Chapter 392
Chapter 392
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 392
Chapter Title: Chapter 392
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 391
Chapter Title: Racial War (30)
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Ataraxia had never revealed his true power until now.
He hadn't faced humanity's warriors with his full strength.
Given the overwhelming gap in levels, the combat experience honed over countless years, and the innate traits of his species, humans had never been a match for him in the first place.
Dragons.
The supreme race by birthright.
Born from the breath of the stars, beings who cloaked themselves in primordial magic like armor.
A single scale bore the epic saga of ancient wisdom, and a single beat of their wings carried the song of storms and thunder.
Eternal wanderers gliding along the river of time, they observed the rise and fall of civilizations as if they were mere trifles.
To them, magic was as natural as breathing, and their authority was merely an extension of their will.
They traversed realms humans could never reach in a lifetime, treating them as child's play.
Seated upon the throne of the heavens, gazing down upon the world—that was the dragon race.
Since the Racial War began, they had never once relinquished their place at the top.
As a warrior of such a race, why would Ataraxia ever need to unleash his full might against a mere human?
But now, the 'Evil Spirit King' summoned by Adora was different.
That grotesque, ominous presence seemed to transcend the bounds of mere magic—a condensation of raw grudges and death itself.
Ataraxia's dragon eyes gleamed with true seriousness for the first time.
His pupils narrowed to slits, flashing as if to pierce the very essence of the Evil Spirit King.
The aura of death thickened.
Moreover, those evil spirits were grudges that had lingered since primordial times.
"You've gained the power to command Chronos's evil spirits."
A faint note of surprise colored Ataraxia's voice.
Chronos, the shadow spirit and reaper.
The evil spirits under his dominion were no mere phantoms.
They were the lingering remnants of mighty beings, forgotten and discarded amid the flow of time.
And Adora had elevated those spirits to an even higher plane.
Likely through that staff once wielded by Park Chan-woo.
The World Tree Staff had transcended them.
Fused with the stellar power embedded in the staff, Adora's own authority over death, and even traces of her 'Wish,' the evil spirits had evolved beyond mere familiars into 'cataclysms' possessing their own unified will.
"Krurrrr...!!"
Ataraxia's colossal dragon form shuddered violently.
The blood-red mist cloaking his body grew denser, vivid crimson runes etching themselves onto every scale.
This was the 'Mark of Despair,' an awakening available only to the ancient dragons who governed despair among their kind.
Power amplified beyond comparison.
Spatial pressure intensifies | Dragon Words of Despair gain devastating destructive force
As the mark ignited, Ataraxia's power surged to incomparable heights.
His mere presence crushed the surrounding space, and his Dragon Words of Despair brimmed with even greater destructive might.
His roar evoked primordial forces capable of toppling mountains and parting seas.
"You've... changed as well."
Adora murmured bitterly as she watched.
Complex emotions flickered in her crimson eyes.
She knew his uprightness and unyielding integrity better than anyone, making this twisted version of Ataraxia—now subjugated to Sepiro—all the more tragic and enraging.
In the past, when he followed Park Chan-woo, Ataraxia had been a proud, dignified dragonkin. Now, he radiated only blind loyalty to Sepiro and destructive despair.
At her words, Ataraxia's gaze snapped toward Adora for an instant.
"It is you who have changed, witch."
His voice was as cold as glacial ice.
"Those who once dreamed alongside me of the dragon race's future—how can you let yourselves be manipulated by that sly charlatan? He is no Dragon God. He is nothing but a traitor who stole that title!"
There was no tremor in his words.
Only ironclad conviction, as if reaffirming a truth he had drilled into himself countless times.
Not a trace remained of his former respect for Park Chan-woo—only the icy ruthlessness of Sepiro's devoted instrument.
Why?
Why had he changed like this?
Because Park Chan-woo had been defeated?
Or had Sepiro, in victory, revealed every hidden truth?
...Strictly speaking, Park Chan-woo had been more human than anything.
He bore Sepiro's temperament but was not Sepiro himself—and lacked the qualifications to be the true king of dragons.
Adora pondered.
Ataraxia's fanatical loyalty couldn't stem from simple brainwashing or coercion.
It was a warped belief forged in the depths of despair and betrayal.
Perhaps Sepiro had forced a 'choice' upon him.
Between the 'incomplete hope' called Park Chan-woo and the 'absolute reality' called Sepiro.
And under the banner of the dragon race's survival—or driven by personal anguish—Ataraxia had chosen the latter.
In that crucible, his pride and old convictions had shattered, the void filled by zealous devotion to Sepiro.
Adora's crimson eyes fixed on Ataraxia's Mark of Despair.
This was no mere amplifier of power.
It was a agonizing brand, claimed only by those who wagered everything and embraced despair fully.
Ataraxia had chosen to become despair incarnate.
"Do you truly believe the Sepiro you serve... will bring true glory to your dragon race?"
Adora's voice was low and measured, laced with razor-sharp barbs.
"He is a creature who revels in destruction and chaos. Can you not see that you are merely pawns on his game board?"
"Silence, witch!"
Ataraxia's bellow momentarily quelled the Evil Spirit King's momentum.
"How dare a lowly thing like you presume to grasp Lord Dragon God's grand design? He alone will end this age of chaos and usher in a new order! I am but a tool for his glory—nothing more, nothing less!"
His proclamation rang with the fervor of a zealot.
Rational discourse was impossible.
Adora fell silent.
