"Hiya, Nozzy!"

The massive, brownish-grey dragon glares at me, its dark purple eyes full of agitation. Nozvinel is currently sitting in the entrance to the large cave that's his den, wings spread out to cover its entrance. I can't see any trace of the stone he excavated from it to make it large enough for him and his hoard, but that's pretty normal.

Dragon usually dump those elsewhere. Considering he no doubt dug deeply enough to expose the mithril vein here, Nozvinel probably dumped the excavated stone at some random location out of sight, and likely drew out the ore himself to keep as part of his hoard. He'll still have left the walls with the impure ore, though, as many earth dragons like the look of it for their caves, rather than the lighter color of pure mithril.

Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if what happened was that he simply replaced the non-ore stone with ore stone, to ensure it was completely covered.

"How did you find me?" Nozvinel asks in our old language, his voice rumbling slightly, sounding almost like thunder.

"You're only thirty miles from your old home," I tell him. "It wasn't that hard, considering the mithril here. How come you moved a couple of days ago? That cave is still pretty nice, and there's plenty of room for expansion there. Not that you'll probably be needing to expand, considering your old age, but still. Dragons usually have their final home within three centuries of their hatching."

"What do you want?" Nozvinel sighs, and I land in front of him and attempt to see under him. He's doing a good job of hiding the entire cave entrance with his wings. "Caleb, I'm still reeling from the revelation that you and your husband are alive. How is that possible?"

"Dunno," I answer as Kyron decides to just land beside me, instead of continuing to fly. "The God of Death doesn't know, either. I just wanted to see if this cave really does only have smaller streaks of mithril in it, like I thought it would. The other cave had a massive vein, so it was possible to just dig through it and still have every surface of it coated. Well, apart from the first few feet, but that's not really relevant in the face of how glorious that cave was."

"Kyron, do you mind if I ask why your husband sought me out?"

"You've probably already guessed it," Kyron shrugs. "He wanted to collect on the debt you owe him."

"I was gonna be nice and lead into that!"

"Your death invalidated the debt," Nozvinel states.

"Did not!" I say. "You simply didn't have to pay it out while we were dead! I'm back now, so you owe me. It's also been a thousand years, so a lot of interest has built up. Anyway, I know you're going to hate this cave and move back to the other one. I wanted to let you know that I took this from it."

I drop the cube of mithril I pulled from the cave onto the ground, and Nozvinel's eyes widen just a little.

"This should suffice for awhile," I tell him. "Can I take a look at your collection of magic crystals and monster cores? It's going to take awhile to build back up my arsenal of weapons and other goods, and I need some high-quality cores and crystals."

The dragon contemplates this for awhile. If I'm right about the reason his walls, floor, and ceiling of his original cave were completely covered in mithril ore, he'll probably just move some from this one to that one to make up for the plain stone section that's there now. It will also probably be a significant chunk of what's in this cave naturally.

Both are within his territory, so it still counts as taking it from him, even if he doesn't move back into the other cave.

"No," Nozvinel answers.

"Also," I say. "I'd like information on any of my creations from before we died that you know about. If you have any of them, I thank you for holding onto them for me these past thousand years."

"If I refuse, you're going to come back here when I'm not around and-"

"If you refuse, I'm going to come back here when you're not around and collect on the debt anyway."

Nozvinel sighs, then inhales deeply and exhales a breath of dragon's fire at Kyron and me. All dragons – regardless of their element – can breathe dragon's fire. It's a powerful magic that consumes anything the dragon targets and nothing they don't – so long as the target is weaker than the flames. There is no "resisting" it, as Constitution and magic items don't provide any protection if they're weaker than the flames by even a fraction of a point.

The dragon's fire reaches Kyron and me… and dissipates against the [Water Barrier] that forms in a dome around us just before it hits. Nozvinel keeps up the breath for nearly two minutes before finishing, and I just grin at him through the barrier when the view is clear.

"Dammit," he grumbles as I send the mithril cube back into my ring. "Dying didn't remove your ability to do that."

Dragon's breath is quite useful against basically anyone who doesn't know the Truth. Even at one-fifteenth of Nozvinel's power, I am able to counter his flames completely and in their entirety. This is an ultimate magic technique, and it does drain a fair bit of Mana (especially with how little I have right now), but it is effective.

I can tell that Nozvinel is contemplating commanding the ground to swallow me up.

