Chapter 22: Good & Evil
The Darkness Dragon was a relic of a time long forgotten, an existence so ancient that even his name had faded from memory. Over countless millennia, his mind had wandered through the void of his prison, contemplating identities, histories, and absurdities. When he finally settled on a name, he chose one he found delightfully whimsical: Pompom. It amused him endlessly, a sharp contrast to the terror his presence usually inspired.
Now~?
Not so much.
The young man standing before him was an anomaly in every sense. Brown-haired, glasses perched on his nose, and wielding a calm demeanor despite the mortal peril he faced. Noah was no ordinary human. That much was certain.
Noah adjusted his glasses, remarkably unbroken despite the prolonged battle he had experienced. With measured annoyance, he spoke. “Why do you insist we copulate?”
Pompom tilted his head. His voice rumbled, reverberating through the cavernous dungeon. “Is that really such a difficult concept to grasp?”
Noah raised an eyebrow, disbelief etched on his face. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
The dragon huffed, an exhalation that sent a gust of warm, sulfuric air across the room. “Why not?”
“If it’s entertainment you’re after,” Noah began, his tone almost academic as though lecturing a stubborn student, “and considering you’ve been imprisoned here for what I assume is an eternity, there are only two logical objectives you could have. Either you want to ensure we never leave so you can prolong your amusement, or you seek freedom yourself.”
Pompom’s glowing eyes narrowed, his reptilian lips curling into a toothy grin. “How very astute of you.”
Noah adjusted his glasses again, standing tall despite the immense pressure of the dragon’s aura. “So why complicate things with… this?” Clearly, he was nervous, but he was trying hard to hide it with his little mannerisms that were becoming repetitive.
Pompom chuckled, the sound like rolling thunder. “It’s quite simple, little human. When you’ve lived as long as I have, you come to appreciate the absurd. I’m not bound by your limited notions of purpose or logic. Perhaps I simply find the proposition... amusing.”
The young man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Amusing. Of course.” His voice dripped with exasperation, though his sharp gaze remained vigilant.
Pompom leaned in closer, his massive frame casting a shadow over Noah. “Besides,” the dragon said, his grin widening, “who are you to deny a lonely ancient being his eccentricities?”
The boy had sharp instincts, and Pompom couldn’t help but admire them. He saw through everything—the ruse, the manipulation, the absurdity. It was rare to find such clarity in one so young.
Realizing that his original plan would not work, Pompom sighed internally. His scheme had been elegantly straightforward: he would coerce the two into producing a child. Once the child was conceived, Pompom would enact his transformation, becoming a [Class] that could reincarnate through the offspring. With his essence reborn, he’d finally escape this wretched dungeon. The irony of his captivity, a prison that had grown dull even for a creature of near-infinite patience, was not lost on him.
But this boy’s willpower—his maddening refusal to bend—had rendered that strategy futile.
Pompom's massive head lowered, his glowing eyes narrowing in thought. "I admire your stubbornness," he rumbled, his voice thick with something almost resembling respect.
Noah stood his ground, unyielding, even as the dragon’s shadow consumed him.
If the first plan was unworkable, then Pompom would move to the second: complete and utter confinement. He would trap the two indefinitely, ensuring their survival but stripping away all hope of escape. Time, he reasoned, would wear them down. Despair, isolation, and monotony would corrode their resistance until they submitted to his demands.
In this space, Pompom was absolute. Food and water would manifest at his whim, ensuring neither could perish from neglect or starvation. But he knew he would need to monitor them carefully. The human mind was fragile, and while their lives would not end accidentally, he would have to intervene if either attempted something... permanent.
The thought annoyed him. He was ancient, a being that once commanded entire realms, yet here he was, babysitting mortals in the hopes of securing his freedom. Still, what was another few decades—or centuries—if it meant eventual success?
Pompom leaned closer to Noah, his jagged teeth glinting like ivory knives. "You may resist now, but time is a crueler master than I. You’ll see."
The sound of the explosion reverberated through the chamber, a fiery burst dissipating harmlessly against the obsidian scales of Pompom’s true body. From his seated position—an avatar crafted in the image of a humanoid draconic figure—Pompom turned his gaze lazily toward Althea. The girl stood defiant, her staff raised, the pink glow of her flames swirling in her hands as she prepared another fireball.
