Chapter 223
Chapter 223
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 223
Chapter Title: Aurora Scal (3)
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“So...”
“This is a blatant insult to Lord Venom Dragon Drachabie!”
Whoever was shouting had lungs like a foghorn. The three of them exchanged stunned glances for a moment. Ronan let out a deep sigh.
“What the fuck now.”
A strong premonition hit him that something annoying was about to go down. Adeshan bit her lower lip, still not having gotten an answer. Didikan's face hardened.
“...Drachabie? Did he just say Drachabie?”
“Sure sounded like it. Why, you know the guy?”
“This is a problem. The shipment isn't ready yet.”
Muttering to himself, Didikan bolted back down the passage he'd come from. His hurried footsteps suggested it was more urgent than he'd let on. Ronan spoke up.
“He said Venom Dragon, right?”
“Yeah, that's what I heard.”
“A dragon that uses poison? Getting tangled up with dragons is a pain in the ass...”
Grousing, he headed into the passage. Adeshan quickly followed. She didn't know what was happening yet, but sitting idly by wasn't her style.
The voices grew louder as they descended the stairs. The commotion was unfolding in the central hall where they'd first arrived. The once tidy hall was now a total wreck.
“You think we're a joke?! Huh?!”
“N-no way! Please, calm down...!”
At the center of the chaos were two burly thugs and a young man. Ronan raised an eyebrow. The fresh-faced kid reeked of inexperience—he was the one who'd stabled Ronan's griffon earlier.
He was being held by the collar by a woman who had to be at least two meters tall. His legs dangled like a hanged man's. It was a pitiful sight. The woman shoved her face in his and bellowed again.
“Say it again. We paid up front and waited a whole month. So why the hell aren't the weapons ready?”
“I-I told you! The New Beastman Alliance kidnapped our artisans, causing delays. And we warned you at the time of the request—it'd take at least three months for that quantity...!”
“Bullshit! I clearly heard one month. Right?”
The woman snorted and glanced at her companion. The goat-bearded brute nodded.
“One month. For sure.”
“See? You calling my partner a liar?”
“N-no!”
The young man wailed. The forge workers surrounded them, stomping anxiously.
The only one unfazed was the black-clad man sitting in the corner, peering into a crate. That guy's still here? Spotting Didikan in the front row, Ronan approached.
“Hey, Didikan.”
“...You're here. My apologies.”
“What the hell's going on? This doesn't seem like the kind of place where street trash would show up and throw their weight around.”
It was the sort of scene you'd expect at a back-alley smithy, right down to the helpless onlookers. Didikan bowed his head in shame.
“You're right. But these aren't good people to cross. Drachabie's underlings showing up like this...”
“What's Drachabie's deal?”
“A dragon residing in the Dragon City of Adren. He's also the head of the Green Venom Fangs crime syndicate. A month ago, he arbitrarily commissioned aurora blades for five hundred men. Ridiculous demand.”
That explained the artisans' panic. They couldn't handle a dragon's backing with their current numbers.
“Hah.”
Ronan let out a hollow laugh. A dragon running a crime gang? First time hearing that.
“A dragon formed a crime syndicate? Why would a high-and-mighty species like that bother?”
“Beats me. They used to operate mainly in the Pashaanti Isles, but now they're creeping onto the continent. The Dragon King of Adren should crack down, but...”
Didikan continued. The Green Venom Fangs were mostly humans and beastmen—mortals. They swore loyalty to Drachabie in exchange for gold or brands.
“Brands?”
“Yeah. The dragon shares a sliver of its power. Like a vampire making thralls. Those tattoos are proof.”
Didikan pointed at the brutes. A serpentine dragon with an elongated neck was tattooed on their necks and forearms. A perk for Green Venom Fang executives—dragons got massive returns from minimal power shared, making it cost-effective.
Suddenly, the black man's words flashed in Ronan's mind. Something about getting a brand from the First Flame. That had to refer to Navardoje.
Does that count as a brand too?
Ronan tilted his head. Navardoje had seemed genuinely strained sharing her power—not the 'sliver' Didikan described.
No tattoo either, so probably not. And what the hell is that dark bastard anyway?
As Ronan pondered, a heavy silver candlestick suddenly flew at Adeshan.
“Wha—!”
She flinched and ducked. Ronan's form blurred momentarily. Crack! The candlestick halted midair. Adeshan's eyes widened.
“R-Ronan?”
He was already in front of her, veins bulging on his hand gripping the silver candlestick. The woman holding the young man's collar gaped in disbelief.
“Hah, he blocked it?”
She'd thrown it. A low growl escaped Ronan's lips.
“What the fuck.”
“Lucky block. Now get that bitch out of my sight! Pretty things make me wanna smash 'em!”
She jabbed a finger at Adeshan. Onlookers stared in disbelief. Sensing trouble, Didikan placed a hand on Ronan's shoulder.
“H-hey, calm down. Even if it's just a tiny bit of power, he's still a dragon's minion.”
“Yeah, Ronan. I'm fine. No weapons right now, right?”
