Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 111: Greenland’s Shadow (5)

Dragon Raja 3

“Originally, a predator as cautious as it was shouldn’t have been discovered by me. But the frigid seawater was disturbed by my movement, and the freezing process was incredibly fast. Within seconds, I saw a thin layer of ice forming in front of me, reflecting the beam from my diving helmet. In that thin sheet of ice, I saw a dark shadow—like a totem from ancient murals! It moved with such grace, its slender tail slowly swaying in the water like a butterfly flying without a sound.

Then, the spotlight shut off due to the extreme cold, plunging everything into darkness. I thought I was going to die. The embryo suddenly hatched—it was the one that killed my students! It was right behind me, so close, and yet I could do nothing. In utter desperation, people often become unusually brave. Suddenly, I remembered I was still holding a Russian-made APS underwater assault rifle.”

“All the specially modified underwater rifles had been given to the deep-sea diving teams. What I had was just a regular APS, loaded with standard rounds. But since I had it, I couldn’t just wait to die. I turned around and blindly fired into the darkness. I could smell a strong scent of blood. I actually hit it!”

“How could an APS harm a dragon? That thing’s only good against frogmen—it can’t even kill a big shark,” Manstein said. “And at a depth of 170 meters, that’s way beyond the operational range of an APS.”

“I don’t know how, but the strong scent of blood seeped in through the edge of my oxygen mask. I wasn’t wounded, so the only one who could have been injured was the dragon,” Schneider replied.
“I could feel it clearly—right in front of me. In the dark, I was face-to-face with that wounded dragon, so close, and yet I couldn’t see it.

“It exhaled at me, and in an instant, my oxygen mask shattered into pieces. The cold current, mixed with dragon blood, rushed into my airways—as if it pierced straight into the depths of my soul. I lost consciousness. My teammates on the surface realized I was no longer responding to calls, so they activated the retrieval system. The safety line hauled me back to the surface.

“When I surfaced, I was frozen inside a several-ton block of sea ice—like a frozen fish in a supermarket. Fortunately, the rescue helicopter arrived within minutes. After I woke up, the doctor told me I had suffered from extreme hypothermia. I had danced a close tango with death—breathing in the air exhaled by that thing, which was nearly -200°C, almost cold enough to liquefy. In a flash, half my face was necrotized, my brain temperature dropped below zero, and my blood froze. My chance of survival was one in a thousand.

“The doctor did his best, but all he managed to save was my tongue. During surgery, my respiratory tract had become as brittle as a mummy’s skin—touch it, and it would crumble. I now have to wear an oxygen mask at all times, and replace the plastic airway every two or three years, or I’ll die from respiratory failure.

“I used to love hand-rolled cigarettes, but this tin of tobacco has lasted me ten years—I still haven’t finished it. I only roll one when I’m reminiscing about that event. The pain of smoke passing through my damaged airways makes the memories even more vivid. I swear every detail I just told you is true. I don’t dare forget—those memories are carved into my mind with pain.

“We never managed to capture or kill that dragon. It’s still alive, hiding in the deep sea somewhere, waiting for another chance to rise. A few hours after the incident, we sent a diving robot down to investigate. The frozen sea was eerily silent—not even fish remained. There wasn’t a trace left. We searched the seabed but found no embryo, no bronze pillar—it was as if everything we experienced was just a nightmare, and waking up erased it all.

“Years later, a marine mining company discovered rich manganese nodule deposits on that same seabed and built an offshore extraction platform. Now, over a thousand marine workers operate there. Nothing supernatural has happened since—until recently, when we detected an identical heartbeat signal deep in the Japan Trench.

“That’s the end of the story. But I think you’ll be interested in this.” Schneider pulled a dust-covered file folder from under the table and pushed it toward Manstein. “I already guessed the board would send someone to shut down Project Dragon Abyss, so I took this file from the archives ahead of time. I just didn’t expect them to send you, in such haste. Read it. You can ignore the red ‘SS’ seal on the flap. Once you’re done, I’ll forge a new one over it.”

“How did you even get your hands on this?” Manstein’s face changed. “Even as Head of Operations, doing this would get you removed by the board!”

“‘SS’-class files can only be accessed by board members. They’re all physical documents—no backups in Norma. They’re locked in the classified vault at Vatterheim, with keys held only by the Headmaster and board members. The lunatics in the Equipment Department guard the files without ever seeing them, and even the Headmaster and the board have trouble accessing them—Vatterheim rarely opens its doors to outsiders, and even board members can be turned away.”

“Of course I couldn’t get it myself. The Equipment Department hates my guts,” Schneider said. “But someone else could. And if that person doesn’t care about being removed by the board—why should I?”

Schneider’s implication was obvious. Angers, indeed, didn’t care about impeachment. The board wanted to remove him, but the problem was—there was no one to replace him.

The cover of the file was stamped with the words “Kalaallit Nunaat”—Greenland in the native language. The Greenland incident ten years ago had rocked the upper levels of the college, but those who knew the truth never spoke of it. Manstein had only joined Cassell College after that. Now, the truth was within reach—just one file away. The temptation was too great.

“This might be your only chance to uncover what really happened back then. If you walk away now, it’s not too late,” Schneider said with a hint of mockery. “But once you read this file, you might not even have the chance to play both sides anymore. If the Gattuso family finds out you’ve read it, they’ll think you’re just another of the Principal’s lapdogs—just like me.”

Manstein sighed and used his thumb to pry open the seal. He read through the documents from that year, seeing the signatures of those involved. The more he read, the more horrified he became. His facial muscles twitched uncontrollably, and his hands began to tremble.

“What the hell were those bastards doing!” he growled quietly.

“Exactly. This is why the School Board doesn’t want to investigate the Greenland incident again,” Schneider said. “As you saw, the School Board was well aware of the risks of approaching an ancient dragon embryo. The Secret Party has always known that even dragon embryos are aggressive. Hybrids with explosive bloodlines can rip through their mothers to be born, so how much more dangerous would an ancient dragon be? But they were too eager to obtain that embryo, so they didn’t hesitate to risk human lives. As a result, an accident indeed occurred. They hurriedly covered up the truth, replacing most of the administrative staff, who were then reassigned to branches all around the world. They also compromised with the Principal, granting him greater authority, unlike before when he was still somewhat restrained.”

“The School Board has no right to send a letter demanding that I terminate the Dragon Embryo Project. What I’m doing now is just a repeat of what they did ten years ago. They’re only panicking now because the Gattuso family heir is also in the diving team. They don’t mind risking other people’s lives but value their own too much—more disgusting than those lunatics in the Equipment Department,” Schneider said.

“That embryo ten years ago suddenly hatched. Isn’t it possible this one could also suddenly hatch?”

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