She had fire, this one. Pompom’s amusement swelled, and his laughter filled the room, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to make the very air shiver. “You have spirit, girl,” he said, his tone light, almost mocking. “I’ll give you that. Perhaps one day, that fire will burn hot enough to singe me. But today is not that day.”
Althea didn’t flinch, her resolve unwavering. “Since you’re chained,” she said, her voice steady, “we might as well try everything we can, right?” She lowered her staff slightly, eyes narrowing. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like I’ve done any damage at all. But… you can talk. You think. This is the first time I’ve learned monsters can possess sentience.”
Pompom tilted his head, the mocking grin on his avatar softening into something almost wistful. The word “monster” echoed in his mind, stirring memories buried so deeply they were barely distinguishable from the haze of eternity. He remembered when beings like him ruled unseen over the Infinite Worlds, weaving destiny from the shadows. Those times of glory, of unrestrained power, felt like a fleeting dream now—a past long stolen from him by forces he no longer even remembered.
The chain binding his true body glinted in the dim light as he shifted slightly, its pull serving as a constant reminder of his confinement. Althea’s next fireball arced through the air, slamming into his main body with a roar of flame. Again, the inferno dissipated without leaving so much as a scratch.
“Brave, yet futile,” Pompom said, his voice tinged with amusement but undercut by an edge of melancholy. “Your power is but a candle against the abyss, child. Still…” He trailed off, his golden eyes narrowing as he regarded her more intently. “You remind me of a time when such defiance was not so rare. A time when fire such as yours could spark revolutions, topple kingdoms, and… awaken gods.”
The girl didn’t respond immediately, but her grip on the staff tightened, her expression hardening. She wouldn’t back down, not yet. And that intrigued Pompom more than he cared to admit.
More [Fireballs] was unleashed upon him… as if a child was throwing a tantrum.
Pompom let out a deep, guttural laugh that echoed through the chamber like a thunderclap. His draconic avatar leaned forward, its shimmering, humanoid form giving him a predatory air as he addressed the defiant pair before him.
“That’s futile,” he said with an air of superiority, his crimson eyes gleaming with ancient knowledge. “My existence is higher than yours. To put it in terms your fragile minds might grasp, I outlevel you so many times over that your efforts are nothing more than sparks against an endless void.”
“Why can you talk?” Noah asked again.
Pompom cocked his head, smirking. “Because I exist,” he replied simply, as though the answer were self-evident.
Althea pressed further. “But you’re a monster.”
“Ah, what you perceive as a ‘monster’ is merely another form of life,” Pompom said, his voice tinged with disdain. “The undead you’ve fought, the monster-kind, everything that lurks within this dungeon—they were all people once. The difference? Their history has decayed, their identities lost in the erosion of time. They failed to transcend their existence, leaving them to rot as shadows of what they once were.” He paused, his gaze sharpening. “You, however, are fortunate. You have something as convenient as the System.”
Althea’s grip on her staff tightened as she asked, “What exactly is the System?”
Pompom’s smirk faded, replaced by a deep frown. He realized, with a flicker of amusement, that the girl was attempting to interrogate him, prying for knowledge. But he didn’t mind. The centuries of solitude had dulled his sense of caution, and the chance to converse, even to boast, was a rare pleasure.
“The System,” he began, his voice low and weighted, “is a weapon. A creation of the human race—a pitiful attempt to wrestle control over fate itself. Humans, as always, trying to cage what cannot be tamed. It is far more complicated than you could ever hope to understand. But if you want a crude explanation? It is a leash. A tool of control.”
Noah and Althea exchanged uneasy glances, but before either could ask another question, Pompom’s smirk returned, sharper and more mischievous than ever.
“But enough of this intellectual banter,” he said, leaning back with exaggerated nonchalance. “When, pray tell, are the two of you going to fuck?”
The abruptness of the question struck them like a slap. Althea’s face turned crimson, her composure cracking for the first time. “What!?” she sputtered, barely able to keep her grip on her staff. “Why the hell do you keep on insisting on that? You cringe chuni dragon!!”
Noah’s expression betrayed a rare flicker of irritation. “You’re deranged,” he muttered.
