Episode 565
Rumble, rumble, rumble!
As Zeke ventured deeper into the valley, he heightened his senses, wary of the strange energy surrounding him.
“This energy…”
It clung to him, sticky and foreign.
It was the aura of an Outsider.
The deeper he went, the more the dragon’s presence faded, replaced by the Outsider’s energy. This only fueled Zeke’s curiosity about the true identity of the Red King, who had set such a trap.
“Could this be connected to Harvey West, who wielded the Outsider’s power? If not…”
Even with the Akashic Code, the true nature of the Outsider’s power remained elusive. Attempts to decipher it often resulted in corrupted karma data.
“Capturing the Red King might reveal the Outsider’s secrets.”
With his body shielded by Shadow Armor, Zeke pressed further into the valley.
Suddenly, something appeared before him.
“Zeke Draker.”
To his surprise, it was Don Juan, the boss of the McCain Cartel, whom Zeke had killed long ago.
Zeke immediately saw through the illusion, recognizing that this was not the real Don Juan, as his eyes were entirely black.
“So, it’s a mental trap, is it?”
A faint glow emanated from Zeke as he activated the power of the Third Eye.
Against the formidable mental prowess of the Blood King, such traps were rendered useless.
Zeke attempted to dispel the illusion of Don Juan with ease.
Yet, the image only wavered slightly before returning to its original form.
Zeke’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Not just a simple illusion?”
Don Juan dusted himself off and looked at Zeke.
“I felt it while observing your memories—you’re as impatient as ever.”
Zeke drew his sword, Levatein, and aimed it at Don Juan.
“So, you’re not just a figment of the Red King’s imagination. What are you?”
Don Juan nodded.
“You’re right. I’m not just an illusion. I’m certainly not the Don Juan you killed in your past life or this one.”
As the mysterious figure, disguised as Don Juan, spoke of reincarnation, Zeke’s killing intent intensified.
The figure raised a hand, gesturing for calm.
“Whoa, whoa, calm down, Zeke Draker. I didn’t go through all this trouble to fight.”
The figure, still in Don Juan’s guise, grinned and glanced around the valley.
“Do you know what this place is?”
Zeke remained silent, his guard up, exuding a menacing aura.
The figure, still in Don Juan’s form, shook his head as if resigned.
“This place was once called the Dragon’s Tomb. It was designed to lure dragons, neutralize their power, kill them, and steal their hearts.”
He gestured to himself.
“This form is a manifestation of your past fears, regrets, and resentments.”
Don Juan’s image faded, replaced by that of Arthur Draker.
“This form is no different. This valley exploits the gaps in one’s psyche to create these manifestations. The trap setters amplified this power to make the illusions more realistic, to strike at the dragons’ formidable minds.”
Zeke addressed the figure now resembling Arthur Draker.
“So, you’re just another illusion conjured by this damned trap.”
The figure chuckled, shaking his head.
“I admit, this valley’s unique power allows me to meet you face-to-face. But I’m not just an illusion.”
He continued, looking at Zeke.
“Do you know why I came to meet you personally?”
The figure spoke with a familiarity that unsettled Zeke, though the face of Arthur Draker only intensified his aversion.
Sensing this, the figure nodded understandingly.
“Does this face bother you? Very well, how about this?”
The figure’s appearance shifted again.
Zeke’s eyes wavered momentarily.
This time, the figure took on the form of Zeke’s mother, Laura Agamemnon.
The figure, now resembling Laura, smiled at Zeke.
“Ah, this form stirs you the most. Understandable. Do you know why even the mighty dragons, with their supreme powers, fell into this trap?”
The figure, in Laura’s guise, spoke with a playful smile.
“Dragons are inherently stoic creatures, akin to ancient trees that have lived for millennia. They changed by interacting with humans, learning emotions and expressions from them.”
He spoke slowly.
“Dragons of the past wouldn’t have fallen for such a childish trap. But they mingled with humans, even sharing their hearts to transcend their lifespan limits. Truly un-dragon-like behavior.”
Zeke asked the figure, “What are you trying to say?”
The figure, in Laura’s form, clapped with delight.
“Oh, you finally speak. What I’m saying is… even dragons, seeing the faces of their loved ones here, couldn’t resist the emotions and were drawn into the trap. Just like you are now.”
Zeke raised his sword, retorting, “I didn’t come here driven by such petty emotions.”
“Are you sure? Didn’t you think that if any dragons survived, you should save them?”
The figure knew exactly what Zeke had contemplated outside the valley.
“Could it be…?”
Zeke began to suspect the identity of the figure before him.
As Zeke’s eyes narrowed, Laura Agamemnon’s form gracefully bowed.
“Finally, I can properly introduce myself, Zeke Draker.”
The figure straightened and looked at Zeke.
“I’ve had many names: ‘The Self-Luminous One,’ ‘The Arrogant Savior,’ the Lord of Hell, the Adversary of Light, and countless others. But these are mere titles.”
The figure approached Zeke with a smile.
“Lucifer. That’s my true name.”
