Chapter 143
Chapter 143
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 143
Chapter Title: City of the Fallen (6)
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***
“I believe I can vouch for that young man’s innocence.”
At the unfamiliar voice, Yeomyeong and the elf whipped their heads around almost in unison.
From beyond the rubble of the collapsed building, the sound of approaching footsteps rang out clearly.
Yeomyeong realized the footsteps were far too light and furrowed his brow slightly.
It had nothing to do with footwork or the amount of mana they possessed. No living person with flesh and muscle could produce footsteps this faint.
“Who are you? Reveal yourself.”
No sooner had he asked than something shrouded in rags emerged from the darkness.
As it closed the distance to Yeomyeong, it flung off the rags to reveal its face.
“Long time no see, Earthling guided by the stars.”
What glared at him with blue flames flickering from empty eye sockets was a skeleton devoid of even a scrap of flesh or muscle.
The simplest kind of undead, animated by twisted mana.
“A necromancer using blue necromancy? There’s no way one of those who faced the Americans could have survived…?”
While the elf muttered in disbelief, Yeomyeong sensed familiar mana from the skeleton’s flames.
A fire he’d seen somewhere before.
“No way…”
Just as suspicion turned to certainty, the skeleton cut him off.
“Earthling Cheon Yeomyeong, must you act so brutish just because the elf was ignorant and savage? A man shouldn’t sink to the level of beasts.”
“…”
“Chopping off the arm of a dumb elf who can’t even tell Dungan Heavy Industries crystals apart from stolen ones. That’s animal abuse, plain and simple.”
“…Dungan Heavy Industries? Cheon Yeomyeong?”
Regardless of the elf’s stunned gaze looking up at him, Yeomyeong leveled his sword at the skeleton.
The sword aura formed of Wave Yang Art mana trembled as if ready to launch at any moment.
“Oh, your perceptiveness has improved.”
The flames in the skeleton’s sockets curved like a crescent moon. The human equivalent of a sly smile.
Seeing that smile confirmed it for Yeomyeong.
How could he forget? The arrogant undead’s smirk that looked down on and mocked humans.
“…Kahal Magdu.”
The skeleton dragon who had slaughtered his mercenary comrades in northern Manchuria and targeted his life.
The skeleton before him was undoubtedly one it had created.
Yeomyeong didn’t ask how the one from Earth had ended up in Dreiterial or why it had appeared here.
Kahal Magdu was an international criminal who haunted battlefields chasing money from the start. What he owed it wasn’t questions, but violence.
With that judgment made, Yeomyeong unleashed his sword aura, shattering the skeleton to pieces.
“Stop skulking around like a coward and come in your true form.”
Even as bone fragments scattered and the skull split in two, a clear voice emanated from the skeleton’s mouth.
“I merely came to exchange greetings after so long, yet your personality hasn’t matured with your skills. Is it from hanging around that saintess?”
“…Shut your trap, you worthless dragon bone broth.”
The phrase the saintess had used to insult Kahal Magdu.
As Yeomyeong spat it back verbatim, the half-remaining skull erupted in laughter.
“Your tongue’s gotten sharper, that’s for sure. But what about the rest? No saintess to help you this time.”
“…”
“If you’re scared, hop on a train and flee tomorrow. Just like in Manchuria, I’ll specially show mercy…”
Crunch.
Before it could finish, someone’s foot crushed the skull.
The culprit ground it to dust with the heel of their shoe before dusting off their foot and looking at Yeomyeong.
“…Things are getting more complicated than expected?”
Yeomyeong nodded at Seti’s wry smile.
And upon spotting the short-haired girl peeking out from behind her, he couldn’t help but mirror her wry expression.
“Uh… hello, brother-in-law?”
***
The burning city was beautiful.
The flames roaring under the night sky looked like purifying fire consuming old trash.
But ‘Chicken’ knew those flames wouldn’t last.
The fire had only engulfed part of the city, and above all…
“There aren’t enough flames for all who need burning.”
His yellow eyes, more beast than man, pierced the city’s darkness beyond the firefighters extinguishing the blaze.
At the edge of his vision were superhumans.
Mages under the West Palace Lord, knights of the South Palace Lord, and even… a witch wielding a massive spear.
They lurked between people and buildings, amid the night’s darkness and the flames, holding their breath as they watched the devastation wrought by the elf and the unidentified human superhuman.
Their ridiculous standoff, too cautious to even show themselves, was laughable, but ‘Chicken’ didn’t mock them.
The World Tree Crystal was worth that much. A treasure so precious it couldn’t hide their ugly greed, worth abandoning a burning city.
If not for the orders from the Patriots…
He’d be among them, hunting traces of the elf.
‘If we’d known about the crystal, we’d have brought more forces… regrettable.’
As his thoughts reached that point, ‘Chicken’ recalled the recent battle and raised his index finger.
“Shepherds, I have a question. Step forward, you who will be sacrificed.”
No sooner had he spoken than three freakish figures in pig head masks burst from the darkness and knelt before him.
No explanations. No words.
‘Chicken’ gazed down at the pig heads for a moment before infusing mana into his finger and jabbing their foreheads.
“Your sacrifice will be the foundation of a mighty nation.”
The pig heads shuddered violently, then began vomiting massive quantities of black blood—far more than believable from a mouth.
Standing atop the pooling black blood that rose to his ankles, ‘Chicken’ summoned twisted mana.
The blood pool bubbled in response to his mana, and he posed his question to the entity beyond it.
“Immortal King… I beheld lightning akin to Supreme Lightning Arts moments ago. Was what I saw the Supreme Lightning Arts?”
