A Lucky Day (5)
“It wasn’t your weakened flesh that was the problem, Agentress. It seems your soul had already met its ruin long before. This sorrow defies words, my brother.”
Elves. Even at the moment they lost their mother’s blessing, Yunak Seus had harbored doubts. No matter how unworthy a brother, he believed that noble soul would remain unchanged. All of it had been his delusion.
Yunak Seus’s gaze turned toward the evil upon the earth. That was a demon. The existences that had reduced the continent—and his mother—to such a state. His boiling emotions urged him to plunge straight into the Demon Realm, to scorch their lands into something far more wretched than the continent itself.
Yet he could not. For his mother did not desire it.
The World Tree’s will was beyond even Yunak Seus’s comprehension. But this was the first. The first time she had ever asked him—asked them—to act.
So he would obey. Yes, eternal slumber had grown tedious. In that sense, his heart raced once more after so long.
‘The first since then.’
The Dragon-Demon Great War. That fleeting diversion had been enjoyable enough. But this time, there could be no such pleasure. This time, they would have to stake their very lives.
“If you fail to comprehend, I shall discipline you until you do.”
A battlefield befitting an aged, ailing dragon like himself. His brother Agentress and the elves, naturally. A demon perfectly suited for unleashing pent-up emotions. And even the human confronting that demon. All their eyes burned with resolve.
No need to fear ensnaring allies; he could rampage freely.
‘If it is you all, surely you can fulfill Mother’s will.’
Crackle—! A colossal aura rippled from Yunak Seus’s form.
“!!!”
It was insufficient to call it mere mana. How dense, how vast—mana so profound it manifested visibly, altering the region’s very climate. Even reshaping the terrain itself.
Crackle-crackle—!
The instant lightning crashed down, enshrouding Yunak Seus’s entire body.
Something intruded at the center of Yunak Seus’s vision. Tiny in substance, yet for some reason, it loomed enormous.
“!”
It had no choice but to. High El had alighted precisely upon Yunak Seus’s snout.
High El faithfully obeyed his liege, Hoyeol’s will. Trusting in Hoyeol without question, he spoke clearly.
“By the hierarchy of blessings, I command you.”
“……?”
“Be at peace, Yunak Seus.”
Dragons and elves differed. Born of the same World Tree, yet their innate gifts mirrored their forms. Rulers of all creation, dragons lacked nothing. Elves, however, were not so blessed. The World Tree pitied them and bestowed its grace.
Dragons did not lack the World Tree’s blessing—they simply received none. For they needed it not. Born perfect, they stood complete.
Never having received it, the Blessing Hierarchy held no sway over the dragon Yunak Seus, naturally.
Yet at High El’s words, Yunak Seus’s momentum ebbed.
‘So that is it.’
Mother’s aura emanated from the diminutive spirit. Unbeknownst even to himself.
Yunak Seus’s gaze softened. Like an elder beholding the youngest kin, warm and tender.
Yet you.
“Regrettably, that plea I cannot grant.”
How mighty was a dragon? One could grasp it from that message alone.
A battlefield teeming with elves, giants, and transcendents. Equivalent level? Easily surpassing a thousand. Ordinarily, no appearance message would manifest.
Yet Yunak Seus brazenly displayed one.
When he faltered at the Blessing Hierarchy, even I startled. True fortune, not mere luck from the letter?
In that fleeting instant, I’d savored premature triumph alone.
Command a dragon via hierarchy! Clearing the world quest Fallen Dragon Hunter, naturally. With draconic might, traverse the Arcana Continent at will.
In Arcana, my Last Adventurer effect granted revival upon death. Risks could accelerate growth unbound.
Yet premature triumph is just that.
I, Lee Hoyeol. The youngest of three sisters, I discerned it keenly.
Yunak Seus’s gaze pierced my innermost thoughts, identical to the venomous glares of my foes.
Startled but a moment, his voice invaded my mind.
‘Telepathy.’
Reality and the Arcana Continent. Two wholly distinct realms. Telepathy between them? Normally impossible.
A dragon, however, was the exception. Unfettered by rifts, tearing dimensions to bridge reality and Arcana—telepathy was trivial.
My shock stemmed from the content.
‘Da-Dawn?!’
How did he know that mortifying name! No, beyond that.
‘...Dying aligns with Mother’s will?’
Parting words upon first encounter? I was the interloper, after all. Family affairs, the World Tree’s intent—ignorance was natural.
No desire to feign kinship, either. Home already drowned me in “baby brother” treatment.
Besides.
‘Will be damned.’
Mr. Yunak Seus. Your rampage spells disaster for us.
Elves, giants, transcendents already daunted. A dragon? Forget clearing the rift—the rift itself would shatter under the scale.
