Camellia (2)
No words were necessary.
The moment the two dragons locked eyes, they instinctively knew that only one of them would leave this place alive.
Boom—!
The ground shattered, and both figures vanished. The air was filled with the flickering afterimages of their fierce battle, too swift for the average eye to follow.
Crack—!
Behind the intense clash, the dragon legion, despite their injuries, took to the skies.
[――――!]
[――! ――!]
With a single strike from the divine sword, hundreds of their kin were cut down, but such sacrifices were trivial in the face of a greater will.
The master of the Great Dragon War, a being they must protect at all costs, even if it meant sacrificing all their lives.
Screech—!
[······?!]
Yet their wings could not reach the warrior.
A rain of weapons, darkening the sky, expertly intercepted them.
“The Forge Where Dragon’s Breath Scatters”
“Master of All Weapons”
Rumble!
Tens of thousands of weapons filled the sky.
Each one a masterpiece, rivaling the finest relics. The culmination of countless hours of dedication by the greatest blacksmith.
Amidst the arrows tracing erratic curves and lines, a dark cavalry lance resonated with a strange hum.
A saber, crackling with emerald lightning, struck like a bolt from the blue, followed by a crimson mace, imbued with a curse, scattering droplets of blood as it charged.
Boom—!
Lined up at the heart of this onslaught were armors reinforced with dozens of spells.
They resembled living armors, summoned only by high-ranking necromancers, but possessed far greater destructive power and magic.
Like living knights, they gripped their weapons, forming a wedge formation atop their mounts.
The wave of weapons, heralded by the sound of a charging horn, clashed with the dragon army, empowered by the Great Dragon War, in an instant.
Crash─────!!
The two waves collided and shattered.
One was a cold wave of metal. The other, a hot wave of blood and flesh.
The dragon’s breath repeatedly melted and crystallized the ruined land, leaving behind half-melted weapons and dragons pierced through, strewn like debris.
Amidst the land stained with broken metal and dragon blood, the clash between Dalen and the dragon god’s sword shone brightly.
Clang!
He angled the spear to deflect the sword’s tip. The boy stepped forward, his left fist thrusting out.
He tossed an axe high into the sky, reaching out to meet the incoming punch.
A martial art seamlessly blending armored combat and hand-to-hand techniques. He wove his strikes like flowing water, deflecting to the side.
Thud—!
“Ugh…!”
Even with the protective spell armor, his forearm throbbed from the impact. The skin, torn and red, rapidly regenerated, just as the white sword’s tip lunged again.
Clang!
In a split second, spear and sword clashed nearly a hundred times. As he barely deflected the spear’s tip and widened the distance, a metallic gleam flashed above the dragon god’s head.
Thud, thud, thud!
The axe, thrown high, descended like a thunderbolt, multiplying into hundreds, carpet-bombing the area.
Watching the relic axe devastate the vicinity around the dragon god, Dalen glanced at his battered spear.
‘Tsk.’
The mithril spear was already half-ruined.
Even though it was crafted by the legendary mithril smith, Reberon Ahakim, it struggled to withstand the dragon god’s sword.
It was only natural. The dragon god before him was not an avatar but the true form.
The master of the Great Abyss and the harbinger of the end, a deity ranked among the seven evil gods.
If Dalen hadn’t infused his spear with magic each time, it would have shattered into dust long ago.
‘A holy sword would be the best weapon…’
But he couldn’t use it now.
The holy sword, reforged by Delucahim, was pouring all its power into nullifying the dragon god’s dominion.
Among the relic weapons in the subspace, there might be something useful. Though not as durable as Reberon’s mithril spear, he could make do with their additional functions.
[Do you have time to entertain other thoughts in the presence of a god?]
“······!”
In that moment of thought, the dragon god’s sword tip was already upon him. Dalen reflexively raised his spear to block.
Crack━━━━━
A deafening sound, like fibers being torn apart.
The spear snapped in half, and the remaining force slammed into his chest and abdomen.
Boom!
His body, airborne, flew faster than sound, crashing into the slope below.
Sunken ribs. Blood gushed from crushed organs.
“···Cough!”
[I acknowledge it. Your strength is indeed the greatest among mortals. Even among the transcendents of the Golden Palace who have long opposed us, none can compare to you.]
Step. Step.
Footsteps imprinted on the white snow. The boy, who had scaled the ridge in just a few steps, stopped before the cliff where Dalen lay.
[Your world is powerful. The spectacle of dozens of origins is something even I have never seen. If the prophecy of the Well of Reversal is true, these are fragments of conclusions from dozens of parallel worlds.]
“······.”
[But did you think that would make you equal to a god? Even with dozens or hundreds of origins, your body remains bound to the rank of a demigod.]
The boy smiled. It was a relaxed smile.
[In the face of the Great Abyss, your mind is no different from any mortal realm. You are merely human.]
Rumble······!
In the sky, the balance between the two opposing waves began to tip.
The dragon army, having grasped the nature of the weapons, avoided direct clashes, focusing on eroding the weapons’ durability with spells and breath.
Even if their response had been delayed, gaining the upper hand would have been difficult.
The dragon army, empowered by the Great Dragon War, had grown incomparably stronger, even with reduced numbers.
Crash! Thud!
The dented armors began to crash to the ground one by one. Corroded and rusted spears and swords fell like leaves beside them.
The warrior, the protagonist of the prophecy, silently gazed up at the sky.
His shattered ribs and organs had long since healed, yet he made no move to rise.
