Ch.269Dragon (6)

As the approaching undead hesitated and their offensive weakened, creating a moment to catch their breath.

The Blood Knights quietly withdrew their weapons and extracted whatever blood they could harvest from what the undead had spilled, storing it away.

The droplets of blood that flew upward in a reverse flow to surround the Blood Knights’ armor created a sight that felt more beautiful than ominous.

But not to the Inquisitors. They were uncomfortable witnessing such a scene.

Could they truly unite and join hands with those who viewed life merely as livestock?

Impossible.

Yet they couldn’t simply abandon this pantheon on a whim. People lived here, and everywhere else on the continent was equally dangerous.

In fact, this pantheon was remarkably safe despite the lurking predators.

Inquisitors with families chose to stay for their loved ones, while those who had joined with a mission remained for their duty.

Even those who had entered seeking simple revenge made similar choices. To exact revenge, one must understand their target, and the best place to understand a group is at its center.

So the gazes directed at the Blood Knights varied—wariness, faint fear, hatred, and more.

Most shared the common thread of negative emotions. The Blood Knights absorbed all of this with their backs turned as they raised their heads.

The Inquisitors followed their gaze upward. Something was in the sky—neither the completely crushed remains of the Tarasque nor the Cradle that was beginning to rise again.

It shuddered roughly in midair. The decomposition gases from corpses dissolved into the air, and they stared blankly at the enormous shadow looming above.

“…A dragon.”

Someone murmured. Indeed, it was a dragon.

A massive dragon approaching, shedding its membrane, spraying decay and the stench of death.

This dragon, with bones and rotting flesh attached in places, clearly possessed abnormal proportions by anyone’s standards.

The bones forming its body seemed less like its own and more like those plundered from other beings.

Bones, flesh, scales, and membrane—all appeared to be the spoils of plunder.

As faces contorted in shock, the sound of something charging beneath the shadow of that membrane reached their ears.

“Oh no, they’re coming! They’re coming! Regroup!”

The Inquisitors were an experienced unit, trained and instructed by Melody and Guardian Lucilla.

They could handle unexpected situations with ease.

But not this time.

The number of forces swarming along the exposed flesh of the collapsed forest was extraordinary. A vast number that seemed to fill the horizon. A number that made even the Blood Knights grip their weapons tighter with subtle vigilance.

It was enough to encompass the entire pantheon and more. A sudden intuition told them that even if they maintained their defensive line, they would be surrounded and finished.

Extremely dangerous. Would it be better to retreat now and rely on the pantheon’s special properties for a siege defense?

As the Inquisitors exchanged glances with this thought in mind.

The Blood Knights slowly lowered their heads, sensing a sudden presence.

“Do not act rashly.”

A casual warning. The Inquisitors frowned slightly, but the Blood Knights tilted their weapons to the side as if nothing were amiss.

Just as one might think they had lost their sight to blind loyalty.

They quietly withdrew and stepped aside.

A path suddenly opened—a massive corridor that enemies could easily exploit.

The Inquisitors were shocked. Suspecting betrayal was only natural.

But before they could speak or step forward, one of the Blood Knights spoke. It was the one who had repeatedly relayed orders on behalf of others.

“The King has come to lead personally.”

“…King?”

The Inquisitors froze as something brushed past them.

Their cloaks and mantles fluttered from the speed. Their dazed gaze caught two crimson figures.

Two people sprinting precisely along the path the Blood Knights had opened. With accumulated acceleration and explosive leaping power, the Blood Knights moved in unison to create a platform.

WHOOSH!

A sudden blood-made launching pad. Something reminiscent of motorcycle stunts that a modern person like Llewellyn might perform. The two figures ran and leaped over it simultaneously.

CRASH!

The impact scattered blood crystals. Cloaks and mantles fluttered again, and the wooden floor beneath shattered and splintered.

The two figures leaped through the scattered death all around.

They soared through the sky using martial arts created to hunt dragons. Though their forms differed greatly, the result was similar.

They approached the dragon. The distance closed rapidly. The overwhelming size became more daunting as they drew closer.

Yet they continued to approach. The distance gradually shrank to within arm’s reach.

As the Blood Knights on the ground offered a sword salute and the Inquisitors stared blankly upward.

Llewellyn and the Dragon King crossed the sky toward their enemy.

SWOOSH!

The sound of wind splitting. Perhaps because they had repeatedly created footholds with anti-magic power and used them for explosive leaps.

Llewellyn was reaching the point where he could barely control his own speed.

He was beginning to doubt whether he could properly attack at this rate. But slowing down wasn’t even a consideration.

To catch up with the Dragon King and bring down the dragon, this much was necessary.

With that thought, Llewellyn stepped on another foothold created with anti-magic power and leaped again.

BOOM, a shockwave resonated in midair as his body soared higher.

The repeated leaps using “Running the Sky” from dragon-slaying techniques were taking Llewellyn ever higher.

Yet the dragon must have been so high that it barely seemed to get closer. Its body was incomparably larger than when Llewellyn had fought it before.