"Aaa-aaah!" I let out an exaggerated groan. "And here I was, thinking that a dragon soon to meet the Council of Fallen Dragons would do the honorable thing and pay back the person who loaned him ten thousand golden coins when he was only two months old so that he could have great glory and prestige among his siblings! I guess you aren't worried about such a stain on your honor, Nozvinel, so we'll be heading off now. It was good to see you again, Nozvinel. Koplidros always pays me back some of what he owes when I ask, Ky, let's go see if he's still around. His hoard would probably have a bigger selection for what I'm looking for, anyway."

As I turn around, Nozvinel lets out a heavy sigh.

"Wait," he calls out as winds start to whip around me, and I let the flight magic die down.

I turn to face the dragon, who tilts the top of his left wing forward a little and peers behind it.

"Move back some," he says. "A little more. Thank you."

Nozvinel drops his body to the ground as he folds his wings back against his sides. This cave has a little bit of a smaller entrance than the old one, and what I can see of it does have mithril ore stone lining it completely. That basically confirms that he replaces the stone with mithril ore stone, to give it that preferred look.

Standing back there, looking at us in awe, are a trio of boys around nine years of age. They all have the brown hair common to the region, though only two of them have the brown eyes common to it. The third boy has a brown left eye, but a blue right eye. All three are dressed in brown robes with grey markings, as well as the crest of Nozvinel himself.

Starting seventy feet into the cave and completely filling it are gems, coins, refined ores, crystals, monsters cores, items made of gold and jewels and crystals, and more.

Dragons have a belief that there is a Council of Fallen Dragons – ancient dragons long-since dead – that oversee the afterlife for all dragons. Something which dragons pride themselves on is their honor. They consider it an even greater pride the older they get.

Refusing to repay a debt to someone who's very much alive, even if they had been dead for a thousand years, would stain that honor in a massive way. This is more true when that debt is what enabled them to reach their glory among dragons.

All I need to do was remind him of this to convince him to repay his debt. Adding in the claim that another dragon is more honorable than him (whether or not they're still rivals, and whether or not the other still alive) only increased that.

Sure, Nozvnel could also just kill me, but doing that instead of repaying his debt – and allowing me to actually make use of the repayment – would be an even greater stain to his honor.

"Thanks, Nozzy!"

"Don't take too much," Nozvinel states. "You've already taken plenty just from that mithril, and I do have information that might satisfy you."

"Okay!"

I walk past the boys (making sure to give each one a ruffle of their hair) and past the trio of beds the boys likely sleep on. Nozvinel's hoard truly is great, and it takes me awhile to find pieces that suit my wants. Eventually, I finish and exit the cave. The boys are watching the entire time, stunned that their master would allow someone to just take loot.

"So!" I say in the local language. "Is Koplidros still around?"

"Passed away fifty-four years, six months, eighteen days, nineteen hours, and forty-seven minutes ago!" Nozvinel puffs up his chest some in pride. "Challenged me a duel for territory and I snapped his neck like the weakling he was!"

Looks like they were still rivals, and it must have gotten worse over the centuries if Nozvinel knows how long it's been that precisely. He likely even knows the seconds, too.

"Neat," I say. "So! You said you had some information that might pique my interest? Gimme the juicy details, buddy!"

"I've heard tale," he says. "Of a duo of people claiming to be the second coming of the Sage of Fire and Saint of Frost. They're about a hundred miles northwest of here, near Oazkanval – the region once known as the Winter Forest. They've reconstructed the Shrine of the Frozen Flame, and it sounds like they're using powerful magic artifacts – the sort whose creation style has been lost."

The Shrine of the Frozen Flame? I built that on a whim a couple of years ago. Well, I guess it's been a thousand years, now. It was more of a boredom project for me while waiting for a nearby Dungeon to reopen. When we left the Dungeon, an earth mage asked if he could construct a statue of the two of us to place at it.

Kyron was reluctant, but I quickly stripped down to model for it, because why not add to the whim of the shrine's creation?

My husband looks just as interested as I do about this.

"How long ago did you hear of this?" I ask.

"Only recently," Nozvinel indicates one of the brown-eyed boys with his tail. "Jeremy here told me about it after I took him just a few weeks ago. He's not sure about the weapons, but he did tell me what he'd heard – that they were etched with crystal."

Unless the proper formula is used, the crystal etchings like what are in my staff will break after only one or two times magic is channeled through them. Since that style was apparently lost six hundred years ago, then either those weapons are ancient, or someone has figured out the craft again.

"The bard said they showed up a couple of years ago," Jeremy tells me. "He said he saw their powers, and they were amazing! They're saying that a great demon threat is on the horizon again, and they are preparing themselves for the war!"

"Which is absolute nonsense," Nozvinel huffs. "The Golden Knight ensured the demons could never return, after you two killed the Great Demon King."

