Pursuit (1)
“Gah!”
Everlock gasped for air, collapsing onto the rough stone floor. He coughed violently, trying to regain his breath.
The ground was cold and unyielding, the space around him dark and foreboding. He groped around, activating his sacred tattoos to heighten his senses.
A faint light flickered in his eyes, and the pitch-black darkness seemed to lift, if only slightly.
”…A cave.”
Stalactites and stalagmites dotted his vision.
The cavern was enormous, its ceiling soaring dozens of meters above him.
“Where am I?”
A cave, out of nowhere. Everlock clutched his throbbing head, trying to piece together his memories.
The last thing he remembered was battling a barbarian wielding a holy sword.
After a fierce exchange, he had been struck by a powerful blow and injured.
Just as the sword’s power healed his wounds, a mysterious figure had appeared from behind.
‘That bastard sent me flying here.’
He had instinctively gathered his divine power to resist, but it was a futile struggle against overwhelming force.
Everlock surveyed his surroundings. Even with his enhanced vision, there was little to see.
The cavern was as deep as it was vast, shrouded in impenetrable darkness.
“Heh, can’t even overcome this darkness anymore.”
A self-deprecating laugh escaped his lips.
In his prime, he could pierce through the darkness conjured by demonic spells.
But now, he was blinded by the shadows of a mere cave.
It was a stark reminder of his dwindling divine power.
“Heh, heh.”
When had it all started?
When had his divine power, once second only to the knight commander, begun to wane?
Was it when he first traded relics with the Witch of Ashes?
Or when he broke the order’s rules to learn astrology from the cultists?
He couldn’t pinpoint the beginning, but at some point, it became clear.
With each significant event, chunks of his divine power were stripped away.
After handing the holy sword to the paladin Barrett and orchestrating his death by Golakap, he found certain secret techniques of his sacred tattoos unusable.
When he brainwashed the special forces and crusaders to incite rebellion, nearly half of the sword’s abilities were sealed.
It was as if these phenomena were divine warnings, condemning his actions.
Yet despite the warnings, Everlock couldn’t turn back.
“Heh, what does it matter? I didn’t abandon the gods; they abandoned me. It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault.”
He shook his head vigorously, a half-mad smile playing on his lips as he clenched and unclenched his fists.
After the fierce battle with the barbarian, his divine power had diminished to an unprecedented low.
Now, his abilities, aside from the holy sword, were barely at the level of a high-ranking paladin.
If things continued, he might even lose his right to wield the sword.
Then, a chilling voice echoed from behind him.
[Such a useless pawn.]
Thud.
A soft footstep reverberated through the cave walls, carrying an oppressive weight despite its quietness.
Everlock gritted his teeth to stop his jaw from trembling and slowly turned around.
[Oksikirus died to save you.]
The voice resonated through the cavern once more.
Facing the source of the voice, Everlock instinctively stepped back.
The figure was smaller than him, perhaps the height of an average adult woman.
Long, dull blue-white hair cascaded down, and her slender limbs and pale, beautiful face were striking.
But the vertically slit, gleaming yellow eyes made it clear that her frail form was not her true self.
[He was too valuable to trade for a worthless pawn like you. If not for the contract with Enaksagus through the witch, he wouldn’t have come to save you.]
“Th-the Azure Dragon, Tethera Riulak…”
[When did I give you permission to speak my name?]
A shift in the atmosphere. The air, heavy with tension, turned murderous, pricking his skin.
Without moving a muscle, her mere presence threatened to crush him.
“Gah…!”
Everlock hastily raised his holy sword, surrounding himself with a pale blue divine aura.
Yet within seconds, he collapsed, blackened blood oozing from his eyes, mouth, ears, and nose.
The woman smirked slightly, murmuring to herself.
[For a worn-out servant of the gods, you have quite the spirit.]
“Gah! Cough…ugh…”
[I acknowledge it. The witch’s judgment wasn’t entirely off this time. With such abilities, you managed to claw your way back from death.]
The oppressive aura vanished.
The presence that had filled the cave moments ago dissipated, leaving the air as still as when he first awoke.
[Now go. I must tend to my eggs. As per our contract, I will grant you the chance to abandon your old, feeble power and gain new strength. My servants will guide you.]
The woman turned away, walking deeper into the cave.
As she retreated, Everlock coughed up a metallic-tasting breath and managed to speak.
“The witch…Raphelia, is she alive?”
[Hmm?]
The woman paused, turning her emotionless gaze back to the paladin.
[She’s dead.]
”…I see.”
[But Enaksagus claimed her soul as it fell to hell.]
The paladin’s eyes, which had been fixed on the ground, flickered violently. The woman smiled faintly.
Despite her fair features, the smile was more cruel than beautiful.
[He enjoys mixing and toying with things, so the witch’s soul will likely be transformed into something new in his cauldron.]
Her laughter echoed through the cave as her form vanished, leaving only the sound behind.
Hiss…
Dalen snorted, expelling a massive cloud of steam along with the blood clotted in his nasal passages.
Watching the steam fill the air, he made a wry face. What was this, a steam locomotive or a pressure cooker?
As he chuckled at his own silly thoughts, he noticed someone approaching through the mist.
“Are you alright?”
A hand extended towards him, the owner having sheathed their sword.
Dalen, perched on a half-melted, solidified rock, took the offered hand and stood up.
“As you can see.”
He grinned, steam puffing out with his words. The knight commander, Edgar, regarded him with a peculiar expression.
Or rather, he sensed it, as Edgar’s blue eyes were unfocused.
“Dragon’s blood, huh. I’ve lived a long time, but this is the first I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Especially the blood of a fire dragon, known to be the hardest for humans to assimilate.”