[Indeed. There is no shame in yielding to overwhelming power.]
The dragon god smiled once more. He approached the warrior slowly, his sword tip trailing behind him.
To kill the protagonist of the prophecy and reclaim the blood of the spear. By dismantling that body, he could also recover the heart of the blue scale and the remnants of the right gauntlet.
The loss of a significant portion of the dragon army would be more than compensated. Then, even the hesitant great dragons, including the first roar, would follow his lead.
The end was an inevitable conclusion. What mattered to the dragon god was his share of it.
‘I should thank the protagonist of the prophecy. Before kneeling to me, he even eliminated his own competitors.’
With both Suum and Temomron having been defeated by the protagonist of the prophecy, only two competitors remained.
Once he dealt with the fool who had established a base across the sea, Lapilem, and the quiet Enaksagus, whose intentions were unclear…
[Hmm?]
The dragon god’s steps halted as he approached Dalen. Something had latched onto his heel.
‘Ugh…’
Looking down, he saw a small, translucent spirit. Crawling out from beneath a dark tombstone, a child clung to his heel like a piece of gum.
Though it was a fragile spirit, not even worth shaking off, the dragon god frowned in displeasure.
Where had that come from? And when had that dark tombstone appeared?
“You’re right.”
[···What?]
“I am neither a god nor a hero. Just a mere human. A very ordinary… no, a rather lacking human.”
The dragon god lifted his head. The warrior, who had been staring blankly at the sky, was standing once more.
“I was a thirty-something addicted to games. A recluse so isolated that even friends and girlfriends grew tired of me.”
[······.]
“I was a fool who hesitated to see my parents even once a year, let alone be filial, and I was slowly being pushed out of the promotion list at the company I barely managed to join.”
Incomprehensible words.
The dragon god struggled to grasp the context, but his attention was constantly diverted.
What caught his eye were countless tombstones.
Tombstones that hadn’t existed moments ago, now filling the entire snowy mountain.
“My game characters were the opposite of me. Each one gave their all to their lives. Even if their direction was wrong, unlike me, who had given up and sat down, they sought answers. Regardless of the outcome, the true heroes were not me, but those people.”
[···These things.]
Around that time, the dragon god’s pupils widened slightly. He realized the nature of the tombstones.
The black tombstones were creations of dark magic.
The hue and finish suggested they were crafted by a high-ranking dark magician, each one meticulously shaped with a portion of their own magic.
The level of finesse displayed here was something even the most skilled necromancers would struggle to replicate.
There were hundreds of thousands, no, millions of such gravestones.
Even the ancient dragon god, who had lived for millennia, couldn’t fathom how much time had passed to create such a scene.
“Those heroes placed their hopes in me. How could I betray their expectations?”
Dalen finished speaking as he gently caressed one of the gravestones.
“One life without responsibility was enough. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
“The Echo of the Spirits Spreading Across the Cemetery”
A mournful wail began to resonate throughout the snowy mountains.
From the depths of the valley to the mountain peaks, a sorrowful chorus echoed.
Dalen infused the gravestone with a gentle flow of magic. Something stirred beneath the snow, slowly awakening and peeking out.
It was the spirit of a young soldier, barely in his twenties. Dalen whispered softly as he gazed into the blue light glowing beneath the soldier’s helmet.
“You must be listening too. A promise is a promise, and I won’t let innocent souls suffer.”
‘Uuuh…’
“But just as your endless repentance has finally come to an end, these souls deserve a chance to let go of their earthly regrets.”
‘Uuh. Uuuh…!’
“These are souls who lost family and friends before their eyes. Even in death, they deserve a chance to strike back at the demons.”
As soon as Dalen finished his quiet whisper, spectral figures began to emerge from beneath the gravestones that filled the mountain range.
With blue flames flickering in their eyes, tens of thousands of vengeful spirits glared at the dragon god and his army.
[This divine scene… it’s impossible! This isn’t a sight meant for you. It’s beyond your control!]
The dragon god shouted in panic at the sight of the spirits rising from the ground. Dalen nodded silently.
The dragon god wasn’t wrong. The realm of necromancer Dalen Jaive was not yet capable of mastering such a high-level scene.
But what he was doing now wasn’t about controlling or commanding the souls slumbering beneath the millions of gravestones.
He was merely waking them gently, showing them the object of their hatred.
It was like priming a pump. What happened next was beyond his control.
Uuuuu!!
Uwooo…!
The spirits burst from their graves and charged at the dragon god and his army.
These were souls who had lost family, friends, or lovers to the dragons.
A wave of spectral figures surged from all directions. The tide of battle in the sky shifted in an instant.
Amidst the rain of thousands of weapons, tens of thousands of spirits ignored all obstacles and swarmed.
Dalen sighed softly as he watched the chaos unfold in the sky. Three figures approached him.
[To give the spirits inherited by a necromancer a chance to release their grievances… my man is truly wise.]
“Even now, you’re spouting nonsense?”
[It’s not nonsense. You shouldn’t dismiss sincerity.]
Dalen chuckled. She should have been more careful with her words and actions.
It was time to bring this battle to a close. They were overwhelming the enemy for now, but he couldn’t keep the realm open indefinitely.
“Alright, enough of that…”
[So… so, Dalen.]
But as he turned his head, Dalen couldn’t continue.
For the first time, he saw tears in those vertically slit red eyes.
The woman with short, dark red hair spoke.
[…Will you give me a chance to settle my own grudges?]