Chapter 17
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: God Slayer
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“Fucking... insane!!”
It wasn't my impression—it was Miya's shout, as she stared up at the sky beside me.
Honestly, I got it.
I was thinking pretty much the same thing.
From the moment I opened my eyes that morning, something had felt different.
Lady Elysia was still Lady Elysia, but it wasn't her appearance... more like her presence, I guess.
Hard to put into words, but yesterday she was a 'strong noble lady,' and now... she felt like a being properly rooted in her place.
“Leave it to me now.”
With those words, she'd gone ahead, leaving Miya and me to pack our things and prepare to leave the dorm as ordered.
And when we stepped outside...
The sky was fighting.
No metaphor.
For real.
A pure white meteor and a black one poised to devour it were clashing head-on in the heavens.
Each impact tore the air apart, trails of intertwined light and darkness scattering like clouds.
I couldn't even track it with my eyes—
“Ah... Lady...!”
Miya, watching through her beastkin vision, sucked in a breath.
“Black wings from her back! Horns on her head too...! She looks just like a dragon!”
“...Fafnir.”
I murmured without thinking.
“Fa... what?”
“The black dragon's name.”
I took a breath and continued, eyes fixed on Lady Elysia—no, that black meteor—in the sky.
“From the German epic, the Song of the Nibelungs. Not exactly a 'dragon' so much as... an embodiment of curse and greed.”
Miya looked lost, but it didn't matter.
This was as much for me to sort my own thoughts.
“According to legend, Fafnir wasn't originally a dragon. A being who chased gold and power until it turned itself into a monster.”
Immortality.
The curse that empowers those drenched in its blood.
Growing stronger with every wound, burrowing deeper with every kill.
“They say Siegfried slew the black dragon and gained immortality from its blood, but really... it was more like an infection than a 'blessing.'”
That's why.
The figure battling in the sky didn't resemble a 'hero' so much as—
“...Lady Elysia isn't fighting Fafnir.”
The words slipped from my mouth.
“It's Fafnir fighting again... through her.”
The black meteor veered sharply, accelerating.
The white one met it head-on.
Each clash of light and darkness made the world hold its breath for an instant.
The soul of the black dragon dwelling in the Holy Sword Balmung.
And Lady Elysia, not suppressing it but embracing it fully.
“...This.”
I couldn't hold back a laugh.
“From Aurelion's perspective... he's created his worst nightmare.”
To oppose a god isn't the hero's role—it's the myth's.
And right now, two myths were colliding head-on in the sky.
“Miya, I can't see shit. Who's winning right now?”
“Yeah, well... That white dragon thing just went pa-ba-ba-bam! and Lady went whoosh! dodging while going pow! hitting back!”
...What the hell is she even saying.
Jeez, typical medieval slave who chowed down on grilled fish while everyone else studied.
Her literacy's in absolute tatters.
Still, amid that chaotic mess, one key detail stood out.
“Lady Elysia's holy sword just sliced that white lizard's weapons clean off!”
“...!”
Earth's myth was truly carving down this medieval fantasy world's 'legend.'
As the smith who'd forged Balmung, my fist clenched involuntarily.
And yet, part of me thought this outcome was almost inevitable.
Come to think of it, this world's gods are way too simplistic.
It had bugged me from the start.
In a world where gods actually exist, miracles run rampant, and “God wills it” justifies every screw-up.
Why bother inventing folktales, legends, myths, epics?
On my past life's Earth, myths were fundamentally 'stories humans told.'
Critiques of power, metaphors for eras, desires and flaws reflected in the giant mirror of gods.
Earth's gods were usually like this:
Powerful, but not perfect.
Jealous, mistaken, mad with love causing chaos, sometimes more human than humans—even dying.
Through their failures, choices, ruined endings, and aftermaths, humans learned: 'Don't live like that' or 'This is okay too.'
Humans—not gods—crafted the myths to survive.
By contrast, the myths I'd researched in this world were mostly like this:
Gods always strong, always right, always invincible.
No defeats, no setbacks, no limits.
Just 'Gods rule supreme~ Humans bow quietly~.'
No lessons there.
No reflection, remorse, evolution.
This world's myths weren't human stories—they were divine propaganda posters.
That's why.