Nevertheless, Llewellyn shaped his hand not holding the star cluster into a dragon’s claw.

Just like the Dragon King beside him, who was repeatedly jumping upward using her tail, legs, and magical power as footholds.

‘Creating footholds with magical power.’

It was acrobatics of an unimaginable level. Creating footholds with magic in a world made of magic was similar in difficulty to solidifying water while underwater.

Generally impossible, in other words. But the Dragon King was managing it.

She was forcibly accomplishing this through the overwhelming magical output and volume from her powerful dragon heart.

Rather than convenient means like anti-magic power, this was the result of seeking the best method within her available means.

Knowing she was acquainted with Valterok, Llewellyn understood this was her choice and focus.

A woman who fought solely to kill dragons and preserve her species.

One who had sought methods for a long time, only to recently learn it was all in vain.

What was the Dragon King thinking now? Llewellyn pondered briefly, but had no time for extended contemplation.

The enemy was before them. As they gradually approached, the dragon’s head slowly tilted.

The “fake head” made of rotting flesh, bones, broken scales, and deformed flesh pointed toward Llewellyn and the Dragon King.

He sensed an enormous power coiling in its mouth.

“Dragon King—!”

Whether his shout was heard remained uncertain. But as soon as he called out, Llewellyn changed the direction of his anti-magic foothold.

Instead of making it parallel to the ground for vertical ascent, he tilted it.

The moment he stepped on the slanted foothold, Llewellyn inhaled.

[Explosive Leap]

The foothold shattered, and Llewellyn and the Dragon King accelerated in different directions. Simultaneously, concentrated death descended from the dragon’s mouth toward the ground.

Death falling without sound or form. Like colorless, odorless poison.

But its effect was certain.

Llewellyn felt his legs break and regenerate from the sudden change in acceleration, and he sensed the anti-magic power that had scattered from his quickly created and destroyed footholds completely vanish.

It was neither life nor death, nor the elemental powers dispensed by stars or other transcendents. It was a force of pure negation. Llewellyn flipped in midair, somersaulting before creating and stepping on another foothold.

CRACK, CRACKKKK!

His legs broke again from the sudden stop. The rising pain naturally activated Mourning. Llewellyn exhaled as he saw “Time Remaining” appear in the corner of his vision.

The dragon had attempted to intercept them. Despite approaching the pantheon so majestically, it tried to intercept when the Dragon King and Llewellyn drew near.

That suggested, in other words, that their attacks could be effective. Llewellyn curled his lips upward and formed another anti-magic foothold behind the crumbling one.

CRACK, another foothold shattered. The acceleration still remained in his body.

Creating, breaking. While braking through countless footholds, the dragon that was once Nerilmaeus was again pointing its maw at Llewellyn.

Pure chaos swirled inside that mouth. The endless, worthless, disordered chaos that filled the world before creation.

Even Llewellyn would die if touched by it. Sensing the lurking transcendent’s presence, Llewellyn shifted his gaze.

He spotted the Dragon King, now distant enough to appear as a red dot.

The continent’s greatest martial artist had reached the dragon’s vicinity.

The dragon noticed her approach far too late, as she had suppressed her magical power to hide within Llewellyn’s presence.

The dragon’s maw turned. But its massive body moved slowly, and this was no exception even for a transcendent defying natural laws.

Just because the being that granted her power was a transcendent didn’t make Nerilmaeus one. As its head turned.

The Dragon King, who had reached the dragon’s flank, used her tail as a pivot and extended her foot toward the massive membrane-covered wing.

RIPPPP!

Her kick was sharp. Like the dragon’s foreleg, it easily tore through membrane, crushed bone, and ripped through flesh.

Heat emanated from her body. A technique that reminded Llewellyn of his sister’s transformation. High temperature burning flesh and melting muscle.

The Dragon King planted her foot deeply into the gap created by the melting and accelerated in the opposite direction of the passing dragon.

Inhaling sharply, her body rotated. Following a brilliant red trajectory, her kick tore through the wing.

SLASH!

The dragon’s wing was completely torn off by the Dragon King’s kick.

The dragon’s massive body tilted. The wingless side began to rotate. As it tried to surge forward with its momentum.

BOOM, CRASH!

The Cradle, which had diagonally shot upward, pushed and flipped it.

Like an enormous bullet, the black tower pushed the dragon while the Dragon King delivered a kick and plunged downward.

Through the decay fluid spraying everywhere, Llewellyn accelerated with the star cluster in hand.

The falling dragon gradually approached. Yet with one wing remaining, the massive body tried to stabilize itself.

A monster without intelligence. Llewellyn believed he could defeat it.

He gripped the star cluster with both hands.

Ignoring the words “Explosive Leap” frantically appearing in the corner of his vision, he accelerated rapidly.

As the world stretched and twisted like a long cylinder, making it impossible to maintain balance at such tremendous speed.

Llewellyn swung the star cluster.

And those on the ground witnessed it.

The sight of blue starlight severing the falling dragon’s remaining wing.

Finally, the wingless dragon plummeted.