Ch.266Dragon (3)

Nerilmaeus. Llewellyn had definitely killed that dragon that day.

And it wasn’t just a simple kill. He had killed it with what was then called “mortality.”

Ironically, though he had borrowed a name deeply connected to the downfall of dragons, it was actually divine power.

With divine power, he denied immortality and delivered true death to the necromancer. No matter how much it was an immortal being where death did not exist, it had no choice but to die.

[Mourning Dragon, Nerilmaeus]

Yet now the status window was telling him that it was alive. Impossible as it seemed.

Was it truly impossible? That was debatable. Beyond this world, creatures that defied common sense swarmed everywhere.

In reality, in terms of difficulty, it seemed far harder to grab the sky and pull it down, to turn approaching day back into night.

Even if reviving a life was against the natural order.

It wasn’t impossible. The enemy could easily accomplish the impossible—true monsters. Enemies with whom there was no possibility of winning in direct combat, enemies one could only hope to drive away.

They knew.

“…Did you say Nerilmaeus?”

The Prophet was rarely shocked. Llewellyn nodded and sketched the being with the sensation he could still feel.

There were other enemies around it too. But the most powerful presence was Nerilmaeus.

The dragon who died twice, the Mourning Dragon.

Llewellyn nodded, recalling the shock he had felt when he first met her.

“Nerilmaeus, you…”

“I killed her. Definitely.”

“Are you saying you didn’t finish the job properly?”

“No, that’s not it. I certainly… denied her immortality with divine power and returned her to mortality.”

He had given her the death she had been avoiding and killed her for certain. So she couldn’t possibly come back to life.

Yet the power of transcendent beings made even such impossibilities possible.

That’s why Llewellyn explained simply.

“They’re the kind who overturn logic and remake the heavens. It’s exhausting to question every detail.”

“…You have a point.”

The Prophet accepted Llewellyn’s words.

“Is she coming alone?”

“No.”

“As expected.”

When Llewellyn rolled his eyes, the Prophet said with a grim expression:

“Nerilmaeus is also one of their kind. If I were to deal with her… she would bring all the death she encounters on her way here.”

That certainly seemed reasonable. Though he wasn’t sure how reasonable transcendent beings could be, Llewellyn preferred to use whatever resources came his way.

If it were him, he would have deployed an army of corpses along with whatever other means at his disposal. Llewellyn hurriedly walked out of the fortress of the Three Clans.

“Sejin, what should your sister do?”

“It would be best for you to make your own judgment. Whatever I might think of, it can’t match your experience.”

“Will that be enough?”

“I believe in you, sis.”

“…Ah.”

Yoon Se-ah clenched her fist, determined to live up to her brother’s trust, and Llewellyn turned his gaze from his sister to the two who were quietly following behind him.

Two half-dragons.

The world’s strongest martial artist who was half-dragon, half-human, and the eccentric who, despite knowing he wasn’t a dragon, had accumulated knowledge in his quest to become one.

The Dragon King and Orthemilia. They were in similar situations. Knowing this about each other, the Dragon King had readily agreed to Orthemilia’s proposal to talk.

Llewellyn first made eye contact with Orthemilia, and after a moment’s hesitation, she said:

“I’m sorry I can’t be of much help.”

Her voice was unexpectedly uncertain.

An unusual demeanor for her. Llewellyn’s eyes widened briefly before he shook his head.

“No, you’ve already been plenty of help. Your research achievements, everything you’ve created or planned has helped me get to where I am now.”

“…Thank you for saying so, even if it’s just empty words.”

“It’s not empty at all. I really am grateful, Mom.”

“Hmph, there you go again with those insincere words.”

Orthemilia seemed pleased at being called “Mom,” subtly raising the corners of her mouth, while Lucilla stared at her with empty eyes for a moment before snapping back to attention at her brother’s gaze.

“…Hmm.”

The Prophet seemed bothered by their relationship but, knowing this wasn’t the time, quietly held his tongue.

