Chapter 58
Chapter 58
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 58
Chapter Title: Revenge Belongs to Those Who Seek It... (2)
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***
58 seconds ago.
The moment Kwon Captain bellowed and the dragon lifted the seal, the Saintess knew things had gone wrong.
She didn’t need foresight to sense it. There was no talking their way out anymore.
She swapped out the rifle’s magazine. Just one left.
The thought of facing a dragon with a mere sixty bullets made her head spin.
‘…Still, I have to do it.’
As she placed her finger on the trigger with that resolve, her vision caught sight of Yeomyeong.
The man who blurred her foresight, much like her one and only friend.
His lips pressed tight, he stared up at the dragon.
Was he scared? No, that couldn’t be. He’d been the first to leap from the truck against the attackers, and he’d scaled the cliff.
He wouldn’t have made it this far if he spooked that easily.
So that expression wasn’t fear…
‘He’s hesitating.’
Should he risk his life to fight, or turn and flee the valley?
The Saintess bit her lip. The plea to fight together swirled in her mouth, but she couldn’t force it out.
Asking him to fight in this mess was as good as asking him to die together.
“Yeomyeong, you’re not… gonna fight?”
In the end, what slipped out was a sly half-truth that hid her real feelings.
Cowardly and childish words, born of lacking the guts to be honest and hoping he’d say what she wanted.
Whether he saw through her hopes or not, Yeomyeong let out a short sigh before replying.
“The weapons you’ve got right now. That’s everything?”
She flinched at his question and checked her gear.
One rifle, sixty bullets.
She’d stripped down as much weight as possible for the motorcycle ride, and the unplanned brawl with the Pig Heads had left her arsenal at this.
Yeomyeong wasn’t much better off. A shotgun, a notched sword, and a handful of grenades and shells.
“Whether Darulma tricked us or truly didn’t know… the gear we brought for a juvenile dragon won’t cut it.”
“But…”
The Saintess started to protest, but Yeomyeong cut her off.
“Realistically, we’ve got one way to stop the dragon. Hold out until the Manju forces he called get here—before we die.”
“…”
“But think about the distance from the Manju base. Even at top speed, it’ll take the troops at least two hours. We’d have to fight the dragon that whole time. You think we can?”
No need to deliberate. It was impossible.
“…So, we just run?”
Unable to muster a counterargument, the Saintess demanded an answer. Yeomyeong’s sunken gaze met her eyepatch.
“You’re the one who said we’d bail if it looked impossible.”
He reminded her of what she’d said before they set out.
If the situation looks hopeless, we run.
The Saintess clenched her fist. If only she could claim it wasn’t sincere. But she couldn’t.
Politically speaking, she was someone who absolutely couldn’t die here.
Yes, her head got it. They had to run now.
But her heart refused. She didn’t want to flee.
“…If we leave it like this, countless people will die.”
“Probably.”
“Innocent people… dying for no reason. Can you just stand by and watch?”
Why did she only realize after blurting out words she’d regret?
The moment the emotional plea left her lips, her mind flooded with rebuttals to her own logic.
‘You want me to fight a rampaging dragon for strangers I’ve never met?’
‘And what crime did your mom commit to shoot at me?’
No matter how she sliced it, logic was on Yeomyeong’s side.
All she had was stubborn emotion demanding he risk his life blindly.
Bracing for a sharp retort, the Saintess squeezed her eyes shut. Good thing for the eyepatch.
She’d probably tear up otherwise.
But against her expectations, no counterattack or harsh blame came from Yeomyeong’s mouth.
“…Sorry.”
His voice was calm.
“I… have something I have to do. More important than anything, something I can’t compromise on.”
“…”
“So I can’t risk my life here.”
An utterly honest answer, without a trace of deception.
The Saintess, who’d braced for an emotional spat, couldn’t think of a word to say.
Faith clashed with reality in her empty heart, sparks flying. Her chest stung, her body trembled.
Unable to hold back, she spat out whatever came to mind.
“But if we give up now…”
“…”
“The Manju people, what about… all our efforts so far… huh? Those innocent deaths, I…”
Words failed her, spilling out incoherently. Yeomyeong gently gripped her shoulder.
“If you wanna die here, I won’t stop you. But.”
“…But?”
“If you wanna live, grab my hand. One person… I can carry out somehow.”
Yeomyeong extended his hand. The Saintess stared at it for a moment, realizing this was the last offer.
Reject it, and there was no going back. The bike they’d ridden here had run dry on fuel long ago, and the mad dragon wouldn’t let them go.
The moment of choice.
Stake her life on slim odds and fight the dragon to the death, or survive and plan for later.