Is that so? Dalen, not well-versed in such lore, scratched his chin.
Meanwhile, Edgar turned his head towards the decapitated dragon’s corpse.
Blood gushed from the severed neck, its yellow eyes frozen wide open.
The overwhelming presence that had filled the sanctuary was gone, leaving only the steaming dragon’s body. Edgar murmured to himself.
“Thank you for completing the task, Dragonslayer Dalen.”
He added that Dalen should rest, given the exertion, and then left.
The Third Sanctuary was in utter chaos.
The special forces, freed from their brainwashing, were in disarray, and the tension was compounded by the knights who had infiltrated during the confusion.
To make matters worse, the sudden appearance of a dragon had left the western walls of the sanctuary in ruins.
With the deputy leader of the rebellion having vanished without a trace, the knight commander’s role was more crucial than ever.
Srrng—
Once Edgar’s presence had completely faded.
Dalen pulled his sword from the ground.
He reached out to the shredded, exposed gray corpse lying next to the dragon’s head.
[You have recovered the body of a warrior devoured by the Blue-scaled Dragon. You inherit its abilities.]
[Inheritance Reward: Strength +1, Dexterity +1, Magic +1]
Each time he recovered a body, a sense of euphoria filled him.
Regardless of the magnitude, feeling his abilities increase was inherently satisfying.
Savoring the sensation for a moment, Dalen then began to carve into the dragon’s torso with his holy sword.
Before long, he extracted a crystal the size of a human torso from deep within its chest.
Thump. Thump.
Even separated from the body, the crystal pulsed slowly.
The only mystical part of the dragon’s body, its heart.
‘Lose it, and you’re dead.’
[What! Suddenly bringing a dragon’s heart…!]
Dalen tossed the dragon heart into Arvor’s subspace and moved swiftly.
In his mind, he heard the demon, who had been dormant after the curse’s destruction, shriek in surprise.
‘Shut up.’
[…Yes.]
Dalen headed straight into the sanctuary.
The sanctuary was bustling with knights rushing around, tending to the wounded.
Due to Dalen’s imposing stature and the fact that he was one of the few outsiders in the area, it was only natural that he drew attention wherever he went.
Yet, despite being an outsider wandering through the sanctum, the main armory of the knights, no one dared to stop him.
“Thank you for aiding the knights.”
“We salute your courage and strength.”
In fact, one or two out of every ten people would pause their work to greet him.
It was to be expected.
Most of the knights had witnessed his battle against the dragon in the sky. Even if they couldn’t recognize the warrior’s face, they all remembered the sacred sword with its blue blade that he wielded.
[We have discovered the body of a thief who attempted to rob the knights’ armory.]
Dalen made his way to a secluded corner of one of the many armories within the sanctum. There lay the body of a thief, stabbed multiple times in the back with a dagger, now a shadowy silhouette.
[Body of a thief who attempted to rob the knights’ armory]
“Tsk.”
[You have recovered the body of the thief who attempted to rob the knights’ armory. You inherit his abilities.]
[Inheritance reward: Skill +1, Old Hag Olga’s Invisibility Cloak]
After retrieving the body, Dalen slumped to the ground, leaning against the wall as a wave of exhaustion washed over him.
He had never felt such fatigue before, even after his stamina had reached its limits.
It was understandable, given the relentless battles and constant movement over the past few days.
After being ambushed by the knights’ special forces, he was immediately thrust into an operation, fighting against the ruins themselves.
He had barely found his way after defeating the guardian of the crypt, eventually breaking through the ceiling of the ruins to escape.
Even after rejoining his group, the challenges didn’t end.
He had crossed swords with Everlock, the deputy commander of the knights, and ultimately beheaded the blue-scaled dragon, Oksikirus.
“If I weren’t tired after all that, I wouldn’t be human.”
With a wry smile, Dalen lay flat on the ground.
“Dragon Slayer, huh.”
It wasn’t a bad title. As he chuckled and repeated the words, an old memory surfaced.
A distant city of labyrinths in the heart of the continent. A small information broker located in an alley on the outskirts of the Bronze District.
Conversations shared in an office filled with the subtle aroma of tea, accessible through the back door of a tavern that exuded an atmosphere crafted by magic stones.
“Listening to you, one would think you’re off to hunt dragons.”
That was what Sienna had said when he took on a mission to rescue the kidnapped apprentice of an elder mage, joking that it would be a mere stroll.
Neither she nor Dalen himself had imagined that the joke would become reality just a few months later.
The title of Dragon Slayer, earned in such a short time, made him acutely aware of the weight of the past months.
The fierce tug-of-war between him and the impending doom had been intense.
“Once this mission is over, I should return to the labyrinth city. I need to expand my strategy a bit.”
The pursuit of the end was relentless and tenacious.
Even with additional abilities and the power to manifest potential, the threat was sometimes overwhelming.
But he had no intention of succumbing to it.
As always, the minions of doom who dared to challenge him would find their heads severed by his sword.
However, since he only had one body to wield that sword, he needed forces to counter the end in places he couldn’t be.
“I should talk to Sienna when I return to Falcion.”
As he mentally mapped out his future strategies and plans, Dalen slowly closed his eyes.
His strength ebbed away, and an irresistible drowsiness overtook him.
Fortunately, he was in the knights’ sanctum.
The rebels had been subdued, and the knights, led by their commander, would soon restore order.
Someone would find him while inspecting the armory. When he awoke, he would likely be in a bed.
As his consciousness drifted, his thoughts wandered to the dragon tail stew Lucia had cooked. Dalen succumbed to sleep.
And a few days later, the first thing he heard upon waking was the news that one of the knights’ most treasured artifacts had been stolen by the deputy commander.