Chapter 137
Chapter 137
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 137
Chapter Title: The Shattered Vessel
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The great incident that began with the anomaly in the Amatres River, surpassing the massive clash between Golden Heaven and Muddy Flow and expanding into a full-scale war with Daemak, had finally reached its conclusion.
No, to be precise... it was more accurate to say that only the revival of the Earth Dragon had ended in failure.
Sensing the tide turning early, Head Finger Drakelas and Long Finger Tumgrok led their Dark Elves and ogres in a hasty retreat the moment the Earth Dragon fell.
Strictly speaking, since Daemak's remnants hadn't been annihilated, the war with them couldn't be called truly over.
Of course, the combined might of the three factions gathered to subjugate Daemak was overwhelming.
Had they pursued relentlessly, total annihilation would have been possible.
However, Golden Heaven, Muddy Flow... and the Lichtenauer Martial Clan as well...
All had far too many pressing matters that demanded immediate attention before chasing down Daemak's scattered forces.
"Chief! We need to secure the Chief! Right now!!"
Golden Heaven's three orcs were entirely focused on tending to Golden Eye, who teetered on the brink of death.
"Father! Father!! Please, just open your eyes... please...!!"
"Kerrrrrk!! My king...!!"
Muddy Flow, too, had all eyes fixed on Sea King, who had suffered the grievous loss of both arms.
The Lichtenauer Martial Clan was somewhat less chaotic, thanks to Paon standing firm despite everything.
"...Treat the wounded and recover the bodies of the fallen."
The clan had also taken heavy losses from Arckandor's endless undead assaults and the Dark Elves' spirit magic, leaving injured warriors everywhere.
Caring for them took precedence over pursuing Daemak's remnants, who posed no immediate threat.
"Patriarch, you need treatment...!!"
Priests approached Paon, who leaned precariously against the cliff face.
"I'm fine. More importantly..."
Swoosh!
Paon brushed off the priests' hands and turned his head.
"Treat that one over there—the boy Ian."
"......!!"
At Paon's words, several priests' shoulders trembled faintly.
They were undoubtedly priests loyal to their own little stars.
"...Among the successors, Ian's injuries are the most severe by far—that's all I meant. Even in this situation... are you reading deeper meaning into every word I say?"
Paon frowned slightly at their reactions and added a few pointed words.
"N-no, sir!! We'll follow your orders!!"
Chilled by Paon's sharp retort, the priests belatedly realized their mistake and bowed their heads.
They then rushed toward Ian.
Helena—one of the Latent Dragon Squad members tending to Ian and a gifted priest—finally caught her breath.
With wounds so grave, the reinforcements felt like rain in a drought.
"......"
Paon silently watched Ian's breathing steady as he lay unconscious, then turned to Midas.
"Unexpected support. I never imagined a shut-in like you would join this fight."
Gratitude aside, Midas hadn't stepped outside his tower in nearly twenty years.
Paon couldn't shake his unease over why such a man had suddenly thrown himself into the war.
His intentions were utterly inscrutable.
"Heh heh heh!! No need to look at me so strangely. It's not because I like you."
Midas drew a firm line at Paon's words.
"Let me be clear. I joined this war because I took a liking to Second Young Lord Ian."
"...Because of Ian?"
Utterly unprepared for Ian's name to come up here, Paon reflexively questioned it.
"First, let me make this plain. When you decide the clan's future someday... I hope you'll factor in today's events."
"...Even you have crossed a line with that. I'll choose the clan's heir myself."
Paon's face hardened coldly at Midas's brazen request.
"That's your call, of course. Just remember: prolonged deliberation can lead to fatal missteps. Even an outsider like me can see the clan fracturing."
The war with Daemak had reached a temporary close, but far from it.
Midas had witnessed the Northern Continent's great war end, only for endless strife and internal conflicts to plague it afterward.
In his eyes, the sparks remained.
Daemak's surviving remnants.
Golden Heaven, bereft of Golden Eye.
Muddy Flow, fallen Sea King.
And the Martial Clan, with internal strife bubbling to the surface.
Outwardly, much seemed resolved—but inwardly, countless embers smoldered.
Embers that could ignite a massive blaze with the slightest wind.
'Chaos winds won't still in this Bestrika anytime soon.'
"That's my business—don't concern yourself."
No matter Midas's inner thoughts, Paon cut him off coldly.
"Heh heh heh!! Your affair, then. Oh, since it came up—my compensation for joining: thirty percent of the dragon blood, dragon bone, and dragon scale that the Lichtenauer Martial Clan claims. Not too much, I trust?"
"No issue there."
Far from excessive, it was only right.
One might think he'd merely shown up at the end, but hardly.
Without Midas's magic, Paon would have had to shatter his vessel completely to break the Earth Dragon's spells in the final moments.
And Arckandor's escape couldn't have been prevented.
The losses would have been far greater.
Claiming just that much of the dragon's byproducts as payment was hardly overreaching.
"Heh heh! Then I'll take my leave. Business here is done. Oh, one more thing."
Twirl!
"But I'll attach one condition."
Midas added as if recalling a forgotten detail.
"Transport of the dragon byproducts— I'd like Second Young Lord Ian to handle it. No rush; after treatment's done is fine."
