Chapter 178 - Damn Reincarnation

Ariartel

The village where Ariartel lived was in the rural Bolanyo region on Kiel's frontier. It was remote enough to give Eugene's hometown of Gidol a run for its money. Only now did Eugene understand what Cyan and Ciel had said back then.

"... It smells like cow shit."

What Cyan and Ciel had said was true to some extent. The smell of cow dung and horse manure drifted through this peaceful rural landscape...

"If you're going to live somewhere, wouldn't a city be better than the sticks?"

"Too noisy. I don't like it," Ariartel muttered, squinting as she followed him outside. She seemed to do nothing all day but hole up at home and peer into the Dragonic mansion. What did it matter whether it was noisy outside?

... He didn't bother saying that aloud.

"Don't come to collect it yourself," Ariartel said. "This is a quiet, peaceful village. Just activating the warp gate with a direct connection to the capital causes a stir throughout the village. If the person arriving from the capital is a descendant of the renowned Lionheart family, the villagers will go wild and try to throw a festival."

"... Isn't that a bit much?"

"This village throws a festival just because the puppy next door has learned where to pee and poop. I don't want to make the village noisy, nor do I want to attract needless attention because of you."

If she really didn't want attention, shouldn't she live tucked away in some mountain valley instead of a village like this? And how could she expect not to attract attention with such striking red hair?

... He didn't bother voicing those questions either.

"What do you suggest, then?"

"What else? I'll just send you the staff. I have no desire to get any more involved with you than necessary." Ariartel shot Eugene a sideways glare.

"... Hamel the Stupid. I've only now had the chance to say this, but I find your sudden visit deeply unpleasant. If you weren't a Lionheart, and if you weren't Hamel the Stupid reincarnated, I would have made you pay for your insolence with your life."

"What does being a Lionheart have to do with it?"

"It is a fact that the world gained peace through the promise made by Vermouth the Great. Though I am a dragon, I hold Vermouth the Great in respect."

"Then why don't you respect me? I fucking helped Vermouth take the heads of three Demon Kings."

"... I've forgiven your unannounced visit and your insolent words and behavior. Doesn't that count as sufficient respect?"

"Seems nowhere near enough to me. Let's be frank: I'm going to beat the shit out of Raizakia, that bastard of your race, on behalf of you and the other dragons. And I'll finish what those soundly sleeping dragons couldn't do three hundred years ago."

"... Finish it? How?"

"Are you asking because you really don't know? I'll kill Raizakia, kill the Demon King of Incarceration, and kill the Demon King of Destruction. Along the way, I'll probably wipe out all the other high-ranking demons too, and sweep away Helmuth, which has the nerve to call itself an empire."

Eugene spoke as though it were nothing of consequence. To Ariartel, none of what he'd said could ever come to pass.

Yet his eyes were calm, and his voice never wavered. He might as well have been saying something as ordinary as, "I'm hungry," or, "I'm thirsty." If you were hungry, you ate. If you were thirsty, you drank water. Yes, all those things were effortless. You simply did them.

Killing Raizakia, killing the Demon King of Incarceration, killing the Demon King of Destruction, and sweeping away Helmuth.

Eugene spoke of those impossible feats as things he merely had to do. Ariartel could not help feeling bewildered. She was a young dragon who had only just outgrown her hatchling years. She hadn't even been born three hundred years ago, when the war was raging. She had hatched only after Vermouth made his promise and peace came to the world.

She had never experienced the war. But she knew how horrific it had been. Dragons lived for eons. Those who had barely survived their battle with the Demon King of Destruction said that he was the most terrifying, horrific being they had encountered in all their long lives, followed by the Demon King of Incarceration.

One could not fight Destruction.

Those were the dying words of a dragon Hamel had heard. They were also a lesson seared into every dragon's heart through excruciating suffering. Ariartel herself had heard those words from her mother before she entered her sleep period. Showing Ariartel her mangled scales and the wounds beneath them, her mother had warned her.

Never go to Helmuth.

Do not try to avenge our race upon Raizakia.

Do not confront the Demon King of Incarceration.

Do not stand before Destruction.

"... Hamel."

Ariartel no longer added "the Stupid." It was finally sinking in. The person before her wasn't twenty-year-old Eugene Lionheart. He was a hero who had challenged the Demon Kings that broke every dragon's wings three hundred years ago. A central figure in that war who had shared in the journey to kill three Demon Kings.

"... As caretaker of the Cradle and the only dragon currently awake, I, Ariartel, wish to ask you this. Hamel Dynas. Do you... truly intend to kill every Demon King?"

"What, should I make them a pinky promise instead?" Eugene replied with a snort. "I'm the sort who prefers swinging his fists and his sword to making promises."

"... I see."

There was no need to ask him to swear an oath.

