Ch.140Chapter 140: Tranquility (4)

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Silent.

So silent that not a single sign of life could be felt.

A mysterious place shrouded in fog, where the hazy whiteness made it difficult to discern even what was right in front of you.

The fog that hung over this place exuded a mystical quality, drawing everything buried within it into a swamp called oblivion.

Yet even in this fog, there was one place that overwhelmed it with a surprisingly powerful presence.

Woong-!!

At a point where a subtle resonance was dispersing the fog bit by bit, despite there being not even a hint of wind.

Thanks to the slightly scattered fog, a few things could be made out as faint silhouettes.

Bright, vivid red energy was surging around, pushing back the whitish fog.

And at the center of this energy, despite being obscured by fog, was a structure clearly identifiable as a chair.

Though nothing beyond the occasional glimpse of its silhouette could be seen clearly.

The chair-like structure was so magnificent that it would be entirely appropriate to call it a throne.

And finally, someone was sitting on that throne.

Though not fully visible, this being with a form close to human was staring straight ahead with piercing eyes.

At the end of his gaze, through some unclear mechanism.

“Sorry, did I startle you?”

“No, no. Did I startle you more, Kal?”

A scene was displayed showing a man and woman expressing their apologies to each other while simultaneously reaffirming the tender feelings they held for one another.

The man called Kal by the woman was apologizing with a face as red as his hair for impulsively kissing her forehead moments ago.

“Shizu, how are you feeling?”

The woman called Shizu by Kal smiled gently at his question.

“Thanks to you watching over me, I’m all better now. Thank you…”

She expressed her gratitude to Kal for taking care of her.

“…”

The silhouette buried in fog silently watched this scene being displayed in real-time.

Though it was difficult to make out anything clearly.

One could see him lifting his right arm from the armrest to scratch the side of his head.

Perhaps the silhouette’s owner was scratching his head because he felt awkward watching the affectionate display between the two people, which, while not explicit, was still somewhat embarrassing to observe.

“How bland…”

At least from his brief comment devoid of any particular sentiment, it was clear he wasn’t feeling embarrassed.

Despite the heavy fog and silence of the space.

The voice that escaped with that short sigh clearly revealed it belonged to a male.

Though it was quite a beautiful voice for a man.

However, while he might not have felt embarrassment watching the scene.

He seemed to feel no need to continue watching it.

“Well, there’s nothing more to see, so I’ll turn this off.”

Saying this, the man extended his right hand, which had been scratching the side of his head, and lightly overlapped his thumb and middle finger.

Snap!

With a crisp sound, the scene before his eyes disappeared without warning.

After the display went dark.

“…Hoo.”

With a light sigh, the man rose from the throne where he sat.

The silhouette, though blurred by the thick fog, was close to human in form.

But the bright red light emanating from where his eyes would be, piercing through the fog.

And the faint crimson energy rising gently from his entire body made one hesitate to simply define him as human, given its density and intensity.

It wasn’t something he was deliberately emitting.

It was coming out naturally, as if he were breathing.

If someone were watching him from afar.

It would indeed be a sight that would make anyone question whether he should be considered human.

Who was he, sitting alone on a throne in this silent space, staring into the void?

It was difficult to discern anything properly from his fog-shrouded appearance.

“…The fog grows thicker by the day.”

Waving his right hand about, he commented on his surroundings in a voice laden with annoyance.

It was clear that he too was not fond of this fog.

“Even if I deliberately blow away the fog, it reappears not long after… this doesn’t bode well…”

After starting to speak, he continued without pause, then stopped waving his right hand and brought his thumb and middle finger together.

“I’ll need to receive guests soon, so I should clear this fog for a while.”

With those words.

Snap-!! Snap-!!

He quickly snapped his fingers twice.

The clear sound made by his snapping fingers didn’t echo distinctly throughout this rather spacious area.

But simultaneously with his finger snap, the thick fog that had settled around him disappeared without a trace.

And thus, the appearance of the being who had orchestrated all this was clearly revealed.

Since the protagonist who cleared the fog was wearing armor rather than clothing, with no exposed skin from head to toe.

