Chapter 92: Chapter 92: Time Of Chaos

Merlin watched John for a long moment, studying the young man’s expression, the quiet confidence that sat behind his eyes. The flickering glow of the lanterns in the chamber cast long, wavering shadows across the stone walls, and for the first time in many years, Merlin felt an unusual tension inside his chest—an unease that came not from danger, but from realization.

If John knows about the masked man… then Eric must have told him. But Eric swore never to speak a word of it…

The thought rattled him, and his eyebrows furrowed into a taut line.

Finally, unable to restrain himself, Merlin asked in slow, cautious tones,

“John… cómo sabes sobre aquel mago enmascarado de la antigüedad?”

John’s lips curved into a wide grin—bold, reckless, and strangely mature. He tilted his head slightly, letting out a deep chuckle.

“Hahaha… that’s a secret, Uncle Merlin.”

The depth in his voice startled Merlin. It wasn’t childish or playful—it carried weight, seriousness, and something a little dangerous. Merlin straightened instantly. This wasn’t the reaction of someone who heard a rumor. This was someone who knew something with certainty.

“Don’t play with me,” Merlin said, stepping closer. “How did you know anything about that incident? The ancient masked man—no one alive in this world should know that story except a handful of us.”

John’s smile didn’t fade. Instead, it softened—more controlled, more grounded.

“I know because…” he paused, letting the tension stretch, “…I’ve read the history of my race. The warrior lineage. All of it.”

Merlyn froze.

His hands shook. His breath caught inside his chest.

“Impossible.”

His voice escaped him in a whisper.

“That history stands written only within the sealed book. Only the village lords can— ”

John nodded serenely.

“Yes. I found the whole book.”

Merlyn’s heart lurched violently.

“John… how? How did you find it? Even the elders of the council don’t know where the real copy is.”

John took a slow breath, his eyes darkening with memory.

“I found the missing pages too—the ones about the masked man. And…” he looked directly into Merlin’s astonished gaze, “…I know the truth about my father’s secret room.”

The air in the chamber turned cold.

For a very long moment, Merlin couldn’t breathe.

Then he reeled backwards, clutching the edge of the stone table.

His voice was so soft.

“John… what do you mean? Tell me. Tell me exactly what you know. What did you see inside that room?”

John didn’t hesitate.

“A monster.”

He had spoken the word low but it slashed the silence.

“A huge monster named Gidora. With wings… and wisdom older than my father. He knows the history of our clan. He even lent his fire power to my dad once.”

The lantern flames trembled from the heat of Merlin’s sudden exhale.

And then—

He burst into laughter.

A loud, echoing, completely uncontrolled one.

“HAHAHAHAHA—!”

John blinked in confusion.

Merlin laughed so hard that he had to hold onto his stomach.

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes.

“A MONSTER?!” he repeated between his laughter.

“You consider Gidora to be a monster, John?

John scowled.

“He looks like one.”

Merlyn shook his head, still laughing, wiping his eyes.

“No, no… he’s not a monster. Not at all. You sweet innocent child.”

He stepped closer and placed a hand on John’s shoulder.

“Gidora is not an it. He’s a he. And he is one of the oldest warriors in existence. His name—Gidora—was once spoken with respect across entire continents.”

John’s eyes widened a little.

Merlyn went on, more calmly now, though a ripple of mirth still played upon his tone.

“Of course he looks terrifying. But so do all ancient beings. You’re judging him by form, not by essence.”

John crossed his arms, still processing it all.

“Why was he chained then?”

Merlin sighed deeply.

“That… is because even ancient warriors with good hearts lose control sometimes. Their power grows faster than their sanity.”

He stopped and turned to John.

“And Eric—your father—was the only one who could keep him in check.”

John’s eyebrows rose with the seriousness in Merlin’s tone.

“Gidora gave your father more than fire power, John. He gave him guidance. He gave him a second life after the battlefield almost took it.”

John swallowed.

This part he didn’t know.

Merlin smiled softly.

“So… now tell me the truth. When did you sneak into that room? You know it’s forbidden.”

John shrugged nonchalantly.

“When I was ten.”

Merlin almost fainted.

“TEN?!”

His voice cracked, echoing off the stone walls.

