Chapter 231
Chapter 231
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 231
Chapter Title: Sea Road, to the Dragon's City (4)
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The vicious presence was unmistakable. It was the mana of the black man he'd seen at Aurora Skal. Goosebumps crawled up the arm gripping the sword hilt.
'No way he's still around?'
Without knowing his identity, this could turn extremely dangerous. Ronan urgently turned to Asel and Schlieffen.
"Check the surroundings once. Quick."
"R-right now?"
"Yeah. It's urgent."
The two complied despite their confusion. Along with Adeshan, the two best detection networks from Phileon Academy spread out in all directions. Asel, eyes closed, muttered haltingly.
"W-within a 5km radius... nothing. For sure."
"Within 3km... hm."
Schlieffen, about to speak, clamped his mouth shut. He shot Asel a frustrated glance—it seemed Asel's detection skills were superior.
"Good."
Ronan finally exhaled in relief. He'd apparently finished his business and left. Looking down at Dravie's corpse, he frowned.
"Fuck, what got him?"
The neck-stump connection gaped wide open, clean enough to feel refreshing. Blood and seawater bubbled up from inside. No other wounds meant a single strike.
Comparing size or scale thickness, this dragon dwarfed Randohaidel, yet he'd gone down so easily. It was hard to believe. As Ronan leaned in closer—
【Ku... hng!】
"Shit, startled me."
Dravie's distant head twitched. Like a whale spouting, the sound made Ronan curse in surprise.
He'd thought it stone dead, but it still clung to life. Stepping onto the neck, Ronan leaped to the opposite wing.
The left wing framed its face perfectly. Up close, it was truly massive.
Palm-sized yellow eyes glared at him. This was the crucial part. Clearing his throat, Ronan spoke.
"Lord Dravie. Are you alright?"
【Y... yes. You... organization member?】
"Yes. What happened to cause such wounds?"
【A... ah. Hah... good. He's gone...?】
Ronan casually mimicked a Green Fang operative. Asel and Schlieffen swallowed dryly.
Prostrate Dravie hadn't noticed his son still slumped on the wingtip. Spitting blood, he continued.
【Tell my son... Randohaidel... flee far from Adren... that spear, that spear...】
"Pardon? Spear?"
【He... plans to assassinate His Majesty... maybe... worse...】
"His Majesty? The Dragon King? Speak louder, please."
No response. Soon, Dravie babbled like a senile elder.
【Poison dragon... sea butterfly... aaah...】
Not in his right mind—death neared. Spear? Suddenly, Aurora Skal memories resurfaced.
'That box.'
According to Didikan, the black man commissioned a pillar-or-spear weapon. Six burly men barely moved its crate. Ronan recalled him smashing two Green Fangs' heads for a single blood drop on it.
'Hit by that?'
He'd never seen inside, so uncertain. But if true, a brutally heinous weapon.
Piercing dragon scales—among the world's toughest—like paper. Ronan asked impatiently.
"Do you know that dark bastard's name? Who is he?"
【Great task... right before eyes... riddled with... regrets...】
"Hey, poison dragon!"
【Rando... haidel...】
No answer despite prodding. Light faded from Dravie's eyes after murmuring his son's name. Scratching his head, Ronan spat on the deck.
"What the fuck is this..."
Hard to grasp: black man, mystery weapon, Dragon King assassination plot. Overwhelming info dump left him reeling.
One certainty: head to Adren. Inspecting Randohaidel, Schlieffen shook his head.
"Instant death here. Heart gone—no time to scream."
"Yeah. Good he didn't see his son die..."
Randohaidel's heart and surroundings were carved out whole. Smaller body, same hole size—looked worse. Gazing at the dragon duo's corpses, Ronan clicked his tongue.
"Damn it."
Preordained enemies gone was a boon, but unsettling. Father and son stacked in death—tragic even for foes.
That said, business was business. Estimating loot from the bodies, Ronan spoke.
"Asel. Bring every empty bottle or barrel you got."
"Huh? Why bottles?"
"Gonna harvest some poison. Teeth too. Looked useful earlier."
"Ah, devil...!"
"Want a funeral instead?"
Asel's face paled. Ignoring him, Ronan drew his sword to dismantle the dead poison dragon. Rare chance for dragon materials.
Sea poison fumes limited the job to Ronan. He collected five oak barrels of venom, teeth, hide, and sundries. Behind Schlieffen fanning away fumes, a faint voice came.
"Hm. Intriguing indeed."
"Hm?"
A whisper, hallucination-worthy. Schlieffen whipped around—deck empty. Even sharpened senses detected nothing.
"...Misheard?"
"Hey, keep the wind going. Poison rising."
Schlieffen turned back. Work finished three hours later. No black man presence as Red Whirlwind set sail again.
****
Ronan's group sailed two more days on Red Whirlwind. Sudden storm delayed them a day.
Still, the battered hull cleaned up. Fierce rain scrubbed blood from deck and masts spotless.
Clear skies followed. A week into voyage, evening struck. Fair winds halted the ship abruptly.
