Chapter 829: Temares
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 829: Temares
"Temares."
Dragonkin are those who walk alone. Thus, they name themselves.
Upon passing his childhood and just before leaving his parents' embrace, Temares named himself using the language he had awakened to. It meant "the essence of life."
In a way, it was a name that perfectly suited the racial characteristics of the Dragonkin.
‘Don't most of us name ourselves similarly?’ Temares had thought as he chose his name.
Special eyes, special lungs, a special stomach, special skin, and special talent. They were a race born with everything. Even so, it was a law of nature that one could achieve nothing without learning. Once Temares realized this truth, he studied everything diligently.
Of course, if Encrid had seen his life, he would have scoffed. "Diligently? Di-li-gent-ly?"
But for a race that lived a near-immortal life, he had put in a considerable amount of effort. And Temares had lived for a very long time—so long that counting the years had become meaningless.
‘Why must I live?’
Dragonkin always ponder this. They are nomads wandering in search of a reason for their existence. They do not easily feel desire, they have no wants, and they harbor no wishes. That was why they could be those who walk alone.
Yet, because of this temperament, they had to wander in search of a reason to live. Just as a ship needs an anchor to moor, they too needed an anchor to survive. A superior intellect does not allow one to live a meaningless life.
Thus, to outsiders, Dragonkin sometimes seemed to live with nobility as their weapon, or conversely, through an entirely incomprehensible complexity.
"Every Dragonkin is different."
Because they walk alone, Dragonkin do not resemble one another. While all other races look at each other and grow alike, Dragonkin display only their innate traits instead of such similarities. They do not resemble one another, yet they are a race similar only in how they display their boredom.
This was the cautious conclusion reached by the continent's leading scholars. It was half right and half wrong.
They did have something in common. In a single word, it could be called an anchor. More precisely, an anchor that allowed them to endure their lives.
If there are no wants and no wishes, what is the reason to live? With what would they anchor the ship called life?
Beastmen are intoxicated by lust or appetite, and the Frok cannot resist their desire for inquiry. Elves wish for a stable society and circumstances, while Dwarves are drawn to the urge to create. Giants are a species with an inherent instinct for slaughter; they are not called blood-crazed beasts for nothing. Humans are both intoxicated by all these desires and capable of overcoming them.
And Dragonkin have no desires. Therefore, to anchor the ship of life, they cast down the anchor of duty.
They decide on a task, make it their goal, and live by it to shake off their boredom. Because they lived near-immortal lives, they needed a reason to remain in this world. And conversely, because they lived forever, they could not afford to be easily shaken by desires or wishes.
Life is a storm, and the waves crash endlessly. Only by being indifferent to all of it could they endure eternity. Perhaps it was the Creator's design. Indifference is one of the conditions of eternal life.
However, being indifferent does not only bring benefits. If swallowed by boredom, a Dragonkin falls into a slumber from which awakening becomes a distant prospect. What would you call a sleep from which one cannot wake? It would not be wrong to define it as death. Those who could die at any moment—that was the Dragonkin.
‘Duty.’
He casts the anchor.
One day in the past, Temares had seen traces of the Salamander, and he knew this being did not deserve to be called a monster.
‘It was controlled.’
By whom? Finding that out was a distant prospect. The Salamander was a Phantom Beast. That much he knew. Temares had found his anchor to remain in reality.
‘I will protect it.’
To compare it to humans, it was like a pastime—like playing cards after finishing a hard day's work. It wasn't particularly important, and it didn't matter whether he did it or not, but just like that pastime, it became a reason to live. Just as a game of cards over a glass of beer and a few jokes makes hard labor bearable.
Temares had found his duty. And to a Dragonkin, duty was something to be protected even at the cost of one's life. He did not merely protect the Phantom Beast Salamander; he sought to care for its very will.
His duty expanded, and Temares's goal became clear. He would let no one harm the Salamander, and he would let no one die directly by the Salamander's hand. Because it was not easy, it had meaning. Even if it wasn't joy, he would likely feel a small sense of pride. At the same time, he calculated clearly. He drew a line.
‘The Flame Heteromorphs scattered around as a consequence of the Phantom Beast's existence do not possess a will.’
Therefore, they were outside the scope of his duty. Temares calculated that only the direct exercise of power by the Phantom Beast Salamander fell within the fence of his duty and responsibility.
It was during this time, as he once again spent years beyond counting.
Dragonkin are unaffected by any desires or wants. Generally, that is. And "generally" meant that exceptions existed. Aside from their anchor-like duty, there was exactly one thing that could draw out a Dragonkin's goodwill.
In words, it could be called a "grand dream." Or, if Temares were to put it in his own way: ‘A will that seems absolutely unyielding.’
He had met a few such intelligent beings in his life. Temares had shown goodwill to all of them. They were worthy of respect. Regardless of good or evil, they were individuals who displayed pure will. Those who marched toward an ideal, not a desire.
Dragonkin could neither hate nor dislike such people. That was the sole reason a Dragonkin would ever take a side.
‘Respect for their will.’
They shine. They shine like stars, burning away their own lives. What Dragonkin could only feel by forcibly grasping, twisting, and squeezing their duties, these self-shining beings naturally radiated. Dragonkin possessed the senses to capture and perceive that radiance.
This was why Temares, clashing swords with Encrid, had shown groundless goodwill along with enjoyment and anticipation. Just as the Frok love beautiful appearances and Elves love pure energy, a Dragonkin is simply delighted when meeting someone whose inner self is filled with a rare, unyielding will.
It was akin to viewing a beautiful work of art, or listening to music that resonated deep within the heart. To put it more bluntly, it was something addictive.
