Ch.111Chapter 111: Clash (4)

As the unfrozen snow-covered ground met Sanguin’s body, cushioning the impact—

BOOM—!!

A thunderous sound erupted, making the thick blanket of snow seem meaningless.

“Guhack!!”

An unseemly scream burst from Sanguin’s mouth as he was slammed into the ground.

Though the scream escaped his lips, the absolute impact he received wasn’t particularly severe.

“…”

Pinned to the ground, Sanguin kept his mouth firmly shut and made no attempt—no, chose not to attempt—to raise his body. Instead, he carefully recollected what had just happened to him.

Clearly.

Clearly, Sanguin had raised his right hand above his head.

He had sharpened his hand like a blade and somehow managed to get up, intending to slam his unconscious opponent back to the ground with a precisely honed strike to the crown of the head.

It wasn’t meant to draw blood or take his opponent’s life.

It was merely intended to completely knock out his opponent with precise control of force.

He firmly believed that even if the opponent had miraculously risen, this attack would send him back to the ground unconscious.

But his attack, launched with such intent, not only failed to succeed…

Instead, the red-haired man he was trying to subdue suddenly reached out and grabbed him.

Then, with terrifying strength, the man sent Sanguin’s helpless body flying, resulting in him being slammed into the ground like this.

It was bewildering enough that he had been sent flying by his opponent’s sudden counterattack.

But more than being thrown onto the freezing snow-covered ground,

“How dare…”

Sanguin was more angered by the disrespect shown by the man who had addressed him—once known as the epitome of fear among humans in his prime—with such a fierce voice.

His body could be thrown to the ground as many times as necessary.

A thousand years ago, during the Great War, he had endured far worse, so Sanguin wasn’t narrow-minded enough to show outrage over physical harm to his body.

“How dare you address me, Lord Sanguin, so impudently without proper honorifics.”

Yet he was also a man with a fiery temperament, enough to express anger at someone who casually addressed him, the king of the great vampire clan, with such disrespect.

In any case, since he had been thrown like an object by his opponent, it was only right to give him an appropriate physical compensation.

Sanguin hastily got up, barely composing the bewilderment he felt while being thrown, but as soon as he rose…

Wiggle wiggle

The moment he faced the red-haired man who extended his right hand forward and wiggled his index finger,

Snap

Feeling blood rush to his head despite trying to maintain his composure,

“…You!”

After revealing his anger with that brief utterance,

He immediately moved to punish his opponent.

Like the man who provoked him by wiggling his right index finger,

Sanguin too spread his right hand wide and extended it forward.

It appeared to be a simple motion devoid of any killing intent, but…

Shaaaa

With a sound like something freezing thinly, blood-red energy gathered above his right hand, clearly demonstrating the intention behind Sanguin’s widely spread palm.

This was the sight that occurred when he used blood magic, the ability that he, as the king of the vampire clan, could wield most confidently.

The ominous energy, which would have unpredictable consequences even with the slightest touch, initially took the form of a sphere so large it was burdensome to hold in one hand.

But after a moment too brief to even call an instant, its size gradually decreased.

“Huu…”

By the time Sanguin let out a shallow sigh, it had shrunk to the size of a small egg.

Though not as intimidating as its initial size, the energy contained in the blood-red sphere was actually growing stronger despite its reduced size.

“Take this!”

As Sanguin’s solemn voice, filled with the will to punish his opponent, burst forth, the blood-red sphere shot from his grasp toward the red-haired man.

As the blood-red sphere—which would cause fatal injury even with a mere graze, let alone a direct hit—approached the red-haired man who had angered him,

Sanguin firmly believed this would serve as sufficient warning and education for the man who had disrespected him.

Whoosh

But his brief certainty vanished when he saw the blood-red sphere, created by his blood magic, disappear in the flames that erupted from the man’s body before it could even reach him.

“What…?”

A bewildered voice, forgetting the dignity befitting the king of the vampire clan, escaped Sanguin’s lips.

This bewildered voice came partly from seeing the sphere—which, though not at full power due to the prohibition on killing ordered by his revered lord Desire, still had enough power to subdue an opponent whose capabilities he had assessed at a glance—vanish so futilely.

Whoosh

But it was also because the flames still rising from the body of the man who had so casually dispelled his blood-red sphere…

“…No way.”