Pompom laughed again, the sound booming across the chamber. “Oh, come now! You’ve both made it this far, haven’t you? Surely, you understand the stakes. I have plans, you see—grander than your mortal minds could comprehend. And you two? You’re key to them. So, why waste time?”
The dragon tried to play the angle of grandeur… and maybe the kids would bite this time… but it was hopeless.
“Fuck off, we aren’t doing it…” added Noah.
“Yeah, mind your own business!” seconded Althea.
Pompom tilted his head, feigning a look of wounded innocence as he lounged back into his draconic avatar’s form. His shimmering, humanoid figure glowed faintly in the dim light of the dungeon.
“Again, you refuse my offer,” he said with a melodramatic sigh, his tone dripping with mock disappointment. “How tiresome. Truly, I wonder how you’ve made it this far with such stubbornness.”
Noah stood firm, his gaze unflinching behind the glint of his glasses. “How about you offer us another deal?” he countered. His voice was calm but carried a sharp undertone, a clear indication that he wasn’t about to back down.
Althea, still gripping her staff tightly, nodded quickly. “Y-yeah,” she stammered. “I mean, I suspect there’s some kind of trap in your request.” Her cheeks flushed slightly, betraying her embarrassment as she avoided Pompom’s gaze.
The ancient dragon’s laughter rumbled through the chamber, low and menacing. “A trap?” he echoed, as though the very idea amused him to no end. He leaned forward, his golden eyes narrowing on them like twin suns burning through the darkness. “But I’ve been nothing but honest, my dear little morsels. You only need to make love to one another, and I will let you go. No strings attached.”
The air grew heavy with tension, the oppressive weight of Pompom’s words sinking into the room like lead.
Of course, it was a lie.
Or rather, a lie by omission.
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Pompom’s smile widened, sharp and cruel. Deep down, he relished the turmoil playing out before him. His plans were layered, intricate webs of manipulation designed to snare the duo no matter what choice they made. But watching their determination and moral resolve clash against his cunning only added to his entertainment.
“Well?” he pressed, his voice silky smooth. “What will it be?”
Noah stood his ground, meeting Pompom's glowing, predatory gaze with surprising resolve. His voice was steady, though his grip on his weapon betrayed a flicker of unease.
“How about I free you?” he said suddenly. “Of course, not right now… but when I have enough power. You see, my class is called Freedom, and you’re imprisoned. Maybe when I grow strong enough, I can release you.”
Althea spun to face him, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Noah~! You don’t mean that… That’s reckless!” she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of fear and exasperation.
Pompom’s lips curved into a sharp grin, revealing his jagged teeth. “Interesting,” he purred, his tone tinged with genuine curiosity.
“Noah, that’s a black dragon! Most likely the end of the world in chains!” Althea continued, gesturing emphatically at the towering draconic figure. Her fiery indignation was palpable, and it seemed she was on the verge of casting another spell purely out of frustration.
The girl had a point.
Pompom chuckled deeply, the sound reverberating through the chamber. “The little lady speaks with wisdom,” he said, mockingly stroking his chin. “It’s true—if I were to be freed without proper preparation, I might… let’s say, accidentally annihilate your quaint little world. Collateral damage, you understand. Unfortunate, but inevitable.”
Pompom’s golden eyes glinted with amusement as he observed Noah’s unwavering stance. There was a weight to the boy’s words, a conviction that sparked Pompom’s intrigue.
Freedom.
The very concept was tantalizing to the ancient dragon, imprisoned for eons. And yet, Noah’s offer came with risks—risks Pompom knew far too well. If he took the reincarnation route, he’d have to start over. Leveling up from the bottom was a nuisance, but the deeper cost was far worse: his personality, motivations, and very existence could be rewritten or overwritten entirely.
Still…
“This proposition of yours, boy,” Pompom said, leaning forward as his voice took on a low, almost conspiratorial tone. “It’s tempting. But are you prepared to bear the weight of what you’re offering? To chain your fate to mine in such a manner? One misstep and your precious world could burn.”
Noah’s expression didn’t waver. “That’s a risk I’ll take when the time comes.”
Althea groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. “You’re insane,” she muttered.
Pompom’s laughter erupted, deep and resonant. “Oh, I do like you, boy. Very well, let’s see if you’re up to the challenge. Perhaps your reckless courage will amuse me for a while longer.”
“Fine. I’ve decided,” he said.
