's alive, we'll hear about it sooner or later. Someone shows off eventually. Someone always does. Can't keep treasure hidden forever without bragging."

  "True. Patience." The green dragon settled back. "If captured—we'll know. If dead—doesn't matter."

  "Agreed."

  Silence returned. Topic exhausted. Pink dragon forgotten already—either dead or someone else's problem.

  "But where did he even go?" the red dragon asked, returning to earlier topic. "Haven't seen him in... weeks? Maybe a month?"

  "Ran off to some summoning. Said he sensed something. Wouldn't elaborate."

  "Summoning? Where?"

  "That continent. The one with the old gate."

  Both paused. Shared melancholy despite their age.

  "Gate hasn't worked in seven thousand years..."

  "Not since Paradise fell." The green dragon's voice carried genuine sadness. "Everything went wrong after that."

  "No more divine snacks. I miss them."

  "Isekai were the best. That divine essence... nothing compares."

  "Remember when the gate still worked? Before Paradise?"

  The green dragon's expression turned nostalgic. "We had arrangements with the Empire. Protected the gate area. We stayed clear of their territory."

  "Worked well enough. They processed the isekai at the gate. We got the ones who wandered. Everyone satisfied."

  "Then Paradise destroyed everything. Gate stopped. Empire collapsed. Whole continent changed."

  "Seven thousand years of nothing."

  "Wait." The red dragon perked up. "I heard something recently. Rumor. Someone claimed isekai might be coming back soon."

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  The green dragon's attention sharpened. "Really? The gate's working again?"

  "Don't know. Just rumors. But maybe... maybe that's what he sensed?"

  "He went after an isekai... and got killed doing it?"

  Pause. Considering.

  "But by who? Who kills the mighty one?"

  The green dragon thought. "Empire remnants, maybe? They're still around. Weakened, but not gone. Always protected isekai."

  "Even before Paradise fell, they were territorial." The red dragon's tone turned cautious. "After the fall, some of us tested those boundaries. Early years."

  "Lost a few doing that." Matter-of-fact. "They still had teeth. Not worth fighting over empty hunting grounds."

  "So... he went after one. Someone caught him. Killed him."

  "Empire? Or something else on that continent?"

  The green dragon thought more. "Those merchants. The ones who call themselves Syndicate. They're from that continent. Home there."

  The red dragon's tone brightened. Recognition. Pleasant memory. "Ah, those ants. The ones who bring nice tribute. Always polite. Always bowing properly. Good ants."

  "They have teeth though," the green dragon warned. Serious. Cautious.

  "Teeth?" The red dragon sounded confused. "They're just merchants. Traders. What teeth?"

  "Remember the mountain? The forbidden one?" The green dragon's voice carried weight. Memory. Significance. "Where they melt gold. Make those elixirs. The ones that let ants live past thousand years."

  The red dragon processed this. Confusion showing. "Wait. That mountain? I always thought that was Empire remnants defending it. Old territory. That's why it's forbidden."

  "No." The green dragon corrected. Firm. Certain. "Those were the merchants. The Syndicate."

  Pause. Building story. "Some foolish younglings tried claiming it. Six of them. Thought mountain of gold was free for taking. Easy hoard. Simple raid."

  "They got killed, right?" The red dragon confirmed. Memory surfacing. Vague but present. "Six younglings. All dead. Always assumed Empire remnants did it. Old defenses. Ancient wards. That's why it's forbidden."

  "No." The green dragon corrected. Firm. Final. "That was Syndicate. The merchants."

  The red dragon went still. Shock. Disbelief. "The merchants killed six dragons? The ants? How?"

  "Don't know exactly." The green dragon admitted. Frustrated. "They have defenses there. Like Empire had in their prime. Silver tower reaching to the heavens. Something inside it. Divine rejection maybe. Some kind of guardian."

  Brief pause. Consideration. "Or maybe the tower itself is the rejection. Those things take all kinds of strange forms. Not always flesh. Not always alive. Sometimes just... existence. Structure. Function."

  Pause. Uncomfortable memory. "Not ants fighting. Not heroes. Not warriors. Just... the tower. The defense. The machine. Killed all six."

  "It happened." The green dragon continued. Final. "I was quite sure massive war would follow. Expected retaliation. Expected bloodshed. Expected everything to escalate."

  Pause. Memory continuing. "But then they came. The merchants. Bowing. Apologizing. Bringing tribute. Massive tribute. Unprecedented tribute. Gold. Gems. Treasures. Slaves. Everything. Said it was all terrible misunderstanding. Said younglings attacked without provocation. Said they only defended their property. Said they wanted peace. Wanted friendship. Wanted trade."

  "And we accepted?" The red dragon asked. Uncertain. Processing.

