Inside—
Lay a single, massive bone. Roughly the length of Max's arm, thick and yellowed with age, but laced with dark red runic veins—natural, not carved—and pulsing faintly as if still alive.
Max stared at it, stunned.
"...This is a dragon bone," he muttered under his breath.
He held his breath and focused more closely.
Not just any dragon's bone.
It carried the aura of royalty, of dominion—something primal and overwhelming. It felt close to what he'd once read about in ancient texts…
"Maybe a True Dragon?"
But after a moment, he shook his head.
"No," he whispered. "If it was from a true dragon… this entire region would be suffocating in its presence. This is something else. A descendant maybe. A lesser bloodline."
Still…
Even a fragment from a lesser true-blooded dragon was no small thing.
It radiated immense energy—raw and dense. And it was untouched by any refining. The villagers must've thought it was a sacred relic… and to them, it might've been. But to Max?
