Chapter 10: The Oath of the Ancient Guardian
Even amid the dizzying pain, he didn't stop moving. He couldn't stop, and he shouldn't. He couldn't leave a treasure in a place teeming with filth like this. He had sworn to protect it.
He had never believed the talk from those who droned on about following the old masters or whatever. He wasn't naive enough to buy that after seeing the greed in their eyes. He was far too old for that.
Age. An old warrior. That was the problem. With his remaining lifespan so short, and the wasteland too dangerous to leave the treasure alone, he had pretended to fall for their deception. He planned to slip away at the right moment or search for the true heirs of the old masters.
But decades had passed, and the world had changed beyond recognition. Gun-toting heretics were common enough even before, but flying cars, skyscrapers piercing the endless sky, a city so chaotic it hurt the eyes—these were beyond his imagining. While he and the treasure hid in the wasteland, the world had become something else entirely.
And an Aura Master. Good gods, an Aura Master turned thief. What had the world come to?
Thinking of that glowing blade, he shuddered—then froze. He flicked his cracked tongue repeatedly, scanning around. His scales prickled. The Aura Master was close.
He quickly adjusted the treasure clutched to his chest and dove into the nearby underground waterway. Then he began swimming upstream against the current. It lacked dignity, but it was far faster than walking or running.
As he fought through the filth-choked channel, he pondered. The world had changed too much. Could the old masters have foreseen this? Had they anticipated it and left him and the treasure behind?
His powerful strokes sent waves rippling over the sewage.
"He caught on, huh?"
Roque grimaced bitterly as the acidic tang mixed in the stench began to fade. His head throbbed from the sewer reek, but he'd chased diligently—only for the target to sense his presence.
"Not your average bastard."
When Roque really focused, even top-tier surveillance gear couldn't track him. For the lizardman to detect that and bolt meant it might really be some dragon guardian or whatever.
Either way, the prey had sped up, so Roque accelerated too. He'd ditched his clothes to enter this stinking sewer—he wasn't letting it slip away now. A silent pursuit unfolded through the dim tunnels.
They ran for a good while. Then Roque heard a roaring whoosh of cascading water. Soon he reached a pipe spewing wastewater. The waterway led here, so the lizardman had no choice but to climb that waterfall.
"Gonna be a pain."
Roque sighed shortly and scanned around. No way was he squeezing into that pipe. The lizardman needed to breathe too, so it wasn't hiding inside.
Sorting his thoughts, Roque spotted a ladder. He climbed swiftly, popped the manhole, and emerged into the ruins of an old factory.
He inhaled the fresh outdoor air deeply, then resumed the hunt. The lizardman had climbed the factory's effluent pipe—it had to be somewhere inside.
No people in sight amid the decrepit factory. Ancient automated machines clanked through motions unchanged for decades. Roque dashed between them, sharpening his senses for any lizardman traces.
Suddenly, he halted. His eyes caught sewage staining the floor, mingled with shed scales. Lizardman scales. The trail led deeper into the factory. Roque followed.
After a long corridor, he entered what looked like a warehouse for repairing broken machines. Dust-covered equipment basked in sunlight from high windows.
There was the lizardman.
The reptilian warrior—one arm severed, body riddled with bullet wounds—knelt on one knee, gasping. Yet he still cradled the rectangular box protectively.
Meeting the creature's direct glare, Roque drew the Aura Blade handle from his scabbard.
Then the lizardman spoke.
"Human, Aura Master. Why, hunt me?"
Roque cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head.
"You talk, huh."
"Of course. I have, intelligence, too."
"So that's why you were just roaring earlier?"
The lizardman hacked up thick phlegm. Swimming through sewage in his wounded state had taken a toll.
"Warrior's, battle, keh, needs no words! Only, blades' conversation!"
Roque nodded. Archaic talk, fitting an ancient race. But he had no urge to mock it. He was an Aura Master, forged in those same old traditions.
"I need what's in your arms."
The lizardman's eyes widened.
"You! Aura Master! What, do you know, to say that?"
"Nah. Just that it's some dragon relic. Enough for a merc."
The lizardman shuddered violently.
"You, no merc. Aura Master, sword's, seeker. Struggling, warrior."
"Name's Roque. Seeker, whatever— I do my job."
The trembling lizardman backed away slowly, scales rattling in disbelief.
Then a husky woman's voice echoed through the warehouse.
"Name's Kaylee. I'm a real merc."
Roque and the lizardman turned toward the voice. A woman approached from between rusty machines, heavy pistol trained ahead. Silver-gray hair, pitch-black goggle shades. The merc who'd tried to hijack his trailer.
Seeing her, the lizardman hissed. Her pistol locked on him. Roque chuckled softly.
"Pretty confident."
"Why? Think I came alone against that 'ronin'?"
Her black-and-white cyberarm yanked down the zipper on her racing jacket. The tank top beneath sprang free, revealing black clumps strapped around her waist. She held up a small button switch.
