Chapter 245
Chapter 245
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 245
Chapter Title: With the Dragon (2)
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The first floor of the Sky Tower served as the lobby, just like any other grand building. The vast space, resembling a plaza, was adorned with all sorts of luxurious statues and paintings, and—with a bit of exaggeration—chandeliers the size of small whales.
That opulence was enough to make the imperial palace's ballroom look like a humble village rest stop. However, dozens of minutes after a mysterious explosion echoed from the restroom, the foundation of what was once the world's most dignified tower had transformed into a hell that even beggars wouldn't dare approach.
Bodies littered the place no matter where you looked. The air was thick with the dizzying stench of blood. Statues carved from jewels lay shattered, indistinguishable from raw ore fresh from the mines.
The precious metals displayed to flaunt wealth now glittered like crumbs in sticky pools of blood. The fallen chandelier had plunged the ever-lit space into darkness no different from the pre-dawn outside.
Squish! The sound of a blade piercing scales announced the battle's end.
Pradviche the dragon's eyes widened. His slit pupils, narrowed vertically, turned toward his back. He could see the longsword buried deep in the nape of his neck—and the human youth gripping it.
He easily realized his vital point had been pierced. Blood kept filling his throat, making it hard to breathe. The youth, clutching the hilt with both hands, shoved the blade even deeper.
"Just die already, dragon."
"You... bastard..."
"Compared to that Na Ransonia or whatever her name was, you're laughably weak."
Pradviche ground his teeth at Ronan's assessment. He never imagined he'd suffer such humiliation from a human less than a mouthful away.
He ought to chew and swallow him right then, but his wings and limbs were trapped in ice, rendering movement impossible. It wasn't ordinary ice—it neither cracked nor melted. A chill like it was drawn from the shadows of the underworld was devouring his body.
He regretted not taking out the mage first, but it was too late now. He rolled his gleaming eyes toward the mage trembling in the corner.
"You... damned mage...!"
"Eek!"
Asel shrank back as if trying to erase his own existence. Despite his timid demeanor, the icy chill intensified.
The blood flowing from Pradviche's neck and mouth froze mid-fall. Ting... The droplets shattered into pieces upon hitting the floor with a mournful sound.
"My... liege."
Pradviche turned back to Ronan and spat the words like vomit. The light faded from his eyes. Ronan twisted the blade once, but there was no reaction. Confirming complete death, Ronan muttered indifferently.
"No room for your curses here."
Ronan yanked his arm back, drawing Lamancha's pristine white blade from the wound. The surrounding temperature had dropped due to the icy chill, so steam rose faintly from the injury.
A hazy aura rippled along the blade. Even fused with a holy sword, its trait of drinking blood to sharpen itself remained intact. Ronan's mind echoed with Lin's voice saying dragon blood tasted the best.
"Hup."
Ronan leaped down from Pradviche's body. Turning his head, his gaze fell on Asel shivering in the corner.
"Not bad, Asel. You could switch to full-time ice mage now."
"I... I trapped a dragon..."
"Have some pride in your magic, man. Like I keep telling you, all you're lacking is confidence."
Asel nodded hesitantly. For someone who'd made a huge contribution to dragon-slaying, his attitude was remarkably passive.
Right after emerging from the restroom, when Pradviche and his minions burst in, he'd thought they were done for. But the fight had ended smoother than expected.
Good call leaving Bajura behind. His self-proclaimed mentor, the Winter Witch, would've nagged him telepathically all day if she'd seen this. Ronan called out.
"Hey, this area's clear."
"Same here. Not even a proper warm-up."
Orse turned around. Blood dripped from the spiral spearhead. Over thirty pierced half-dragon and familiar corpses littered the area around him. Their mingled, congealing blood formed a red carpet.
Black energy, unique to Orse, rose like smoke from the pillar-like spear. He'd struck or thrust each foe once—no one survived two hits.
'What the hell is that thing even made of?'
Ronan shook his head in dismay. Whatever the materials, it had insane durability and destructive power. If Orse had taken Pradviche, it'd have ended even faster. As that thought crossed his mind—
"M-monsters..."
The bearded sentry finally spoke. He sat slumped at the restroom entrance, just like before the fight.
He was the lobby's sole survivor. His comrades, rushing in at the explosion, were massacred in the blink of an eye. Every swing or slash from Ronan and Orse tore flesh like paper.
He knew they were strong, but he never dreamed they'd kill even Pradviche the dragon. Ronan approached with heavy steps and stopped before him.
"Alright. Let's pick up where we left off."
"A-anything! Just spare my life...!"
He rolled his eyes desperately, but saw no hope. A translucent barrier covered the entire lobby, devouring his optimism.
It was the soundproof spell Asel had set up at the battle's start. That's why no reinforcements arrived amid the slaughter disguised as combat. Ronan said,
"First question. Where's my friend?"