It could wait until after the battle. If there was anything to worry about, it was…

“Dragon King.”

“Yes?”

“There’s going to be a battle soon. There will probably be dragons.”

“Are you asking for my help?”

The yellow dragon’s eyes turned toward Llewellyn, and Llewellyn nodded.

“Help me. Then I’ll help you.”

“…Can you do what even that necromancer says is impossible?”

“I believe I can.”

At this confident declaration, a strange light flickered in the Dragon King’s eyes, and the Prophet, leader of the necromancers, briefly showed displeasure.

But it was true. Llewellyn had means that the necromancers didn’t.

Not only that, Llewellyn had no hesitation in accepting help from others.

People don’t live alone. He recalled something he’d once heard in a Chinese character class—that because we cannot live alone, we lean on each other.

Though his way of leaning might be a bit acrobatic, Llewellyn walked on, thinking that leaning on others, even in such ways, was better than nothing.

He descended the stairs along the upper part of the connected nest, passed through the strangely deserted lower section, and headed toward the Temple of All Gods. Not a single person was visible on the way.

Although only Llewellyn could sense the approaching presence, people had other means of detection besides sensing auras.

When Llewellyn reached the Temple of All Gods, sure enough, people were already making preparations.

“Ah, Llewellyn! You’re here at last!”

The energetic Lorian called out, with an elf standing beside her.

“Dragon King!”

“Fairy.”

“Have you been well? And beside you is… no, no. More importantly… well, just now, Eshatherna—”

“I know. I heard your kin works here. She once asked me to fight, which I politely declined.”

“Ah… I apologize.”

The one who smiled awkwardly was a typical elf.

Long hair and knife-like long ears. Crimson eyes reminiscent of Eshatherna and golden hair.

An impressive, androgynous-looking handsome man with a tall stature.

The head of the Elven Monastery and the spiritual leader of the elves.

And someone who was like a father to Eshatherna. Given the complex and strange structure of elven society, they couldn’t be called father and daughter in the straightforward sense.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Llewellyn.”

Llewellyn approached him and greeted him, and he smiled and shook hands.

It was a firm, good hand. A fist that felt like it had been forged through years of honest training.

If one were to remove the killing intent from Eshatherna and train her to the level of a sword saint, would it feel like this? While thinking this, Llewellyn turned his gaze to Lorian standing beside him.

“The enemy is coming.”

“Numbers, deployment, distance?”

“All unknown. But given that both the War School mages and Melody personally explained that ‘something is coming,’ I consider it highly credible. What shall we do?”

“Prepare to respond. Let’s go with the plan we set up in advance. Tell me the detailed deployment as we go.”

Lorian nodded and led Llewellyn, wearing what appeared to be a newly fitted red dress.

It was less revealing than before, giving a very different impression, which Llewellyn personally preferred.

But he couldn’t very well touch her bottom over that dress with everyone watching. Llewellyn walked beside Lorian, feeling his sister’s subtle gaze.

“We’ve positioned Inquisitors skilled in responding to ‘anomalous situations’ at the front, alternating with Blood Knights. We have a wide range of flexible tactics to respond to various situations.”

“The Court White’s opinion?”

“It’s a strategy agreed upon by the Court White, Melody, and Valterok.”

“And the Black Knights?”

“The Black Knights are watching for possible aerial forces and are hovering above the Temple of All Gods for reconnaissance. But they’re on standby for deployment at their own discretion…”

“No, cancel the standby. Tell them to focus entirely on aerial forces.”

“Understood. I’ll relay that as soon as we reach the battlefield.”

In reality, there wasn’t much Llewellyn could do. His abilities weren’t even square-shaped, let alone hexagonal.

But Llewellyn trusted the capable people around him. He believed that in any situation, if he wasn’t alone, he could respond effectively.

And that would likely be true. Knowing this, Lorian belatedly looked at those behind Llewellyn.