In the depths of those tranquil golden eyes, Ariartel saw hatred and murderous intent that time had neither buried nor swept away.

Hamel—no, Eugene Lionheart—would kill every Demon King. Even if his strength proved insufficient to accomplish it, he would keep striving to kill them until his last breath.

"... That cloak."

Ariartel examined the Cloak of Darkness Eugene wore. It was an excellent artifact with nothing left to improve. Its inner lining was inscribed with spatial magic of the highest order, while its exterior was packed with shapeshifting spells and defenses against physical and magical attacks.

"... It's excellent as it is, but considering the enemies you must face, its defenses are inadequate."

Ariartel raised a hand. Empty air split open, and she reached into the rift in space.

"... I manage the wealth of the dragons who have entered their sleep period. Gems and gold coins would be of little use to a descendant of the prestigious Lionheart family."

What Ariartel pulled from the rift was an ordinary-looking gold ring.

"I hope this will help you on your journey."

But Eugene realized that the ring was far from ordinary. Unlike its exterior, its inside was pitch-black. Tiny letters, barely visible even under close scrutiny, densely covered the inner surface, forming spell formulas.

"... What's that?"

"Agaroth's Ring. Do you know the name?"

"No. Who's that?"

"... One of the ancient gods who faded into obscurity as mythology came to center on the God of Light. Having been born into a prestigious noble family, you should have received a broad education."

The foremost faith in the world today was that of the God of Light, worshipped by the Holy Empire of Yuras. The religion was widespread not only in Yuras, but throughout the continent.

The God of Light was not the only god. Yuras had adopted the faith of Light as its state religion, but the other nations had no state religion and guaranteed freedom of worship.

Thus, different nations and peoples worshipped a variety of gods. Many people in Nahama believed in the god of deserts and sand. In Shimuin, renowned for its chivalry, many worshipped the god of knights and honor. Kiel also had various faiths, but the best-known deity after the God of Light was the god of abundance and prosperity.

Beyond the gods whose worship had survived in that fashion, many more faiths were said to have existed in the distant past.

"Agaroth is an ancient god of war. His era lies in a past so distant that even dragons, who live for eons, cannot recall it. This ring is an artifact passed down from that Age of Myths."

The ring left Ariartel's hand and floated toward Eugene. He reached out with his left hand, and of its five bare fingers, the ring slipped onto his ring finger.

"Why the ring finger?"

"Contracts, unions, promises. A ring on that finger has held many meanings since ancient times."

A sharp sting. The ring shrank to fit Eugene's finger and drew his blood. Immediately afterward, something like an invisible, transparent membrane enveloped his body beneath his uniform.

Something had clearly covered his skin, yet he felt nothing. When he rubbed his flesh, he could still feel its texture. He could even pluck the fine hairs on his forearm with his fingertips, and pinching himself still caused a slight pain.

"That ring will protect you from lethal threats," Ariartel continued. "It cannot offer absolute protection, but it should prove a great help in your battles against your enemies."

"Let me have Akasha for a moment."

Taking Akasha from Ariartel, he stared at the ring. One by one, the spells engraved upon it came into view. Ancient magic... To classify it more precisely, perhaps it belonged to divine magic.

'... I can't decipher it. It doesn't seem to use mana as its power source, either.'

Though he could see the magic, he could not extract it and use it separately. All divine magic was like that. It was magic, yet not magic. That was why priests and holy knights called the power they wielded "miracles."

'... A defensive barrier, and... what's this... healing magic? It forcibly activates the body's ability to regenerate. To its absolute limit, at that... Fortunately, I seem to be able to activate it of my own will.'

He understood. Agaroth's Ring. In exchange for forcibly healing a body crippled by injuries, its healing magic ate away at the wearer's lifespan. It stole their future. Eugene understood why the ring had formed a contract through his ring finger and drunk his blood. He also understood why Agaroth, its owner, was a god of war.

It commanded its wearer to rise and fight again and again on the battlefield, even when their body should have died. Eugene chuckled and clenched his fist. Even if he had no choice but to use its healing, afterward he would need ample rest to replenish the vitality it drained. He couldn't abuse its regeneration in battle. It would depend on the severity of his injuries, but if he healed a fatal wound even once, there would be no next time.

'Using it together with Ignition... is impossible. I'd rather endure the backlash.'

He considered driving Ignition further and further out of control until his heart burst, then healing it with Agaroth's Ring. It was an utterly idiotic method, and clearly wouldn't be as effective as he imagined. He would destroy himself, as befitted such stupidity.

'It's best to treat injuries separately. This is insurance for when I have absolutely no other choice... Thank goodness I can control it myself. I don't need to heal completely, just enough for my body to hold out. Once I've survived, I can replenish the lifespan it took.'

Had he not understood it through Akasha, he might have abused it unknowingly on the battlefield and suddenly dropped dead. Eugene snorted at the war god's malicious, vicious sense of humor and clenched his fist.

