Chapter 215
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 215
Chapter Title: Inevitable Rather Than Coincidence
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Blue hair like the sea.
An impeccably pristine uniform without a speck of dust.
And a face as exquisitely sculpted as a masterpiece.
A woman of noble yet pure beauty, whose single smile could set countless men's hearts racing.
But instead of her usual gentle smile, the Azure Dragon Princess emanated a razor-sharp aura, her eyes as cold as a winter lake fixed on Li Chingwei.
"Li Chingwei, what are you thinking?"
Her soft lips parted, releasing a voice as chilling as her gaze.
If Yuna Kyung had seen this, she might have doubted whether this ruthless expression belonged to the kind princess she knew. Rose pressed on.
"No, what kind of scheme are you plotting?"
"Coming here out of nowhere and calling it a scheme— that's hardly fair."
Li Chingwei wore a troubled expression.
She let out a soft sigh before continuing.
"Our clan has so many schemes, it's hard to know where to start unless you point out exactly which one."
"...Is that so."
A response too truthful to be a joke, yet too nonchalant to be entirely serious.
Even so, Rose didn't falter.
She merely flicked her wrist.
"Then I'll be direct."
As if vowing not to tolerate even a hint of nonsense, she pressed the blade even tighter against Li Chingwei's throat.
Rose stated the purpose of her visit in a frosty voice.
"Why does 'he' have 'that'?"
It was something she couldn't bring herself to ask Rimon.
Yet as a fellow princess of the Seven Dragon Society, it was a question she had to ask—and one that demanded an answer. After a moment of silence,
Li Chingwei gave a wry smile.
"I thought maybe I'd get away with it since Chao didn't notice, but I guess that was too optimistic."
It was a result she'd half-expected.
Rose wasn't the type of princess to miss the truth after watching Rimon slice Carl right in front of her.
Especially since she'd played the Violin of Heart Darkness—there was every chance Rose had sensed it.
That was why.
Why Li Chingwei had accepted the blade at her throat without resistance when Rose crossed space to confront her.
And why she'd softly countered with a question of her own.
"If I said I knew nothing about that and it was all just coincidence, would you believe me?"
"...Are you serious?"
"Because it's the truth."
Li Chingwei nodded calmly.
Her obsidian eyes, deep and somber, held not a flicker of deception—they didn't look like the eyes of a liar.
"I can't believe that."
But Rose rejected her words outright.
Not just because she knew better than to trust the Black Dragon Princess, renowned for her plots and machinations.
If what Rimon possessed had been an ordinary psionic, Rose might have pondered Li Chingwei's words.
Psionics mattered innate talent, but acquired effort was equally vital.
Anyone could awaken psionics through rigorous training in the Seventy-Two Martial Forms.
Only one problem.
When she'd played the Violin of Heart Darkness.
Rose had felt perfect resonance with Rimon.
Not some artificial synchronization through formations, but a natural harmony where their energies stabilized and amplified each other on their own—true synchronous attunement.
And as the Azure Dragon Princess, she had instinctively recognized its nature.
"That's a Dragon Psionic."
The purest psionic power, one that countless Seven Dragon Society experts had failed to attain even after driving themselves to death through relentless self-abuse.
A force fundamentally transcendent, beyond what training alone could achieve—the primal might of dragons.
One that only the seven princesses, inheritors of the progenitor dragons' true blood, possessed innately and could wield.
"You're telling me it's coincidence that the 'eighth' essence the Seven Dragon Society has sought for nearly a millennium ended up with the Sword Duke?"
The essence of psionics.
Otherwise known as Dragon Psionic.
An indispensable key to fulfilling the Seven Dragon Society's long-cherished wish, invaluable beyond even controlling Seven Dragon Group's shares.
How could Rimon's possession of it—and his engagement to Li Chingwei—possibly be coincidence?
Li Chingwei's reply to Rose's icy question was crystal clear.
"Yes, pure coincidence."
"..."
Even Li Chingwei's brazenness caught Rose off guard.
She fell silent.
Li Chingwei smiled faintly at her and added,
"Though logically speaking, it's closer to inevitability than coincidence."
"What logic is that?"
"Why the Sword Duke has a Dragon Psionic."
Rose's eyes wavered.
How... no, why did Rimon, the Seven Dragon Society's sworn enemy, possess a Dragon Psionic?
It was information any member of the society would pay a fortune for.
But Li Chingwei didn't press her agitation.
She continued calmly, as if chatting idly.
"You know why we seven princesses inherit psionic essence generation after generation, right?"
"Because we carry the progenitor's true blood."
"Exactly. Other factors play a role, but the progenitor's blood is the core."
It was common knowledge among Seven Dragon Society martial artists.
So why bring it up now? Facing Rose's cold, quizzical gaze, Li Chingwei explained matter-of-factly.
"Meaning the progenitors' blood contained an even purer psionic essence than what we inherited."
