Ch.264Dragon (1)

Llewellyn had seen a necromancer only once.

But that one time had left a profound and deeply rooted impression.

Llewellyn still remembered that distorted face, the maniacal laughter, the rage. Of course, he was a Mourner.

That necromancer was the same.

The mourning dragon, Nerilmaeus.

A dragon who had left an impression Llewellyn could never forget.

The madness that consumed and devoured her, the overwhelming magical power, and the first taste of necromancy’s strength.

It was only natural that Llewellyn’s perception of “necromancers” had become distorted.

After all, until the Ortemilia incident, Nerilmaeus was the only necromancer he had ever seen.

But since that one encounter had taken such deep root, Llewellyn worried even after ordering the gathering of necromancers himself.

What if every necromancer he met turned out to be a raving lunatic? With such concerns in mind, when Llewellyn entered the desolate stronghold of the necromancers.

He realized that the first necromancer he had seen was an exceptionally deranged being.

Men and women with snow-white hair and white horns filled the barren space.

Their tails, the scattered scales on their faces, and their horns identified them as dragons and necromancers.

What caught Llewellyn’s attention was their reaction.

Unable to meet his gaze, they seemed to hold their breath whenever his eyes turned toward them, despite not needing to breathe. Their faces were filled with such tension that he thought they might faint in terror if he approached.

For a moment, he wondered if they were pretending to deceive him, but the thought was immediately followed by the conviction that they weren’t.

Probably an aspect of his intuition enhanced by divine power. Llewellyn tried not to stare too much at the necromancers.

Well, even if they were deceiving him, if they went to such lengths, he might as well play along. What else could he do?

Considering the situation, he thought they wouldn’t be deceiving him with malicious intent, so Llewellyn stopped.

It was clearly the only spot in the barren space where sunlight streamed in. He couldn’t tell if it was real sunlight, but it was pleasantly warm.

There, Llewellyn sensed the Dragon King approaching from behind.

Dignified stance but cautious, slow steps.

Llewellyn worried the Dragon King might lash out with reckless attacks, but nothing of the sort happened.

“As you commanded, I have summoned everyone.”

The Prophet spoke with a disagreeable expression, and Llewellyn considered smashing that face again before giving up the idea.

If that would make him listen, he would have done it long ago, and besides, it might be better to have someone who harbored animosity toward Llewellyn, challenging him and raising objections.

Llewellyn was wary of becoming arrogant and overconfident in his judgment. He wasn’t particularly brilliant to begin with, and he was convinced that once he went down that path, there would be no turning back.

And that was true. Llewellyn’s self-assessment was somewhat objective, as he claimed to be someone who knew his place and had a sense of propriety.

So Llewellyn tolerated the Prophet.

Exhaling a deep breath, Llewellyn glared at the Prophet.

“Do you know why I ordered you to gather?”

Divine power resonated in his voice. A deep, imposing tone that made even his sister, who was warily watching Ortemilia from behind, flinch, not to mention the necromancers.

The deeply infused charm was enough to enchant the three clans and more, but the Prophet hesitated and then deliberately regained his composure.

‘Befitting the head of the three clans.’

He might have thought it would be better to appoint someone more capable as the head if they were so easily charmed. Llewellyn, with his hands behind his back, nodded to the Dragon King.

The Dragon King stepped forward with a face that suppressed hatred.

“A dragonkin…?”

One of the necromancers murmured.

“Why is a dragonkin here…?”

“Because the King opened the way…”

“Are we supposed to get used to inferior species?”

They freely exchanged opinions as if this was normal.

Llewellyn listened quietly, then glanced at the Dragon King.

And then at Ortemilia standing behind her.

The reason for being here, for gathering the Prophet and all the necromancers to open a dialogue.

It was entirely because of Ortemilia.

Llewellyn met Ortemilia’s eyes, and after a moment’s hesitation, she smiled brightly.

It was a smile completely devoid of tension. Seeing such an expression before the kin she had so desperately wanted to meet, it seemed there was nothing to worry about.

So Llewellyn didn’t hesitate.

“This person is known as the Dragon King in the continent.”

The King of Dragons. At that grand expression, the necromancers all fell silent.

Subtle expressions of irritation and anger emerged. Far from being intimidated by the numerous gazes, the Dragon King’s anger intensified.

The sound of grinding teeth and clenched fists made it clear. Though uncertain how many of these necromancers were skilled in combat, it seemed the Dragon King alone could kill several of them in a proper fight.

But that couldn’t be allowed. With the world’s destruction imminent, it would be self-destructive.

Llewellyn lightly stomped his foot.

Ku-woong!

Ashen divine power spread with a long, resonating sound.

The necromancers fell silent again, and the Dragon King looked at Llewellyn.

Amidst the countless gazes, Llewellyn slowly opened his mouth.

“The Dragon King has come to discuss the future.”

The future. Such an ambiguous expression that no one could question or react to it. In the ensuing silence, Llewellyn looked at the Prophet.

Thinking that if he had something to hide, it would surely show.

But surprisingly, the Prophet remained impassive. That couldn’t be right.