"If you mean the swordsman with dark blue hair, probably on the third floor. The whole level's Lady Radavankaza's lair. That's where the interrogation's happening."
"Third floor... Not too high up."
Ronan nodded. Of course, he couldn't be too pleased. No doubt similar scum infested every floor.
"What do you think about climbing via the outside?"
"N-not a good idea. Didn't you go outside at the top?"
"Yeah."
"We noticed that, so we've reinforced the exterior with more troops. You'd get intercepted the moment you're spotted."
Ronan peered out the window. Sure enough, dozens of dragons circled the sky. Half-dragon soldiers with torches patrolled the tower's base or stood guard.
"Damn it."
Ronan bit his lower lip. The scene practically begged for curses. Better to go up inside after all.
"...No choice, huh. One more thing."
"Yes?"
"With all this chaos, where the hell's the Dragon King?"
Ronan asked again. He'd wondered from the start, but the outside confirmed his suspicions. In a crisis like this, it made no sense for the strongest to stay out of it.
'Doesn't seem the type to sit on his thumbs.'
Moreover, the troop deployment was odd. To catch intruders like him or Orse, they'd be better off spreading out.
Yet most dragons and minions clustered around the Sky Tower. As if guarding something inside. The hiccupping sentry shook his head.
"I-I don't know... Probably in the audience chamber?"
"Don't bullshit me. Wanna join your buddies over there?"
Ronan pointed at the corpses. His cocky comrades were now mangled chunks under the chandelier, unrecognizable.
"I-I really don't know. His Majesty's movements are strictly secret..."
The sentry's face paled to paper-white. Ronan spat on the floor, staring him down.
His reaction seemed genuine. He'd need to catch higher-ups to interrogate. Though those prideful dragons might not spill easily.
"Ugh, shit."
Sighing, Ronan swung his sword. Slash! A thin cut grazed the engraving on the sentry's neck.
The owner-symbolizing pattern shattered and vanished. Feeling strength drain from his body, the sentry clutched his nape.
"Gasp! Wh-what did you...!"
"Guess you're no minion anymore."
Ronan spat curtly. A gag order implying not to try anything stupid. A plain human wandering the castle now would likely get attacked on sight, keeping him in line.
"Stay put till dawn and get lost. If you blab unnecessarily..."
"Ronan! Danger!"
As Ronan laid down threats, Asel's shout rang out. Sensing peril, Ronan looked up. A crimson torrent of flames surged toward him.
"What the—!"
The flames were faster than expected. Ronan urgently grabbed the sentry's nape and dodged. He escaped fully, but the sentry's lower half was engulfed. A bone-chilling scream erupted.
"Gaaahhh! Grraaah!"
"Damn."
Ronan grimaced. The flames soon died. Only a charred mark remained where the sentry's lower body had been.
The thrashing sentry went limp. Ronan tossed the half-corpse aside and turned toward the flame's origin.
"And what's that?"
"Graaaah!"
Over a dozen house-sized drakes descended the massive staircase. Spewing black smoke from their maws, the dinosaur-like beasts evoked living siege engines.
The broad north-side staircase hadn't existed before. Likely conjured moments ago by magic or some contrivance. Makes sense—odd if there weren't mechanisms like that.
"Found them! Seize them!"
Someone shouted. Troops pouring from the floor above included half-dragon soldiers—Ronan had cut down three figures' worth today alone. A woman in flowing silk rode the largest drake.
"Oh ho ho! I came down sensing something off, and here you are. Your rampage ends here!"
She covered her mouth, laughing affectedly. Her nasal cackle echoed through the corpse-strewn space. Obviously a polymorphed dragon.
"Eek! H-how?!"
Asel gasped. The intact silence field suggested she'd come purely on instinct. Orse shook blood from his spear and muttered.
"Annoying. So many mongrel dragons."
"Weaklings bluff the most, just like you. Ignorant wyrm, you are Allans... Kyaaah!"
The woman shrieked as she tried to state her name. Crack! Orse's spear blew off her left arm, pierced a drake's crown behind her, and embedded in the opposite wall.
Instantly crippled, she spat curses. The enemy ranks faltered in chaos. Ronan seized the opening and charged deep into their midst.
He swung his sword. Slash! The drake the woman rode lost its head skyward.
"Wh-what?!"
"Grrooar..."
The headless bulk tilted. The head spun high, spraying blood in an arc. It added more red to the already gore-soaked space.
"C-capture them!"
Belatedly rallying, soldiers braced spears. The fallen dragon woman rose with a roar, scales sprouting on her face—she meant to revert to true form.
Watching, Ronan clicked his tongue. Climbing easily was ruined now. At least clearing them meant third floor access—small consolation.
"You bastard. Die already."
Muttering, Ronan gripped his hilt. Asel's ice speared from the floor, impaling the lead charger. Thud! The rotating drake head hit the ground, reigniting the battle.