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

"The Golden Knight?" Kyron asks.

We knew a "Golden Knight" back then, and remembering him makes me a little sad. He'd have died centuries ago due to the ripples he'd have made, so I can't just find him and thank him for his help. We met him about two years ago… er… about two years before we sacrificed ourselves to kill the Great Demon King.

The Golden Knight always wore armor that looked as if made of pure gold, though it was actually an orichalcum alloy. We never saw his face, but he wielded magic weapons with ease and didn't have any issues taking on demon armies by himself. Just like the two of us, the Golden Knight was a one-man army on a level unlike any other.

Kyron and I suspected he was a Mythical-Tier, but we never knew for sure.

"Ooh! I know this one!" The boy with heterochromia exclaims. "The Golden Knight is an ancient legend, passed from bard to bard, father to child, elder to infant! After the Sage of Fire and Saint of Frost sacrificed their lives to destroy the very being of the Great Demon King, the Golden Knight went all across the land, slaying every last demon there was! He spent centuries at it, erasing every last bit of them and their presence, removing every power they ever left behind! The Golden Knight destroyed every demon portal there was, making sure the demons could never again return!"

"Well, they weren't portals, they were seals," I say. "And-"

"The Golden Knight intentionally broke the seals and slaughtered the demons contained by them," Nozvinel tells me. "Not a single one of them remains. Whoever these frauds are, however, they've convinced people that the Great Demon King has reincarnated. That and what Jeremy told you is all I know. I was planning on asking Jelvriaz – a dragon of two hundred years and who lives near there – if she could tell me more, but then I learned of your return and had to relocate."

"Are you sure they're frauds?" The third boy asks. "They sound real to me. Even you said that those weapons must be ancient."

"Of course they're frauds!" Nozvinel huffs. "They're a couple of frauds who have unusual weapons, that's all! These are the real Sage of Fire and Saint of Frost! Though it appears they've suffered another reset."

"We did," Kyron tells him. "Someone resurrected us, and not even the God of Death knows who, how, or why. When we woke, we were in these outfits and with a single magic weapon, each, as well as our rings – emptied. Did you really think relocating would prevent Caleb from finding you?"

Nozvinel huffs again. It's one thing to refuse to pay back a debt or to kill the person it's owed to. It's another thing entirely to simply move away from your old home. After all, if they can't find you in your new home, they obviously don't care that much about collecting on the debt.

Anyone who tells a dragon otherwise is simply a snack.

"These are the actual ones?" Jeremy asks. "They don't look old. Plus, didn't they die?"

"We were dead for a thousand years," Kyron tells him. "But someone brought us back from the dead, with our old bodies. We need to get stronger again, but that shouldn't take us too long. That's why we wanted to talk with Nozvinel – he owed Caleb for helping him out back when he was still a hatchling. With some of the high-quality monster cores and magic crystals he's giving Caleb, Caleb can make some pretty powerful weapons to help us with stronger Dungeons, for more Experience and faster growth."

"They say that the Golden Knight still wanders today," the boy with heterochromia says with a voice that's probably supposed to be an attempt at being mysterious. "Possessing his armor even after death with the goal of ensuring the demons never return. Those who cross his path are said to hear the rasping breath of the soul within, rattling the armor as he marches on. One day, when he knows the demons will never return, the Golden Knight will finally move on, his armor bursting into light, flying to the night sky so that he shall always be remembered among the stars."

The other two boys look a little exasperated at the sudden interruption, and I get the feeling this boy talks about the Golden Knight a lot.

"Yes, thank you for that," Nozvinel tells him, then looks at Kyron and me. "The Golden Knight finished his goal within twenty years. There is a powerful being walking around in his armor, and no one knows who it is. Sightings of 'the Golden Knight' have been occurring for the last thousand years. Chances are pretty high that they're simply passing the honor and task down to another when it's time for them to retire."

"Probably," I say.

"And speaking of Mythical-Grade equipment that are so much above, there should be another Grade after Mythical," Nozvinel says. "I do remember hearing that Durazmakis was spotted in the ruins of the Temple of Forgotten Hopes. That was told to me around two hundred years ago, but the ruins are in a pretty isolated area that has some rather strong monsters. The adventurer who spotted it fled the ruins due to some of them, but he did describe Durazmakis, according to the dragon who told me about it."

Durazmakis was one of my greatest creations before we sacrificed ourselves at the end of the war. It was a shield I forged for Kyron, made from the most powerful metal I know of: celestial iron. I'm honestly not surprised it's still around today, and was already planning on tracking it down at some point.