One must first describe the armor he wore rather than the man’s appearance.

The armor, made of a material reminiscent of reptilian scales with a strong biological feel, regardless of what the man wearing it truly looked like.

Exuded an aura of majesty that would naturally instill fear in anyone who faced him while he wore it.

This stemmed partly from the appearance of the armor itself.

But the pressure conveyed by the red energy still gently rising from his body was reason enough.

It was an astonishing aura.

Though slightly different from the divinity naturally exuded by transcendent beings who observe and regulate the principles of the world from on high.

The energy emanating from his body was so powerful it could be said to rival that without exaggeration.

Who on earth was he?

And why was he alone in this space filled with solitude?

It was a scene that would naturally raise many questions.

But the man seemed to have no intention of properly resolving these questions.

Keeping his body as it was, unlike when he had dispelled the fog, this time he brought his left index and middle fingers together.

“Now that I’ve cleared the fog, I should bring that out.”

Saying he would bring something out.

Snap-!!

He lightly snapped his two fingers together.

Though smaller than when he had dispelled the fog, a fairly clear sound spread around him.

And suddenly, a mirror appeared, reflecting his armored form from head to toe.

“Let’s see…”

Muttering to himself, the man approached the mirror with a low voice.

“…”

Then silently stood before the mirror, carefully examining his appearance.

There was a simplicity in his demeanor that seemed at odds with the intimidating aura naturally emanating from his armor.

What could have caused such an attitude in this man examining his armored appearance in the mirror?

That would be appropriate to infer from the words he was about to speak after observing himself in the mirror.

“…Hmm.”

With a faint groan, the man stepped back from the mirror, indicating he had finished his observation, then crossed his arms, raised his right hand, and stroked the chin part of his helmet.

“Hmmmm…”

Following the simplicity felt when examining his armor in the mirror, his continuous faint groans while stroking his chin made him seem more pitiful than majestic.

Why was he staring so intently at his body—or more precisely, the armor he wore—in this solitary space where no one would see him, creating such a pitiful impression?

“…The aesthetic sense of those humans who call this magnificent armor ‘ominous’ or whatever… tsk!”

That became easy to understand from the words that soon left his mouth.

The man was annoyed.

Because of the harsh criticism he had received regarding the appearance of the armor he was wearing.

The man’s voice carried clear disappointment, though not severe, toward those who had left such criticism of this armor that anyone would find impressive.

What’s noteworthy here is that he referred to those who criticized his armor as ‘humans.’

As if he himself did not belong to the human species.

Let’s observe the man’s appearance more closely.

After lowering his right hand that had been stroking his chin and uncrossing his arms.

“It’s stuffy, let me take off this helmet too…”

As he said this, his hands removed the helmet covering his face.

After removing the threatening yet artistically accomplished helmet.

“Phew…”

The man let out a deep sigh and casually tossed the helmet toward the throne where he had been sitting earlier.

Given how carelessly he threw it, it would surely have made a substantial noise had it hit the throne.

Thud

But the helmet that landed on the throne that had supported his body until recently didn’t make much noise.

It was closer to the sound one might hear when something lands on a soft bed.

“After waking from a long sleep, my body is gradually regenerating here, albeit in a limited way.”

Seeing the helmet safely land on the throne, the man uttered an incomprehensible phrase close to a soliloquy, then turned his head toward the mirror to check his appearance.

“…It’s a mess.”

Slightly frowning, he busied himself with fixing his hair with his right hand.

As the man himself had mentioned earlier.

The most prominent feature of his appearance after removing the helmet was his hair.

Red… so intensely red that it evoked the image of blood, his long, vivid crimson hair had such a presence that one wondered how it had all fit inside the helmet.

Despite his grumbling about it being a mess, contrary to his words, it had a very fine texture, like looking at well-maintained female hair.

But the man’s efforts to fix his hair while grumbling didn’t last long.

“…Let’s stop. Why am I fixing my hair? I’m not a woman.”

It was a problematic statement that would earn him criticism for being insensitive if heard by citizens of the Empire, who are considered the rulers of this land these days.

