Chapter 312
Chapter 312
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 312
Chapter Title: What the Star Desires (5)
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A dragon's wings are the dragon's pride.
It's a maxim passed down from time immemorial.
Because they have wings, they can soar through the skies, and with their massive bodies, they blot out the sun—thus they are called lords of the heavens. To a dragon, its wings are its pride.
Thus, a dragon that loses its pride will always fall.
The cursed dragon with its wings torn asunder plummets.
The fallen dragon flaps its shredded wings, but having lost its pride, it can never fly again. It crawls across the ground in pathetic disgrace, letting out a wretched scream.
Fwssh.
But even that doesn't last long.
A massive circuit manifests directly in front of Chloe, who has raised her arm. Concentrated starlight flows through the circuit. The circuit, through which the condensed starlight surges, shines with dazzling brilliance.
The power inherited from Galahal.
Though she can't yet wield it properly, Chloe barely manages to control it. At last, the focused starlight is unleashed, spewing forth a blinding flash.
The completed spell is Swift.
In an instant's flash, a wave of starlight erupts, engulfing the dragon crashed upon the earth. The filth it had splattered onto the ground melts away the moment the starlight touches it. To the dragon composed of that filth, Chloe's starlight is the perfect counter.
Szzzzzzzzzz!
The dragon's flesh melts away as it's swept up in the torrent.
The stitched-together flesh and muscle peel off, leaving the dragon bereft of most of its body. Yet the survivor thrashes desperately amid the torrent of light.
It wails to survive.
And there is one who hears that desperate cry.
"How pitiful." The mother of all dragons and their sovereign, the ancient god, clicks her tongue while perched on her contractor's shoulder.
"Even without pride, it clings to life. How pitiful. Your life was severed long ago." The dying dragon desperately seeks its god, but the god turns a deaf ear to the voice of the pride-less wyrm.
"At least die as a dragon." It is a life that should have already ended.
The god turns away from this wretched existence prolonged without pride. The dragon prays fervently to the shadow cast upon the earth, but the god offers no response to the end.
The starlight fully engulfs the dragon.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ 2.
What remains in the wake of the starlight's onslaught are the dragon's remains, reduced to powder.
"We really... took it down..."
The knights, who had been holding their breath, begin to speak one by one.
The dragon they thought impossible to fell has been defeated. Before this unbelievable sight, the knights gaze at the girl standing before them.
When they first saw her, her back had seemed anything but reliable—fragile, even. But now, from the young girl's silhouette, they glimpse the makings of a hero.
Immature, with a long road ahead.
Yet the young hero has successfully taken her first step.
She accomplished what they deemed impossible.
She repaid the sacrifice of the knights who bled for her. Some collapse as their legs give out, others sigh in relief at their survival. And...
"...Ah."
Chloe turns around.
The hero looks upon the survivors. She senses the knights' gazes upon her. As Chloe hesitates, unsure how to respond...
"At least nod to them. No need for theatrics."
Kelhalim thumps her shoulder and whispers.
"Well done."
"...Thank you."
Chloe murmurs that and offers the watching knights a faint smile. Cheers erupt belatedly. The names they call aren't just Chloe's and Kelhalim's.
Shadow Sorcerer, Belnoa.
They shout the name of the boy they'd only heard rumors of, over and over. They don't forget the youth who saved their lives time and again before Kelhalim arrived.
Belnoa walks on, letting the outpouring cheers wash over him.
His steps lead to the dragon's powdered corpse. Amid the dust, Belnoa spots something. He reaches out and extracts a single bone fragment from the ashes.
"...A bone?"
"The core material of a familiar."
Kelhalim mutters as he approaches.
Kelhalim points to the bone in Belnoa's hand.
"Looks like that was the whole thing."
Belnoa blinks.
Kelhalim lets out a short sigh and says,
"Apostates choose a core material when crafting familiars. Then they graft flesh onto it. To put it simply..."
He nods toward it.
"What we fought wasn't a black dragon hatchling... but merely a beast crafted by an apostate using part of one."
"...Part of it? Something with that much power?"
"Nothing compared to a real black dragon. I had my suspicions since I could hold it off."
The elemental disadvantage between mages and dragons is dire.
They reject mana outright and shrug off attacks unimbued with starlight. From the moment his spells landed, Kelhalim had his guesses.
"They probably threw together a bunch of captured dragons. Then implanted a bone fragment from a black dragon hatchling."
"Does that even... make sense?"
"It doesn't. That's why it's a calamity. On the battlefield, the nonsensical is par for the course. Just roll with it."
Kelhalim sighs.
"I'm grateful we ground Belial's skeleton to dust."
Even gravely wounded and stripped of its beasts, a calamity remains a calamity.
"We'll need countermeasures."
Muttering that, Kelhalim pats Belnoa's shoulder.
"Good work. I'll handle the report—get some rest."
Belnoa gives a slight bow to the departing Kelhalim, then glances to his side. It seems invisible to Kelhalim's eyes...
"What do you see?" Belnoa can see it.
The god he now serves, standing beside him.
"Got something to say?" "D-Didn't you disappear?"
