Ch.144Chapter 144: Reminiscence, Memories (3)

The footsteps suddenly echoing through the projection brought color to Fafnir’s face as he watched the painful scene reflecting his dark past.

Where were these footsteps coming from, and where were they heading?

The projection would soon reveal that to him.

The present Fafnir, watching the projection, was clearly exhausted yet slowly revealing an expression that couldn’t hide his anticipation.

Meanwhile, in the projection, amid the ruins left after indiscriminate destruction…

The past Fafnir—or rather, the Red Dragon—stood proudly among the devastation he had created.

From his mouth came a roar that revealed his dissatisfaction, despite the magnificent rampage…

KOOOOOOOOH!!!!

A blood-freezing roar filled with concentrated killing intent erupted.

While little time had passed outside the projection…

Within it, considerable time seemed to have elapsed.

Fafnir’s retinas captured the image of survivors emerging from the ashen ruins of a kingdom that had been reduced to cinders with just one fiery breath, as they made their way beyond the devastation.

Their movements were uniform as they carried themselves and their families away.

Yet the words from those leaving their long-cherished homeland varied greatly.

Despite the overwhelming destructive force unleashed, the number of casualties was strangely small, making those voices far from few.

“Let’s flee!”

The voices of those choosing to escape the ruins as quickly as possible to extend their miraculously spared lives were relatively mild.

“Let’s be grateful we’re still alive.”

Calm voices finding meaning in surviving this chaos would have been ideal.

Unfortunately, such modest voices didn’t fill the ruins alone.

“AAAAARGH!!”

There were ordinary cries of people who had lost their sanity seeing their lifelong homes reduced to ashes in the blink of an eye.

As others tried to calm them while hurrying along the evacuation route…

“We’ll see about this!!”

Some voices spewed angry passion toward the dragon whose power was so immense that even touching him would be a dream within a dream.

The survivors of the ruins created by the Red Dragon’s intrusion left behind, each uttering their own hollow wishes.

Surprisingly, the Red Dragon, fiercely roaring in the center of the ruins, merely watched them leave without causing any further harm.

As if harming such insignificant beings would be woefully insufficient to quell the destructive instinct within him.

The reality was slightly different.

“I thought I’d go mad trying to hold back then…”

Judging by the voice of the observer, balancing embarrassment and calmness in a strange equilibrium…

It seemed that at this time, he was desperately resisting the destructive instinct implanted by the twisted divinity goading his mind.

As he had said earlier with his own mouth.

There was no denying that this was a desperate struggle to somehow stop the indiscriminate destruction carried out while being manipulated by the malice implanted by the evil god.

As more time passed within the projection…

Eventually, only the Red Dragon remained in the ruins, trying to relieve the destructive instinct within him.

The only sounds around him were…

OOOOOOH!!

The fierce roar of the Red Dragon unable to satisfy the impulse within him.

Crackle, crackle

The sound of debris not yet completely turned to ash still burning.

And…

Wheeee-!!

Just the sound of a cold wind blowing, enough to evoke a sense of desolation.

Yes, there should have been only those three sounds, but…

From the corner at the edge of the ruins where he stood.

Thump, thump

The moment human footsteps—sounds that shouldn’t be heard in the deserted ruins—were heard…

“GRRRRRRRR!!”

The Red Dragon in the projection let out a roar that seemed to radiate madness, accompanied by convulsions.

Fafnir, watching the projection with fatigue still evident on his face, confirmed the footsteps sounding again in the projection and simultaneously…

Clap, clap, clap

He clapped his hands lightly while his expression filled with anticipation.

“Finally, it begins.”

His voice conveyed expectation for something about to start.

#

Crackle, blaze

The sound of flames burning brilliantly, still not extinguished from his breath, resonated emptily throughout what was once called a kingdom, harmonizing with the Red Dragon’s roars.

Yet even as these sounds of oppression filled the entire projection, there was another sound that filled it just as clearly.

Thump, thump

It was the sound of footsteps.

Compared to the massive body of the Red Dragon covering the ashen royal castle, they were merely the footsteps of an incredibly small being, but…

Thump, thump

The heavily placed footsteps grew in volume even through the projection.

They seemed to have clearly reached the ears of the Red Dragon, who stood erect in the middle of the royal castle, searching for a sacrificial lamb.

“Grrrrrr!!”

A low growl filled with killing intent, comparable to a hunting dog growling at prey right before its eyes, echoed emptily through the ancient kingdom whose name wasn’t even passed down.

“Kuuuu!!”

Eventually, from the Red Dragon’s mouth came a low growl clearly intended as a threat, and…

“Hwararuk!!”

The first step was taken to implement the most certain method to eliminate the source of the footsteps.

Namely, gathering flames at his mouth—flames that had turned the kingdom’s capital, larger than his own body area, into ashes.

It seemed excessively violent just to eradicate the small footsteps of a being incomparably smaller than himself, but…

“After holding back so long, I finally couldn’t resist and fired then.”