There's no way I could ever make a shield I feel more proud of than that one. Every shield I ever make again will feel pale in comparison to it.

"You don't happen to know where Durazvokir is, do you?" I ask. "Or at least, rumors of its location?"

Durazvokir is the sword that goes with Durazmakis. They don't need each other, but I did forge them as a set.

"I do not," Nozvinel answers. "Which is interesting, considering that I'd imagine a sword like that would be quite famous. It seems to have dropped out of notice these last eight hundred years. Both of them were put in Kyron's grave, which was raided about that long ago by some heretics. Those of us who knew of Durazvokir were surprised we never heard anything about it after the raid."

"Alright," I say. "Well, we'll probably find clues to it. Thanks for the info, Nozzy! We'll be off now! Bye, kids!"

"Bye," the kids wave at us.

Kyron and I take off into the air and start heading northwest. While Kyron might have other plans, I want to go and talk with Jelvriaz, to see what she knows. Learning the information of the imitators now will help us better-prepare for dealing with them. If they really are pretty strong, we might not be able to shut down their fraud very easily.

Neither of us like the idea of someone pretending to be us, so I know he will want them shut down as well.

The Winter Forest, now known as Oazkanval, is an immense expense of a mostly-conifer forest. Unlike most trees, the leaves of the conifers here are a snowy-white instead of green, which is only part of where it gets its original name from. Here, the season is essentially winter all year, the temperatures rarely going more than ten degrees above freezing, snow able to fall at any point.

In fact, it's snowing lightly when we arriving, giving the Winter Forest a slight sparkling quality to it.

Kyron and I fly over the forest and its occasional lakes, rivers, streams, springs, and other features. Soon, we arrive at the small mountain range on it. Though I can spot the Shrine of the Frozen Flame nearby and the small village at its base, I avoid going too close to it and instead, fly around the mountain. Locating Jelvriaz's den isn't too difficult, though she's not home when we arrive.

Unlike Nozvinel's den, Jelvriaz's doesn't have mithril ore lining the walls. Finding a place that actually has it is rare, and earth dragons tend to dominate those. I've heard tales of a dozen earth dragons working together to remove another dragon from a cave with mithril in it, only to fight each other to the death in an attempt at laying claim to it over the others.

This cave is pretty simple, not even fifty feet in length, with a single bed off to the right-hand side and her hoard spread across the floor and arranged into a couple of piles, to make it look bigger than it really is.

For a two-century-old dragon, Jelvriaz's hoard is remarkably small. If put into a pile, I doubt it would be more than fifty feet in width and seven feet in height. I also can't see any magic items among it, it's mostly just refined ores and raw gems. Not even coins or cut gems. She's not that prestigious of a dragon, then.

The dragon's two boys are present, both of them sitting on the sole bed in here. One looks seven, while the other looks about ten. Both have brown hair and blue eyes, and the older one has freckles on his nose and cheeks. They're dressed in white robes with bluish-white markings on them, along with a crest I don't know – probably the dragon's, considering they like marking their boys.

"Hello!" I greet them. "Do you know when your master will be back?"

"I-we don't know what you're saying, sorry," the older boy says as he hides the younger one behind himself.

"It appears the language here is different," I tell Kyron in our own language. "And yet… whoever resurrected us apparently gave us knowledge of more than one language."

"Indeed," he says, then bends over a little so he's more on the boy's level. "Sorry about that, little man. My name's Kyron, and this is my husband, Caleb."

"I'm Tyler," the boy answers. "And this is Luke. Wh-what do you want? Our master won't be happy if you do something to us."

"Don't worry," Kyron gives him a reassuring smile. "We don't intend on hurting you."

"She won't like it if you steal from her hoard, either!"

"We aren't planning on that, either," Kyron tells him. "We-"

"WHO DARES TO TRESPASS UPON MY-"

The thunderous voice stops the moment Kyron and I calmly turn to face the speaker, a ten-foot-tall dragon. She has light purple eyes and snow-white scales, and her threatening expression is frozen from shock.

"You… look like the statues of the Sage of Fire and the Saint of Frost."

"Hello," I give her a bow. "I am Caleb, the real Sage of Fire, and this is my husband, Kyron, the real Saint of Frost. We were recently resurrected by parties unknown, and we learned of the imitators just hours ago. Nozvinel directed us to you when we wanted to know more information about the frauds, he said you'd know best of all."

The dragon narrows her gaze on us.

"Or you're using some trick to make it seem like you're the great heroes of old," she says. "It was clear to any dragon worth their hoard that these two were frauds. You are no doubt more frauds."

