Chapter 250
Chapter 250
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 250
Chapter Title: Clash (3)
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【This arrogant bastard—】
【Won't you just fall already!】
The Dragon King roared. Orse, who had burrowed deep into his embrace, was still dangling from his left neck, teeth sunk in. The motion evoked a ferocious hound more than a dragon—there was no dignity to be found.
Its scales were so tough that his teeth hadn't pierced the flesh beneath, but it was still a nuisance. He could shake it off with a breath, but with their wings and limbs entangled, the conditions weren't right.
【Fall!】
At that moment, Orse raised his left arm. His pitch-black fist glowed red-hot, as if forged in fire. Kwajik! The hand arced through the air and slammed down on the Dragon King's chest.
【Kuhuk!】
He tried to defend, but he was a step too late. The claws slipped precisely between the scales, inflicting internal damage. Blood erupted once more from all three of the Dragon King's mouths.
The colossal body, which seemed unshakable, began to tilt. Retreating backward, he was pushed all the way to the edge of the summit. Then, Asel, riding on Orse's back, began chanting a spell.
"D-Deep Frozen!"
"D-Deep Frozen!"
⟨ Deep Frozen ⟩
A bluish mana projectile shot from his fingertips. Pajik! The icy mass struck exactly where Orse's claws had dug in. Sensing something amiss, the Dragon King bellowed.
【You wretched thing. What have you—】
【Done to me!】
"H-Hiiiik!"
Asel yelped in terror, clutching Orse's back spines. In that instant, massive ice spikes began erupting from the Dragon King's body. The sight of the ice growing rapidly resembled weeds sprouting through cracks in roadside pavement.
【Kuh...?!】
The Dragon King's faces stiffened. His body was growing heavy at an alarming rate. The chill seeping through the wound in his neck was spreading throughout his entire form.
All six eyes locked onto Asel. It was unbelievable. Could magic from that tiny human actually affect him? As the Dragon King reeled in confusion,
【Get off!】
Orse seized the opportunity, spreading his wings and shoving him away. Kwang! The Dragon King, teetering on the edge, was pushed backward. In a split second, his foot slipped off the tower's brink.
【Damn...!】
【Well done. Here we go!】
The Dragon King began to plummet. Orse laughed heartily as he gathered his energy. In an instant, his blackened body transformed into human form.
Puk! Now a black-haired man, Orse plunged his hand into his own chest. Asel, who had lost his grip, screamed.
"Hyaaaah! Kuaaak!"
Asel clung to Orse's side with his feet, screaming. Unlike Ronan or Schlieffen, Orse didn't coddle him. The shoes fused to his feet with ice in Orse's true form were Asel's only lifeline.
Chwaak! Orse then pulled his hand from his chest. In his bloodied right hand gleamed a spiral-tipped spear.
It was the secret weapon originally crafted to defeat Navardoje. Orse kicked off the tower summit and leaped. Aiming the spearhead at the Dragon King's chest, he began his dive.
【I'll pierce you through and make you spit out Navardoje's whereabouts!】
Orse shouted. The spiral spear pulsed, absorbing its unique black aura and the surrounding mana.
Sensing an instinctive dread, the Dragon King grimaced. He didn't know what it was made of, but getting hit by that seemed like a bad idea.
【...Insolent fool.】
The third head, unable to bear it any longer, sighed. Taking control of the body momentarily, it unleashed the heat pooled in the dragon heart throughout his form. Kwajangchang! The ice constraining his movements shattered and crumbled away.
"H-He undid that?!"
Asel gasped in shock. The Dragon King's scorching blood melted even the chill coursing through his veins in an instant. Paaang! Simultaneously, a pair of folded wings exploded open.
【Kuh!】
The wings, covered in golden scales, were too vast to take in at a glance. Kwaang! Orse was blasted away by the wind pressure, slamming into the outer wall of the Sky Tower.
Shaking off the ice, the Dragon King flapped his wings. Ordinary large birds relied on wind and terrain to take flight, but Adren's sovereign needed no such trivial aids. Rising with a gale, his body reached the airspace above the Sky Tower with a single beat.
【Kuhuhu... The lord of lesser dragons dares to lust after my throne.】
Orse, looking up, chuckled in delight. Asel, barely avoiding becoming mincemeat, was sniffling. A thick shadow crept up his body once more. Returning to his true form in an instant, Orse roared and took to the skies.
【Kraaa!!】
The aerial battle began. The two colossal dragons ascended beyond the Sky Tower, up into the clouds. Azdahaka, gaining the altitude advantage first, unleashed his breath. Kwaaaa! Three beams of light rained down on Orse's head. As he circled the tower attempting evasive maneuvers, the beams pursued his afterimages.
"Kreeeek!"
"Y-Your Majesty!"
It was undoubtedly a fearsome attack, but one problem was that the breath's range was too long. Dragons rushing to aid their king were caught in the crossfire and plummeting. The Dragon King's breath, empowered by stellar might, erased even his kin's scales without a trace.
【Your Majesty!】
Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed. Asel whipped his head toward the sound, his eyebrows shooting up. A dragon he recognized was approaching them.
"N-Naransonia?"
The dragon, covered head to tail in silver scales, was beautiful like a moonlit sculpture. It was undoubtedly the one who had crashed into him and his friends.
He thought she'd been broken in spirit after losing to Ronan, but apparently not. She executed acrobatic maneuvers surpassing even Orse's, dodging the beams. Naransonia arrived in a flash, positioning herself between Orse and the Dragon King.
【Out of my way, Steel Spear Wench. If you dare stand against me...!】
Orse snarled viciously at the unexpected interference, ready to tear Naransonia apart on the spot. His red eyes blazed like embers.