Bitter reflections emerged from Fafnir’s mouth as he watched the projection objectively showing the situation at that time.

As someone who had directly experienced it.

“…The destructive instinct I had suppressed triggered like a bursting dam the moment I sensed a presence.”

The point is this:

Even when he turned the capital of a kingdom with an unimaginable population into ashes…

Thanks to controlling his rampage against the malice using his body as a host for destructive activity, he miraculously reduced the number of casualties.

The Red Dragon, who had steadfastly endured while accepting the resentment, anger, sorrow, and resignation of those who left their ashen homeland, had his thread of reason that he had maintained until the end…

Thump, thump

Cut off the moment he felt a presence approaching him so boldly, accompanied by the footsteps still audible in the projection.

KOOOOOOOOOOH!!!!

With a roar that seemed about to burst toward the source of the footsteps.

“The real climax now.”

Signs of an intense battle were forming on Fafnir’s retinas as he watched the projection with a serious expression, relieving his boredom while seated on the throne.

Hwararuk

The battle began with crimson flames—flames that had turned the kingdom’s capital to ashes with a single action—forming at the Red Dragon’s mouth.

The crimson flames seemed capable of melting anything nearby even without direct contact due to their heat.

Yet the dragon’s mouth containing these flames with overwhelming heat seemed completely unaffected.

A melancholic expression crossed Fafnir’s face as he watched this scene from his throne.

His expression was half longing for his old body that he could never regain again, and half regret for the destructive acts carried out due to his inability to properly control it.

What kind of evaluation would come from his mouth regarding his former body?

“Good times, good body.”

It was more nostalgic for that era than expected.

No matter how it was used for wrongdoing and caused irreversible consequences…

The words “good body” from Fafnir’s mouth showed that he at least didn’t deny the fact that the power he possessed in that era was tremendous.

But his moment of longing for his power was brief.

“…So what?”

The self-mocking words that immediately followed from Fafnir’s mouth contained more self-deprecation and mockery than his longing for his power.

For someone who clearly knew what would happen next…

He didn’t seem to view his past self’s current actions entirely favorably.

Anyway, as Fafnir’s brief assessment of his body continued…

The flames gathered at the Red Dragon’s mouth eventually took the form of a sphere.

“Gaamhii!! Who dares to set foot on this land I’ve cleared out!!”

The Red Dragon issued a savage warning in the direction of the approaching footsteps he heard.

“Die!!”

Then immediately released the flames held in his mouth.

“At that time, I was nothing but a fire-breathing lizard who didn’t know my place.”

As the flames were spewed forth, words of deep self-mockery emerged from Fafnir’s mouth as he watched the projection.

Fafnir, who seemed to grasp what would happen next as if it were within reach, straightened his back against the throne and focused on the projection.

What was Fafnir waiting for?

In his eyes was etched the scene of the Red Dragon shooting the crimson fireball he had gathered in his mouth toward the source of the footsteps.

The flames, formed with enough intensity to burn the world, flew at a fierce speed toward their target.

Soon, the flames from his mouth would incinerate everything in their path without leaving even ashes…

Slash!!

…but instead were split in two as if cut by something sharp.

The fireball disappeared like smoke, failing to accomplish its mission of burning the world.

“…”

The projection showed the Red Dragon hesitating upon seeing his finishing blow fail.

“…Time for the protagonist to make an entrance.”

Words filled with welcome and nostalgia came from Fafnir’s mouth as he focused on the projection.

Thump, thump

The owner of the footsteps that had aroused curiosity all along…

The person responsible for splitting the fireball created by the fierce Red Dragon…

“…Hey.”

Made a brief, thunderous sound that was incredibly beautiful yet strangely unbalanced with its fierceness, glaring at the Red Dragon.

The projection finally began to properly show the owner of the voice.

It was a moment when the projection, which had mainly focused on the Red Dragon and given little attention to anything else, finally centered on something other than the dragon.

The owner of the voice revealed in the projection was a woman.

With silver hair naturally flowing in the cold northern wind that wouldn’t easily subside even with the heat emitted by the Red Dragon…

She was undoubtedly beautiful by anyone’s standards, but…

“Was it you? The lizard worse than a bastard who turned a country into chaos out of rage over stolen treasure from your nest?”

“Pfft!”

Her rough speech, which momentarily made Fafnir watching the projection burst into laughter, was no less impressive than her beauty.

Though his expression was distorted hearing the insult directed at him after a long time…

“…It’s been a while.”

From the mouth of Fafnir watching the projection came words of welcome for the protagonist in the image.

Despite her hurling savage insults full of hostility and anger toward his past self…

His voice clearly contained the welcome and familiarity one would show to a long-unseen friend.

Who could she be to evoke such emotion from a high dragon who would look down even on twisted divine beings like evil gods?

“…Lumen.”

The woman’s name immediately came from Fafnir’s mouth as he watched the projection, easily revealing her identity.

Lumen.

A legendary figure known to all humans who hear the name—the epitome of heroism for those living in this land today.

That was the identity of the person reflected in the projection.