“You went inside at ten years old? Do you realize Gidora could have swallowed you in one breath?”

John smirked.

“He didn’t. He spoke with me.”

Merlin dragged both hands down his face.

“Of course he did… because you are Eric’s son. Gods help me—if Eric finds out you entered that room at ten…”

He groaned again.

But in a moment that groan modulated into resignation.

Merlyn’s voice had gone quiet, reflective.

“So… you know about the masked man from the ancient era because you read those pages. And you know about the monster because you saw him with your own eyes.”

John nodded.

Merlin collapsed into the nearest wooden chair, letting out a deep sigh.

“John… you do not understand how big a thing you have stepped into.”

John tilted his head.

“Then explain it to me.”

Merlin regarded him for a long moment then finally spoke.

“The masked man… the one you read about… he wasn’t just a villain.”

His voice dropped lower, more serious.

He was the strongest traitor in the history of our clan.

John’s face darkened.

Merlin continued slowly.

“He was once a hero. A brilliant magician. But his power—rank near S—drove him into madness. He enslaved dragons, hypnotized them, used them like pets… started wars, destroyed tribes.”

John said nothing, just listened.

Old, hurting memories glittered in Merlin’s eyes.

“Your father and I fought him when we were only seventeen. That was the most erotic, wild, almost suicidal fight of our youth.”

John smirked.

“Dad told me half of it. You tell me the real version now.”

Merlyn chuckled softly.

“Your father… brave to the point of stupidity. The masked man used a fire weapon technique—old, forbidden—and Eric got his hand shattered. Bone broken, cells burned. But he still tried to fight.”

His voice warmed with admiration.

“I healed him. Almost collapsed doing it. So he carried me away from the battlefield, then went back again.”

John’s chest swelled with pride.

Merlyn’s eyes went soft.

“That kick he landed—the one using the quick flash technique—yes, that was real. Even now it is remembered in the old scrolls.”

He leaned back.

“No one our age dared to face that monster magician. But your father did.”

John swallowed hard.

“Then… the masked man in the book… the one I read about… is the same one you fought?”

Merlin nodded slowly.

“Yeah.”

John’s eyes narrowed.

“So he wasn’t a myth.” Merlin shook his head. “No, he was real. More real than you want him to be.” John drank it all in—the truth, the weight, the legacy. And then Merlin added in a hushed manner: “And now that you know all this… your path will change, John. Because knowing a secret of this scale… means you are no longer a child in this world. You are part of its future.” This time, John didn’t smile. Nodding only once, steady and determined. “Then I’ll go by that way.” Slowly, Merlin exhaled. For better or worse… The boy was ready.

Then

Merlin rubbed his forehead, still unable to understand how John already knew so much. Finally, in a low, uncertain voice, he asked, “John… how did you learn about the secret room? About Gidora? About all this monster theory?”

John breathed out slowly. His eyes drifted toward the direction of the underground chamber as memories resurfaced.

“Curiosity,” he said. “Since I was small, I always felt something strange near that room. Father never let anyone go close. Even the guards avoided that part of the house. And whenever I asked questions, he changed the topic or stayed silent.”

Merlin listened quietly as John continued.

“One day, I followed him. Silently. I hid my presence the same way he taught me in training. I memorized the path when he went down to that room.”

John’s expression tightened, but there was a sense of pride in his voice.

“After that day, I started going alone whenever I got the chance. I wanted to know the truth. I wanted to see what Father was protecting.”

He inhaled.

“And when I finally made it inside… I saw Gidora. I thought he would destroy me, but he didn’t. He spoke to me. Told me things about the past, about the wars, about Father’s injuries… and even about the masked man.”

Merlin’s eyes widened.

John added, “Later, Father found out I was going there. Surprisingly, he didn’t get angry. He told me everything. The truth about the room. The truth about the mask. The truth about the old war.”

Merlin exhaled shakily. “John… then tell me something. What did Gidora explain to you about his origin?”

John looked directly at him. “That’s what I want to know from you, Uncle. Who is he really, if not a monster?”

Merlin opened his mouth to answer.

“He’s not a monster, John. Gidora is actually a dra—”

Before he could finish, Elsa’s curse seal suddenly pulsed and twisted violently, as if awakening again.

Everything stopped but

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