Pursuit (2)
Ssssh—
The sound of tender flesh tearing softly. Juices dripped down, releasing a rich aroma of meat and spices.
As soon as Dalen bit into the large chunk of meat, it burst with flavor in his mouth.
The meat was so tender that even a child could tear it apart without a knife, yet it had a subtle chewiness that made it enjoyable to eat.
“Mmm.”
Dalen closed his eyes. When you taste something truly exquisite, words are unnecessary.
“Delicious.”
He swallowed the meat that had melted away in his mouth and reached for another large piece of dragon tail on the table.
“Are you sure this is okay?”
Across from him, the chef, who deserved all the praise, was barely picking at her food, looking anxious.
Lucia spoke with a worried expression.
“Considering it’s your first meal in days, shouldn’t you start with something lighter, like porridge or stew?”
“The meat is as soft as porridge. That’s good enough for me.”
Dalen replied, cutting another generous piece of meat for his plate.
He had already devoured more than ten servings of dragon tail, accompanied by two and a half bottles of wine.
“There’s a saying where I come from: ‘Even a ghost who dies eating well looks good.’”
“That’s something a necromancer might say.”
“When do you plan to serve the aged hind leg?”
Dalen changed the subject abruptly, popping another fist-sized piece of meat into his mouth.
The juices burst forth, mingling with the subtle spices and the aroma of the wine. The meat melted smoothly on his tongue and palate.
I was born to eat this, he thought. This puts even the finest beef to shame.
Lucia’s eyes turned slightly cold as she picked at her food.
“At this rate, I might believe the meat in front of you is more important than finding Everlock.”
“Ah, ahem. That’s not true.”
Dalen swallowed the remaining morsel and rinsed his mouth with wine. If he wanted to keep enjoying this delicacy, he couldn’t afford to upset the chef.
“So, to summarize, Everlock Glastden attempted a rebellion and stole a significant treasure from the Order of Knights?”
“That’s correct.”
“What exactly is this treasure?”
Dalen wiped his mouth with a napkin and asked.
Everlock’s whereabouts weren’t hard to guess. He had used the power of Oxykirus to transcend space.
He likely headed to the lair of the ancient dragon, Blue Scale, the master of the decapitated lesser dragon, deep within the rift.
But what the stolen treasure from the Order of Knights meant was a mystery to him.
“In the game, Everlock would steal all the unclaimed holy swords after his rebellion.”
But this time, the situation was different. His rebellion was quashed before he could seize any holy swords.
The one sword he used against Dalen might have disappeared with him, but that alone wouldn’t cause Lucia to be so alarmed.
“Or is losing even one holy sword a big deal?”
After all, he had come to the main base to transport a holy sword, one that had lost its power in the hands of demons.
As he pondered, Lucia provided the answer.
“This is confidential, even within the Order, but we confirmed that the key to the Barrier of the Rift disappeared with Everlock.”
That’s serious. Dalen slowly put down the piece of meat he was about to eat.
The rift guarded by the Order of Knights was a massive chasm leading to a labyrinth.
And a typical chasm would have cliffs on either side, with the sky open above.
The Order had fortified the entrance with several strongholds, but if that were all, there was no reason monsters couldn’t escape to the surface.
Not all monsters were wingless, and even those without wings could climb the cliffs with their claws.
“The Barrier of the Rift prevents that.”
Over a thousand years ago, when the Order of Knights was founded.
After the great war that drove demons into the rift, the transcendents devised several measures to seal it.
The founding of the Order and the mountain range surrounding the main base were among those measures.
And the Barrier of the Rift was an invisible magical wall covering the top of the chasm, preventing monsters from escaping above.
“Fortunately, there was only one key stored in the Third Sanctuary. It can weaken the barrier but not completely deactivate it.”
“That’s a relief.”
“Moreover, it requires the commander’s authority to operate, so it will take considerable time to find a way. But even so, we can’t allow it to remain in the hands of a traitor…”
Lucia trailed off, fidgeting with her neatly clasped hands. Dalen chuckled softly. He swirled the half-empty wine bottle and spoke.
“I’ll help you.”
”…What?”
“Weren’t you about to ask for my help?”
“No, well, yes, but… It’s just… You’ve already helped us so much. I feel guilty for imposing on you again.”
Lucia bit her lip. Dalen laughed quietly and took a swig from the wine bottle.
The sweet and rich flavor filled his mouth. It was a wine that emphasized a fresh, sweet taste over its alcohol content.
This region, home to the Order’s main base, was famous for its grapes and wine.
Ironically, the winemakers themselves were often members of the Order or their relatives, so they didn’t indulge in wine as much.
“I’ve told you many times, I’m a mercenary.”
Dalen set down the empty bottle and spoke.
“I go wherever there’s a fair reward.”
“But I’ve never heard of a dragon slayer being hired as a mercenary.”
Lucia said with a troubled expression. Dalen scratched his chin. So she wanted to hire him but had no idea how to price his services?
It was a tricky issue for Dalen as well.
Though he claimed to work for rewards, the truth was that the greatest reward for him wasn’t the gold offered by the client.
At some point, his focus had shifted from money to the abilities he could acquire from the corpses on his journey and the journey itself to thwart the end.
Of course, it helped that he had a chest full of gold in a pocket dimension.
“But asking for more holy tattoos or a handful of gold wouldn’t be worth it for me.”
It’s always wise to raise your price when you can.
Moreover, to track Everlock, he’d have to venture deep into the rift, beyond the Order’s defenses.
It was like sticking his head into the jaws of monsters, so for a mission of this difficulty, he could demand a relic as payment.
After some thought, he made his decision.
“I’ll require three things as compensation.”
Though he accepted the mission, he didn’t set out immediately.