Conceptually, this world's gods were far more 'obsolete' than Earth's.
Earth's gods got reinterpreted, cursed, repurposed, killed, revived—'updated' by humans.
But here, gods never budged from their preset roles.
Strong, but unchanging.
Strong, but unlearning.
Strong, but denying failure.
So when Fafnir from Earth's myth clashes with the white ancient dragon descending from this world's firmament... which becomes the more dangerous being?
The answer was already etched in the sky.
Each time the black holy sword sheared off the white lizard's armaments, my conviction deepened.
Yeah. This isn't just a battle of strength.
What fought in the heavens now was this world's stagnant 'gods-always-win fairy tale' versus the 'tales where even gods err and die' forged by past-life humans over millennia of strife.
And I knew it best.
A mythic smith, formerly a historian.
So that holy sword winning? That's how it should be.
Aurelion had no choice but to admit it.
...No, denying it at this point would be the real anomaly.
At least tens of thousands of years.
In his memory, this jade-white flesh had never borne a wound—save clashes with peer ancient dragons.
Yet now, crimson blood starkly trailed over his pristine white skin.
His own blood.
Even this... is human evolution?
The thought hit, and for the first time, Aurelion accepted the situation defied understanding.
For the pettiest reason imaginable.
Because he wasn't the man she loved.
And because the man she'd given her heart to—rank and status be damned—was by her side... she'd changed this much?
A mortal proverb surfaced: A woman's heart can change everything.
...Absurd.
Utter nonsense.
Something unprecedented.
A human's tiny brushstroke spreading wantonly over the myth gods alone were permitted to write—unerasable, uncontainable.
The myth was being 'tainted.'
Yet.
Even so, Aurelion raised his head.
Not yet.
No reason to lose yet.
There.
Her back.
Beneath Elysia's wings, an alien leaf-shaped mark.
His hyper-attuned ancient dragon senses screamed like a banshee.
That's the weakness.
Just sever that.
Of course, she'd know too.
Guard it obsessively, as the vital spot.
But so what?
He was a god.
She was human.
Even at the cost of an arm, the end wouldn't change.
I'll finish this.
No more hesitation in Aurelion's eyes.
This was no longer a test, observation, or amusement.
The moment a god harbored true killing intent to defend his myth.
“It's over!!”
Elysia's cry shook the battlefield.
Simultaneously, a black flash streaked straight through the sky.
Overwhelming power.
Unquestionable killing blow.
Yet to Aurelion's eyes, it was crystal clear.
Straight line.
The most common mistake of one certain of victory.
Human is human, after all.
Drunk on power, reveling in triumph with a showy strike.
Aurelion had waited for this from the start.
He thrust his hand toward the black flash without hesitation.
Slash!
“...Guh?!”
Blood sprayed amid the flash.
Aurelion's arm severed clean.
But he smiled.
The gushing blood instantly bloomed like a smokescreen, blinding Elysia.
And in that instant, Aurelion's gaze locked on her back.
Leaf-like pattern.
That scar-like anomaly.
“It's over, Duchess.”
Crunch!
Pure white light converged to a point, plunging toward her back.
Demigod.
God-human hybrid.
No longer needed.
She was irregularity incarnate—something this world shouldn't allow.
Intriguing, yes.
But too dangerous.
So Aurelion chose utter erasure without qualms.
Undoubtedly—
Siegfried from the Song of the Nibelungs would have died here.
He slew the black dragon, bathed in its blood for near-immortality... but a single fallen leaf on his back.
Denied true immortality, he met a hollow end to betrayal and conspiracy.
The hero's limit.
The myth's endpoint for humans.
“...Huh?”
Yet.
Aurelion's eyes shook for the first time.
Crunch.
Over the exposed leaf pattern on her back, black scales erupted like plating.
Fafnir's scales.
Mark of the myth's greediest, longest-surviving monster.
Siegfried's myth was human tale, but Elysia's teacher wasn't solely the hero.
“...!”
Aurelion's strike shattered against the scales.
As if the hero who'd felled it refused to forgive such a pathetic death twice.
And slicing that frozen moment—
“It's over.”
This time, Elysia's voice.
Slash.
The black blade cleaved through the pure white light.
The god's authority was severed before the myth.