Ch.260Hall of the Gods (3)

Beastkin are a race with diverse appearances.

Aside from being based on animals, they were so varied that distinguishing between them was almost meaningless.

Because of this, they were often indistinguishable from their ancestors, the Shapeshifters.

That’s why Shapeshifters could infiltrate human society as Beastkin for long periods, spying undetected.

If their identity was discovered, they could simply transform into a fluffy, animal-like Beastkin and escape, or vice versa.

Given this, when Llewellyn heard the term “Beastkin,” he simultaneously pictured various forms.

There were Beastkin who looked like animals walking on two legs, while others, like Melody, had traits so subtle that their Beastkin nature was barely noticeable.

It could truly be said that Beastkin were as diverse as the number of people.

‘…No, that might be an exaggeration.’

Regardless, that’s how Llewellyn perceived it. And since Llewellyn was both a god and a king, he wondered if things became reality simply because he thought them.

‘Is that too tyrannical? That doesn’t seem right.’

Quickly abandoning that train of thought, Llewellyn looked at the lizard before him.

‘Oh, that person is…’

‘It’s a lizard we picked up.’

‘A lizard?’

‘They also call her the Dragon King.’

‘Dragon King?!’

As the flustered inquisitor retreated, saying he would call someone, Llewellyn took the lizard and the Elven abbot to a suitable place and laid them down.

It was the cabin he had used when he had hidden his identity as Lucilla’s brother during their meeting, though she seemed to have suspected it anyway.

Now it was a building that hadn’t been used for quite some time, since Lucilla was using Llewellyn’s room in the nest.

There, Llewellyn faced the Dragon King.

The Dragon King looked exactly like a dragonkin from the game.

Red scales with a plump, thick tail.

A long snout and a body covered in scales.

Yet there was a subtly feminine curve to her form that was striking.

That’s how he could tell she was female. If not for that, it would have been difficult to distinguish.

All dragonkin were like that.

While lizard beastkin were often humans with lizard-like traits, dragonkin all tended to look like this.

Dragons without wings, walking on two legs.

Llewellyn remembered there had been a “waifu-fication” mode for dragonkin in the game, similar to the Melody romance mode.

It made sense.

‘In terms of performance, they overwhelm most other races.’

That had been Llewellyn’s experience in his first playthrough of Grim Darker. The dragonkin he had chosen after much deliberation, wanting a powerful race, was truly formidable.

Though they didn’t pair well with Mourners, and he rarely used them after completing his build with the overwhelmingly powerful Homunculus Mourner.

Still, he knew well the power of dragonkin.

Scales that functioned as powerful armor and physical abilities far exceeding those of other races.

Claws, fangs, and tail that counted as “natural weapons” even without actual weapons.

Regenerative abilities and overflowing magical power.

It was no wonder they were considered the lords of the North in the setting.

And now, Llewellyn was facing the woman hailed as the supreme Dragon King, the mightiest among the northern lords.

‘…This is the mightiest?’

She had arrived even later than Scorching Light, who had a terrible sense of direction and had been misdirected multiple times.

She hadn’t even made it properly. She had only vaguely found her way after sensing Llewellyn’s presence.

She had been buried in snow in the forest just before reaching her destination. If Llewellyn hadn’t gone looking for her…

The outcome was obvious.

She must have tried to walk blindly and ended up like this. Llewellyn rested his chin on his hand, contemplating.

Beside him was a handsome elf man who reminded him of Eshatherna.

He was the elven martial artist known as the abbot. A character who appeared briefly in the story.

He didn’t have many lines, and there wasn’t much information about his behavior.

But Llewellyn knew a few things.

He was traveling with the Dragon King, and while he had some connection to Eshatherna, his personality was the opposite.

It wasn’t unusual for Eshatherna to want to kill someone, but it was rare for him to openly ask permission to do so.

Llewellyn was wondering what story might be intertwined between Eshatherna and the abbot when…

“…Time to wake up now.”

He spoke gently to the Dragon King.

“…How long have you known I was awake?”

The Dragon King rose as if she had been waiting for this. Her eyes flashed with a bright yellow light reminiscent of Orthemilia, though the atmosphere was different.

While the necromancer’s eyes gave off a gloomy or sinister feeling, the Dragon King’s eyes seemed to pulse with vibrant life.

So this was the pinnacle of dragonkin, their ruler.

Even as Llewellyn recalled this fact, he remembered how pathetically she had been sprawled in the snowy forest and his expression hardened.

A clearly disappointed expression, cold as ice. He wondered if she, being a dragonkin, might not be able to read human expressions, but the Dragon King flinched at his look.

“I figured you were conscious since you were brought here.”

More precisely, he thought she was pretending to be unconscious out of embarrassment.

At least, that’s what Llewellyn would have done. He couldn’t know if the Dragon King was similar, but fortunately, he was relieved to discover she wasn’t the type to forget all dignity and make a spectacle of herself.

“That one still seems to be sleeping.”

More accurately, the Dragon King’s regenerative abilities and physical prowess far surpassed those of elves.

Unlike the elf who had yet to regain consciousness, the Dragon King had completed her recovery with just a brief rest and some warmth.

It was a truly remarkable level of regeneration. If not for her unmistakable appearance, he might have wondered if she was a Homunculus.