"I am everywhere. The blowing wind is my body and soul, so I am all things in the world..." "You're sticking around?"
"If you wish it?" The Lord of Shadow Dragons smiles.
It is an exceedingly charming smile.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ 3.
Death's Scythe, Ganikalt.
The hero Kyle Toven blocked the most fearsome calamity. Not only did he repel death, he even wounded it—a feat unprecedented in the kingdom's centuries of history.
News enough to set the world abuzz on its own, yet the tale doesn't end there.
The next hero candidate, Chloe of the Starlight.
Shadow Sorcerer Belnoa, direct disciple of the Black Mage Tower Lord.
Tales of the two spread like wildfire to the capital. Their subjugation of the cursed dragon that preyed on refugees even reached the ears of the North's master, Grace...
"Thank you. You two are the North's heroes now."
Grace bestows lavish rewards and prepares a feast. Amid the bustle of feast preparations at White Night Castle, Belnoa walks the corridors alone.
Much has happened in a short time.
He's unaccustomed to the sudden shift in gazes, and the new power at his command nags at him. Belnoa glances at his fingers.
Fingers worn ragged from repeated offerings.
One joint on his index finger is stained black, like some mark of proof. As he stares at it, someone whispers in his ear.
"The mark of our contract. Wear it with pride, child." Belnoa startles and whips his head aside, frowning. There floats a woman in midair. Driven mad by this guest who appears without warning these past few days...
"C-Could you at least signal before showing up..."
"I'm always by your side—why bother?" "Yes, please..."
"Such a grump. It's my first time seeing the world in centuries." She mutters in disappointment.
"You know, just a few centuries ago, plenty prayed to me. Now? Not a soul. No prayers mean I can't sustain my presence, naturally." When he asks what that means, the goddess replies,
"I've drifted through the world unconscious for ages until you called me awake. Can't blame me for being a bit excited, can you?" Belnoa has no particular desire to understand.
He walks on, tuning out the goddess's persistent whispers. Time no longer freezes like before, so plenty stare at him like he's mad, talking to thin air...
...Whatever, let it be.
Serving a god lighter than expected, Belnoa pauses before a door. He knocks lightly—tap tap—and a voice bids him enter.
"Oh, Belnoa."
Inside is Raniel.
Having drained her mana to the dregs, she'd been recovering when she waves Belnoa in.
"I heard the rumors. Took down a dragon?"
Impressive.
Raniel smiles faintly, then blinks and raises her arm. Her fingertip points to the woman floating beside Belnoa.
"But who's that next to you?"
"...Huh? You can see her?"
Raniel nods.
Her eyes glimmer blue.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Uh, um... so..."
I hesitate and look up.
I'd already heard the rumors of Belnoa shredding the dragon's wings with wind, so I figured he'd gained some new power...
But this... wasn't on my bingo card.
I slowly open my mouth.
"So, she's the god you're serving now?"
"Y-Yeah... it sort of happened."
Floating in midair above where I look up is a woman in a black dress. Her night-sky tresses sway with every movement.
"You can see me, I take it?" "Well, yeah—why else would I say it?"
"Hear my voice too?" "Seems like it."
"Then you must be the Guider." Guider.
The title bestowed by the High Dragon Mage.
I nod slowly.
"The High Dragon Mage did call me that. Is there a connection to why I can see you?"
According to Belnoa, even Chloe couldn't see the goddess floating by his side. If only I can see her, there must be a reason.
"High Dragon Mage? Yormun?" "Yes, Yormun van Draconic."
"Still using that name?" She laughs incredulously and approaches me.
Swimming through the air, she thrusts her face close to mine. Golden pupils—the so-called dragon eyes—stare straight at me, just like the High Dragon Mage's.
"Indeed." She nods.
"That liar's eyes wouldn't even froth at the mouth." She drifts away from me and perches on Belnoa's shoulder, pointing straight at me with an extended finger.
"Trouble-making type—big time." With that, she vanishes without a trace. As I blink in surprise, Belnoa sighs and shakes his head.
"She does that a lot. Vanishes suddenly, then pops up out of nowhere."
"She's... quite unique."
The word nutcase nearly slips out, but I hold it back and shoot Belnoa a glare.
"So, you've moved on to the next stage, huh?"
Toppling a dragon with a storm.
In other words, he's advanced to the next level of shadow sorcery.
"Yeah. Lucky break..."
Belnoa nods.
A smile he can't hide plays on his lips. I feel the Holy Grail tremble in my bosom. Following Rak, Belnoa has found his trigger.
The Holy Grail's trials call to Belnoa and Rak.
As if there's a message they must receive.
While Kyle and I hold the line against death with our generation's might, it seems the next-gen heroes have taken a step forward too. Smiling at my disciple's growth, I beckon Belnoa with a finger.
"Come here."
"Huh? Why all of a sudden..."
I point to Belnoa's fingers.
"You broke them all again."
Belnoa's face drains of color.
As if seized by terror.
Unsure why, I gesture him closer.
"I'll fix 'em up. Come on."
"N-No, I'm fine."
"Tch."
I'd just learned a more efficient way to set bones from Sara. I reach out and grab Belnoa's fingers.
"I said come here."
It'll be quick.