"Don't you have any weapons for me?"

"... You should have no need for any more weapons."

Wynnyd, the Storm Sword, alone was one of the most powerful weapons in the continent's history. Lionheart possessed several other weapons as well—ones powerful enough to send dragons into a frenzy of covetousness. Three hundred years ago, Vermouth had found weapons from the Age of Myths hidden throughout the continent and claimed them all for himself. Even among the combined treasures of the sleeping dragons, no weapons surpassed those Lionheart possessed.

"I'd like to decide for myself whether I need them... Managing all that wealth looks like a tedious hassle. Can't you just leave it all to me? I'll put it to good use and return everything nice and neat, and a little money and some gems too..."

"You can return to the Dragonic mansion through the full-length mirror in the living room."

Without another word, Ariartel snatched Akasha from Eugene.

"Once I've inscribed the Word magic, I'll send the staff to the Lionheart mansion. Don't come here again."

Apparently, she had no intention of entrusting all the dragons' wealth to him.

* * *

His week with the Dragonic family had yielded more than he'd initially expected. He had learned Empty Sword from Alchester, met the dragon Ariartel, and learned that every dragon but her had entered their sleep period. He had also obtained Agaroth's Ring, insurance against the worst possible situation.

His greatest achievement was gaining a way to track down Raizakia through the Word magic that would be inscribed into Akasha.

There was a condition: he needed either something Raizakia had used for a long time or blood from a hatchling he had fathered. Still, unlike when he had been searching without a single clue, he now had a reliable method. That was enormously significant.

'One way or another, I'll have to go to Dragon Demon Castle.'

That would be the surest approach, but he couldn't leave right away. Would he storm Dragon Demon Castle head-on, or sneak inside? Either way, going to Dragon Demon Castle meant going to Helmuth. And hatred of humans was particularly rampant there, perhaps more than anywhere else in Helmuth.

'... Not just Raizakia, either...'

The Word magic to be inscribed into Akasha might have a complex formula, but its purpose was simple.

Tracking magic.

'... Maybe I can use that magic to find fragments of the Moonlight Sword.'

There were far too many powerful bastards he needed to kill. If the Moonlight Sword regained the power it had possessed three hundred years ago, it would be a tremendous help in killing them.

'... And... Vermouth.'

He had concealed his death for two hundred years.

Punched a hole through Senya's chest.

'Opened my coffin and left the Moonlight Sword inside.'

The bastard who had taken Senya's necklace, interfered in his reincarnation, and left that necklace in Lionheart's Treasury.

Perhaps he could find that bastard whose intentions were utterly unfathomable.

"... Sob..."

'... Maybe I can find Anise or Moron too. Anise is... hmm... an angel now... Would it lead me to heaven, then?'

"Sob... sniff..."

'I think Moron is still alive. They said he was fine just a hundred years ago, didn't they? Surely he hasn't died since then. If I go to Ruhar's royal palace, there should be some of his treasured belongings left...'

"Waaah..."

"Why do you keep blubbering?"

Eugene scowled and looked ahead. Riu stood there with his shoulders drooping, tears rolling down his face.

"... Aren't you sad too?"

"Am I going off to die? Huh? Or are you dying?"

"Sniff..."

"Seriously, why are you crying? What's so sad about me going home?"

"I won't be able to learn any more from you..."

"I've taught you all I can. Riu Dragonic. You have nothing more to learn from me."

This was better than a clumsy attempt to comfort him. Though he'd been snapping irritably just a moment ago, Eugene assumed a solemn expression and laid a hand on Riu's shoulder.

"Shed sweat instead of tears, young man. The more you sweat, the stronger you will become. Never forget my teachings as you train."

"... Y-yes."

"Listen to Sir Alchester. And don't act like a little shit just because your father's powerful. If you run your mouth without knowing how big the world is, someone scarier than me might kill your ass."

"Yes..."

"I taught you for a week, but don't go imagining we've formed some tremendous bond and come visiting Lionheart whenever you please."

"What?"

Riu asked again, unable to understand. Eugene thought for a moment, then rephrased it in terms a ten-year-old could grasp.

"If you want to visit, ask me first, 'May I come over?' If I say no, don't come. Understand?"

"Yes!"

Riu smiled brightly as he imagined visiting Lionheart to see Eugene.

Of course, if Riu said he wanted to visit, Eugene intended to say no, whatever the reason.

'I was playing with kids seven years ago. I'm too old to start playing with another one now.'

Actually, weren't even Cyan and Ciel still children if he took his previous life into account?

Then what did that make him? Old?

Eugene banished the thought that had suddenly occurred to him.

'Better to be young than old.'

Ever since his previous life, Eugene had left other people's business to them, while being generous with himself in all sorts of ways.