“What about them?”

“My sister will be my guard. The Dragon King will accompany me, and Orthemilia… I’d like her to observe from a position not too far from the front. Her analytical thinking could be helpful.”

“Hmm, hmm. I understand. And the elf?”

“I’m not sure. What would be best?”

“If he’s mastered orthodox fighting techniques and honed them to the extreme, it would be better for him to position himself behind the Blood Knights’ formation, alongside the shapeshifters.”

“Then let’s do that.”

Lorian nodded, and Llewellyn looked at the approaching front.

They were heading toward the eastern side of the Temple of All Gods.

Wooden stakes had been hastily planted, seemingly to prepare for a charge, and overhead, the massive shadow of the cradle darkened the sky.

The anxiety that comes from knowing something is coming but not knowing what it is.

There was none of that. Most of them were veteran warriors, and even those who weren’t could compensate for lack of experience with talent.

They were personnel too qualified to be under Llewellyn’s command.

‘That’s why I need to work hard.’

Llewellyn resolved as he approached them.

The Blood Knights saluted with their helmets on, and the Inquisitors each rattled their weapons or slightly lifted their face guards before lowering them in greeting.

Llewellyn acknowledged each of their greetings as he moved forward.

“Do you remember Nerilmaeus?”

“Neril…? Surely not?”

“Yes, that’s exactly it. There’s a high chance she’ll come from the air. Please inform the Defense School mages and tell the Blood Knights to prepare defensive measures.”

Lorian was an outstanding Blood Knight, one who had already made her resolution.

She was prepared to sacrifice even her life for her companion and lord. She stood here having cut away all uncertainties, guided only by her conviction.

So without questioning, she immediately relayed the orders to the Blood Knights.

With clear pronunciation, in a voice more pleasant to hear than before she became the first female Blood Knight long ago.

Lucilla looked at Lorian with a strange expression before approaching Llewellyn and linking arms with him.

There was weight pressing against his forearm, but Llewellyn had already infused himself with some fighting spirit and could endure it.

Rather, he smiled faintly at his sister. She pouted and grumbled.

“Hmph, no fun.”

No, not his sister but his lover. So Llewellyn spoke to her as one would to a lover.

“Seems like you want to be scolded again.”

“…”

Lucilla quietly blushed, and Orthemilia, who had been silently watching the two from behind, reached out and grabbed Llewellyn’s collar.

“Rte.”

“Don’t die.”

An unexpected statement. With Llewellyn’s forces, the possibility of death was almost non-existent.

But then again, one never knew. The enemy was a dragon resurrected through unprecedented means, a true necromancer who had overcome death in a new way.

Llewellyn smiled faintly as he sensed the gradually approaching presence.

“Of course.”

Orthemilia briefly stroked Llewellyn’s back before withdrawing, and Llewellyn took a deep breath, feeling the slight coolness left where Orthemilia had touched.

“Sejin.”

His sister’s voice, which had seemed about to coo and act cute, grew serious, and instead of answering, Llewellyn looked at the sky she was pointing to with her spear tip.

In the distance, the clouds were splitting.

Wingless wings stretched out, cutting through sky and earth. The clouds were torn randomly by the gusting wind and lay scattered like corpses, while the scent of death mixed with the gentle breeze filled his nostrils.

The smell of plague that made one’s insides churn. Under the dragon’s massive wings, in the shadows, countless beasts were writhing and running.

With broken legs, missing waists, or just heads, they rolled and ran relentlessly toward the Temple of All Gods.

Various forms defying death and boldly mocking it. Swallowing the thought that it looked like his “father’s” severely twisted wish, Llewellyn drew two lines in the air.

Pazzzzzz!

Immediately, a sword materialized, cutting through the air. A blade that separated falling night and day, standing alone between them.

Llewellyn grasped the star cluster behind his back as he faced the cosmic transformation.

“Prepare for battle.”

Only the sound of weapons being drawn answered his quiet command.