Chapter 338
Chapter 338
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 338
Chapter Title: Chapter 8-1. Reillysa, Land of the Dragonkin
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Cellyon fell deep into thought at Esther Seoh’s words.
Where should she even begin? And was it okay to tell him everything? He was her father, sure, but if he heard it all, would he still welcome her like this?
At that moment, Cellyon felt Judah’s gaze.
“…….”
She drew courage from it.
Right. Even though he was in a human body now, the Lord had called what happened that day a natural disaster. He’d said she bore no blame for it.
That didn’t mean she intended to forget the atrocities she’d committed that day—not in the slightest. But at least now, she found the courage to recount those events to Esther Seoh.
“Do you remember… or rather, did you see the meteor that fell from the sky a hundred years ago?”
“You mean what they now call the fragments. Of course I remember. I saw it scattering lightning even as I left Reillysa for the Dragon’s Valley. But from Reillysa at the time, the meteor that hit the Dragon’s Valley wouldn’t have been visible… Hold on, I have a question.”
“Yes, go ahead.”
“From what I know, after the rains come to the Blazing Lands… there are pillars of fire and sandstorms, and from within them comes this terribly mournful wailing. Sometimes it’s screams, sometimes shrieks. Nomads and orcs wandering the desert have heard it often, and they say it’s so heartbreaking that they end up crying along with it. Are you connected to that?”
It was almost pure instinct.
After Reillysa’s lands turned into the Blazing Lands, he’d had no chance to set foot there. A fragment had fallen on the Dragon’s Valley too—the very place he’d gone to meet the dragons—forcing him to stay put for a while. By the time he’d escaped the Dragon’s Valley, word had reached him that Reillysa was turning into a desert.
While managing the influx of refugee sub-races, he’d sent dragonkin to assess the situation, only to find that the Reillysa he knew was gone. Esther Seoh had led his retinue from the Dragon’s Valley, gathered the refugees, and founded a new kingdom.
Later, he’d dispatched dragonkin to the Blazing Lands, but their reports hadn’t been useful.
He’d heard tales of the heartbreaking, chest-tightening screams echoing from the pillars of fire and sandstorms—made him think “could it be,” but he’d dismissed it until now. The moment Cellyon mentioned the fragments, though, certainty dawned on him. He’d hoped she’d shake her head and deny it, but Cellyon nodded.
“Yes. I heard it from Judah, but those screams… they were mine.”
“…What in the world happened?”
“Ah, that’s what I’m about to tell you. According to Judah, twenty-four fragments fell from the sky that day. Come to think of it, that lord who appeared in the heavens mentioned it too. One of the twenty-four fragments hit the Dragon’s Valley, but some fell on Reillysa as well. I happened to be standing by the window and saw it. The meteor pierced the magic barrier protecting the capital with a deafening roar, shattering the castle’s defensive spells in an instant. And it struck right at the sacred temple—the one dedicated to Lord Sian.”
“My god…”
“I rushed to the temple right away, and there it was: a single sword floating in midair. It was eerily beautiful. The crimson blade stretched long, and the hilt seemed almost to beg someone to grasp it. I wasn’t the only one who felt it—another dragonkin walked toward it as if entranced… and someone else watching drove their claws into him, killing him on the spot because they couldn’t let it be taken.”
Cellyon continued slowly, explaining step by step.
In the end, deeming the fragment too dangerous, the high priests of the temple had performed a sealing ritual alongside her… but those enthralled by Requiem had tried to sabotage it, even committing suicide to stop the seal. Regrettably, it failed. Because of no one else but her.
“I grabbed the sword… and killed them. Stabbed and slashed those screaming for me to stop… burned them… And when I realized what I’d done, I wailed and screamed in agony. When I came back to my senses, I was thrown back to that exact moment—reaching for the sword again.”
Tears streamed down Cellyon’s face as she went on.
Judah had told her she wasn’t at fault, that it was unavoidable. But that didn’t erase what she’d endured. Esther Seoh’s face hardened as she described reliving that moment endlessly for a hundred years. He let out a long breath, as if his chest ached, and pulled Cellyon into an embrace.
“It’s alright. That wasn’t your fault.”
Just like Judah, Esther Seoh said the same words.
