Chapter 185: Dragon's Eye, Human Heart (49)
Chapter 185: Dragon's Eye, Human Heart (49)
The crackling of a campfire pulled my consciousness to the surface.
My mind was a blank, a hazy fog causing my thoughts to settle heavily.
I rubbed my eyes several times to clear my blurred vision. Only then did the surrounding scenery begin to emerge with more clarity.
I was inside an elegant tent.
Though it was merely a temporary shelter, not a single draft of wind could penetrate the pure white fabric, a testament to the dignity of the Imperial Household. It was a warm and cozy place.
In the arid desert, the difference between day and night is extreme.
The sands, scorched under the sun, send up shimmering heat hazes until dusk. But once the sun sets and the chilling moonlight descends, the desert embraces a cold that is difficult to endure.
Therefore, the fact that a fire was burning inside the tent suggested that it was currently somewhere between late afternoon and dawn.
In the sweltering heat, there would be absolutely no need to create another heat source.
A faint steam rose from a cup of liquor being poured with a soft splash.
It was a traditional liquor of the West.
I had heard it was a fermented drink served hot to ward off the chill of the night. In the West, it was said to carry the meaning of honoring one's toils for the day.
Without a word, I accepted the cup and drained it in one go.
Toils, indeed. Many staying in this camp were suffering just as much. Striking down the swarming demonic beasts was no easy task.
And what of hearing the breathing of the snake that filled the horizon?
It was not something one could do while remaining sane.
Once that monster woke from its long slumber and began to writhe, the military forces humanity took such pride in would instantly be reduced to a handful of blood.
That materialized threat was now right before our eyes.
The eyes of the man who recalled this bleak future sank with sorrow.
The woman sitting across from him had her eyes closed, making it impossible to read her gaze, but she looked just as embittered as he did.
With a flick of her finger, a cup floated into the air. Then, another splash as liquor filled the vessel.
It was she who broke the silence.
"As time passes, I find myself thinking of the past more than the future."
"You aren't even thirty yet, Your Highness."
As the two began to drink together, the man's attitude softened slightly.
During the day, he had been faithful to etiquette, sharp as a well-honed blade. But now, he seemed close enough to share a jest.
The woman let out a soft chuckle.
"That is exactly what I mean. Is there not an old saying that spring passes before you even realize it has arrived?"
"Is that not because you think of winter even during the spring?"
The man murmured in a voice that carried a faint scent of alcohol.
The woman sipped her drink and gave a slight, knowing smile.
Her attitude seemed to invite him to continue.
"I didn't know when I was young, but I think I'm beginning to understand as time goes by. I find myself unable to enjoy the present, constantly fretting over the future."
"And so spring passes?"
"…Now, only winter remains."
Liquor filled the empty cup on the table once more.
It was a bizarre sight—a woman who did not even open her eyes moving objects at will—but the man did not seem particularly bothered.
It was a scene he had clearly witnessed countless times.
After stroking her cup in silence for a moment, the woman asked the man in a faint tone.
"Then when was your spring, Sir Ian? When you lived as the Great Witch's disciple in the Great Forest?"
"Thinking back on it now, that was summer."
The man gave a bitter smile as he spoke. He supported his cup with his hand.
The two cups met in mid-air with a crisp clink. After pouring another drink down his throat, the man continued in a blurred voice.
"Wasn't I a bit too old to just be sprouting? Though my Master and Junior Sister still treated me like a greenhorn."
"I've heard much… about the two of them."
"They were like family to me."
Thud. The cup hit the table. Seeing the man's expression naturally darken, the woman turned her head as if she had guessed what would follow.
A voice steeped in agony leaked out.
"…And then they died."
With those words, the man's voice cut off abruptly.
As if in understanding, the woman offered him another drink. Only after several more rounds did she ask cautiously.
"Did you love her?"
She likely didn't mean it in the sense of 'family.'
Since it was already years in the past, the man showed a slightly confused expression. His golden eyes, wandering through a hazy fog, soon vanished behind his eyelids along with a hollow laugh.
He simply shook his head once.
"…I don't know anymore."