But she ignored Orse and turned toward the Dragon King. Spreading her wings wide, dozens of steel spines shot toward him.
【Forgive my disloyalty!】
Kagang! However, not a single spine pierced the Dragon King's scales; they all bounced off. His eyes widened in shock at the sudden betrayal.
【Naransonia, what is the meaning of—】
【This?!】
More bewildered than angry, it was baffling. Among his countless vassals, Naransonia was a particularly loyal one.
For her to side with that demonic dragon and attack him? As rising fury clouded his vision, Naransonia continued.
【Your Majesty, please open your eyes! The wicked ones' curse is eating away at your body!】
【...What?】
The Dragon King faltered. Asel, looking at him belatedly, gasped. His upper body, once gleaming gold, was turning a sickly pale white.
It was as if new necks were taking root. As if they were seizing control of his body. The third head growled.
【Nonsense. If you're planning betrayal, I'll kill you with him.】
【Wait—】
【Hold on...】
The other two heads tried to speak, but the third head opened wide on its own and unleashed a beam. Kwaaaaaa! The sky lit up. The white light that erased all it touched engulfed Naransonia.
"They're pretty busy up there."
Ronan glanced upward and shook his head. The thick cloud layer rumbled as if charged with lightning. The surroundings, briefly illuminated like a thunderbolt, plunged back into darkness.
About ten minutes had passed since he parted from Orse. The dragons' roars sporadically echoed from above the clouds.
He didn't know exactly how they were fighting, but if the aftermath alone was shaking the Sky Tower, that said it all. He just hoped the Dragon King's breaths tearing through the clouds wouldn't land on his head.
"Hm."
Schlieffen nodded. Their bodies were freshly coated in blood. A retreating cultist muttered in disbelief, staggering back.
"Th-This damned... How the hell did you breach the blessing...!"
He clutched his wounded side with his palm. Red entrails leaked through his fingers.
The air reeked of blood. The Sky Tower summit was littered with Nebula Klazie's corpses. Among the sixteen bodies, two were bishops, and three were Lycophos.
They had charged instead of focusing on defense as usual and paid with their blood. The invincible stellar blessing tore like paper before Ronan's blade.
Schlieffen's storm sword had carved up their bodies in the gaps where the barriers fell. Ronan spun his sword and spoke in a scolding tone.
"That's what you get for relying on petty tricks. Remember our last training session?"
"Damn it, what trickery did you use?!"
Then, the man staggering from blood loss charged with a roar. His footwork was a mess, and his sword hand trembled violently.
"Pathetic."
To think this was branch leader level—utterly pitiful. Suddenly, he recalled Brigia, the elf he'd met in the Baidian Mountains. In hindsight, that pointy-eared girl had been quite capable.
Sighing, Ronan lunged forward. As their forms briefly overlapped before separating, Perseok! the man's body collapsed in seven pieces.
"H-Heok..."
"Next."
Gasps erupted everywhere. Ronan slowly surveyed his surroundings. The cultists whose eyes met his retreated hesitantly. The ferocity they'd shown earlier was gone from their pale faces.
"Come on, you cowards. Balls shriveled up so bad you can't even fight?"
The cultists gnashed their teeth in humiliation but couldn't step forward. With momentum this firmly in hand, it was time to start. Pointing his sword tip at them, Ronan spoke.
"Fine. I'll give you one last chance to live. Tell me how to stop the First Star from descending."
"H-How do you know about—!"
At the mention of the First Star, the cultists' eyes bulged. Of course, Ronan had no reason to answer, so he advanced slowly, sword raised.
The ritual seemed complete, but there might still be a way to stop it. It was the moment to cling to even vague hopes.
Thud. With every step Ronan and Schlieffen took, the Nebula Klazie cultists retreated one. As they backed to the edge, despair settling on their faces, a voice came from behind Ronan.
"What in the world is going on here?"
It was an unfamiliar yet chilling voice. Goosebumps raced across his skin in an instant. Whipping his head around reflexively, Ronan's face hardened like stone.
An old man, a head taller than him, stood with hands behind his back. His beard flowed down to his chest—long enough to wrap around his forehead.
"Wh-What the fuck..."
Ronan's eyes widened. He hadn't even noticed the approach. Gleaming mana surged from his shoulders like a beacon. Excluding Cain and Abel, it was no exaggeration to call it the strongest he'd seen.
"Hm, fine sword."
As Ronan opened his mouth to speak, the old man fiddled with his beard and muttered. In his left hand was a familiar sword. The longsword emblazoned with Grancia's crest was unmistakably Schlieffen's.
"How...!"
Schlieffen's brows furrowed. The sword he'd held moments ago was gone. A chilling sensation brushed Ronan's nape.
"Damn it!"
Sensing danger instinctively, Ronan hastily leaped back. Chwaaak! Red blood sprayed above his shoulder blade. A sharp gash marred the skin beneath his torn shirt.
"Good instincts."
The old man's eyes widened round, as if asking if he'd really dodged that. Ronan gritted his teeth. A split second later, and his arm would've been severed.
"Ronan!"
Schlieffen urgently reached out. The sword in the old man's hand dissolved into wind and vanished, reappearing in Schlieffen's grip. He let out a hollow laugh.
"Heh. Quite the ability."
"What are you, a damn wizard?"
Ronan spat on the ground and growled low. It had been just an instant, but he'd missed the motion. Schlieffen swiftly raised his sword into combat stance. The old man, glancing between them, spoke.
"I am Alon Mondre, Archbishop of Nebula Klazie. Your recklessness ends here."