Chapter 139
Chapter 139
‘Could Terakan Draker have belonged to an Immortal class as well?’
The thought crossed his mind, but there was no way to confirm it.
The Hermit turned the page of his book and continued his story.
“The Draker family was famous for producing brilliant swordsmen generation after generation. But during the Liberation War, they were too busy hiding themselves to protect their house.”
“Then, far from inheriting the blood of the Dragon Slayer, the Drakers cowardly ran away.”
“Well, isn’t that how legends usually go? Regardless, thanks to that choice, their lineage has managed to survive to this day.”
Zeke could now understand why the Draker family had so thoroughly censored the legend of the Dragon Slayer and concealed the history prior to it.
Siegfried Draker, the hero of the Liberation War, was actually an anomaly in the family; the house itself had taken no part in the conflict.
Even for the descendants of the Sword Saint, this was an irrevocably shameful stain on their name.
In the end, to hide their disgraceful past, they had no choice but to accept Terakan Draker back into the family.
The bloodline of the Dragon Slayer—the knight among knights—played a pivotal role in establishing the Draker family’s legitimacy.
If that legitimacy were ever shaken, the Drakers' standing would inevitably look vastly different from what it was today.
‘To think that the true bloodline of the Dragon Slayer was actually passed down through the Healer class... What an irony.’
Ironically, Zeke, who was of the Healer class, had been unable to awaken his Aura and was cast out of Draker like scum.
Remembering the humiliation he had suffered in his past life due to his inability to awaken Aura filled him with intense bitterness.
Zeke finally understood why Arthur Draker had abandoned him, a mere Healer.
Even though Arthur had kept him so deeply hidden, he likely feared that accepting Zeke fully might cause the family’s buried secrets to leak out.
If that happened, the entirety of Draker's position could crumble—which was likely why Arthur arranged for Zeke to be cast away in complete ignorance.
Zeke unwittingly gritted his teeth.
‘In the end, they threw me away just to protect Draker’s safety and vested interests.’
He clenched his fists tightly.
The hypocrisy and cowardice of the Drakers made his skin crawl.
He renewed his vow to become the strongest on the continent, bring Draker under his feet, and tear off their mask of hypocrisy.
Seeing Zeke lost in thought, the Hermit of Stories spoke up.
“Are you alright? You don't look so good.”
“I’m fine. More importantly…… where is the Holy Grail right now?”
The Hermit folded his fan and waved it casually through the air.
The storybooks vanished, replaced by a scroll that snapped open in midair.
A complete map of the continent floated into view.
The map slowly zoomed in, highlighting a region within a vast desert.
“The Holy Grail is here. After Claudia’s death, Terakan Draker returned the Grail to where it was originally discovered to prevent it from being abused.”
Zeke marked the coordinates shown by the Hermit onto his own map.
“A desert region. That’s not going to be easy to access.”
“The Fairy King originally crafted it out of goodwill toward humanity, but depending on how it’s used, it’s far too dangerous an object. Terakan Draker likely thought it best to store it somewhere beyond human reach.”
“If it falls into the hands of demons, something far worse will happen.”
The Hermit nodded in agreement with Zeke's assessment.
Zeke turned to the Hermit.
“I will retrieve the sacred relic. In the meantime, please locate the remaining two.”
“Understood. I’ll let you know as soon as I find them. Ah, hold on a moment.”
The Hermit went inside his dwelling and brought something out.
“Phew. Converting the story I heard from you today leaves a bit of leftover Karma, so I’ll give you a gift.”
He handed a worn box to Zeke.
“What is this?”
“Judging by your gear, you already have far better equipment than anything I could offer, so I picked something you likely don't have. Don't open it here—look at it after you leave.”
“Understood.”
Just as Zeke was about to bid farewell, the Hermit tapped his fan. Zeke’s vision flashed brilliantly once more.
When he blinked, he found himself back in the forest from earlier.
Everything that had transpired felt like a dream.
‘The Hermit of Stories, huh... A very different vibe from Master Nigel.’
Zeke shook his head to clear his thoughts and looked at the gift in his hand.