* * *
The Earth Dragon's fall brought a ceasefire to Dragon's Grave, but as Midas foresaw, healing the war's scars took ages.
Daemak's Dark Elves and ogres abandoned much of their territory, fleeing northwest into the Great Floodplains.
The three factions debated handling these potential future threats.
But the conclusion was foregone.
With three of the Five Fingers fallen and the Earth Dragon obliterated...
Mobilizing anew against their diminished forces was pointless.
Besides, the Great Floodplains' northwest lay far from the Lichtenauer Martial Clan's borders.
No reason to sustain a war over such supply lines.
Manipulated Golden Heaven and Muddy Flow burned for revenge... but halted at practical realities.
They had internal fires to quench first.
Golden Heaven.
Golden Heaven had lost Golden Eye—their unparalleled warrior chief who dominated the Great Floodplains' south.
The three orcs inheriting his will conferred, striving to lead on.
But some Mangryang-class great warriors rebelled, insisting they'd followed Golden Eye alone.
Muddy Flow.
Muddy Flow showed no overt strife like Golden Heaven's, thanks to Sea King's survival.
Yet in some ways, their crisis ran deeper.
The issue lay with the Dragon-Ghost Four Evils—no, now the Dragon-Ghost Three Fiends, their numbers thinned.
Beneath Sea King's iron rule and might, which spanned from Amatres to the seas, they'd united under one banner.
Yet each was a dominant force of vast waterways in their own right.
The dragons remained loyal to Sea King.
But the ghosts thought differently.
Lucius of the Ghost Evils, who knew no equal in might save Sea King.
Septimus of the Ghost Immortals, wielding dragon-like cunning.
They saw no reason to serve a weakened Sea King and clashed with the dragons.
A powder keg, primed for civil war at any spark.
And the Lichtenauer Martial Clan, the war's final participant.
The kingdom's iron-blooded bulwark faced troubles akin to the others—yet tinged differently.
* * *
Two months had passed since the war with Daemak ended.
Under the sun's lengthening blaze, spring's gentle warmth yielded to summer's scorching heat.
"......"
In the Lichtenauer Martial Clan's audience hall.
Since the Earth Dragon battle, Paon—his wounds mostly healed—brooded deeply.
In those two months.
Paon's stature had soared beyond Bestrika across southern Agena, unmatched anywhere.
It was inevitable.
The Earth Dragon transcended folk tales or legends—a mythic apex monster.
Its revival was shocking enough.
But Paon severing its head? Unparalleled.
Common folk even revered him as a living War God; his renown eclipsed any ruler's.
Now the undisputed paramount of Agena.
Yet Paon's expression remained grim.
"...Still troubled?"
Nedyr, who knew well why Paon's face was so taut, asked cautiously.
"...Sigh... You already know, don't you?"
Paon replied with a bitter look.
"Thanks to Ian and that friend Midas, I avoided shattering my final vessel... but that's it. It's cracked too deeply—restoring it seems impossible."
Indeed.
The scars from Daemak and the Earth Dragon scarred the Lichtenauer Martial Clan inescapably.
War King Paon Lichtenauer.
In that battle, he'd perfected his enlightenment, ascending to a higher realm.
Yet ironically, his fractured vessel couldn't sustain that lofty insight.
The flaws would widen with time and exertion... crumbling faster.
Devouring his lifespan until... claiming his life.
"...Dire straits."
Nedyr's face stiffened.
Northern Continent, Crohoca.
Eastern Continent, Javak.
Western Continent, Osela.
Even with Great Sage Midas in seclusion, those wolves eyed this juicy southern continent for one reason alone.
Paon Lichtenauer's existence.
But cracks in that bulwark? They'd never leave Bestrika in peace.
"It won't show outwardly for a few years—only those at Midas's level would notice. My body's not visibly failing yet. But..."
Paon trailed off, but Nedyr easily guessed the rest.
The Northern Continent's continent-topplers were cunning foxes.
Even the mightiest eagle is frailest at hatching.
They'd exploited the fledgling Alexandros Empire's weakness like jackals.
Such predators wouldn't believe even a great warrior like Paon emerged unscathed from the Earth Dragon fray.
No signs now? They'd flood Bestrika with spies regardless.
Years on, when even spies spotted anomalies... realization would dawn.
The era-shaping War King Paon Lichtenauer was a wounded, waning lion.
Weaker than Paon, yes—but younger.
And growing stronger daily, unlike his decline.
The moment their ascent overtook his fall...
Their blades would turn to Bestrika.
"So, what will you do?"
Nedyr asked calmly, thoughts gathered.
A death sentence as his lifelong martial foundation crumbled—yet Nedyr merely sought Paon's plan.
Harsh, but so.
"...Tch! Talking with you always gets under my skin."
Paon grumbled briefly.
He knew better than anyone: Nedyr spoke so to spare his feelings.
"...Hate to admit it, but Midas had a point. Time to settle what I've delayed."
A few more years in disarray risked true clan fracture.
"...And?"
"Yes."
Paon spoke with resolve.
"It's time to choose a successor."
A monumental decision, plunging the Lichtenauer Martial Clan into fate's whirlpool once more.