Everlock had undoubtedly used Oxykirus to escape into the rift, to the lair of the ancient dragon, Blue Scale.
Using the Fragment of the Seeker’s Left Eye to track him, Dalen confirmed that the direction was indeed deeper into the rift.
And venturing into the rift, especially beyond the Order’s defenses, was as dangerous as delving into the depths of a labyrinth.
Both Dalen and the Order wanted to be fully prepared before entering.
After a day of rest, Dalen first sought out Commander Edgar.
The reason was to receive holy tattoos.
He was to receive three holy tattoos in total.
Two as payment for the previous mission. And one as both payment and advance for the new mission.
Since he couldn’t receive another tattoo for three days after one was inscribed, it took about ten days for Dalen to complete the process.
As a result, three holy tattoos were etched onto his left arm.
Two were placed just below the sigil of the curse shield on his shoulder, and the other was on the back of his left hand.
“All done. Like the two holy tattoos on your shoulder, these will blend with your skin in a few days.”
After the two-hour procedure to inscribe the final tattoo on his hand, Edgar spoke.
“As you know, wielding holy tattoos requires not only a significant amount of divine power but also extensive training. Do not take the power bestowed by the gods lightly.”
“I understand.”
Edgar nodded in satisfaction. He handed Dalen a few small pills for pain relief and left the room.
Nearly two weeks had passed since Everlock’s rebellion was quelled, but the Order was still dealing with the aftermath.
Thus, unless it was for inscribing holy tattoos, even Dalen, the hero of the rebellion, rarely saw Edgar.
“Divine power, huh.”
Dalen sat on the bed, scratching his chin. One reason he had come to the Order’s main base was to acquire divine power by retrieving corpses from the rift.
Without divine power, he couldn’t use the holy tattoos, and he could only partially wield the abilities of the holy sword.
In any case, since the mission required him to enter the rift, he could use it as an opportunity to collect corpses.
Ssssh…
Dalen pulled back the cloth covering his hand and stood before the mirror. His left hand was constantly emitting steam.
It was the dragon’s regenerative power clashing with the divine energy of the sacred tattoo.
Fortunately, Edgar had mentioned that there were historical cases of humans with dragon’s blood successfully receiving divine tattoos.
Judging by the two tattoos on his shoulder that had settled well, Edgar’s words seemed true.
One had completely merged with his skin, while the other was now just a faint trace. Yet, Dalen could sense a subtle loop of power connecting from his shoulder.
“I got it just in case, but I hope I won’t need it for this mission.”
The divine tattoo he received this time wasn’t one that boosted his abilities.
After much consideration, Dalen realized there were plenty of ways to enhance his abilities without relying on a divine tattoo.
So, he chose a type of power that was hard to gain through leveling up or scavenging corpses.
“I was thinking of the distant future, but it also serves as a precaution against any unforeseen events in the rift.”
Dalen rolled down his left sleeve and opened his status window.
――――――――
Name: Dalen
Level: 15
[Strength: 34] [Dexterity: 25] [Stamina: 30]
[Senses: 21] [Intelligence: 22] [Magic: 21]
Skills: Dehaman’s Armored Combat (D), Night Vision (E), Dragonblood Regeneration Factor (C), Leap (E), Flame Arrow (D), Rapid Freeze (D), Lapantella’s Crushing Sword (C), Hegaleus’s Flame Rain (C), Shooting Lightning (D), Curse Ward Seal (D), Leredonara’s Secret Blade (B)
――――――――
He had reached level 15 before he knew it.
His stamina had increased as he leveled up by slaying dragons, finally reaching 30 for the second time.
To avoid any mishaps like last time, where his body nearly exploded, Dalen made sure to rest thoroughly and distribute his stats only when he was fully recovered.
Contrary to his worries, there wasn’t much change.
Just a clearer breath and a noticeably lighter body.
“And my heartbeat… it feels deeper somehow.”
The lack of immediate new abilities might be because a clear image hadn’t yet formed within him.
In that sense, the heart pulsing with the dragonblood factor could certainly provide the seed for that image.
[Dragonblood Regeneration Factor (C)]
A result of extracting the regeneration factor from the myriad special factors in dragon blood and applying it to a human. While the regeneration power is among the lowest of dragonblood traits, it is a coveted ability for mortals.
Proficiency 90%
The Dragonblood Regeneration Factor was already nearing 90% proficiency.
As his first C-rank skill, its proficiency was overwhelmingly higher than other skills of the same rank.
Barring any unforeseen events, it was set to be the first C-rank skill to reach 100%.
If the power of the domain is about realizing potential, perhaps there’s no need to be bound by the classification of skills or stats.
Lost in deep thought over the two powers at the boundary, Dalen naturally began to contemplate beyond the image.
Another week passed. Thanks to the efforts of the commander and the holy knights, the order had finally regained stability.
And Dalen was finally able to enter the rift.
He wasn’t alone. Tracking down Everlock, capturing him, and retrieving the holy sword and the rift’s barrier key was a crucial mission for the order.
To ensure the mission’s success, the order assembled a special team.
The team was led by inquisitors and high-ranking holy knights, with Dalen, the elder mage Felber Valentino, and his apprentice joining the party.
As they rode into the rift, Dalen absentmindedly stroked the axe head at his waist.
This was one of the rewards he had requested for taking on the mission.
The hand axe, with its faint wave patterns along the blade, was one of the relics stored in the order’s armory.
As Dalen withdrew his hand from the axe and chewed on some jerky from a leather pouch, one of the high-ranking holy knights approached him.
With a beard tinged with gray and eyes that exuded a gentle yet firm presence, the middle-aged man, nominally the leader of the group, had lived as the sword of the gods for half a century.
He spoke.