Opening the box slowly, he found a gold ring set with a gemstone inside.
“A ring?”
Zeke inspected the gold ring’s details using Dragon’s Eyes.
[Ring Information]
Description: A mysterious ring imbued with the power of good fortune.
Unique Ability: Good Fortune
Special Note: Bestows good luck upon its owner.
“A ring that grants good luck?”
Zeke examined the ring from every angle with curiosity.
He had encountered various items before, but an ability that granted luck was a first.
After a moment's thought, Zeke decided to use Devour on the Ring of Good Fortune. Since it was given to him as a gift, he figured he was free to handle it however he wished.
‘Not that I ever asked for good luck, though.’
As Zeke swallowed the ring using his Devour skill, messages popped up before his eyes.
[You have devoured the Golden Ring imbued with the power of Good Fortune.]
[You have absorbed a portion of the Ancient Dragon Race’s authority embedded within the ring.]
[You have acquired the Authority: Fluke.]
[Under the influence of the absorbed ability, your skill proficiency with the Dragon skill 'Dragon Sense' has increased.]
“Oh? An authority?”
Zeke had acquired an authority entirely by surprise.
It seemed the ring given by the Hermit had been crafted by a dragon.
Not only had a mere luck-granting ring yielded an authority, but the rank of his Dragon Sense skill had also increased—a massive harvest.
“Is this also the effect of good luck?”
Pleased with this unexpected windfall, Zeke began his descent down Mount Ouroboros.
“Abel.”
William Siemens stepped into the cabin where Abel was resting.
Abel was sitting with his eyes closed, holding a strangely shaped black dagger in his hand.
Slowly opening his eyes, he sheathed the blade and looked up at William.
“What is it?”
“The rat sent a signal.”
At William’s words, Abel’s gaze turned sharp.
“What did they say?”
“Word is that Zeke Draker set a new destination after coming down from Mount Ouroboros.”
“A new destination? Where to?”
“The desert region.”
“Hmm.”
Abel slowly stood up.
He walked over to the continental map posted on the cabin wall, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“The desert region, huh? Things are falling into place nicely.”
“Should I contact the Abyss?”
Abel nodded.
“Yeah. And reach out to the Scorpion Clan and the Salbag as well.”
“Both of them together? The Scorpions and the Salbag won't be willing to run a joint operation.”
“Assign them separate sectors. Just make sure we don't lose track of where Zeke is going. Most likely…… the sacred relic will be wherever he's heading.”
At the mention of the sacred relic, William swallowed hard.
He spoke up slowly.
“What should we do about the Empire and the Holy Kingdom?”
“If that kid Zeke knows the location of the sacred relic, there’s no need to chase the Successor. All we need to open the door is someone of the Luvern bloodline.”
“The Luvern bloodline is monopolized by the Holy Kingdom.”
“If we only inform the Holy Kingdom, the Emperor will throw a fit for sure. Pass the word to both side for now.”
“To both the Holy Kingdom and the Empire? Isn't that overkill? What if another faction grabs the relic first?”
“When it comes to that Zeke kid, nothing feels like overkill. Since I can’t go personally, this is the best way to cover our bases.”
A glint of madness flickered in Abel’s eyes.
From experience, William knew that Abel was at his most dangerous in moments like this.
Were it not for the crucial trade coming up shortly, Abel would have marched off to the desert region himself without a second thought.
Just then, someone knocked on the cabin door.
“Come in.”
A member of the Red Lion Order opened the door, stepped inside, and prostrated himself before the two men.
“Commander, the path to the island is about to open.”
“Understood. Those merfolk sure are a cautious bunch.”
“They’re the ones who rapidly expanded their power among the rough pirates of the South Sea—we can't afford to let our guard down.”
Abel slapped William on the shoulder.
“William, this is why I like you. Let’s head out.”
Abel and William exited the cabin and stepped onto the warship’s deck.
In front of the fleet of dozens of warships flying the Red Lion flag lay a solitary island.
It was crescent-shaped, with only a single entry point—and right at that passage, a massive whirlpool was churning violently.