Adeshan tried to soothe him too. But something in Ronan's head had already snapped. She could've gotten hurt. He couldn't hold back. Clang. The crumpled candlestick hit the floor, matching his fist's shape.
“Fucking pig bitch.”
“P-pig? You talking to me?”
She laughed incredulously. The goat-beard rolled up his sleeves and advanced. The stone floor cracked as Ronan's figure vanished from sight. Didikan gasped. Boom! The woman flew back like she'd been hit by a battering ram.
“Gaaack!!”
“Wh-what?!”
Everyone's eyes bulged. She smashed through tables and chairs before crashing down. Struggling to rise, she spat blood.
“Hurk, guh! Wh-what the...!”
“Get up, pig.”
Ronan stood where she'd been. Golden afterimages shimmered over his bulging legs—Baren's aura enhancing his strength. Her abdomen was caved in the shape of his boot.
“No blade needed for pig slaying. Come on.”
“D-do you know who I—! Guh!”
She retched blood trying to stand. No wonder—Ronan had felt her ribs shatter underfoot. Adeshan shouted.
“Ronan! Watch out!”
“Die!”
Ronan turned. Goat-beard's fist was inches away, wind whipping his hair. Laden with mana—it would've pulped his face on impact.
If it hit.
Ronan smirked and tilted his head, dodging effortlessly. Goat-beard faltered. Ronan spun, slamming a kick into his side.
“Hngh.”
Goat-beard vomited blood. Boom! He rocketed into the hall's corner. By the feel, he wouldn't be getting up either. The woman, barely risen, screamed in outrage.
“You bastard! You think you'll get away with this?!”
“Then why'd you chuck a candlestick at someone's face?”
Ronan spat on the floor and approached. He planned to beat her just shy of death. Panting with rage, she bellowed.
“...Fine. You're all dead. Behold Drachabie's power!”
“Oh?”
Her neck tattoo glowed. Her face twisted, snout elongating. A thick tail burst out, her swelling body shredding her clothes.
But it wasn't hot. She was an ugly pig to start, now covered in reptilian scales. Ronan grimaced.
“Ugh.”
“Hahaha! How's this?!”
Transformation complete, she rose. Like a bulked-up were-croc, easily four meters tall. Her gut wound had healed.
Gonna need a blade for this one.
Ronan licked his lips. Too big for fisticuffs. Her aura was multiples stronger—better slice her safely.
“Die now! This forge is done for because of you!”
“Tch, annoying.”
She swung her arm as she laughed. Ronan grabbed a glass shard from the floor. Suddenly, a gut-wrenching scream echoed.
“Gaaaaah—!!”
“What?”
The woman and Ronan froze. It sounded like entrails being yanked out alive. Eyes turned to the source. Goat-beard knelt, shrieking.
“S-save me! Please!!”
“That guy's...!”
Ronan raised a brow. The black man had risen, clutching goat-beard's face with his left hand. Rage burned in his red pupils.
“One-handing that brute...!”
“The black guy, right? Didn't show during all that chaos.”
“Why's he pissed now?”
Murmurs rose. No one knew why the silent observer had snapped.
What's his deal all of a sudden? Ronan's gaze drifted to the large crate behind him.
No way.
“Vile spawn of a lesser dragon, staining it with filthy blood...”
The black man muttered. Ronan chuckled in disbelief. He got it now. A tiny bloodstain marred the luxurious crate's surface, smaller than a knuckle.
“Y-you're...?”
The woman's eyes widened in recognition. Veins bulged on the man's gripping hand. Crunch! Facial bones shattered, echoing through the hall.
“Gaaaah! M-my face!”
Goat-beard thrashed, foaming. His agony snapped her back. She charged.
“Let go now!”
Incredibly fast for her size. Distance closed in seconds. The black man glanced at her, then squeezed harder. Splat! Goat-beard's head burst like a water balloon. Blood and brains sprayed.
“G-Graham!”
She shrieked at the gruesome sight. Graham, apparently. Fury blazed in her eyes. Roaring, she coiled.
“You dare—!!”
Her scaled body ballooned. She planned to spring like a dragon coil.
Gonna smash something after all. As she launched, the black man's hand blurred then relaxed.
“Huh?”
Ronan's eyes widened. He'd missed the motion. Air whooshed from her mouth as she lunged.
“...Guh.”
Ronan turned. A silver candlestick had smashed through her skull from behind, lodged deep in her gaping maw—the same type she'd thrown at Adeshan.
“Gur...k.”
Thud! She toppled slowly. The black man growled at the corpses.
Silence fell. He pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped his bloody hand. Ronan raised a brow. For a split second, he'd sensed the same aura as in Katan's workshop.
“Urp...!”
“This is too much.”
Retches echoed. Done wiping, the black man opened and closed the crate. (Naturally) No damage inside, so no more fuss. Ronan, who'd locked eyes with him, spoke.
“...You're a dragon, aren't you?”
“You've piqued my interest. Remember that.”
“What?”
No answer. The black man strode past the crowd.
The cold hush lasted until he exited Aurora Scal. Thud! The door shut, and terrified voices finally erupted.