Her gaze turned icy.
This was no time for nostalgia.
The foe before her was no old ally, but an apostle of despair menacing humanity.
'Kill him, Evil Spirit King.'
Adora's expression hardened into stone-cold resolve.
With a face devoid of emotion, she directed the Evil Spirit King.
Thousands of shadowy limbs lashed out toward Ataraxia in unison.
Some sharpened into claws, others coiled like whips, and still others ballooned into massive hammers smashing against his hulking dragon form.
Kwa-kwa-kwa-kwang! Chwa-chwa-chwa-chak!
Ataraxia countered with sweeping strikes from his enormous forelimbs and tail, battering the shadows aside.
His scales, etched with the Mark of Despair, had hardened far beyond before, repelling or nullifying most assaults.
Every motion distilled millennia of battle mastery into destructive artistry.
Yet the Evil Spirit King's onslaught persisted.
Shadows regenerated endlessly, crashing in waves. Some breached his guard, inflicting hairline wounds upon his flesh.
The injuries festered and corroded in seconds.
But Adora's brow twitched faintly.
'My authority over death... isn't working?'
Her power of death, amplified through the Evil Spirit King, should fell any living thing it touched.
Yet it failed utterly against Ataraxia.
As if he possessed no vital essence whatsoever—the life force every creature should hold.
In other words...
"You... surely not?"
His life... pawned away?
There was only one explanation for this.
Sepiro had seized Ataraxia's life entirely.
By enslaving his very soul beneath his dominion, rendering the very notion of death irrelevant.
The realization piercing Adora's mind bordered on certainty.
Otherwise, such potent death authority—primordial grudges empowered by the Evil Spirit King—could never fail to ravage his vitality.
'But how?'
Had Sepiro discovered a way to defy death's grasp within the great rift?
If Ataraxia's will, soul, and life itself were now tainted...
'...Now it all falls into place.'
None of Ataraxia's choices had been wholly his own.
He hadn't fully abandoned Park Chan-woo.
As she observed the fierce clash between the Evil Spirit King and Ataraxia, Adora's mind raced.
Death could not be wholly evaded.
If she unraveled the method—be it link or corruption's core—she could reclaim it within her grasp.
'Not merely imposing death, but seizing the connection... or the essence of that taint.'
Adora's crimson eyes shimmered with intricate resolve.
If Ataraxia's life was wholly bound to Sepiro—a form of 'corruption' or 'leash'—there might be cracks to exploit.
She could even sever that tie to Sepiro.
She tightened her grip on the World Tree Staff.
Drawing forth the stellar power within, her death authority, and the faint vestiges of Wish.
Keyeeee—!
As the Evil Spirit King's assault shifted patterns, bewilderment flickered in Ataraxia's dragon eyes.
But he sneered.
"I have transcended death itself, Adora!"
Ataraxia betrayed no openings.
The Mark of Despair shielded not only flesh but soul, deflecting or dissolving most psychic barrages from the Evil Spirit King.
Seizing the moment, he redoubled his ferocious assault.
【Ten Thousand Thorns】
Countless blood-red thorns of despair bloom across battlefield | Inflicts soul-corroding poison on contact
Countless magic circles flickered into being and vanished across Ataraxia's form, manifesting spells with the rhythm of breath.
The entire battlefield seemed awash in crimson.
Not merely the earth, but the very air sprouted innumerable blood-red thorns of despair, blooming like sanguine blossoms and hurtling indiscriminately toward the Evil Spirit King and Adora.
Each thorn pulsed with virulent despair venom, burrowing into flesh and gnawing at souls with the slightest graze.
The Evil Spirit King thrashed its vast shadow body to fend them off, but their numbers overwhelmed.
Myriad thorns pierced its form, drawing agonized shrieks with every impalement.
The Evil Spirit King's silhouette grew visibly hazy, its power waning.
【Backflow of Despair】
Reverses target's wills and bestowed powers | Black flame despair erupts from within, self-corroding
Ataraxia's follow-up spell struck with lethal precision.
The faint 'wills' inherent in the Evil Spirit King's composing vengeful souls—or the very powers Adora had granted—reversed against them.
From the Evil Spirit King's core, despair energy akin to black flames detonated, devouring it from inside.
Even the mana and Wish essence Adora channeled via the World Tree Staff backlashed, scorching her mana circuits.
"......!"
Her circuits blazed as if on the verge of rupture.
Magic that assailed the mana circuits directly.
Proof that Ataraxia's sorcery had shattered its former limits.
'He's strong.'
Stronger than before.
Ataraxia was. His magic was.
The unfamiliar spells suggested Sepiro's influence.
As if he had mastered Sepiro's own arcana.
Evading death, nullifying curses, striking mana circuits outright—he was Adora's perfect counter.
She teetered on the brink of being consumed by death herself.
Kuwooooong!
In that instant.
"......Arcana of Despair. O Dragon of Transformation."
Ataraxia's eyes quivered faintly.
Lee Hyuk-soo's Ring of the Dragon Emperor.
From it emerged the Primal God Arcana.
A dragon like a solitary beam of hope blooming amid despair.
Mighty enough to scorn the heavens, once leader of the Despair Clan in epochs past.
A noble soul who offered himself to the Lord of Great Evil to end the Abyss's Great War.
One redeemed by Park Chan-woo and reforged as a Primal God.
—Cease, my child.
She spoke for the first time.
To Ataraxia.
Calling him her 'child'.
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