Rumble, rumble, rumble!
Abel and William watched the violently thrashing whirlpool.
Gradually, the turbulence began to subside.
Before long, the sea turned dead calm as if nothing had happened.
Abel broke the silence as he looked at the tranquil water.
“Fascinating.”
“They say ancient merfolk wielded mysteries far beyond our current understanding of magic. Rumor among pirates has it that Peter Pan is the one who inherited those ancient secrets.”
At that moment, a small boat approached the warship from inside the island.
A few young merfolk dressed in pirate attire sat aboard it.
They had webbed hands and feet, with gills visible along the trapezius muscles connecting to their necks.
One of the merfolk aboard the boat shouted up at Abel:
“Only two may enter.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Abel leaped down into the boat.
Seeing this, William sighed in resignation and lightly dropped down into the boat beside him.
Carrying Abel and William, the boat slipped into Crescent Island.
As soon as they crossed the threshold, the sea’s surface churned violently once again, and the massive whirlpool reappeared.
Crescent Island was the main stronghold of the merfolk pirates led by the Peter Pan Pirate Crew.
A merfolk pirate led Abel toward the headquarters building.
The structure was quite unusual: built directly over the sea, its flooring connected directly to the open waters below.
Abel and William walked down a corridor made of rough wooden planks, heading toward the captain's quarters where Peter Pan awaited.
The door to the crude, hastily built captain’s office swung open.
Abel and William stepped inside.
However, the room was empty.
William turned to the merfolk who had opened the door.
“Where is the captain?”
Right at that moment—
『What business does a Draker have with me?』
A voice vibrated up from beneath the floorboards.
Amused, Abel peered down through the gaps into the seawater below.
“Glad to meet you, Peter Pan. My name is Abel Draker. On the continent, they call me the Lion Sword.”
Once again, vibrations rippled across the water as a reply echoed up.
『The Knight of Madness.』
William’s face hardened at the epithet.
Abel, however, paid it no mind and continued unfazed.
“Call me whatever you like. So, aren't you coming out? I’d prefer to talk face-to-face.”
Peter Pan remained silent.
With a smirk, Abel pulled up a chair and sat down.
『I ask again. Why has a member of the Draker kin come to the sacred seas? If you intend to encroach upon our domain...』
“Peter Pan, we’re here to offer a deal.”
『A deal with a Draker? Don't make me laugh.』
It was Khali Draker who had wiped out all the pirates of the South Sea.
For a direct descendant of that very same family to speak of a deal with pirates was utterly absurd.
Abel looked down at the opening in the floor that led directly to the ocean below.
“If you accept the deal, I'll tell you the location of Captain Kidd’s Treasure Island. What do you say?”
Silence fell from Peter Pan at those words.
Giving him a moment to process it, Abel spoke up again.
“Peter Pan, partner with me, and you can become the new Pirate King. Doesn't that sound tempting?”
Rumbleeee!
In an instant, the water beneath them surged violently.
Abel broke into a broad grin.
“Haa, haa...”
The scorching, relentless sun beat down mercilessly on Zeke and Boris.
Shimmering heat waves rose from the sand, baked red-hot by the intense sunlight.
Boris turned to Zeke, his breath ragged.
“Boss... couldn't you think this through one more time?”
“Say that one more time, Boris, and it’ll be exactly a hundred.”
“Even if I have to say it a thousand times, if it can change your mind, I'll keep talking!”
“You came all the way to Ishtar's main palace with me—why are you acting so terrified now?”
Boris cried out in frustration.
“Did you forget I almost died back there?! Ugh, whatever, at least we went there as guests! Good grief, the Salbag?! Boss, you’re on the Salbag's targeted hit list—why are you walking right into their lair on your own two feet?!”
Zeke raised a finger to his lips, gesturing for Boris to quiet down.
He then pointed slowly toward the front.
Standing atop a sand dune that had been empty just moments ago were two figures wrapped in turbans, swords slung across their hips.
Zeke turned to Boris.
“Looks like we found the right place after all.”
Hearing those words, Boris burst into tears.