"So I prepped this bomb instead. Anyone moves, we all blow sky-high, fuckers."
Roque eyed the bomb skeptically. Wires everywhere—not some cheap fake.
Kaylee aimed at the lizardman again.
"Hand it over. I'll let you live. Don't drag this out—save yourself."
"Ke, keh··· Don't, make me laugh. This, can't just, hand over···!"
"Fucking hell···"
Kaylee muttered, touching the side of her goggles. The dark lenses cleared to reveal glaring sky-blue eyes.
"Look, I'm just doing a paid gig. Your people got my team killed. But I shot first, so let's end it here."
The lizardman just hissed in response. She sighed and cocked the pistol's hammer.
Roque glanced at the ceiling.
"Hey. You really alone?"
"···What the fuck. The team I scraped together died on the road earlier. Then I tracked the relic signal with this bomb vest."
"Relic signal. So no time to call backup."
He met her eyes, lowering his gaze from the ceiling.
"Then those guys aren't yours—or mine."
Windows shattered as black-clad, heavily armed troopers burst in. The merc and lizardman froze in shock.
And that was all the opening Roque needed. His ghostly-fast Aura Blade sliced Kaylee's cyberarm clean at the wrist. He snatched the falling switch and vanished into the machines.
"Son of a bitch···!"
Kaylee cursed but dove behind gear as gunfire erupted.
Afternoon sun filtered into the old warehouse, now pelted by steel and gunpowder. Machines awaiting repair sparked red-hot. Bullets flew everywhere.
Flat on the floor, Kaylee saw the lizardman taking the barrage head-on—choosing to shield the relic over dodging.
"Crazy bastard···"
The volley passed, leaving silence.
The shooters confirmed no movement, then approached the smoking, rag-doll lizardman, guns trained. They flipped the body.
His hand reached for the relic—then Roque dropped from above, piercing their guard. Silence hung briefly.
Gray Aura Blade ignited in Roque's hand.
The leader's order cut short—the troopers were already wheeling on Roque, guns snapping up. Well-trained, precise motions.
But they couldn't match Roque.
Their combat suits offered top-tier bullet- and blade-resistance, shrugging off anti-tank rounds and vibro-blades for ages. Pricey gear.
Yet before an Aura Blade, they shredded like paper.
Many had elite implants: short bursts of super-speed, sixfold strength, hidden blades or micro-missiles.
But dead men don't activate implants, no matter the cost.
Nearly twenty troopers became mangled corpses on the floor before they could count to five. No time for screams.
After the final arc, Roque paused. Muscles and senses, superheated in that brief frenzy, cooled rapidly. Not like carving up club thugs or street shooters. These were pros—he'd gone all out.
As Roque steadied his breath, blade in hand, someone hid behind distant machinery. Trembling, they raised a gun at his pause.
A bang—a trooper pitched forward, skull-holed. Roque turned to see Kaylee spinning her pistol.
She raised both arms at his gaze—her severed cyberarm stump prominent.
"I surrender. Take the damn relic."
Roque sheathed his blade; she lowered her hands. She shuddered at the toy-like dismembered bodies.
"···Fuck me, where'd these assholes come from? Told you they weren't mine."
Roque strode silently to the lizardman's corpse. Its eyes stared blankly. He closed them.
"Knew him?"
"Nope."
Kaylee sidled closer, seeing he wasn't hostile, and eyed the relic.
"Fuck. What's this thing causing all the shit?"
"You surrendered, so live. Now beat it. Don't linger."
Kaylee smirked, unstrapping the bombs from her waist.
"No bad blood between us strangers, right? Never even shot at each other direct. C'mon, just show me what the relic is. Gotta tell my employer something."
She deftly disarmed the vest one-handed and tossed it away. As Roque turned, she backed off, hands up—one hand, one stump—nodding at the relic.
Roque examined it closely. Rectangular, about 1.4 meters long—not quite a box, more like a small coffin.
After a moment, he reached out. Combining William's words and the client's, this tied the megacorp hiring him, the one hiring Kaylee, and these "dragon cultists" transporting it originally.
So the troopers who'd stormed in were the original handlers. But they'd moved to finish the lizardman here—not save him. Meaning the lizardman belonged to no one.
Stroking the coffin-like relic, Roque found a button with a click. He pressed it firmly.
"Whoa···"
Like Kaylee's gasp, Roque was surprised too. Yellow lines glowed across the surface. A heavy thunk, then a clunk—the top lifted. Pale smoke wafted from the gap.
The lid slid smoothly aside. Roque and Kaylee craned their necks to peer in.
"···Huh? Relic? Dragon relic?"
Kaylee's confusion mirrored Roque's. Inside lay a little girl in some medieval dress. Billowing yellow gown and jet-black hair spilled across the narrow space.
Her eyes flickered open. Those huge dark eyes reflected Roque's face.