“Though I wouldn’t mind fixing a woman’s hair.”

But this statement would be considered quite decent by many.

It had become fashionable among newlywed couples who had just married to fix each other’s hair when they woke up after sleeping in the same bed.

This trend had gained explosive popularity across generations within the Empire.

It started from a phrase in a romance novel that had been adapted into operas and traditional plays, describing the act of grooming one’s lover’s hair as a beautiful expression of affection.

Well, this man looking in the mirror wouldn’t know that, of course.

After giving up on fixing his hair, the man moved on to his next action.

He approached the mirror more closely to examine his appearance.

Only then did the features that had been hidden inside the helmet begin to gradually reveal themselves.

“…Though my body regenerates, my appearance from when I was alive remains intact, so this too remains.”

The man’s demeanor as he checked his face in the mirror and touched it here and there with his right hand was quite observational.

It felt as if he was seeing his own body for the first time in a very long time.

There were various scars on the face his hands were touching.

Most of them were stab wounds inflicted by sharp blades.

“…I wonder if I should erase these scars now.”

After revealing his bare face.

The man casually caressed the scarred areas with his right hand, continuously uttering incomprehensible words every time he opened his mouth.

Soliloquies about the mysterious fog, body regeneration, and even the absurd claim of erasing scars so deep that one wouldn’t even dare attempt to heal them with conventional recovery spells.

With each word, peculiarities accumulated.

But there was not the slightest hint of jest in the man’s demeanor as he spoke of erasing his scars.

“…Now that I’m becoming more accustomed to my human form than my dragon form, I think it’s right to stop making my face hard to recognize with such scars.”

….

Finally, a decisive clue about the man’s identity emerged from his mouth.

Dragon.

It seemed this man’s identity was that of a dragon, considered the pinnacle of all living beings except divine entities, and it would not be an exaggeration to call them the strongest species.

Now the nature of the energy still gently rising from the man’s body could be understood.

It was dragon aura.

If the aura emitted unconsciously by beings tempered through life-and-death struggles that transcend the boundary between life and death is called battle aura.

The species to which the man belonged, due to their overwhelming power possessed from birth.

Emitted an aura like breathing that would be at a level unreachable for an ordinary human even after a lifetime of effort.

Humans specifically called the aura emitted by dragons in human form “dragon aura” and either revered or feared it.

…What’s remarkable is that even by dragon standards, the energy emanating from the man’s body was unimaginably massive.

The reddish energy rising like a heat haze from his body was precisely the identity of an aura said to rival the divinity emitted by transcendent beings of divine status, whether innate or acquired.

Eventually, the man extended his left hand and completely covered his face.

It seemed a bit odd for an act described as erasing facial scars.

Sssss

With a strange sound, red energy gathered briefly on his left hand then disappeared.

When he lowered his left hand, the scars that had covered his face were completely gone.

After this astonishing sight that naturally raised questions of “How…?”

The man who had removed his facial scars with a single gesture caressed his nape with the same left hand and quietly spoke.

“…This scar is enough.”

The scars had just disappeared with his gesture, so what other scar could he be referring to?

The answer lay on the nape he was continuously caressing with his left hand.

There was a sword mark.

A sword wound etched even deeper than the scars on his face that had disappeared with a single gesture.

To describe the sword mark on the man’s neck without exaggeration.

It was such a severe scar that one would wonder how he had survived with such an injury.

The scar on the man’s neck was so deep and distinct that it looked less like a sword cut and more like a severed head that had been reattached.

“For marks left by others worthy of remaining on this body of Fafnir, this one alone is enough now…”

As his voice trailed off while caressing his nape, a strange warmth was evident in the expression of the man, Fafnir.

Despite the sword mark on his neck surely having been a fatal wound that brought him to the brink of death.

His demeanor, as if fondly remembering the person who inflicted this wound.

Was very similar to the expression shown by the man among the couple he had been watching through the display earlier.

And as if Fafnir was aware of this fact.

“…I never thought blood would continue in this way.”

He wore a thoughtful expression as he tousled his hair with his left hand.