After that, several more cups were emptied in the silence, and before long, the woman's face, flushed with a rosy hue, suddenly appeared before the man.
She seemed to be observing him intently.
Even though she couldn't see properly with her eyes closed, she hovered in front of the man's face for a long time before sitting back down.
"Why didn't I know?"
At the question thrown out so abruptly, the man looked at her with a gaze that asked what she meant.
The woman gave a small smirk and sipped from her cup.
"Back in our Academy days. Why didn't someone like you stand out back then?"
"Because that was the spring of my life."
It was an immediate answer.
At the topic raised by the man, the woman once again turned her face toward him.
"When you're a seed, you're just a seed no matter what you do. Even if you grow more, you're just a sprout with slightly larger leaves than the others."
"That's a bit of an arrogant thing to say."
"…Is it?"
The man cleared his throat with an embarrassed expression and took a drink. But the woman merely let out a soft laugh as if it had been a joke.
"But I will forgive you. Because you are someone who has the right to say such things…."
It didn't take long for the woman's face to be shrouded in melancholy as her voice trailed off.
"If you had sprouted just a little earlier, would many things have changed?"
"With the power of just one person?"
The words exchanged were hollow. It was because both of them had already realized, to a sickening degree, that such possibilities were nonsense.
They simply had that many things to regret.
The woman let out a forlorn smile and said, "Could I ask for one truly ridiculous favor?"
"…Is that an order?"
At the dry retort, the woman made a sulky face as if her feelings were hurt.
Soon, a pouting voice leaked from her lips.
"An order between us… let's call it a favor."
Instead of answering, the man remained silent and stared at her.
As if she had expected as much, the woman wore a bitter smile.
Then, she whispered.
"If you ever go back to that time, please hit the version of me that knew nothing."
Pfft. It was inevitable that a hollow laugh escaped the man's mouth.
That was how unrealistic the story was.
But just as the man was about to offer some kind of rebuttal, a sweet scent brushed past the tip of his nose.
It wasn't just the smell of liquor.
As that subtle fragrance, which only a woman's skin can hold, washed over him, the man's eyes went blank.
The woman's face appeared in his vision, so close their noses almost touched.
It was a flawless beauty. Even now, she was breathtakingly beautiful; had she still possessed her eyes, she surely would have made countless men weep.
The woman pleaded in a desperate tone.
"And please, save me."
The man said nothing for a long time.
He couldn't tell if he was drunk on the alcohol, her beauty, or that sweet scent.
He simply said, as if possessed.
"…Yes, I will."
The world crumbled once more.
Through the cracks of the collapsing boundary, a headache like a needle stabbing his brain arrived.
It was time to go back.
Mitram let out a long sigh.
It was a series of unforeseen variables.
First, not only had the curse placed on the Princess been dispelled, but he had even been hindered just before achieving his goal.
All of it was the achievement of one man.
'Ian Percus,' a human who was merely the second son of a rural viscount family.
That was why Mitram liked the man even more.
While it was annoying that he interfered with his plans at every turn, it also meant that Ian was capable. Furthermore, unlike high-ranking nobles, he wasn't authoritarian.
He was a talent who possessed both a spirit of sacrifice for the weak and indomitable willpower.
If possible, Mitram wanted to spend more time recruiting him into the Dark Cult. However, that once-strong man was now on his knees after taking a direct hit from the explosion.
Judging by his breathing, he seemed to still be alive. It was truly a marvelous vitality.
Nevertheless, Mitram didn't feel the need to be particularly wary of Ian.
To begin with, Ian had been covered in injuries from the moment he entered this place. Though he had tried to act composed, he couldn't deceive Mitram's eyes, which had experience modifying all sorts of creatures.
To bring down someone barely holding on like that, a tiny shock was enough.
In that sense, an explosion that sacrificed one test subject was more than enough of a tribute. Mitram intended to turn away, thinking he had shown a minimum level of sincerity.
Yes, until the man staggered to his feet.
A deep doubt instantly filled Mitram's eyes.
It would be one thing if he had only been hit by the explosion, but Mitram had even embedded poison needles coated with paralyzing venom into his shoulder. He should have been groaning like the escort knights writhing pathetically on the ground.