…resembled too closely the flames emitted by a certain terrifying being he remembered, which was why a voice filled with disbelief escaped him momentarily.

What exactly was this being that caused such disbelief and shock in Sanguin’s voice?

The identity of this being, which filled Sanguin with fear whenever he recalled it, was a dragon.

A thousand years ago, when his kind, beings of the demon realm, and humanity were engaged in bloody battles for dominion over this land,

That dragon, despite once being a being who despised and oppressed humans more than anyone,

Somehow hated the beings of the demon realm even more than humans, always siding with humans when forced to choose between the two.

It was a detestable yet simultaneously terrifying and powerful being.

Sometimes, it would breathe fire in a form so vast that describing it as covering mountain ranges was no exaggeration, tormenting them.

At other times, it would take the form of a human it once greatly despised,

And display power more intense than any human hero who had ever challenged them, breaking his will. The color of the flames that dragon breathed as naturally as breathing was the same deep crimson as now.

The dragon that created flames which turned their revered demonic darkness to ash upon contact.

Its name was…

“Fa…Fa…”

“What, has it been so long that you’ve forgotten my name?”

“Fa…Faf…”

“Hah. I’ve never forgotten your name, even after all this time. Despite meeting after so long, seeing you forget the name of your old nemesis makes me feel rather disappointed.”

“Fafnir…!!”

Sanguin desperately tried to finish saying the name of his nemesis who had tormented him for a thousand years.

Whoosh—!! Boom—!!

But before he could finish, Sanguin had to hastily dodge the crimson flame-engulfed fist of his nemesis flying toward him.

“Ugh…!!”

…He thought he had dodged, but he hadn’t completely.

The moment the pain from a burn, caused by the slightest contact with his nemesis’s crimson flames on his left cheek, unpleasantly stimulated Sanguin’s nerves, it healed without a trace.

It was such a feeble attack that it was embarrassing to even call it a valid hit.

“Just a greeting. You attacked half-heartedly, so I matched it with something equally moderate.”

The opponent who addressed him with a rather mocking voice seemed to have intended it that way, irritating him further with his words.

“Isn’t that right? Sanguin.”

Finally calling him by name, he stopped mocking and raised his right index finger to point at himself.

Whoosh

Once again, crimson flames rose from the body of the man—no, his old nemesis.

Though his appearance, except for his hair color, was quite different from what he had seen a thousand years ago,

That unforgettable crimson flame clearly revealed who he was.

“It doesn’t seem right for you to say that when you struck your opponent before they finished speaking, cutting off their words. Fafnir.”

Sanguin was finally able to fully pronounce the name of the detestable yet fearsome being who had persistently tormented him and other beings of the demon realm a thousand years ago.

The Flame Dragon, Fafnir.

A dragon, one of the great species standing at the pinnacle of all intelligent life.

Among them, he was one who ruled like a king even among his proud kin due to his innate overwhelming power.

He was strong. In some ways, even stronger than the Holy Sword Wielder who had tormented him for nearly a thousand years.

This was because while the Holy Sword possessed by the Holy Sword Wielder had enough power to end his long-enjoyed prime,

With some preparation, he could at least save his life against it.

But if touched by the mysterious flames emitted by that dragon, even he couldn’t guarantee his survival.

That’s why for Pale Sanguin, king of the vampire clan, the crimson flames breathed by Fafnir were an element that made him tremble in fear even more than the Holy Sword.

Whether aware of this fear felt by Sanguin or not,

Despite facing Sanguin who spoke to him with a voice full of passion,

“Hahaha. You must have rested well in your coffin after being stabbed by the Holy Sword? Your complexion looks quite good!”

Only a voice filled with joy, far from passion, came from Fafnir’s mouth.

“I see you still irritate people by speaking nonsense. Fafnir.”

And though Sanguin’s voice in response revealed passion, it didn’t show the sticky emotion of pitch-black hatred.

This was because despite being adversaries who had ceaselessly engaged in fierce battles, washing the blood on their bodies with each other’s blood,

Perhaps it was a case of familiarity breeding a strange form of affection.

For the two powerful beings facing each other,

The opponent before them was both a nemesis and an adversary worthy of some respect—a common ground they shared.