With a flick of his claw, a glowing parchment manifested in the air, symbols etched in ethereal fire swirling along its surface. It was his Soul Contract, a binding magical agreement that few dared to invoke.
Noah stepped forward, his brown eyes scanning the document intently. The delicate balance between his curiosity and caution was evident as he read aloud, “The deadline for freeing you is… open-ended?”
Pompom’s grin widened, revealing rows of sharp teeth. “Of course,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying a hint of condescension. “I can’t have you relying on loopholes like immortality or everlasting youth. The latter would be most problematic, as it would trap your body in stasis, rendering you incapable of aging. If the ‘years’ don’t move you, then the contract won’t either. The former, however, poses a different kind of issue. If you were to achieve immortality, the penalties I could imbue into the contract—like death—might prove ineffective. Some forms of immortality surpass even my constraints.”
Noah’s brow furrowed as he flipped through the fiery runes with a steady gaze, fast-forwarding past much of the intricate wording until his eyes settled on the final clause. “The consequence of failing the contract is…” He paused, a flicker of unease crossing his face. “Eternal torment. And the prerequisite for failure is either my inability to free you or if someone else manages to do it before I do?”
Pompom added, “By inability to free me, it means dying before fulfilling the contract. If you die, your soul will automatically go to me, and then… I will torment you.”
The boy looked up at the ancient dragon, incredulity mixing with frustration. “You’re unexpectedly patient for someone who’s been chained for who knows how long.”
Pompom chuckled deeply, the sound rolling through the cavern like distant thunder. “Patience, boy, is a necessity for beings such as myself. I have endured countless eons. A few more years—decades, even—mean little to me if the outcome is freedom on my terms.” His crimson eyes glinted with amusement. “Besides, your hesitation is delightful. A flickering light against the endless void of boredom.”
Noah looked back at the contract, weighing his options, while Althea muttered under her breath, pacing behind him. “This is a terrible idea. He’s tricking you, Noah, I just know it!”
Pompom’s gaze shifted to her, his amusement growing. “Oh, my dear, of course I’m tricking him,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. “But that doesn’t mean he won’t come out alive—if he’s clever enough. Perhaps you should have more faith in your companion.”
Althea glared at him but said nothing.
Noah sighed, his hands tightening into fists as he made his decision. His voice was steady as he addressed the ancient dragon. “If this is what it takes to get out of here, so be it. But don’t think I’ll be easy to manipulate, Pompom. You’re betting on the wrong person if you think I’ll play into your hands.”
Pompom’s laughter echoed once more, rich with the delight of an old schemer whose game was finally in motion. “We shall see, boy. We shall see.”
“Of course, I am patient,” he said, his voice calm yet laced with amusement.
Alas, they were far from done yet.
Noah’s finger stopped at a particular clause, his voice firm. “This line about me giving my firstborn child to you—I refuse. Change it.”
Pompom inwardly sighed. He’d hoped the boy would overlook that detail, but Noah was proving to be more observant than most mortals. The reincarnation maneuver had been his preferred contingency, a clean and efficient Plan B. Unfortunately, it seemed this young negotiator wasn’t about to make things easy.
Althea, standing just behind Noah, pointed to another section with suspicion. “What’s this vague line about ‘sharing a story via a prayer’? What does that even mean?”
Pompom felt a flicker of annoyance but kept his expression neutral. A ‘story’ was a poetic euphemism for experience points, and a ‘prayer’ often referred to a class change or even class evolution. He had planned to exploit this ambiguity to siphon off Noah’s potential or—if desperate enough—overtake his very being.
Althea’s voice sharpened. “Change it. No way we’ll let it slide. And add something that says you won’t destroy Earth—and that you’ll protect it.”
The ancient dragon frowned. “I am willing not to destroy Earth,” he said, his voice thick with disdain. “But I will never agree to protect it.”
Althea scowled, but after a tense pause, she relented. “Fine,” she said grudgingly.
In the end, Pompom adjusted the contract to suit their demands, begrudgingly omitting his hidden traps while carefully preserving his dignity and ideals. The young pair had proven surprisingly adept at identifying loopholes, and their cooperation and clarity of purpose made them a formidable team.
When at last the glowing contract reflected their mutual satisfaction, Noah stepped forward, holding his thumb over the fiery document. He hesitated for a moment, meeting Althea’s gaze. She gave him a wary but encouraging nod.