The answer was obvious. If she died here, far more blood would spill.
‘…No choice.’
The Saintess set down her rifle to take Yeomyeong’s hand. Or tried to.
Then, a prickling sensation trickled down her crown.
Unfamiliar to others, but all too familiar to her. A sensation only the Saintess in this world could feel.
‘…Foresight?’
But it wasn’t hers.
Foresight forced upon her by gods high in the sky—or someone their equal.
The Saintess accepted it willingly. Light gleamed from her eyepatch-covered eyes, capturing the future in that instant.
Flash!
The dragon’s magic circle activated, dyeing the sky gold.
Above the Saintess’s head, backlit against the heavens, the circle’s glow bloomed like a halo.
As she slowly looked up at Yeomyeong, her white hair rippled, bathed in the light.
20 seconds.
The magic circle’s glow didn’t last. Soon after, the halo faded, and the Saintess smiled softly.
“Hey, no way…”
Yeomyeong sensed something off and started to speak, but she shoved his hand away first.
“You really are a good guy.”
“…What?”
“Your push-pull game sucks, though.”
Out of nowhere, with total conviction. Yeomyeong frowned despite himself and stared at the Saintess.
“You… used foresight too?”
“Who knows?”
11 seconds.
“Hey!”
Leaving Yeomyeong’s call behind, the Saintess charged the dragon.
With every step, she gathered mana to bless the magazine.
Power boost, acceleration, accuracy, mana pierce.
Rumble!!
The ground shook too violently to aim, but it was no issue for her.
‘Blue Benul, grant me ascension.’
Prayer to the god of wisdom and ascent, answered.
Whirr.
Her running body lifted ever so slightly.
Not quite flight, but enough height to evade the quakes. The Saintess steadily raised her rifle.
2 seconds.
Now, aim.
1 second.
Without hesitation, the Saintess pulled the trigger.
***
Roooooaaar!!
The dragon shrieked, its eye pierced. An utter surprise attack.
Not just hitting the pupil dead-on, but punching through the mana shroud?
Clutching its socket, the dragon hastily summoned mana.
It threw up shields over its neck and face, then unleashed lightning at the bullet’s origin.
Fwoosh!!
Overkill for a single bullet, but the eye pain was enough to dredge up primal terror of anti-aircraft fire.
[Who dares! Who hinders the dragon’s vengeance!!]
It spewed bolts with enough fury to incinerate the valley.
Yet each blaze on the ground dimmed the overhead magic circle, easing the tremors.
Proof the dragon’s focus wavered.
No one in the valley missed the opening.
The Saintess slipped out to find her next firing spot, while the mercenaries and Kwon Captain bolted for the cliffs, dodging the dragon’s gaze.
And from the valley’s depths, the dragon’s cave where the demon was trapped, came movement.
“Ah, you fucking lizard bastard.”
From the very hole the dragon had burst through, Pasun emerged, caked in dust.
His insulated suit was torn in places, proof the cave fight below hadn’t been easy.
Pasun spat on the ground and shook off the dirt.
“Didn’t think you’d run without fighting.”
His grumbling tone belied a not-unpleasant expression.
During his imprisonment, he’d looted every treasure the dragon had stashed.
Dwarf magitech it cherished, gems, potions—all of it.
“Hey! You dumb lizard bastard! Take a look!”
Pasun shook a massive bag tauntingly at the blood-weeping dragon.
Jingle—the treasures inside clashed, snaring its attention.
[…You broke the seal already. Lucky, you repulsive thief.]
Atop the burning valley, the now-calmed dragon growled at Pasun.
“Ha, thief? So what do you call a homeowner who locks the door and flees when a thief breaks in? Moron? Retard?”
Pasun sneered and stepped into empty air.
With each stride, his body rose as if treading invisible stairs.
A bizarre aerial martial art, identity unknown even to the dragon. Soaring to eye level, Pasun hovered.
[Stalin and his communists were just as ugly and brazen. Coveting others’ possessions without a shred of shame.]
“Why blame others for your own stupidity? If you couldn’t protect it, you shouldn’t have hoarded treasure.”
[You beast worse than animals! Spouting nonsense from that hole you call a mouth.]
The dragon lowered its hand from its eye. Blood still trickled from the pupil, but it wasn’t life-threatening.
Just a brief lapse from resurfaced trauma. The situation still favored the dragon overwhelmingly.
Orse Tabul raised the seal, gathering mana.
[Dare speak of power before me? Fine. I’ll show you what true power is!]
“Do whatever.”
Raking his gaze underground as he raised his fist, Pasun noted the seal around the cave had broken—thanks to the bullet in the dragon’s eye.