"What? Why stop?"
"Seems we've arrived."
"Arrived? Nothing here."
Ronan scanned around. No land visible despite straining eyes. Only massive southern sunset scorched the horizon.
"...Did I inhale too much poison?"
They rechecked Itargand's map. Unless all blind, this was it. Suspicion turning to Itargand—
"Wait."
A realization flashed. Most dragons had wings and flew.
Slowly lifting his gaze. Towering cumulonimbus covered half the sky. High up yet vast—true size unimaginable.
"...No way."
"R-Ronan. Not what I'm thinking, right?"
"Looks like it."
Instinct shared, they exchanged glances. Absurd, but no alternative. Ronan patted Asel's shoulder.
"Lives on the line—do it delicately."
"Eeeek! R-really?"
"No choice. Glad I brought you."
Asel looked tearful, but Ronan firm. Expected VIP entrance—dragons lacked such courtesy.
"O-okay... I'll try..."
Asel sighed in resignation. He trudged to the mast base, sitting cross-legged.
Prep for precision. Eyes closed, chanting—sloop slowly lifted. Ronan turned to Schlieffen.
"We do our part."
"Mm."
Schlieffen gripped hilt. Sloop entered clouds soon. Visibility zero inside.
They tensed, guarding all sides. Mid-air ambush breaking Asel's focus spelled disaster. Blades ready to unleash aura.
"Nngh..."
Twenty minutes up. Concentrating Asel groaned faintly. Sloop wobbled.
"What?"
"P-powerful presences ahead. Adren's beyond, I think."
Ronan focused. Airflow shifted. Chatter, wingbeats, roars... sounds from beyond tapped eardrums.
No threats. Minutes later, clouds parted to open space. Sunset flooded deck. Ronan and Schlieffen's eyes widened.
"Oh, fuck."
A colossal island floated mid-sky. Jagged grand buildings gleamed in twilight.
Evoked Drimuire, but scale dwarfed it hundredsfold. Multicolored dragons soared freely around.
Asel opened eyes, awestruck.
"W-world...!"
"Good work, Asel."
Ronan ruffled his hair appreciatively. Timeless vista. Dragons had taste. Asel, dazed, stammered while drifting.
"W-where now?"
"Immigration check. Know the spot."
Itargand marked north sole entry. Asel turned prow. Hatchlings giggled, circling ship.
"Haha, humans! Humans!"
"Hi hi!"
Long cloud voyage ended at destination. Vast stone pier like gangway jutted from north midpoint.
Towering white obelisk—five stories—marked special site. External inspection gate.
Docked airships, griffons lined pier. Massive gate at end accommodated unpolymorphed dragons.
Asel landed. Sloop tilted awkwardly—non-airship unavoidable. Disembarking after week, they approached gate slowly. Ronan quirked brow.
"Others too."
Five-six humans ahead, ornate unfamiliar garb—foreign envoys.
Two burly sentries blocked. Elder in tall helm sat beside. Likely inspector. Schlieffen watched, spoke.
"Bad vibe."
"Huh?"
Ronan tilted head. Focusing, heard argument as noted.
"Begone. No outsiders now."
"I-impossible! Scheduled six months ago!"
"Tough. Can't allow entry."
"Outrage! Formal protest!"
Envoy vented fury. Inspector dragon-kin, yet bold—deeply wronged.
Sentries mechanically repeated. Minutes later, inspector rose, approached through them.
"Inspector Banartie. Won't leave?"
"F-finally, sense! Our king commanded directly!"
Banartie listened envoy's tirade patiently. Mid-gesture rant—
"Not trivial. Interstate discourtesy. Our king...!"
"Yes. Understood."
Banartie's maw gaped. Sentries turned. Whoosh! Flames engulfed envoy. Ronan's group froze.
"Hiiiii!!"
Asel screamed. Molten inferno faded in seconds. Upper body vanished.
Thud. Charred lower half hit deck, silent.
Entourage near-fainted, fled screaming.
Unclaimed, torso remained. Inspector eyed Ronan's group dryly.
"Next."
"...Killed him."
Ronan chuckled hollowly. Fittingly infamous entry. To Asel and Schlieffen:
"No sweat. We got brands."
"R-right?"
"Yeah. Servants of famed Lord Itargand. Don't fear."
Asel sniffled. Schlieffen nodded calmly. Patting shoulders, Ronan said.
"Confirm before going. Show brands."
"H-here...!"
Asel rolled sleeve. Schlieffen bared handback. Itargand sigil clear. Ronan lifted shirt.
"Good. Mine too..."
Posed for show—back branded. Inspecting pair's faces stiffened.
"...Huh?"
"Sure it's there?"
"What? You saw yesterday."
Bad expressions. Frowning, Ronan reached back.
Branded spot slightly indented, tactile. Fingertips felt only skin, muscle.
"Eh?"
No brand. Asel and Schlieffen stared blankly at bare back. Impatient inspector spoke.
"Deaf? Next."