Fairy Tale: With Sin Of Pride

[Ding! The sign-in location binding is completed]

[New Binding Check-in Point: Fairy Tail World]

[Trigger Additional Check-in Point: Dungeon World]

Fairy Tail World?

Rhodes frowned slightly. That name… It rang a bell, though he couldn't quite place where he'd heard it before.

"Wasn't that some kind of anime about magic?" He muttered to himself. Unlike this so-called Dungeon World, which he knew like the back of his hand, Fairy Tail felt vague.

As someone who grew up in the '90s, he had at least heard of Dungeon Fighter Online, even if he'd never actually played it. That over-the-top "Big Horse Monkey" meme from the game had been so famous that even he wasn't immune to its reach.

"Two check-in points at once? Is the system malfunctioning or something?"

Shaking his head, Rhodes decided not to overthink it. After all, two new worlds meant double the opportunities. Why not make the most of it?

"Sign in! Fairy Tail World!"

Ding! Sign-in successful!

Reward: White Dragon Slayer Magic (First Generation)

White Dragon Slayer Magic: The first generation of White Dragon Slayer Magic, taught by the White Dragon itself. This magic consumes anything imbued with the light attribute to bolster its user's power. Practitioners can release devastating light-element attacks. However, prolonged use leads to the user's body gradually transforming into a dragon. To halt the transformation, a magic crystal must be implanted into the body.

---

Dragon Slayer Magic. The ability to turn oneself into a dragon in order to kill dragons.

Rhodes couldn't help but click his tongue at the irony. "So dragons teach humans magic... to kill dragons? That's like humans teaching ants how to kill people."

It sounded absurd, yet the sheer potential of such magic couldn't be denied. Powerful, yes—but not without its drawbacks. The price? A slow and irreversible transformation into a dragon unless mitigated by a magic crystal.

---

Night had fallen, the village bathed in an uneasy stillness.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

A rapid, harsh knocking broke the silence.

"Here we go again," Rhodes muttered under his breath.

Opening his eyes, he groaned. This marked the fifth monster attack in just three days. For a so-called backwater village, it sure attracted its fair share of trouble.

He threw on his trousers, leaving his upper body bare, and stepped outside. The cool night air greeted him as he strode toward the village's entrance.

Torches illuminated the gathering crowd of villagers, their shadows flickering against the wooden palisades. Beyond the barrier, faint silhouettes moved in the darkness, darting in and out of sight.

"Throw a torch!" barked the village chief, his white hair gleaming under the torchlight.

The chief was the oldest person in the village, his sixty years a rarity in an era where most lived only to thirty or forty. His weathered face bore the calm authority of someone who had seen more monsters than most had eaten meals.

The torch was hurled into the void. Its flame sputtered before landing, casting a fleeting glow upon the advancing figures.

Dark green skin, sharp noses and ears, short yet menacing builds, fanged mouths filled with malice. Their blood-red eyes glinted with a vile combination of cruelty and lust.

"Dark goblins," Rhodes murmured, his expression hardening.

Ordinary goblins were cowardly creatures, easily scattered when faced with casualties. Dark goblins, however, were a different breed—feral, bloodthirsty, and unrelenting. They lived for violence and reveled in capturing other species' females for reproduction. Worse still, they bore an unnatural grudge; even if defeated, they would return with vengeance.

"Everyone, stay alert!" the village chief commanded. "Wait until they step into the traps!"

The villagers nodded, gripping crude wooden spears and stone tools. Though brave, their weapons and skills were pitifully inadequate against the horde of dark goblins, who outnumbered them two-to-one.

Crash!

A few goblins fell into hidden pits lined with spikes, their shrieks of agony cutting through the night.

The jungle answered with a guttural roar, deep and primal.

The remaining goblins froze, their bodies trembling—but not with fear. Their scarlet eyes burned brighter as the roar imbued them with an unnatural rage.

"Damn it!" the chief cursed. "They've gone berserk!"

The horde surged forward, vaulting over traps with terrifying speed. The air buzzed with their growls, the sharpness of their claws gleaming in the dim light.

"Fight! Kill or be killed!" roared the chief, rallying the villagers.

---

Rhodes stood at the back, his arms crossed. He wasn't one to involve himself in others' problems, but this was different.

A deep breath.

"Roar of the White Dragon!"

A dazzling beam of pure white light erupted from his mouth, slicing through the battlefield like a divine blade. Everything in its path—goblins, trees, even the earth itself—was obliterated, reduced to nothingness.

When the light faded, silence reigned. Not even ashes remained of the dark goblins.

The villagers stared in awe, their weapons limp in their hands.

Rhodes lowered his head, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb. "Decent power," he muttered, though he felt dissatisfied.

Dragon Slayer Magic was... clumsy. It mimicked the anatomy of a dragon—lungs, claws, fangs—to unleash devastating attacks. Effective, yes, but inelegant.

"It gets the job done, I suppose."

---

Yet something lingered in the air. A foul presence.

Rhodes' gaze snapped to the forest. "Still here, huh?"

He leapt into the sky, white wings of magic flaring behind him.

At the forest's edge, a figure emerged: a dark goblin priest, its grotesque body painted in macabre colors. It wore a skull atop its head and carried a staff crafted from human bones.

"So, a follower of the Mother of Evil," Rhodes said with disdain.

This priest was the source of the goblins' berserk state, using its twisted magic to drive them into a frenzy.

"You don't deserve mercy."

Rhodes clenched his fist, pale magic coalescing into a massive dragon claw that descended like judgment itself.

Boom!

The priest exploded into a mist of blood.

---

Back at the village, the air was thick with tension. Grateful yet wary eyes followed Rhodes as he landed.

"You're all the same," he said coldly. "Afraid of what you don't understand."

The villagers' gazes turned fearful.

"Hero, please don't leave!" the chief begged, stepping forward.

Rhodes stopped, his dragon wings folding.

"Why should I stay? What happens to you after I leave… is none of my concern."

He paused, staring at the gathered villagers. A thought flickered across his mind.

Faith.

If he could bind these people through faith—not as a god, but as a symbol of power—he might build something far greater.

"Magic," he murmured. "A magic network… Yes, that might work."

And with that, a new plan began to take shape.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

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