Damian Wayne al Ghoul

Stepping onto the stones, he climbed the last steep slope and pushed aside the tall grass that blocked his view. Damian had finally reached his destination.

The enormous cavern resembled a cursed wound. On either side of the pitted rock walls, dark red minerals clung to every crack, like dried dragon blood. Crumbling square rocks, piled at odd angles, formed a downward-sloping staircase—they were too orderly, almost as if some intelligent being had deliberately arranged them, leading to a throne that radiated a faint warmth in the darkness.

"...Is the dragon here?"

He glanced at the map one last time before putting it in the bag on his back. Rolling up his sleeves, he entered the cave.

Damian Wayne, prince of the Kingdom of Gotham, only son of King Bruce Wayne.

With such a title, he had no reason to venture into a place like the Crown of Orsion. But he had another identity—known among mercenaries from all corners as the Wing of the Lost, Robin.

Everyone knew of his obsession with strength, his thirst for battle. This journey was to prove himself.

That he had become strong enough to defeat a legendary dragon.

The scorching heat of the magma intensified with each step, the smell of sulfur grew stronger. Then came a roar.

Sheltering himself from the howling wind, Damian slowed his pace, moving more cautiously, until he stepped onto the rocky ground of the dragon's nest.

He saw you.

...The dragon.

He held his breath. A wave of heat coursed through his chest, and his fingers tightened around the sword. A single thought occurred to him.

He needs to keep you.