A bullet through the dragon’s eye? No need to ask who. Obvious.
‘The Saintess must be hiding somewhere in this valley, huh?’
Pasun licked his lips, recalling the woman who’d shot his shoulder.
‘Where there’s a Saintess, Cheon Yeomyeong’s gotta be too…’
Talk about jackpot. Loot the gains first, then take out both pests.
“Looks like with your heart and a few scales, I’ll have all the loot. How about some charity?”
Childish taunt. The dragon started to reply, but Pasun didn’t wait.
The instant mana stirred in the dragon, he was already sky-striding straight at it.
“Act like a dragon and cough up your core before you croak!”
As Pasun’s fist neared its snout, Orse Tabul belatedly flapped its wings and roared in fury.
[Die!!!]
The sky glowed gold once more, and demon clashed with dragon.
***
Yeomyeong stood by the abandoned motorcycle, gazing at the valley turning gold.
He knew retreat was right, but his feet wouldn’t move.
No grand reason.
‘…Innocent deaths.’
Ever since that phrase left the Saintess’s lips, thoughts of the dead cleaners wouldn’t leave his mind.
Team Leader, Deokbae Uncle, Chunsik Brother, James… his family, killed without fault or reason.
Had she rubbed off on him? Their wrongful deaths now overlapped with the innocents of Manju facing doom.
If the dragon erupted the volcano? Manju folk would choke on ash, slaughtered by southward monsters amid the chaos.
Without fault, without reason… just like that.
Just like the cleaners.
‘But that’s… not reason for me to risk my life. Especially not thinking of Team Leader and the brothers.’
Yeomyeong swallowed his inner turmoil and turned to leave.
But before he could, a sharp impact echoed from beyond the valley.
Thwack!!
Like swatting a fly with a giant swatter? Something whistled through the air from the valley.
Squinting, he saw it was a person. A very familiar one at that.
Pasun—the guy who’d dragged off Horse Head—hurtled toward Yeomyeong’s position.
Crash, tumble!
He slammed into a tree, snapped branches, rolled across the rocky ground, and finally sprawled out.
Right at Yeomyeong’s feet, close enough to touch with a sword swing.
“…Ah, fuck.”
Mana-clad like armor, not a scratch on him. Though his pride clearly stung, judging by the twisted grimace.
“This body’s such a pain… end up rolling on the ground against a damn lizard.”
Yeomyeong felt a pang of dilemma watching Pasun rise, scratching his head. Swing now?
As Yeomyeong hesitated briefly, Pasun sensed him and turned.
Eyes met, and Yeomyeong reflexively swung his sword.
!
Pasun barely rolled aside, dodging.
Not perfectly—faint blood trickled from his neck.
“Fuck! Rolling twice in one day.”
Clutching the wound, Pasun glared at Yeomyeong.
“Yeomyeong, ambushing with that skill? Have some shame.”
Shame? Yeomyeong couldn’t help snorting in disbelief.
“Funny coming from whoever sniped the back of my head earlier—no shame there.”
“Ah, that… yeah.”
Pasun snorted too and clenched his fist. Both surged mana simultaneously.
Tension peaked, poised to lunge—then Pasun blurted to Yeomyeong.
“But why’re you on the exact opposite side of the dragon valley? Weren’t you gonna fight it?”
“…”
“You weren’t… on your way to call in the army?”
A bit off the truth, but Yeomyeong stayed silent.
The brief quiet filled the space between them, and Pasun took it as confirmation.
[Fools, you think you can flee from me!!]
The dragon’s roar, activating its magic circle, shattered the fragile pause.
The ground quaked again, the valley glowing gold.
Pasun glanced between valley and Yeomyeong, then shrugged.
“Reinforcements in this mess… tsch, no choice.”
With that, he raised both hands above his shoulders, snuffing out his boiling killing intent—and even his mana.
…What the hell? Surrendering? Yeomyeong frowned.
Then Pasun’s next words nearly made him drop his sword in absurdity.
“Hey, skip calling reinforcements. You, me, Saintess—three of us take down that lizard?”
“…What?”
“In exchange, dragon core’s mine. Bones and scales, split however. Deal?”
Sudden, nonsensical proposal. Yeomyeong gripped tighter to steady his blade.
“…What bullshit is this? Why trust you?”
“Who said trust? I’m saying ally up.”
“…”
“Simple, right? For max gains, we pause the fight.”
Yeomyeong moved to reject it outright—sword to throat.
But as he channeled mana into the blade, a familiar voice in his head halted him.
[Soft-hearted fool, accept his deal.]
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