But the man stood up. This was presented before Mitram's eyes as undeniable proof.
Mitram could only swallow a hollow laugh.
It seemed there had been a mistake, perhaps because he was possessing a test subject rather than being in his true body. The woman immediately pulled poison needles from her robe and threw them.
Thwack, thwack, thwack. The needles struck three vital points. Even without the poison, his movement should have stopped the moment the needles were embedded.
Yet the man only staggered for a moment before taking another step.
One step, and then another.
With each step, Mitram's brow furrowed deeper.
This shouldn't be happening. Unable to easily accept the approaching reality, her hand fumbled inside her robe once more.
The few remaining poison needles whistled through the air again.
The needles that pierced both of the man's knees looked quite thick. Any normal human should have fallen to their knees immediately.
Yet, another step.
Only then did Mitram feel a chill run down his spine.
Something was wrong. This was a warning from instinct.
Just as Mitram instinctively flinched and took a step back, a faint voice drifted from beyond.
"Ru… run…."
It was a voice squeezed out through tears and sobbing.
It was Cien, the 5th Princess of the Empire.
She couldn't even twitch a finger properly, but she gave her advice with everything she had. She seemed to have realized there was no longer any hope.
The Princess's light gray pupils trembled as she looked toward Ian.
He was still slowly taking steps forward.
"Ru, run away, Sir Ian… Th-there are still bombs left…."
"…Pfft."
As soon as Mitram heard the Princess's warning, he burst into a sneer.
Was she a descendant of the Dragon after all?
She seemed to have realized that biological bombs still remained among the escort knights. Though he had barely managed to modify them in time, their numbers were few.
Even Mitram couldn't just blow up a perfectly healthy human at will.
A corresponding process was required, and there were not many bodies for which such preparations had been completed. Since it was a secretive task, the chance of being caught was low, but they were currently in a state of war.
The strings of mana had already been secretly connected.
It was so that Mitram could trigger an explosion with just a light touch at any time. It seemed the Princess had felt that faint connection of mana.
Yes, there was no need to worry. He still had plenty of cards left in his hand.
Regaining his confidence, Mitram wore a boastful smile.
"So she says, Ian Percus. Why don't you listen to that woman's tearful advice right now? Ah, of course, because of that benevolent Princess's orders, your younger sister is currently suffering a terrible fate…."
"Mitram."
There was no inflection in that single word.
Because of that, Mitram, the Princess, and even Irene, who was panting on the ground, had no choice but to look at the man.
The man stood tall, stopping just a few steps in front of Mitram. A half-formed laugh escaped his lips.
"…Do you happen to like explosions?"
Just as Mitram was about to ask what he meant.
The woman's eyes flew wide.
An incomprehensible flow of mana was felt.
Mitram was the first to notice it, but he simply couldn't accept the fact.
The venom obtained from the poisonous insects of the Great Forest suppressed the meridian points and even froze mana. Setting aside moving the body, moving mana should have been impossible.
Then what was this fiercely burning mana of flame?
If there is no mana within the body, one cannot condense mana outside the body. This was common sense. There were no exceptions.
No, actually, there was exactly one exception.
But that couldn't be.
Mitram's eyes, filled with disbelief, slowly turned toward the point of mana condensation.
Cien and Irene's gazes followed. It didn't take long for both women's eyes to widen.
Whoosh! A scar was being carved into the air as it burned.
It was as if blood were flowing down. What those marks were drawing were characters that human wisdom could not comprehend.
Even if one couldn't decipher their meaning, their identity could be guessed.
A single phrase dazedled from Mitram's mouth.
"Dragon Blood Runes…?"
The moment he heard that short murmur, Ian showed a faint smile and said:
"Actually, I like them too."
Realizing the gravity of the situation, Mitram's hand frantically fumbled inside his robe. But it was already too late.
The wick of the burning flame soon spat out a fire that would turn the world incandescent.
With a thunderous BOOM, the vision of everyone present was dyed in a storm of light and heat.
Even as they were blown back by the shockwave, Cien and Irene murmured with trembling hearts.
Just what on earth happened?