Pilgrimage Through Flames
Elenoa's mother, Isabella, naturally did not walk the flames herself. She was blood kin to Elenoa, who had received the Red Dragon's grace. And for Elenoa's loyalty, she needed to remain intact. Given those complicated circumstances, the Red Dragon had no particular desire to harm her. Thus, she watched the elves tread through the fire from high above, perched on the Red Dragon's back.
Flesh burned away, and the frail ones collapsed and died. Yet they kept walking. Because the Red Dragon watched them. Because he personally judged those who fled or strayed from the path of flames. They pressed on.
The Red Dragon led the way. He tracked down every single elf who had escaped when he burned Yggdrasil. And each time he confronted them, he posed the same question.
—[Will you die here, or walk that path of fire?]
Most who heard it chose the flames. Countless struggled there just to survive.
I had initially thought Isabella would pity them inwardly. But her emotions were surprisingly subdued. No, not bad at all.
Most of those walking the flames had ignored Elenoa. They had scolded her for dirty work, for pointless tasks. Elves with their characteristic arrogance, self-centeredness, and haughtiness. Watching them suffer...
...Not bad.
Really, not bad at all.
And as the pilgrimage of so many drew to a close—
—Flap, flap.
The Red Dragon returned to his lair.
"Oh, you're back...! M-Mom...?!"
The moment the Red Dragon spotted Elenoa, he sat on the ground and set Isabella down.
"My daughter, ahh, Elenoa! Elenoa!!"
The two embraced, sharing a joyful reunion.
"Mom, are you okay? Any pain?! No pain, right...?!"
"Yes, the Red Dragon himself brought me here. How could my body be harmed?"
After their reunion—short if short, long if long—the pair suddenly knelt.
"...Red Dragon, we mother and daughter thank you from the bottom of our hearts for sparing our lives and bestowing your grace upon us."
Isabella truly felt gratitude toward the Red Dragon. Thanks to his mercy toward her daughter, Elenoa had survived long enough to gather the materials to heal her. And when her overzealous daughter had pushed herself toward death once more, he had saved her without fail.
Elenoa felt much the same. Without the Red Dragon's mercy, she would have died. Without him, her mother would have perished too.
Now, the lives of their kin meant nothing to the mother and daughter. They pondered only how to repay the grace and mercy they had received. With such resolve, they bowed their heads to the Red Dragon.
"Please give us your command. Whatever you order, we will accomplish it."
"I feel the same as Mother."
The Red Dragon gazed at them impassively. Eyes piercing like a dragon's, calculating their utility, seeing through to their souls. They shone down upon the pair.
Thus, the Red Dragon voiced what he had been considering.
Dragon Tongue—the language of dragons—became magic the moment it was spoken. The Red Dragon's command to "guard" felt like a blessing to them.
"Yes, we shall gladly do so."
They accepted the Red Dragon's proposal with joy.
—Whoosh———
This change was profound enough to alter countless things, even transforming their very kind.
"Wh-what...?!"
"What's happening—"
A gray pallor spread across their skin. As if they had thrown their bodies into fire that consumed all, their flesh grew even more unyielding. Their once-golden hair lost its luster. Like their sins burned away by the Red Dragon, it turned white as blank paper.
The true grace bestowed only upon fervent believers. They received it.
"—My body... it's different from before. Like when I was young...."
Isabella, once frail from illness, was no longer weak.
"...Mom, me too. Look at this."
—Fwoosh!
Elenoa, who had no talent for magic, conjured flames. A change infused with a fragment of the Red Dragon. They did not dislike it.
"Yes, we shall without fail! O Red Dragon!!"
With that, the Red Dragon headed deeper in. Back to where he originally roamed. To the mountain of gold. It had been an exhausting schedule, after all.
*
Meanwhile, I...
...What the hell is going on? Why did they suddenly change like that?
I couldn't understand why the two had transformed so abruptly. It was like... when you skimmed my memories, wasn't that the kind of change that happened with contracts to gods, demons, or spirits?
You needed something like divinity for that, right? So why did this happen? I hadn't even cast any magic; I just gave them the order to serve as gatekeepers.
Yet I had no clue why such a change occurred.
Still, it wasn't a bad outcome. The ones I'd tapped for elf leadership had gotten stronger, right? Just have them build a village at the cave entrance, set them on auto-hunt mode to guard it themselves, and done. That way, I could live even more stably and comfortably. No doubt about it.
...Sleepy.
So I coiled up again atop my mountain of gold. The results were good, and the future looked bright. They'd handle uninvited guests at the door themselves. Houses really needed auto-door locks, after all.
Thus, I drifted back into sleep.
...Never imagining the even greater changes to come.
****
The Red Dragon's revival and Yggdrasil's fall. That shocking news spread incredibly fast to countless places, as expected.
Especially in the city of Aidon, where the most people gathered and settled. Lately, talk was all about the Red Dragon.
And it wasn't just among the common folk. Their leaders—the king, nobles, and numerous officials—were just as fixated on the "incident."
"...As you all know, Yggdrasil has fallen."
"Yes, I've heard. My god whispered... it was as overwhelming as 200 years ago."
The priest shook his head regretfully at the king's question.
"Yggdrasil fell in a single day."
"...So it seems."
"Even more terrifying, unlike 200 years ago when it simply smashed and destroyed everything, it's now taken countless hostages below."
The priest found it utterly chilling. A mindless calamity could be endured. But a willful one? Endurance did nothing. It would torment people in even more powerful, vicious ways.
That was the priest's thinking, and the expectation of many. The king was no different. As king, he had to prepare for the most frightening possibility.
"Then, what do you think we should do?"
Cautiously, the king asked the priest—and everyone gathered there. How to face an unstoppable calamity, a force majeure itself. They had to share their deliberations.
"...Your Majesty, subjugation won't be easy."
The general spoke first.
"The Red Dragon is mighty. Even the elves' vaunted army was utterly annihilated without a single clear wound."
"..."
"In 200 years, we've advanced tremendously. More efficient, stronger magic and machines. Yet the nation fell just like 200 years ago."
Everyone knew these facts. But reiterating them showed how dire their situation was. A real headache.
"Then what the hell should we do? When the Red Dragon decides to attack us, are we just supposed to sit and get destroyed?"
Despair laced the king's words, nearly a complaint. No solution came to mind. He could only resent the gods who had set this conundrum upon them... the creator god who birthed the Red Dragon.
It was then.
"...The support of countless gods. Gods, spirits, even demons. We need the power of many."
The priest broke the silence.
"I shall take on that role."
"H-how? The gods can't greatly interfere with mortals."
"They can't greatly interfere. But 'interference' itself is possible."
Zeal gleamed in the priest's eyes. Confidence that he could pull it off. He continued.
"You haven't forgotten who I serve, have you, Your Majesty?"
"...Ah!"
"My god, the Life God, is the one who shaped the elves."
Verinal, the Life God. Shaper of elves, grower of the world tree, overseer of life's birth—one of the major gods.
"And now, many of his children have vanished overnight."
The priest, cloaked in an eerie blue glow, gazed out the window.
"Even to a mere priest managing one temple... I feel his fury."
All eyes turned to the priest. Those versed in magic quickly grasped his state.
Priests fundamentally borrowed power from their gods. But deeper faith brought greater favor. Sometimes, that favor grew so immense it seemed like possession...
Approaching the level called avatar.
"I shall correct that errant being. So aid me, Your Majesty."
Verinal's priest, Kellian, knelt before him.
And everyone there shared the same thought.
No one but Kellian could do it. He was the only fitting choice for the task.