Noah pressed his thumb against the parchment, leaving a smoldering mark in the shape of his print.
Pompom leaned forward, exhaling a soft but ominous stream of glowing breath over the contract. As the draconic essence seeped into the document, it solidified the pact, causing the parchment to shimmer before dissolving into the air.
“Done,” Pompom said with a smug smile. His massive tail flicked behind him, stirring the dust on the cavern floor. “Congratulations, boy. You’ve just made a deal with a dragon.”
Noah’s lips tightened, his determination unwavering. “I don’t plan on regretting it.”
Althea crossed her arms, her gaze flicking uneasily between Noah and Pompom. “Let’s hope you’re right, Noah. Because if he so much as bends the rules…”
Pompom chuckled, his deep, resonant laugh echoing through the cavern. “Oh, I’ll keep to the letter of the law. After all, I am a dragon of my word… mostly.”
Though Pompom’s expression remained as inscrutable as ever, a surge of satisfaction welled up within him. The children were proving useful, if nothing else. He just had to guide them the rest of the way.
Althea crossed her arms, glaring at the dragon. “Send us back home already.”
Pompom tilted his massive head, his glowing eyes narrowing slightly. “Not yet,” he replied smoothly.
Noah frowned, stepping forward. “We have a deal.” His tone was steady but tinged with irritation.
Ignoring the boy’s protest, Pompom raised a clawed hand. A ripple of magical energy coursed through the chamber, and with a dramatic flourish, he summoned two floating books. One gleamed with brilliant white light, its cover engraved with radiant symbols. The other emanated a deep, pulsing blackness, its aura almost suffocating.
“These skill books,” Pompom began, his voice echoing with authority, “are preventing me from gaining total control over this dungeon. In order for me to send you back, these Skill Books must be removed… In this case, consumed… So kids, pick your poison.”
It was, of course, a lie. He could have sent them home with a single thought if he so desired. But this deception was carefully crafted. The duo lacked the knowledge—or the power—to disprove his claim. And even if they had their suspicions, the terms of the [Soul Contract] had subtly maneuvered them into a corner where resistance felt futile.
Althea glanced at Noah, her brows furrowed. “What do you think?” she asked, her voice low.
Noah stared at the books, his jaw tight. “We don’t have a choice,” he said at last, his tone resigned.
Pompom allowed himself a faint smile, though he masked it behind his imposing demeanor. “Good,” he said, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. “Then, let’s not waste time.”
The skill books hovered closer, their auras growing more intense as they awaited the children’s acceptance. Pompom watched them carefully, his mind already racing ahead. Whatever hesitation they might have, they would fall in line. After all, who could resist the allure of power—or the promise of escape?
Althea stood her ground, glaring up at Pompom with unwavering determination. "Tell us exactly what the effects of the Skill Books are—every single detail. And put it in the contract. Add a clause that you can no longer lie to us as long as the contract is in effect, or you risk death!"
Pompom tilted his head, the glowing orbs of his eyes narrowing slightly. “Trying to be smart, huh?” he rumbled.
Despite her harshness, the dragon complied, summoning the contract once more. His massive claw traced over it with delicate precision, updating the terms. Althea and Noah scrutinized the document before nodding in agreement.
“Done,” Pompom said, his tone tinged with mild amusement. “Let’s get to it, then. Where shall I start?”
He gestured to the radiant white book. “Take a look at the white Skill Book. It’s called [Good]. By performing ‘good’ deeds, you’ll earn Experience Points. The more meaningful or impactful your good deeds are, the greater the Experience you’ll gain. However, there’s a catch. If you fail to do even a single good deed for an entire month, a powerful misfortune will befall you.”
Noah raised an eyebrow skeptically. “A skill can really do all that?”
Pompom chuckled, the deep sound reverberating through the chamber. “Oh, it can. But here’s the kicker: the skill’s definition of ‘Good’ is based entirely on the perception of others. If the person you’re helping doesn’t feel that your actions were genuinely ‘good’ to them, then it won’t count. Keep that in mind.”