Post-generation, collapse rate would spike to 100% in moments.
‘In an urban zone...’
Aftermath might erase cities, nations, continents from the map.
In such gravity, my mouth moved glibly.
“The World Tree’s will, you say. Overwrought delusion.”
Composed, even.
“No parent yearns for a child’s demise.”
Emperor insufficient; before dragon and World Tree, unyielding—Grandfell.
Yet I concurred, somewhat. Yunak Seus’s words evoked a mother desiring her son’s death.
Still, as the outsider youngest, family tales intrigued.
“We must converse, Yunak Seus.”
Telepathy or mutterings wouldn’t reach, naturally. A unilateral appointment from me alone.
Enough prattle. Time for deeds.
‘High El and I gave our utmost.’
Acknowledge the truth here. Insufficient to halt the chaos, still.
Sole solace: delayed rift emergence.
‘Pour all into the rift.’
Optimistically: direct confrontation upon generation. Frustration minimal.
Even scheming, my mouth idled not.
“Luck I trust not.”
Curious why the nagging absented. Grandfell’s obstinacy, decrying [Luck] investments as superstition?
Flutter— Wind obliged timely.
“Luck and destiny—we carve them ourselves.”
Yes, ever the prideful one.
As I scoffed inwardly.
A portal’s shimmer danced in Arcana’s skies.
...A broom soaring the heavens?
Literally: a broom emerged from the portal. The woman astride it? Eerily familiar.
That bedraggled garb.
‘From the Spacetime Salon?’
Undeniable. Alongside Urs, the other transcendent ignoring me there.
Worse, even. She’d buried her face in the table, unmoving.
‘What now?’
Naturally ignorant of her intrusion’s cause.
Yet brazenly, I pressed on.
“As in this instant.”
...Pride may drown you, Grandfell, yet that mouth endures.
...
The Southern Sea Witch, Mary. She traversed the boundless ocean.
One Elixir Cigarette remained. Tsking, she glowered at the southern seas below.
“...Octopus-headed bastard.”
Deep abyss: thousands of tentacles writhed. Known illusion, yet revulsion surged anew.
Insufficiency: hallucinations echoed from the unseen depths.
『Futility in flight. Embrace destiny. With your hand, inaugurate the end. Cling not to anguished existence.』
“Craving a smoke, truly.”
Sea’s Great Omen. Liberation from its curse? Solely via costly elixir cigarette.
Wished to bury her head at the salon table, puffing away.
Rumble—!!
Continent surging with titanic aura banished such whims.
Smoking urge endured, ceaseless flight. Arcana Continent entered at last.
Vowed never to tread this soil again. Scenery forgotten, portals impossible.
Mary smiled bitterly.
“Time terrifies.”
Embellishing wretched recollections. Preserving the pleasant alone.
You concur, yes?
“Thus your return.”
Mary tarried not. Elixir cigarette’s toll. From fogged memory, Zero Mountains neared.
Visualized scenery, pinpointed coordinates. Portal rent the void.
Swift as thought. Emerging, she beheld.
Dragon, elf, giant, transcendent. The quake’s architects.
Mary tsked.
Time’s terror indeed.
“Demon Realm, Sisli, Zero Mountains—all.”
Once, all so docile.
Mary rummaged her bosom. Emerged: final elixir cigarette.
Situation dire; mana inevitable. Head must clear first.
- Commence the end forthwith.
Inhaling smoke, the Sea’s Great Omen’s whisper faded from her ears.
Yes, silence, octopus head. Now you must heed.
“Fuu—”
Dense smoke billowed. Mary surveyed the fray.
Gaze naturally to the most familiar visage.
Urs. Salon debut: fledgling purity. While she buried her face.
Chosen the utmost crooked path.
“Well, elves uniformly ill-fated.”
Elves: insolence eclipsed by undue beauty, prowess. Born under what stars?
Mary spat acerbic critique.
“Voice still piercing, as ever.”
Toward dragon Yunak Seus: scant sentiment.
Gaze shifted final.
“You, especially, lack all insight.”
Glare upon Gluttony of the Seven Deadly Sins.
Mary’s serenity roiled violently—even gazing the Sea’s Great Omen paled.
Inevitable. The forthcoming tale ensnared all present—even her.
Whooo— Mary’s mana churned.
Battlefield all sensed her presence.
Yet that sufficed not. Southern Sea Witch. Strength aside.
All bore irrefutable cause to stand firm.
Yet Mary’s opening.
“Why not comprehend your stations?”
What followed.
“...Truly fact?”
“Impossible!!”
“No, never.”
“...?!”
All halted.
“You know the weight of uttering that name here? Yet irrefutable truth. On my life, I swear.”
Mary continued.
“Claudy has returned.”