  "They paid enough." Simple. Direct. Practical. "Kept paying. Every year. Never missed. Never complained. Plus offered trade agreements. Access to all dragon lands. Special privileges. Everything we wanted."

  Pause. Consideration. "And they remember. Always remember. Not like other ants who die and forget. These ones? Live long. Thousand years or more. Their golden medicine. Makes them remember promises. Makes them keep agreements. Makes them reliable."

  The red dragon understood. "Ah. That's why they're different. Most ants die so fast. Promise today, dead tomorrow. Can't maintain anything. But these ones? They live. They remember. They pay. Consistently."

  "Exactly." The green dragon agreed. Satisfied. "Good memory. Long life. Proper understanding of time. Almost civilized for ants. Almost respectable."

  The red dragon considered this. Then: "Didn't know they owned that mountain. Well. If they own it, let them keep it. Nice ants. I like those ants."

  "They submit to everything we ask," the green dragon added. Satisfied. "Better than most ants. Plus nice tribute. Forever apparently."

  "Good arrangement." The red dragon agreed. Comfortable. Final.

  Silence settled. Topic exhausted.

  The red dragon returned to earlier topic. The dead one. The mighty one. "So. Back to him. The fool who died."

  "Ah. Yes. Him." The green dragon refocused. "Does it matter who killed him? Empire? Syndicate? Something else?"

  "Does it matter?"

  "Should we investigate?"

  Long pause. The green dragon considering.

  "That continent? For a dragon we didn't like?"

  "The mighty one chose to go there. Chose to hunt alone. Chose to ignore caution."

  "His choice. His consequences."

  "Not our problem."

  "Agreed."

  The red dragon glanced at the city below. Tiny figures moving. Building. Worshiping.

  "Do you think the ants down there even noticed?"

  The green dragon followed the gaze. "His death? Why would they?"

  "They barely notice us unless we make them."

  "As it should be. They worship. We rule. Simple."

  "Simple."

  Silence. Comfortable. Satisfied.

  The red dragon's expression shifted. Amusement. "You know what's funny? He probably followed his pet fish."

  The green dragon's eye opened fully. "The singing one? I'd forgotten about that."

  "He was oddly attached. Kept it for years. Had ant-servants build that elaborate fish box—crystal sides, water-moving machinery. Cost more than most ants earn in lifetimes."

  "Fish died anyway. Fragile things."

  The green dragon's amusement deepened. "Didn't he forbid it from using those ant-medicines? The life-extending liquids, elixirs?"

  "Think so. Didn't want it spoiled. Kept it pure." The red dragon's tone carried mockery. "Then acted surprised when it expired quickly."

  "Typical. Ants need those liquids unless you want them as snacks. Otherwise they just... run out."

  "He never understood that. Wanted a pet that stayed clean but also lasted. Can't have both."

  "Could have. Just let it drink the medicines. But no—had to keep it pure. For what? Never even ate it."

  Brief laughter. Shared amusement at their rival's ignorance.

  "He sold the box after. Didn't want the reminder." The red dragon paused. "And didn't it go to some elf? On that same continent?"

  "Hm. Maybe?" Vague. Disinterested. "I don't track ant-transactions."

  "Pretty sure. Ant-worshipers complaining about finding a buyer. Ended up with some wealthy elf there."

  The green dragon started laughing. Sudden. Genuine. "Oh! I remember now. That elf had funny name. Usually don't track ant names—pointless, they change so fast—but this one?" More laughter. "Called himself Void."

  The red dragon blinked. "Void? Like... nothing? Emptiness?"

  "Exactly!" The green dragon's amusement deepened. "Named himself Nothing. And now the mighty one—all that power, all that arrogance—dead there. On Nothing's continent. With Nothing's fish box." Laughing harder. "From something to nothing. Perfect."

  They paused. Processing the layered absurdity.

  Then: simultaneous laughter. Deep. Rumbling. Ancient amusement at cosmic irony.

  "He followed his fish," the red dragon said through laughter. "Died on the same continent as his dead pet's swimming box."

  "Poetic. Absurd. Perfect."

  Their amusement faded back to comfortable silence. The mighty one's death made entertaining by pointless irony.

  "Besides," the red dragon added after the laughter settled, "if isekai are really returning..."

  "...we wait. We watch. We don't rush in blindly like he did."

  "Exactly. Learn from his mistake."

  "Patience. Always patience."

  "We have time."

  "We always do."

  They settled back. Conversation over. The mighty one already forgotten. The ants below irrelevant.

  Thousands of years taught patience. Whatever had killed him—Empire, isekai, something else entirely—it didn't matter.

  He was gone. His harem was free. His hoard was distributed. Problem solved.

  Life continued.