Llewellyn assumed he was just good at hiding his expressions.

“To be precise, the future of the entire species.”

Despite the grand expression, the three clans seemed unimpressed.

It was only natural, as they consciously or unconsciously considered all species other than themselves to be inferior.

The few exceptions were the shapeshifters and blood clan among the three clans, and Llewellyn.

So Llewellyn spoke, meeting their gazes head-on.

“Although she has passed on the position of Dragon King to the next generation and set out on her journey, the world still regards her as the Dragon King. The dragon among dragonkin, the strongest fighter who has killed dragons by dropping them… an individual who could contend equally with the three clans.”

An unexpectedly unpleasant statement. But no one showed it.

Partly due to the charm, but also because they knew Llewellyn had dealt with the maddened dragon Nerilmaeus, who had been a long-standing problem.

A fear stemming from the fact that he had so easily handled Nerilmaeus, who had been the biggest troublemaker among their kin.

Llewellyn knew this. So he swallowed a bitter smile.

Necromancers fear death. They feared being caught by what they had so desperately avoided.

And yet such beings. Llewellyn suppressed his rising anger and said:

“The Dragon King has come seeking help. For the details… it’s better to hear directly.”

As Llewellyn glanced over, the Dragon King stepped forward.

“I am the Dragon King.”

Her opening statement offended the necromancers, but she didn’t fear the countless gazes.

Rather, she growled as if eagerly hoping they would attack.

“I am the king of the species you created and abandoned, a warrior fighting for them.”

“I heard you came to discuss the future.”

The Prophet’s impassive voice irritated her, and the Dragon King pressed her lips tightly.

She barely restrained herself from retorting, ‘Yes, I came to discuss your death as a future.’

Although she had impulsive tendencies, her purpose was right in front of her.

She might be able to solve it. She believed she might be able to preserve the future of her species and save countless lives.

That was the sole purpose of her journey. She believed the only person capable of this was the unrisen star.

Wasn’t that why she had crossed the sea and traversed the continent to get here? After a long hesitation, she finally nodded.

“…Yes, I came to discuss the future.”

It was unexpected for Llewellyn. He had been certain she would charge in anger, so he had secretly covered his arm with holy blood.

As Llewellyn withdrew the holy blood, the Dragon King glanced at him with faintly trembling pupils, then looked at Ortemilia.

Ortemilia’s explanation and many stories swirled in her mind, along with the memory that had prompted her entire journey.

The memory of when she first killed a dragon.

“I’ll get straight to the point. I’ve come to lift the curse you placed on the dragonkin.”

“…Curse?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know!”

The Dragon King finally lost her patience. She stomped so hard the ground cracked and pressed her tail firmly against the floor.

A posture ready to spring at any moment. Llewellyn narrowed his eyes and slightly shifted his stance, but the Dragon King didn’t notice.

“Hearts that once flowed with magic are overheating. Children die as soon as they’re born, and the elderly lose their minds, becoming beasts that devour their families! Blood boils, and even corpses melt away without leaving remains!”

“…What?”

“Are you still going to pretend? Did you think you could get away with feigning shock?! It’s the curse you placed on us!”

This was happening in the northern lands of the dragonkin.

Hearing this, Llewellyn felt it wasn’t his place to judge.

After all, he had never heard of such symptoms in the game. Llewellyn looked at the Prophet, wondering how he would respond.

“You’re saying we did this?”

“A dragon I killed told me. That a curse would befall us, and we wouldn’t be able to stop it! So…!”

“A curse… is it.”

He questioned once more, then showed a dejected expression through his shock.

Something that made the angry, confrontational Dragon King pause. As the Dragon King fell silent, the Prophet gave a faint bitter smile.

“I suppose it is a curse. Yes…”

The Dragon King clasped her hands behind her back and let out a hollow laugh. Llewellyn then realized it wasn’t just the Dragon King.

Most of the other necromancers wore similar expressions.

Like looking at someone struck by misfortune. Among those present, only Llewellyn guessed:

What if it wasn’t a curse?

What if it was the opposite? A blessing or… a rightful law?

Llewellyn thought of the intertwined life and death.

“What’s so funny? I—”

“First, let me correct one thing.”

The Prophet was no longer looking at her with the expression reserved for inferior species.

Rather, he was gazing at the Dragon King with a very lukewarm look.

An expression of great pity. Llewellyn was certain, while the Dragon King was perplexed.

“That curse was not placed by us. Rather… we created you to solve it.”

“…What?”

“But who would have thought that you, whom we considered failures, would be so perfect? It makes me sympathize.”

Words suggesting they too were experiencing it. While the Dragon King froze, the Prophet undid his robe to reveal his chest.

Where the robe of unknown material parted, the Prophet’s chest was completely hollow.

As if the place where his heart should be had been carved out.

The Dragon King’s gaze trembled faintly, and the man who had once been the Dragon King long ago said:

“That is the proof of your dragon nature… and the doom we had to face and avoid.”

Only then did the Dragon King understand.

The curse afflicting the dragonkin was the inherited mortality of dragons.