The Dragon’s Servant (1)
“Are you sure you’re alright, old man?”
Cough! “I’m fine! Haha, just a bit of a cough that comes with age. Cough! Ahem!”
Felber waved off the concern with a dismissive hand, as if it were nothing.
Leaving Dalen’s curious gaze behind, the elder mage approached the half-destroyed body of the fallen knight with a look of intrigue.
“Ahem, cough! Is this the corpse of Everlock?”
Covering his mouth with the ample sleeve of his robe, he rested his other hand naturally on his apprentice’s shoulder.
Watching the old man’s back, Dalen quietly stroked his chin.
‘He’s in worse shape than I thought.’
The aftermath of the bloodbath had dulled his sense of smell, but he could faintly detect a new scent of blood.
Though he had hidden his bloodstained sleeve and quickly cleaned it with a simple spell, it wasn’t enough to escape Dalen’s keen senses.
Having known each other for quite some time, Felber was well aware of Dalen’s sharp perception.
Yet, he chose to act nonchalant for one of two reasons: either he didn’t want to show weakness as a pillar of the Mage Tower, or he genuinely didn’t want Dalen to worry about him.
“His regeneration has reached its limit. The divine power and the force of the domain hindered it. Judging by the residual magic, he’s practically become a demon.”
Felber prodded the corpse with the tip of his staff as he spoke.
Dalen wiped the blood from his face and turned his head.
The paladins were rushing into the clearing, a bit late.
“Sir Dalen! Are you alright?”
“Is that… could it be Everlock?”
“Unbelievable. A former paladin fallen so far!”
As they entered the clearing, a chorus of varied reactions erupted.
Dalen stepped aside, allowing the paladins to examine Everlock’s body.
The inquisitors began to inspect the fallen knight’s corpse, turning it over and muttering in disbelief.
They couldn’t fathom that a paladin had succumbed to the power of an evil god, becoming something akin to a demon.
‘It’s rare to see someone not just fall, but transform into a demon. Though, at the brink of the apocalypse, such things aren’t unheard of.’
In the final stages of the apocalypse, when the evil gods’ invasion began to show signs, high-ranking demons often appeared on the continent.
Some of these demons found it dull to simply crush human forces with their monstrous armies.
They preferred to corrupt humanity from within through subtle temptations.
‘Demons under Enaxagus or Lapilem are known for that.’
Few mortals could resist the temptations of high-ranking demons, or archdemons.
Paladins were no exception. No matter how rigorous their training and discipline, without deep-rooted faith, it was difficult to resist the allure of a high-ranking demon.
“Sir Dalen, are you hurt?”
Maug asked with a worried expression. Dalen scratched his chin, shaking off his thoughts.
He shrugged, indicating he was more or less fine.
“A day’s rest should do.”
“That’s a relief. We’ll be staying at least a day while we secure the fortress and set up a temporary base. Take the time to rest.”
Dalen nodded. Maug glanced at his hand and spoke.
“You truly have received a miracle. It reminds me of my own lack of faith. Thank you.”
What now, another repentance mode?
Though there was a bit of a misunderstanding in saying he ‘received’ it, Dalen didn’t bother to correct him. There was no point in confusing a devout paladin.
He simply chuckled and raised his left hand.
The holy tattoo on the back of his hand still glowed softly.
Three circles arranged in a triangle, connected by gentle curves and sharp lines.
The pattern centered around the three circles seemed symmetrical at first glance, but upon closer inspection, each part was slightly different.
“Miracles from the God of War can only be used through holy tattoos, unlike the Empire’s pantheon, which relies on holy artifacts or relics.”
“That might offend their priests.”
Maug nodded.
“Perhaps. But they often compare our miracles to the shamanistic rituals of the heathens beyond the northern frost plains, saying both use tattoos.”
“Is that so?”
Dalen felt a mischievous urge. He flashed a toothy grin.
The senior knight, realizing Dalen’s size and appearance, stammered and waved his hands in apology.
”…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult your homeland, Sir Dalen.”
“Just a joke.”
Dalen laughed softly. He had never been to the northern frost plains.
Being mistaken for someone from there had become so familiar that it almost felt like he truly belonged there.
‘Someday, I’ll visit.’
Dalen thought, recalling the landscapes of the frost plains he had seen beyond the monitor.
Beyond the harsh land, where snowstorms raged year-round, lay several bodies too valuable to miss.
‘Come to think of it, that mercenary I met in the labyrinth was from the southern Tsar Kingdom of the frost plains.’
Back when he was searching for Lucia and the holy sword, there was a rogue in the labyrinth who used gunpowder weapons.
Was his name Boris? The mercenary badge of that seasoned gold-ranked mercenary still lay deep in his bag.
Or rather, in the subspace where the bag was stored.
‘It’s been quiet lately.’
[…If you plan to use me as a flint in front of the paladins, I won’t stop you.]
Hearing the demon’s subdued voice after a long time made him chuckle.
Just then, the inquisitors who had been examining the half-corpse returned.
“It has been confirmed that the half-demon you defeated was Everlock Glastden. As the wielder of the holy sword, we thank you on behalf of the inquisitors for punishing the fallen paladin.”
Of course, we promise a suitable reward once the mission is complete. The oldest paladin among them, Deputy Inquisitor Domer, spoke.
“However, we couldn’t find the holy sword Numisrak or the key to the rift barrier that he had stolen.”
It was Inquisitor Fidna. She wiped her hands with a handkerchief and surveyed the ruined fortress.
“He might have hidden them somewhere here, so let’s search for them while looking for survivors.”
The group set up a camp and temporary base in the ruins of Estra Fortress.
As the frontline defense of the Paladin Order, Estra Fortress was quite large.