But that wasn’t possible. Most Homunculus experiments had failed, and as the saying goes about unexpected visitors, they had met their end at the hands of powerful beings from the old continent.

The Dragon King was a pure dragonkin. Llewellyn was certain as he met her eyes.

“So let’s talk, just the two of us. I haven’t called anyone else.”

Many had wanted to accompany him. Even Melody, despite looking tired, had offered to help with the interrogation.

But Llewellyn had rejected all such offers and was here alone.

Even though he didn’t have much to say to the Dragon King.

“Did you come looking for me?”

Llewellyn thought the Dragon King would have much to say.

“Before that, I want to confirm something.”

The Dragon King, still sitting on the bed, gazed at Llewellyn with her vertical slit pupils.

She had somehow placed Llewellyn’s hand on her palm.

Thanks to his enhanced senses and divinity, Llewellyn rarely lost the initiative. He stiffened in surprise, and the Dragon King observed him carefully as she examined his hand.

Fingers, nails, the contours of bones connecting the finger joints, and the shape of his fist.

As her scaled fingers gently brushed over the bones between his fingers and hand, the part often called the knuckles, her scales cracked with a sharp sound.

“You’ve touched Dragon Slayer.”

Dragon Slayer, an evolution of Dragon Dropper.

It was a technique that didn’t exist in the game. But it was something he had instinctively acquired through the talent acquisition system.

There was no possibility that this technique was Llewellyn’s original creation. Llewellyn knew himself well and knew his talent wasn’t at the level to create a technique from scratch.

This was an already existing technique. He had vaguely known that.

“You can tell by looking at that?”

“It’s my technique.”

That was true. Llewellyn fell silent, and the Dragon King fiddled with her cracked scales, letting out a hollow laugh.

It was embarrassing. A technique she had spent nearly 200 years developing and creating had been taken and mastered so skillfully.

But because of that, there was something she had to say. The Dragon King didn’t want her martial art to be misused or to cause tragedy.

Wasn’t that why she had secluded herself for so long?

Why she had abdicated her position as Dragon King, passed it on, and wandered?

She opened her mouth for her purpose.

“I won’t blame you for taking and using it as you please. But I have one request.”

“A request?”

“Avoid the necromancers. Don’t join hands with them.”

“Huh?”

And his dumbfounded response was matched by an equally dumbfounded expression.

“That’s… uh, I don’t know what to say.”

The Dragon King stared blankly, unable to grasp the situation, and Llewellyn struggled with what to say when…

“Did you call for me? The guard was babbling something about picking up a lizard or dragonkin and insisted I come right away…”

Suddenly the door burst open, and the person who entered froze.

Smooth green hair flowing down, with a pair of black horns on top of her head.

Yellow eyes that illuminated the space, with a single vertical line etched in them.

They trembled slightly as they beheld the figure in the darkness. Her mouth opened slightly.

“Dragon King…?”

The message hadn’t been properly conveyed. Llewellyn and the Dragon King moved simultaneously.

Arms and legs moving smoothly in exactly the same posture.

But there was a difference. The tail.

The moment Llewellyn’s eyes turned to the tail, the Dragon King used it as an axis to push off the floor violently, accelerating.

Her aim was to sever the neck with a front kick.

A fatal weakness that would be deadly even for an immortal race.

As the floorboards cracked with a loud sound, Llewellyn slightly twisted his body and shifted his weight to his right foot, which he had pulled back slightly.

He used an explosive leap. But he changed direction to go backward.

Llewellyn’s gray eyes shone clearly even through the floating dust and scattered sawdust, reading the Dragon King’s movements. She was moving, accelerating with a simultaneous leap using her tail and legs.

Llewellyn knew immediately that he couldn’t simply block it. It was an unstoppable attack. A strike designed to cut and split scales, something Llewellyn could also do.

To block it, he needed to catch it at an equal speed. But the direction had to be opposite. Llewellyn grasped all this through instantaneous judgment, with senses enhanced by Netel, and put it into action.

Dragon Slayer met Dragon Slayer.

And Orthemilia saw the wall beside her explode as if bursting, and the entangled figures sliding past each other at tremendous speed.

An incredible speed that couldn’t be captured even by the superhuman senses of a necromancer. The velocity, too fast even for the user and the receiver to read, naturally raised a thick cloud of dust.

But it didn’t last long. The dust was blown away by the storm of air rushing back into the momentary vacuum. It was like a compressed storm had been unleashed.

There, Llewellyn and the Dragon King were entangled.

Llewellyn had caught the Dragon King’s extended fist with his right hand, while his left elbow was aimed at her throat.

Meanwhile, the Dragon King hadn’t hesitated despite having her fist caught. Her knee was pressed against Llewellyn’s waist.

As if she had positioned a sharp guillotine at his waist, ready to sever it if she added more force.

A standoff where each could strike the other’s neck or break the other’s waist if they wished.

But they didn’t. It was a display of skill possible only because they both knew each other’s techniques well.

Despite this display of skill, the Dragon King glared at Llewellyn with fiercely glowing yellow eyes.

As if waiting to hear what would come out of his mouth.

Under the Dragon King’s pressure, Llewellyn opened his mouth and…

“Isn’t it really pathetic to attack someone who just saved you without even listening?”

He sassed her without thinking.

The Dragon King’s expression naturally crumpled.