The Power Words Carry (6)
At that very moment, four hundred meters from the Immigration Office, on Vivachen Street.
— CRASH, BOOM!
Kaban staggered and lost his balance yet again.
"It's not... urghhhh... over yet."
Clutching his still-churning stomach, he muttered through gritted teeth. Even armor that deflected all manner of magic could not shield him from the internal shock of being hurled four hundred meters through the air and slammed into the ground like a meteor. The armor had come through unscathed, thankfully — but everything inside him had been churned to pulp.
"Once... once I recover my strength..."
He had fought far too long. The endless, absurdly one-sided battle had his entire body screaming in protest. And every bit of it was that Central Officer's fault. Kaban spat on the ground and growled.
"Central Officer... I won't forget you."
Then —
— Vwooooong.
The spear and armor began resonating once more. But this time, the direction was different. The spear tilted ever so slightly — not toward the Immigration Office, the place he couldn't even bear to look at, but toward the opposite end of the street.
"...?"
Kaban frowned at the impossible phenomenon. Two sources of resonance at once? Only one dragon remained in the world — Menassil. And the first reaction pointed to the Central Officer... wait. He mulled it over, then suddenly lifted his head as if something had clicked.
"So that's... where the real dragon is, then."
It was obvious: if the first resonance had pointed toward the Central Officer, the dragon's servant, then this one pointed at the true dragon itself. Any thought of resting evaporated.
The spear led him to a house that looked exactly like every other house on the street. An unremarkable two-story building with nothing to distinguish it. — Pitter-patter, pitter-pat. Strangely, though, only that house's walls remained utterly untouched by the rain. No — more than untouched, its exterior looked unnaturally, jarringly pristine. Kaban knew immediately what it was.
"A protection spell..."
A ward woven to repel external attacks and intrusion — a barrier so thick it deflected even the sheets of rain, laid over the entire house. As if something within it were being protected at all costs. And gathered around that house, even in this downpour, were people who refused to leave.
"We've received word that the Dragon Hunter broke through the encirclement. Keep your watch even tighter from here on."
"Pass word to those inside as well."
"Yes, sir!"
They wore the same uniforms as the ones called "agents" — the ones who had so cravenly rained arrows down on him from the rooftop earlier. Kaban's eyes narrowed.
"How clever of you, Central Officer. Truly worthy of a dragon's servant."
The Immigration Office had been the decoy all along. He still couldn't say for certain why the relics had been drawn to the man, but using himself as bait to conceal the real dragon's whereabouts — that was a bold, audacious gambit. He had come this close to chasing that man and him alone. Kaban smirked.
"But such petty tricks are useless now."
What staggering luck. The desperate last resort he'd chosen to break through the encirclement had delivered him to his prey by the shortest possible route. He could not let a heaven-sent opportunity like this slip away. — Thud.
He deliberately made his footsteps loud as he approached. The agents turned, faces tight with wariness — and the moment they recognized what he was, they shouted.
"...!! Th-the Dragon Hunter!"
"He's here!"
"Sound the alarm! Tell the Central Officer he's come!"
Kaban saw no reason to oblige them by waiting. Twisting the spear in both hands, he brought it crashing down on the barrier with every ounce of strength he had. — KRRK-CRUNCH!
The protection spells crumpled instantly under the dragon talon. "God... that's a high-tier ward certified by the Mage Institute...!" one of the agents gasped, watching layers of intricate formulae and interwoven mana get torn apart in a single stroke. Nothing stood between the agents and the Dragon Hunter anymore.
"Loose!"
"Aim for the head! That's the weak point!"
The ones who had scraped together their wits scrambled to draw their bows — aiming for his head, just as before. But this time, Kaban did not yield an inch.
"Not a chance, you gutter rats!"
Slapdash, monotonous, amateurish. Nothing like the arrows from before, which had flown in flawless coordination, each one precisely hunting his openings. Because these men were alone. No steadfast guards to hold the line for them, no golems pounding away in endless waves. To Kaban, they were nothing more than soldiers standing stripped and exposed.
— Ting!
He batted the arrows aside and drove the spear straight at the nearest agent. — SHLUK! The smooth-thrusting point punched clean through the man's shoulder.
"AAAAAGH!"
At last, a scream. The sharp cry, waking the old thrill of the hunt in his blood, curled Kaban's lips into a sinister smile.
"Go on, then. Cry out for that contemptible man's name."
Without the Central Officer, these men were simply a crowd of people. No chain of command, no coordination — just a panicked rabble. Punching holes in limbs like theirs took him less than two minutes.
"No golems here. No guards. No one at all. There is no one left to protect you."
Kaban spoke through clenched teeth, looking down at the agents sprawled and drenched in blood and rainwater. Even if the man ran here at full sprint, it would take him at least five minutes. For Kaban, that was ample time to kill everyone present and ransack the house.
"Kgh, aaaaagh...!"
"My arm... agh, aghh..."
Groans of agony filled the street. A sense of finally reclaiming his rightful place among the strong washed over him, and Kaban gripped the spear in reverse, a cruel smile twisting his lips.
"Don't interfere with the great work, you vermin."
And in the next instant — brimming with fury, irritation, and burning resentment toward the Central Officer — he drove the spear down toward one man's heart.
"STAY YOUR HAND!"
A sharp voice rang out from behind him.
— Gulp.
Ordinarily, such words would never have given him pause. But that voice — there was something in it, somewhere, that he recognized.
"It is not the hearts of these mortals that you truly want."
A woman's voice — resolute, yet oddly level and unhurried. — Clatter. Kaban released the agent's collar and slowly straightened up. A woman stood before the door. A woman whom crimson suited to perfection.
"Dragon Hunter. It has been long."