In that instant,
Rose's eyes widened.
She finally grasped what Li Chingwei meant.
"...Are you saying the Sword Duke absorbed the Dragon Psionic from the progenitor's blood when he got drenched in it during their fight?"
The world's final holy site, Jerusalem.
To all devout believers, it was paradise on earth.
After the Bronze Age, when the seven dragons devoured the gods' avatars and razed every other sanctuary, Jerusalem alone remained where one could encounter divinity directly.
But there was one fact most overlooked.
The existence of paradise on earth.
Implied the existence of hell as well.
[...In other words, this is hell?]
"If I had to put it that way, it's closer to the Holy Alliance's trash heap."
Deep underground in Jerusalem.
As he walked the vast passages shrouded in darkness, Rimon continued nonchalantly.
"At the same time, it's an abandoned fortress of the gods and the world's most cursed graveyard."
[How does a place end up with such a bizarre identity?]
"Eh, the circumstances aren't that complicated."
Rimon paused for a moment.
He raised his torch to a mural on the wall depicting the fierce battle between the seven dragons and gods wreathed in radiant glory, then resumed.
"It was simply one of the Silver Age's final battlegrounds."
Late Silver Age.
The world was ruled by priests and witches wielding magic, and avatars descended to earth.
But when the seven dragons—slumbering since ancient calamities—awoke, those avatars fell from exalted rulers to mere prey.
The gods didn't go down without a fight, of course.
They mobilized priests and witches for mythic spells, bestowed divine relics on magic knights hailed as heroes, and ordered dragon hunts.
They threw everything they had at the seven dragons.
The results were devastating.
No spell, no great hero.
Could stop the avatars from being devoured.
And as those persecuted by witch hunts and religious wars became dragon followers and founded the Seven Dragon Society, the gods were increasingly cornered.
Forced to flee even their own holy sites.
"In the end, only three places held out against the seven dragons' invasion until the close of the Silver Age."
Rimon calmly named them.
First: London, guarded by Avalon—the mightiest spell of the Silver Age, centered on three grand witches.
Second: The Fairy Kingdom, where ancient spirits lingered alongside the Golden Age's absolute ruler, the Fairy Queen.
And...
[The last was Jerusalem?]
"Yeah, more precisely, this place."
By then, all other holy sites lay in ruins.
Gods with nowhere left to run made their final stand in the last sanctuary, Jerusalem.
Forgetting old grudges, they cooperated to build a massive labyrinth beneath it.
That was Tartaros.
A subterranean fortress of 666 layers, infused with countless divine miracles.
[I get it's a fortress like you said, Team Leader, but why add graveyard and trash heap?]
"Because it's literally buried under mountains of corpses."
Rimon walked along the wall.
At the end of the murals depicting brutal dragon clashes, corpses piled high came into view. He continued.
"Magic knights, witches, priests—not to mention the gods' own bodies."
[...Gods leave corpses behind?]
"They die, don't they? Of course corpses remain."
Jerusalem saw the highest death toll of any Silver Age final battlefield.
Unlike Avalon guarded by spirits or the Fairy Kingdom by elementals, they had to face the dragons head-on.
And when they fell.
Their bodies were automatically concealed within Tartaros.
A curse the gods had placed on the labyrinth, fearing the dragons would grow stronger by devouring them.
And as the corpses accumulated, the curse grew stronger.
They were so desperate they sacrificed even their own divine remains as fodder.
Their ruthless resistance—even black mages would balk at the methods—paid off.
Jerusalem endured until the Silver Age's end, and the surviving gods scraped together a peace treaty with the seven dragons.
Though it was more unconditional surrender than peace.
Still, having survived to preserve their lineage, the gods were content. They ascended to rebuild their faiths from Jerusalem.
But Tartaros's curse lingered.
Eventually, they used it to seal cursed artifacts, vital secrets, or imprison sinners.
That was why Rimon called it a cursed graveyard and the Holy Alliance's dump.
[...Even backed into a corner, using corpses like firewood—gods sure did horrific things.]
"That's how terrifying the seven dragons were to them."
War inevitably exhausts both sides.
No matter the overwhelming advantage, prolonged fights demand mutual attrition.
The problem was, that logic didn't apply to the dragons versus gods.
"The seven dragons recovered their ancient power and grew stronger every time they devoured an avatar. Imagine the horror from the gods' perspective."
[That's not so shocking for players.]
"Players are the anomaly."
Rimon replied flatly.
Growing stronger just from killing monsters in dungeons was unnatural.
Fighting strong foes repeatedly was a surefire way to break yourself, not improve.
He and the Sword Emperor, for instance, always fell deathly ill after dragon fights—months of bedrest each time.
"Getting stronger just from defeating enemies? That ain't human."
Rimon sneered.
He added in a mocking tone,
"Monster at best. Or a dragon in human skin."