"We are only here for information," I tell her. "And I'm more than willing to pay you for it. I can even spruce up your hoard a bit, turning some of those raw gemstones and purified ores into jewels and bars and coins."

Without allowing Jelvriaz a chance to respond, I pull Vemokott from my ring. The dragon's nostrils flare and she starts to say something, probably an inquiry as to how I expect her to accept such a payment in exchange for her draconic wisdom. She'd probably demand a dozen like it.

Ignoring the beginning of her response, I channel magic into the staff, the crystal etchings beginning to glow before the crystal atop it does. I tap the top of the staff to the ground, then pull it upwards. There's no need to move slowly this time, but I still do so just a little bit. Iron ore pulls up from the ground as I do, then I summon Velabroz and begin refining the ore much in the same way I did the mithril at Nozvinel's den.

Jelvriaz watches in contempt as the boys watch in awe, the eyes of the children as wide as dinner plates, their mouths slightly agape. Most dragons aren't impressed by ordinary iron, and I know that an ice dragon like Jelvriaz probably won't be, either.

Fortunately for her, I'm not offering her iron as payment. Once the ore has been refined (Kyron uses his magic to remove the impurities from the cave after they drip down), I begin the next stage.

I summon two large ice magic crystals I took from Nozvinel's hoard and shatter them with my magic while carrying them with wind magic. Keeping the metal hot, I send the magic dust into the floating orb of iron and begin working it through.

Utilizing both magics, I allow the metal to rapidly cool without affecting its strength in any way, the iron now snowy white in appearance – snow iron, its name is. Still channeling magic through the staffs, I heat it back up once more and begin to reshape it. A pair of amethysts are summoned from my ring, then carefully set into the figure I'm crafting with expert ease.

By the time I finish, the boys aren't the only ones mesmerized by the performance. That's only natural, though, as offering a dragon a two-foot-tall replica of herself is one of the quickest ways to get a basic trade – like information.

I allow the statue to touch down closer to Jelvriaz, then step back so that she can walk around it, examining the sculpture. She takes a few minutes to admire it, preening by the time she's finished. The dragon asks Tyler to move the statue to a center spot in her hoard. After directing him to adjust it a few times to satisfy her desire for its location, Jelvriaz looks at me.

"What did you want to know?"

"Much like dragons," I say. "I am not fond of those who pretend to be me. Unfortunately, I don't know if they're within my abilities to deal with, so I'd like to know more about them. Who they are, how powerful they are, what magic items they use, and so on. How likely they are to stop when it's revealed the real great heroes are here."

"Quite unlikely," Jelvriaz answers. "They'll no doubt claim you frauds and display their powers, turning their cult against you. They're both Moderate-Tier with one having fire and the other water, both having air. I believe they're at Level 200 and are preparing for the trial for a reset and advancement to Major-Tier. Last I eavesdropped, they were planning on performing it in a couple of weeks."

Jelvriaz thinks for several moments, her tail moving back and forth a little.

"As for their magic items," she says. "Their weapons are Master-Tier. The one known as Jacob uses an orichalcum sword I've been eyeing for me hoard, by the name of Frezivalz. It reduces Mana cost by ten percent and increases the power of all ice spells cast through it by fifty percent. The spellsmith sacrificed reduction for power, there.

"The one known as James," she continues. "Uses a staff by the name of Flarvinax, which has the same bonuses, but for fire instead. I think they're both around nineteen or twenty. Something is off about their power, though – despite those magic and their current Levels and Tier, their magics feel stronger than they should be. Jacob's feels to be around 90 Magic, while James's feels to be around 180 Magic. They should be around 60 Magic and 120 Magic respectively, even when channeling through those weapons."

I put the staffs away and hold up my hands. A snowflake forms above each one, and they rapidly expand in size and shape, becoming amulets of ice. Each amulet is in the form of a teardrop, with a variety of runes around the outer edge and a large "jewel" sitting in the center.

"Do they wear amulets like these?" I ask.

"No," Jelvriaz answers. "But they do have ones made of metal and large magic crystals that have the same design. Those are just ordinary amulets, though. Anyway, this greater level of power than they should have for their Level has convinced plenty of the truth. The fact that their Mana reserves seem endless backs it up, too. I can't figure out how they're doing it, as their Mana pools barely drop when they cast spells."

Kyron covers my mouth before I can call her a dumbass dragon.

"Thank you for the information," Kyron tells her. "Do you know of any Dungeons that are Tier VI to Tier VII around here? My husband will be happy to convert the raw ores of your hoard to proper bars and coins for good information on that, and will even create a stone pedestal for that statue he made."