Though it did not take precedence over duty.
They had no grand cause, no justice, and no morality. Yet, they did not prioritize malice or murderous intent either. To a Dragonkin, the most important thing was duty. Since it was their very reason for living, this was only natural.
Temares processed several thoughts simultaneously as he grasped the current situation.
In the past, when the Phantom Beast was active, magical lifeforms made of flame were born in droves around it, and anyone who drew near the Salamander would fall into a stupor, intoxicated by illusions. It was the creature's innate ability.
Temares had no intention of letting anyone behind him die.
‘The Phantom Beast's mind has been corrupted.’
Why? He did not know. Just because he was a Dragonkin did not mean he could split his body into hundreds of clones. Nor could he wield magic freely. He only knew how to exercise authority. Thus, he had missed the intent of the Parasitic Horse burrowing into this place.
‘Tricks.’
However, his intuition told him. Someone must have done this. Finding the reason could wait. For now, he had to resolve the crisis at hand. Temares, in particular, felt it would be a waste for the man he had clashed swords with to die. He liked the fellow that much.
‘A waste?’
Did he ever feel this way? It was unfamiliar. Of course, this emotion was also something to reflect on later. For now, he had to ensure those intoxicated by the illusions did not become fodder for the flames.
The moment he made up his mind, one of the companions standing behind him spoke.
"Enki."
It was the black-haired mage, Esther. She had easily overcome the illusion cast by the Salamander and opened her eyes. It happened in the blink of an eye. Following that, Temares had to witness a sight he had never seen in his life.
"What kind of bullshit trick is this now?"
It was the gray-haired human. He, too, had overcome the illusion. And that wasn't all, causing the Dragonkin to experience a level of shock he had rarely felt in his life.
* * *
Recently, Esther had experienced her Spell World overlapping with reality through a sense of illusion. It was incredibly difficult to forget that moment, which went beyond a mere thrill to a surge of sheer ecstasy. But would any good come from indulging in that sensation?
No. The boundary between reality and illusion had to be clear. A mage had to know how to draw that line.
‘To be intoxicated by illusions is to be trapped in an inescapable, eternal labyrinth.’
Satisfied with living within the illusions and phantoms of one's own making, one would lose all reason to live in reality. She had overcome the sense of illusion. Thus, crushing, smashing, and waking from the phantom shown by the Salamander was easy.
For her dead master to appear and spit resentful words at her...
‘Even if a necromancer woke him, he isn't the type of person to say such things.’
The phantom was clumsy. It did not penetrate human psychology; it was merely a resonance that shook one's emotions. Of course, that alone could ruthlessly shatter a human's mind, but not a single person who had made it this far was ordinary.
"What kind of bullshit trick is this now?" Rem's voice rang out.
At Esther's call, Encrid turned his head and asked back, "What?"
His tone was nonchalant. He had cleanly overcome the illusions and phantoms.
"I know the Lord has not yet called for me," Audin said, letting white divinity flow from his entire body along with a prayer.
"I am the greatest pathfinder on the continent," Ragna spouted.
"How many times have I faced and fought demons? Do you think I would crumble at something like this?" Sinar sneered at the phantom. Of course, being an Elf, one had to listen closely to catch even a sliver of her emotion.
From the moment one faces a demon, it begins to eat away at their mind. Take the Balrog, for instance—if one cannot overcome its momentum and intimidation, their lungs shrivel, and they die. It is a death that simply arrives.
What about the bastard who tried to make her his bride? His swordplay, which brought death with a mere graze, was dangerous enough, but hadn't he ultimately tried to swallow the entire Elven city whole?
Imagining the worst was not Krais's specialty alone. Instead of showing their emotions, the Elves had sung of despair and frustration deep within their hearts. The entire city had done so. Thus, a phantom of this level was downright cute compared to the days when their city was being eaten away and dying.
And Encrid's will went without saying. He would not be shaken by this. Even when confronted with the child he failed to protect, he pressed forward. If he couldn't even manage this much, he would have been trapped in some "today" long ago.
He had no difficulty distinguishing reality from illusion. Encrid had never been intoxicated by a sense of omnipotence, after all.
‘If I had brought Dunbakel, would she have been shaken a little?’ He was relaxed enough to harbor such idle thoughts.
Giants and Beastmen were inherently vulnerable to these kinds of tricks. In terms of pure combat power, Dunbakel could hold her own against Teresa, and she wouldn't fall behind in a clash with Ropode or Pel. Of course, if it became a fight to the death, trying to gauge who would win was meaningless.
‘Still.’ Dunbakel would have overcome it too. In the East, she had learned how to handle fear. Her mental growth was evident. Even if shaken by phantoms and auditory hallucinations, she would not collapse.
As for the others besides her, they would manage just fine on their own.
"If I were a Beastman, I might have faltered a bit, but this is nothing to me," Rem said. The barbarian was rough on the outside, but delicate on the inside. One could tell by how he had just thought of Dunbakel. He had mentioned the person he was most worried about. However, his expression of affection was so harsh that it was only a torment to Dunbakel.
"Clumsy."
Encrid heard the Ferryman's auditory hallucination. Yes, it was clumsy.
The flames covering the sky looked like red clouds. A crimson, blazing fire blanketed the space above. More precisely, it wasn't clouds, but fire spread out wide.
"It is falling from above. The fire," Temares, the Dragonkin, said. He did not stop there.
"My name is Temares."
"I am a Dragonkin."
"You are a human."
Now that the Salamander had awakened, what he had to do was clear. To that end, he repeated the same words.