“This… this can’t be…”
Castro Pollock stood atop Jupiter’s walls, his mouth agape as he watched the allied forces regroup.
All his strategies, including monsters, beasts, and secret weapons, had been thwarted.
Thanks to the sturdy earthen walls Zeke had erected, the defense of the allied camp was stronger than ever.
Even if they fired again, the range could now be predicted and countered.
Castro clenched his fists, his body trembling with rage.
His lieutenant, observing Castro’s state, spoke up.
“Commander, please calm down. Despite the current situation, we still hold the advantage in this siege…”
“Argh!”
Unable to contain his fury, Castro let out a primal scream.
His eyes, gleaming with madness, burned red with uncontrollable anger.
He drew his sword, pointing it at the lieutenant.
“Advantage? Advantage, you say! Is that what you call this?”
Castro, having worsened the situation with his stubbornness, vented his frustration on the lieutenant who had always offered sound advice.
The lieutenant, well aware of Castro’s temperament, tried to calm him.
“While their morale may be high now, they’ve lost their supplies and food. Hungry soldiers and knights are hard to control. If we wait patiently, they’ll fall apart on their own.”
It was a rational and logical suggestion, but Castro was beyond reason.
He swung his sword at the lieutenant, shouting.
“How dare you try to teach me! I’m the commander! I’m the king here!”
A red aura blade erupted from Castro’s sword as he swung it at the lieutenant.
Caught off guard by the sudden attack, the lieutenant stepped back, quickly drawing his own sword to block.
Clang!
Skillfully deflecting Castro’s blow, the lieutenant retreated, but in his haste, he misstepped and fell from the wall.
Thud!
Watching the lieutenant fall, Castro’s frenzy intensified, his voice filled with madness.
“Kill them! Kill them all!”
At that moment, a shadowy figure appeared beside Castro.
A black mage, resembling a wax figure, whispered in Castro’s ear.
“The master desires blood. Open the gates and let the blood festival begin.”
Completely entranced by the black mage’s spell, Castro turned to his knights.
“Open the gates! Prepare the cavalry and mercenaries for battle!”
The knights, startled by Castro’s sudden command, hesitated until he brandished his sword again, prompting them to rush down.
Boom, boom, boom!
The sound of war drums echoed throughout Jupiter’s fortress, signaling the advance.
The mercenaries, caught off guard by the sudden order, scrambled to their feet.
“What the hell?”
“Are we really going out there?”
“Is he insane?”
Amidst the confusion, the leader of the Breaker Mercenaries appeared.
With bloodshot eyes and bulging veins, he addressed his men.
“Prepare your weapons and get ready to move out.”
The mercenaries sensed something was off with their leader.
“Captain? Are you alright? You don’t look so good…”
Swoosh!
Without a word, the mercenary captain swung his sword, decapitating the soldier who had dared to speak.
Blood spurted from the severed neck like a fountain.
With his face splattered in blood, the captain shouted to his men.
“The festival of blood! The festival of blood is about to begin!”
Following the captain’s lead, knights consumed by madness began to appear everywhere.
Transformed into bloodthirsty demons, they grabbed their weapons and prepared to lead the soldiers out.
Soon, the gates opened, and the legion’s standard-bearers and mercenaries charged out of Jupiter Castle, heading straight for the allied forces’ camp.
“Raaaargh!”
Screaming wildly, they ran like fanatical zealots lost to madness.
And at that moment, someone crouched low beneath the castle walls, watching the chaos unfold.
‘It’s over here too.’
This observer was none other than the lieutenant who had been assisting Castro Pollock.
Everyone thought Castro and his soldiers had fallen to their deaths from the wall, but in truth, they had faked it, seeking a chance to escape.
The lieutenant deftly removed his cloak and shaved his beard, altering his appearance.
His ability to do so came from his past as a member of the Empire’s elite 13th Division.
After the emperor’s death, agents from the Rom Empire’s intelligence core scattered, each seeking their own survival.
The lieutenant had drifted until he found a place in Castro Pollock’s legion, serving as his aide.
But as he watched Castro descend into madness, he waited for the right moment to flee.
When Castro’s frenzy created an opening, the lieutenant seized the chance to slip away from the castle.
With his appearance swiftly changed, he planned to leave Jupiter amidst the chaos and find refuge elsewhere.
‘Maybe I should head to the lawless zone. It’s rough, but with my skills, I could make a living there. Or perhaps join the thieves’ guild and find work as an experienced recruit.’
As he weighed his options, the lieutenant suddenly froze, sensing a chilling presence behind him.
A shadow had crept up, pressing a dagger to his throat.
‘I’ve been completely caught off guard.’
He realized that whoever had snuck up on him was a skilled operative like himself.
Any rash move could result in his immediate death.
Raising his hands, the lieutenant spoke quickly.
“I’m a deserter. I’ll tell you whatever you want, just spare me.”
After a tense silence, the person behind him finally spoke.
“It’s been a while, senior.”
The one holding the dagger to his throat was none other than Boris.