He turned his attention to the black book, its aura dark and oppressive. “Now, about this one: it’s called [Evil]. This skill works similarly but rewards you for performing ‘evil’ deeds. The more impactful your wicked actions, the more Experience Points you’ll gain. And just like with [Good], if you fail to commit at least one bad deed within a month, misfortune will strike you. The definition of ‘Evil’ also depends on the perception of others. If your target doesn’t believe you’ve hurt them or committed something truly vile, the skill won’t register your action.”
Althea crossed her arms, her gaze sharp. “So they’re basically parallel skills, but both come with risks and rely on subjective judgments?”
Pompom nodded. “Exactly. The beauty lies in the balance—or the chaos it can cause. It’s up to you how to use them… or avoid them.”
Noah’s eyes darted between the two books, his thoughts visibly racing. “This is… complicated,” he muttered.
Pompom’s grin widened, baring his razor-sharp teeth. “Oh, my little humans, this is only the beginning.”
Althea glared at Pompom with frustration coloring her voice. “How are these skills even affecting you? They sound completely unmanageable. What kind of ‘big misfortune’ are we even talking about? Just send us outside already!”
Pompom chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “You don’t understand… These skills are alive—”
Before he could finish, Noah sprang forward, his movements swift and decisive. He reached out and placed his hand on the dark Skill Book, consuming the [Evil] skill without hesitation.
Pompom froze, his usual composure shattered. For a brief moment, the dragon was speechless.
Althea gasped, her face pale with shock. “What are you doing!?”
Noah turned back to her, his expression calm but resolute. “Hmmm… sorry for being a jerk…”
Pompom’s glowing eyes narrowed, a sudden understanding washing over him. The boy’s reckless action wasn’t thoughtless—it was for the girl. Even if Noah himself didn’t fully realize it, the boy cared deeply for Althea. Whether his feelings leaned toward romance, a bond of friendship, or something akin to family, even he couldn’t be sure. But the selflessness in his decision was clear.
Althea’s shock turned into anger, her voice rising. “If you did this out of some misguided sense of chivalry, I’ll really be pissed at myself!”
Noah shook his head, his resolve unwavering. “No, it’s my choice… I—I see ‘goodness’ as a weakness. What if there’s a villain who uses a child as a human shield? Maybe now I can—”
Althea cut him off, her voice sharp with exasperation. “You know you’re talking complete bullshit, right?”
Even Pompom, an ancient being who hadn’t been part of civilization for eons, could see Noah fumbling. The boy was scrambling to justify his actions, trying to seem rational when the truth was far simpler.
Pompom smirked, his deep laughter echoing through the chamber. “Fascinating. Truly fascinating. You humans never cease to surprise me.”
Althea crossed her arms, her expression fierce and unwavering. “Take the [Good] skill, Noah.”
Noah blinked, surprised. “What?”
She pointed at the floating white Skill Book, her tone firm. “It’s to balance it out. What if the dragon is screwing with us?”
Pompom chuckled inwardly. Of course, I’m screwing with you. While bound by the Soul Contract to avoid outright lying, lying by omission was another matter entirely. The boy and girl had no idea the truth of what they were dealing with.
The skills were far more than they seemed. Beyond their problematic mechanics, they carried an insidious side effect: they altered their host’s very perception and thought processes. And that wasn’t the worst of it. Both skills naturally attracted “fate,” drawing chaos, conflict, and calamity to their wielders.
Pompom’s gaze flickered to the pair. Most who acquired [Good] and [Evil] together found themselves ensnared in a cosmic dance of contradiction, one that nearly always led to tragedy. History was littered with the ruins of duos who bore these cursed powers.
Noah hesitated, his hand hovering over the white Skill Book. “You really think this is a good idea?”
Althea met his gaze, her voice steady. “I don’t know. But if these things are tied to each other, we can’t risk leaving one behind. We’ve already started this, Noah. Let’s see it through.”
Noah sighed, his uncertainty palpable. Still, he reached for the [Good] skill, his fingers brushing the glowing book. With a burst of light, he absorbed the skill.
At that moment, the dungeon seemed to shift, the air thick with an almost palpable energy. The two skills, long separated, were finally reunited in their truest sense. Their union birthed something greater—and far more dangerous.
[Good & Evil] had been born.
Pompom watched with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. “Ah… delightful,” he rumbled, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. “You two are far more interesting than I expected.”
Sincerely, the evil dragon wanted the two skills to be separated.
But this was fine too…