Surprisingly, the black blood pool parted like a living mouth and spoke.
[No, what you saw was not the Supreme Lightning Arts.]
With that chilling voice, one pig head flopped over dead.
Two pig heads remained.
“Then is it a martial art from the same root as Supreme Lightning?”
[The fruit that bloomed from the tree of Supreme Lightning shares its root, yes.]
The second pig head collapsed. Rather than rushing the next question, ‘Chicken’ carefully chose his final one.
After long deliberation, he cautiously voiced it.
“If I obtain that martial art, will it aid my homeland?”
The blood pool didn’t answer immediately.
Only after the last pig head shuddered and fell did it give the awaited reply.
[It will aid. If you can obtain it.]
A voice whose sneer or advice was unclear.
***
‘The Camel’s Song’ was a tavern as old as Dreiterial’s history.
It had stood firm even as Earth construction firms fled the economic crash and the three palace lords carved up the city.
Like all old things, it was quiet.
Its patrons were only the dying elderly and fools lost in back alleys.
And tonight, with the downtown fire, not even a shadow stirred.
Unlikely to get more customers, the tavern owner was about to close up quickly.
But as he shuffled his creaky back toward the door to lock it, four hooded figures burst in.
“We’re closing for the day…”
The old man, about to shut the door, spotted the gold coin flicked by the lead customer and scowled.
“Elf gold? Pinel, is that you?”
At the name Pinel, the customer pulled back his hood. An elf with striking red hair.
No wonder he hadn’t recognized him at first—the empty left sleeve.
The tavern owner silently regarded the elf and his companions before opening the door wider to let them in.
As soon as the group entered, he checked outside and locked the door with a click.
“What brings you here at this hour? And where’d you hawk your arm?”
Casually pulling out a bottle of liquor, he asked. The elf called Pinel replied indifferently.
“A minor misunderstanding.”
Losing an arm from a minor misunderstanding? Elves.
The owner clicked his tongue, stoking the stove, then paused as something occurred to him.
“Don’t tell me you caused that downtown fire too?”
“The result of a minor misunderstanding.”
This crazy elf bastard. The old man nearly cursed but shut his mouth upon glancing at the other customers.
Moments later, he brought liquor, dried meat, and roughly fried doughnuts coated in flour and honey to the table where the four sat.
“So, why are you here? And who are these folks?”
“The parties to the minor misunderstanding.”
“…”
Only then did the old man scrutinize the hooded figures.
One girl—no, two—devouring the honey treats hungrily.
Both had calluses on their hands, like knight trainees or squires.
And next to them…
“…Huh?”
A black-haired youth with golden eyes.
Arms crossed, leaning back casually in his chair, his face felt oddly familiar.
Where’ve I seen him? Definitely someone similar…
As the old man pondered, the elf’s voice interrupted.
“The clearest liquor you have. One bottle.”
Hearing the order, the old man scowled.
It wasn’t a formal request but code between elves and tavern owners.
“You serious?”
The old man asked incredulously, and the elf shrugged his remaining shoulder.
Silent affirmation.
The owner swept his eyes over the customers once more, then sat at the table with a bottle and two cups.
“Pinel, if this crystal harms the city… Demerond Ip Marx will have to clean it up himself.”
Demerond Ip Marx. At the elf leader’s name from the old man’s lips, the customers’ mood shifted.
Realizing the owner wasn’t just any barkeep? The youth uncrossed his arms, hand on his sword hilt.
Of course, the sword stayed sheathed.
Far from threatening, the old man popped the bottle’s cork. A high-end liquor aroma, unfit for the dingy tavern, filled the table.
“First, shall we introduce ourselves?”
The youth alternated glances between elf and owner with a what-is-this expression, then tilted his head and spoke.
“I’m Cheon Yeomyeong.”
“…What? Cheon Yeomyeong? For real?”
The owner looked to the elf as if he’d misheard, who shrugged again.
Seeing that, the owner licked his lips, leaned forward, and asked.
“The real ‘that’ Cheon Yeomyeong?”
“…‘That’ Cheon Yeomyeong?”
“I mean the Dragon Liberator.”
Dragon Liberator? What’s that?
Not just the self-proclaimed Cheon Yeomyeong, but even the girls munching snacks stared at the owner blankly.
As if how could they not know, the old man widened his eyes.
“Cheon Yeomyeong! The conscientious Earthling who freed the dwarf royal guardian dragon Orse Tabul from the Korean military without demanding anything!”
“…”
“…If it’s just a name coincidence, my apologies.”
Awkward silence descended instantly.
As it stretched, Cheon Yeomyeong replied with mild confusion.
“I did free Orse Tabul, but… ‘Dragon Liberator’ is a bit…?”
As he tried to add more, the owner grabbed his cheek and peeled off his face.
No—precisely, a finely crafted artificial mask concealing his face.
Riiiip.
With the sound of tearing flesh, the mask came off, revealing…
A face no different from the tavern owner’s. The difference? An expression of utmost sternness, unlike the owner’s.
Anyway, the sudden reveal startled Yeomyeong and the girls. The owner watched them expectantly.
Awkward stillness.
An atmosphere where no one recognized the old man. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he introduced himself.
“My name is Bikop Alekseyevich Marmeladov.”
Neti narrowed her eyes at the long Russian name, while Seti and Yeomyeong tensed for different reasons.
His name had been in Dagall’s confession, the desert wraith.
“…The citizens of this city call me the East Palace Lord.”
East Palace Lord. The old man before them was one of the three palace lords ruling the city.
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