With a permanent garrison of over two thousand, it could easily accommodate over five thousand troops if fully mobilized.
Facing the Estra River, the fortress boasted double-layered walls stretching several kilometers.
Searching such a vast fortress with a small team in a single day was impossible.
Crackle. Crackle.
In front of a campfire made from the debris of collapsed buildings.
A large pot simmered with stew made of meat, grains, and fresh vegetables.
Tonight’s dinner was the work of Deputy Inquisitor Domer.
It wasn’t as good as Lucia’s cooking, but the quantity and quality were decent.
From his travels through the rift, Dalen had learned that paladins were generally decent cooks.
Crackle. Snap.
Dalen sipped the stew from a wooden bowl. He was alone by the campfire.
The paladins had quickly finished their meals and were now searching for survivors, the holy sword, and the barrier key.
Felber had retreated to meditate with his apprentice in one of the more intact buildings to heal his internal injuries.
As a result, the once bustling parade ground of the fortress was now filled with a lonely silence.
In such ruins, one would expect to hear the chirping of insects or the scurrying of mice, but there was none.
No creature dared to venture into a place that had been overshadowed by the specter of hell just hours before.
Whether on Earth or this continent, animals were more sensitive than humans.
Did they have some special sense for detecting ominousness?
Lost in thought, Dalen suddenly murmured.
“Hey.”
There was no response. He called again.
“Hey, demon brat.”
[…Yes?]
“Did you sell off the title ‘Master’?”
[N-No, Master! What brings you to call me…?]
“I’m bored.”
Through their soul connection, Dalen could sense the demon’s bewildered expression.
He chuckled softly, setting the bowl aside. He leaned back, propping himself up with his hands.
Beyond the two cliffs, the night sky stretched out, stars silently moving across it.
The intersecting streams of the Milky Way and the countless stars twinkling, far more than he had ever seen in the quiet countryside on Earth.
The swirling thoughts that had been bubbling up in his mind began to gently disperse in the presence of the twinkling stars and the dancing flames of the campfire.
Even the warmth of the fire felt lonely in the silence. But it wasn’t unpleasant.
Since gaining superhuman senses and intelligence, Dalen had always been surrounded by noise, both inside and out, so he welcomed the quiet.
Dalen poked the fire with a stick, then stretched and let out a long yawn.
After a moment, he decided to check his status screen for the first time in a while.
――――――――
Name: Dalen
Level: 17
[Strength: 34] [Dexterity: 26] [Stamina: 30]
[Senses: 22] [Intelligence: 24] [Magic: 23]
Skills: Dehama’s Armored Combat (D), Night Vision (E), Dragon Blood Regeneration Factor (C), Leap (E), Flame Arrow (D), Rapid Freeze (D), Rapantella’s Crushing Sword (C), Hegaleus’s Flame Rain (C), Piercing Lightning (D), Curse Ward Seal (D), Leredonara’s Secret Sword (B), Sacred Fire Ember (C)
――――――――
He was approaching his late teens in terms of levels.
He had gained one level by smashing the gnoll army that attacked the knights’ defense line, and another by obliterating the shadows of hell and defeating the fallen knight Everlock.
He had invested his additional points into intelligence and magic.
While the imbalance in his stats wasn’t causing any immediate issues, a more balanced distribution would help him better handle the power of the domain.
After reviewing his skills and their proficiency changes, Dalen closed the status screen and stood up, stretching his arms wide. He called out.
“Hey.”
[Yes, Master!]
“Not you.”
Dalen chuckled softly.
“The one hiding behind the pillar.”
Silence hung in the air for a moment.
Then, from behind a half-collapsed pillar, a shadow slid down and took the shape of a person.
“Impressive senses, barbarian.”
Emerging from the shadows was an elf.
Pointed ears, a slender face, sharp features, and long, graceful limbs.
She looked remarkably like the elves said to appear once every few years from beyond the eastern sea.
But Dalen knew her ashen eyes and purple lips marked her as a different kind of elf, distinct from the more amicable ones across the sea.
His smile faded as he regarded her with his usual impassive expression. He spoke.
“A Shadow Elf, I see.”
“Interested in history, are you? Not very barbarian-like.”
The elf woman curled her lips into a slight smile, seemingly pleased to be recognized.
She slowly drew a gracefully curved blade from her waist and declared.
“I am the daughter of Hashikiruk, granddaughter of Talarina, seventeenth descendant of Melbride, the progenitor of the Shadow Elves, Tatiadella!”
Her voice, laced with magic, echoed across the ruins.
As she spoke, a faint bluish-gray aura began to envelop her blade.
Her eyes glinted mysteriously in the darkness. Dalen placed a hand on his waist without a word.
“Servant of the Dragon God’s Left Arm, bearer of the power of crystal and ice, watcher of the shadows…”
The elf’s eyes narrowed as she shouted. Something was flying toward her.
It was a disc of light.
Under the night sky, it shattered the reddish flicker of the campfire, scattering light in all directions as it flew.
It came too fast, too suddenly, for even her keen senses to discern its nature.
But one thing was clear.
She couldn’t dodge it with her skills.
The disc of light, now almost upon her, was certain to be fatal.
Swoosh—
In that instant.
Clang!
A black line shot from somewhere, striking the disc and altering its trajectory.
The wind brushed past her hair. Her eyes couldn’t follow the disc’s path.
All she felt was a burning pain on the right side of her neck and the sensation of her hair, once cascading down to her hips, now falling away, leaving her head lighter.
Boom! Rumble…
And behind her, the sound of something collapsing as if hit by a cannonball.
The corner of the barbarian warrior’s mouth lifted slightly. He spoke.
“Seems there was another one.”
Tatiadella, the elf servant of the Dragon God’s Left Arm, instinctively understood.
That was the smile of a predator who had found its prey.