She spoke as though she knew exactly what he was. Kaban realized in an instant that she was no mere human. — VwooooOOOong...
Because the armor and the spear were trembling harder than they ever had before — trembling toward the round something cradled in the woman's arms. The thing he had hunted with rabid obsession for two full weeks.
"The egg..."
For a heartbeat, greed flooded his eyes — then it receded. He slowly raised his gaze again. The woman looked endlessly human, save for the dragon's tail and horns. And those... those blazing red eyes he could never forget. Kaban murmured, unable to contain himself.
"...Master of the Volcanoes."
The prey he had hunted so desperately had finally shown herself. Bearing a gift for the new age.
*****
The dragon and the Dragon Hunter regarded one another.
"You cut a sorry figure, Hunter. Have you been somewhere getting yourself beaten black and blue?"
"...That is none of your concern."
Much had happened, but Kaban saw no need to share it. Instead, he leveled the spear at her and flung out a barbed taunt.
"So you shrank yourself down just to cling to life a little longer, Master of the Volcanoes?"
"..."
"Fear not. The arrowhead lodged in your heart will be tightening your hourglass as we speak, after all."
By now, Menassil's time must surely be running out. Kaban remembered with perfect clarity driving the mithril arrow directly into her heart. She only looks unharmed — it's nothing but bravado. Given the pride of dragons, she was clearly determined not to show herself at such a pathetic disadvantage even while dying.
"Ha."
But Menassil let out a short, disdainful laugh — and drew something from the folds of her dress.
"Do you know what this is?"
"...!! That's—!!"
Something large, the size of a grown man's palm, gleamed in her grip.
"Yes. The very arrowhead you drove into my heart."
Menassil's voice trembled.
"It was a truly monstrous shot. Aiming for me and my egg at once, so that evasion was impossible."
"How did you get it out?!"
It defied belief. Without outside help, it should have been utterly impossible — and with it lodged in her heart, the wound would have had to be healed on the spot besides. And then, just one man surfaced in his mind. The one man who had been unraveling his plans in real time. If anyone could manage it, it would be him.
"The Central Officer... that son of a bitch! That lackey of the dragon!"
"A 'lackey,' is it... How fitting for one who sees the world as nothing but above and below."
"It changes nothing. This time, I won't take the heart — I'll take your head. And the egg comes to me."
So saying, he readjusted his grip on the spear. But something was wrong. — Vwoooong. The quivering spearhead kept pointing — not at her, but at the egg. The relics were drawn to a dragon's aura by their very nature. So why would they not point at her — the last dragon alive? Kaban stared at her for a moment, dazed, and muttered.
"These relics don't react to you at all. Don't tell me... you've lost all your power as a dragon?"
"..."
Menassil said nothing. And at the sight of it, Kaban's grin split his face wide.
"Heheh, HAHAHAHA! What a magnificent sight this is!"
Naked derision rolled across the street.
"How does it feel, Master of the Volcanoes? To live as the apex predator of all the world, a being near-divine — only to be dragged down to the level of a human?"
But the reply that followed left him utterly flustered.
"It is the finest thing that has ever happened to me."
"...What?"
Menassil smiled slyly.
"On the day I came to this place, I already breathed my last as a dragon. I am living my second life now. My name is Menassil Terenas — the lady of this house, and its mistress."
She wore the smile of someone who had shaken something off entirely. Nothing he had expected. "...Completely mad. To become human and rejoice over it." Kaban's face twisted in disgust.
"No — if anything, this works out even better. A human body will be all the easier to carve apart."
But Menassil showed not a flicker of fear. She arched a brow and said,
"Foolish. Why do you suppose I came out to face you with the egg in my arms?"
Then she turned her head and called someone's name.
"Elaine. Erzena."
Behind the door, a golden radiance began to seep down and pool along the floor. The first to emerge was a woman with sky-blue hair. Seeing the agents collapsed on the ground, she pressed her hands together and quietly closed her eyes. — Fwoooosh.
And just like that, as if nothing had ever happened, the spear-pierced wounds healed over, clean and complete.
"Hah, hah... Th-thank you, Lady Erzena!"
"Stand up. You are not people meant to fall here."
Then, following close behind, appeared a woman with green eyes. Kaban tilted his head, thrown off balance.
"Elaine? Erzena?"
Names he had heard somewhere before. He racked his memory. Even a man with no interest whatsoever in the world's politics and shifting fortunes — and then he realized whose names they were.
"...!!! Why are the Saint and the Princess HERE of all places!?"
The Saint of the Holy Church, and the Princess of the Crossline Kingdom. It made no sense at all. Why was the Saint who had vanished mid-pilgrimage standing here? Why was the mute princess who had sequestered herself and never once left the royal castle here? And why were they at Menassil's side?
Confronted with a chain of connections that could not possibly be linked, Kaban could only stare at them, stunned. Even by coincidence, this went far beyond anything believable. Menassil studied his expression with evident satisfaction and answered.
"It was these two who saved my life. Every last bit of it thanks to the Central Officer's connections."
The Central Officer. The man's name kept ringing out without end. In everything, at every turn. Kaban spat the words out, seething.
"That goddamn bastard, even to the very end...!!!!"
But he could not finish the sentence.
"...Goddamn bastard, you say?"
"...Eeeurgh?"
Erzena and Elaine, who had handled the situation with perfect composure until that moment, turned upon hearing that single word — their faces warping into something like demons'. Elaine's fist clenched tight.
— CRUNCH, CRACKLE, CREAK.
At the same moment, the shoulder of his dragon armor buckled inward. Dragon scales that had never taken so much as a scratch in three years collapsed — with a force that threatened to twist his very bones.
"Kgh... AAAAARGH!"
For the first time — for the first time in the three years since he had donned the dragon armor — Kaban screamed in agony.