“Even if it was your fault somehow, it doesn’t matter. You’ve suffered enough for a hundred years. Don’t blame yourself too much.”
Judah’s group watched with mixed feelings as he comforted his sobbing daughter. Judah took a bitter sip of the chilled wine in his glass.
Once Cellyon had calmed a bit, she continued.
She recounted the rest exactly as the group had experienced it. How she’d been dying, unable to control the massive mana absorbed through Requiem, until Judah saved her, offering one chance. Then she spoke of her mental struggles.
She feared that without Judah by her side, she’d loop back to that moment.
That if she returned to that helpless instant where she could do nothing, she wouldn’t know what to do.
“While I despaired, he told me there were people waiting for me. I thought they’d all died. Thought I’d been forgotten. But as we came here, an elf recognized me. The dragonkin guarding the gate remembered me. Inside the castle, a dwarf knew me. Fairies bowed to me. I felt joy and guilt. I wondered if I was really someone worthy of such a welcome.”
“…To the dragonkin and everyone in Reillysa, you were the greatest queen.”
“You know the rest without me saying, right?”
Esther Seoh drew a deep breath and nodded.
“Yeah, I had no idea. Now I understand why you said you can’t live without Judah Arshes here. He saved you when you’d given up everything in that moment—it’s natural to feel that way. So. Nothing happened between you two after that?”
“Huh?”
“Like repaying that favor with your bodies or something.”
Cellyon’s face, tear-streaked just moments ago, flushed bright red. Everyone listening reacted the same. Lyme, who’d been quietly sipping wine, choked and coughed violently. He covered his mouth in time, but wine sprayed out, staining the white tablecloth.
“Cough, hack—s-sorry…”
As tears welled in Lyme’s eyes from the reflex, Esther Seoh snapped his fingers. The purple stain vanished from the cloth, and water materialized in the air to clean him up. Lyme, still coughing, bowed in thanks.
“No need to worry. They haven’t been intimate.”
Judah answered for Cellyon.
“Is that so? Shame. Lumiren kept insisting I check, so I assumed they had. Honestly, isn’t it the kind of thing that invites misunderstanding? She said with her own mouth that she can’t live without you—I doubted my own ears at first. Thought Lumiren had finally lost it or gone deaf.”
“Father…”
“What? Didn’t you say it yourself?”
Cellyon bowed her head. She hadn’t been embarrassed telling Lumiren—just stating facts. But hearing her own words repeated by a third party made her want to crawl into a hole.
Watching his daughter’s flushed face, Esther Seoh let out a hearty laugh. Her bold, unyielding stubbornness was still fresh in his mind, making this new reaction all the more fascinating.
“To give my opinion first: I don’t mind. You’re human, sure, but you saved my daughter from a century of torment. If you’re both fine with it… go ahead. Be intimate, whatever. I won’t interfere. Back then, with no suitor in sight, I just sighed over who’d take her. Well… good for you.”
“…Can we drop this now?”
Esther Seoh shrugged and nodded. Judah subtly glanced at his companions with just his eyes. Iris was tilting her wine glass, parched. Lyme was still coughing, wiping tears. Arhil, right beside him, was puffing her cheeks like when she was angry or sulky, glaring daggers.
“…….”
The stares burned, so he quietly turned his head aside.
Esther Seoh grinned ear to ear. It was obvious he knew exactly what was going on with the women here. But it didn’t matter.
‘They’re both human anyway, so they won’t live long. If they eat some of the dragon hearts I have stored, I can extend that short lifespan. Even with rivals, my daughter will end up with him in the end.’
The one who laughs last wins.
He tilted his glass, took a sip of wine, and continued.
“By the way, what happened to that fragment?”
“?”
“The one that drove my daughter berserk and tormented her for a hundred years. You didn’t just leave it there, I assume.”
“Ah, Requiem?”
“So that fragment’s name is Requiem? Knowing its name means you must be its master now.”
Judah nodded. As he moved to open <Bag> and show it, he sensed footsteps behind him. Far off, an old dragonkin approached, pushing a cart likely laden with food—none other than Lumiren, who’d tattled everything Cellyon said to Esther Seoh.
“I’ll show you the fragment in a bit.”
“After the food’s all set?”
“Yes, then.”
“Then since you’re showing it anyway, let’s do it after the meal. No rush.”