Chapter 214 - Leashed Dragons (1)

Beneath the Mother World Tree where red autumn leaves fluttered, Quijano quietly watched Vlad, who was sitting with his head buried in his knees.

It was because Vlad's back, sitting silently after fleeing all the way to another's world, reminded him exactly of his own past self.

["... Frausen has a dragon fragment embedded in his heart."]

It was not easy to speak up, but looking at Vlad's back, who did not seem likely to stand up easily, Quijano decided to tell him.

Because, even though it was not the right way, he could guess the weight of the worries Vlad harbored.

["If you can stop that fragment, even for a moment, Frausen will also close his eyes."]

The Founding King and Swordmaster.

Even though Frausen had been revived in a wretched state, to Vlad, he was like an insurmountable wall.

Quijano knew well that to overcome him, they could no longer pursue only the orthodox methods.

"How?"

["Split your world."]

Not the revived Swordmaster, but the dragon fragment he harbored.

It was also a method that only Quijano, who had already experienced damaging perfection, could suggest.

["Through your world, split like that, you will inflict a flaw upon the perfection that the fragment possesses."]

Vlad slowly raised his head at Quijano's voice, which seemed different from usual.

To Vlad, the being known as Quijano was like a lighthouse that always showed only the right and proper path, but today, he was shining fiercely.

["... To wound another's world, one must also be prepared to be wounded."]

Meeting his gaze like that, Quijano's eyes looked somewhat sad.

The depth of that sadness, which Vlad could hardly dare to guess, originated from memories of a very long time ago, and it was also directed at the young knight who now had to wander through harsh reality.

["Knight Vlad. Are you prepared to be wounded to do what you must do?"]

The one with the deepest wounds in this world was asking right now.

Toward the one who would be wounded in his stead from now on.

"…"

'How do I look in your eyes right now?'

In the long silence Vlad showed, Quijano recalled the most perfect dragon he had faced in the distant past.

Because it was a brilliant possibility that could take any form, the most perfect dragon was a being who, until the very moment of death, did not know what it truly wanted to become.

"... You don't need to be so considerate of me. Quijano."

However, Vlad's answer, which came after the silence, was different from back then.

"I'm someone who swore to do that in the first place, aren't I?"

An answer originating from the same existence, yet completely different.

At Vlad's current answer, Quijano could confirm that the choice he had made back then was not wrong.

Unlike the most perfect dragon of that time, the Vlad in front of Quijano right now was someone who knew exactly who he was.

* * *

"Move!"

"Guards, open the gates!"

At the moment Vlad and the godmother were facing each other, the sound of galloping hooves rang loudly by the walls of the city of Namarca.

It was the sound created by roughly a dozen horses sprinting.

However, the guards who were supposed to be defending the gates did not block the charging horses; instead, they merely rushed to take cover upon seeing the leading flag.

"The dragon killer knights?"

"No, why are these people..."

A city with no proper master, and thus no one to take responsibility for it.

There were flags rushing toward that city without hesitation.

Raised with a chilling momentum as if to cut down anyone in front of them, the flags bore a long line depicting a severed dragon's neck.

"Where are you, Vlad?"

Staring at the city they had just entered, Mircea's eyes shone blue.

It was because the presence of Vlad, which he could clearly feel due to his proximity, made his heart pound.

"... It's over there."

Although not to the extent of his father, the Dragonblood Duke, Mircea was also the legitimate heir who had fully inherited the blood and teachings of Dragulia.

Searching the dragon's world through his closed left eye, Mircea could see a golden world flickering from the end of an alley in the distance.

"You're still lingering only in places that don't suit you, Vlad."

Even though the blood he carried was noble and the light he emitted was brilliant, his younger brother still only lingered in shabby places.

Although he was a guy he had to face, Mircea did not like that sight, so he furrowed his brows and gripped the reins of his horse.

"Let's go."

"Yes, Captain."

The final haven of the Luga tribe, who had aimlessly wandered for those long years without a single warm rest.

Moving toward that place, the dragon's flag fluttered ominously.

Just like Mircea's eyes as he now led the dragon killer knights forward.

* * *

"Godmother!"

There was an urgent voice that shattered the completely stiffened air in the room.

The atmosphere of the thrown-open room was not so forgiving that just anyone could easily interrupt, but to the beastman who had just rushed in, it did not matter at all.

"It's the dragon killer knights! The dragon killer knights are galloping this way!"

"…"

Quijano, who was inside Vlad.

Thus, the Luga tribe's godmother, who had even seen through what kind of being Vlad—who harbored Quijano—was, set down the pipe she was holding at the sudden ominous news.

"In the end, it comes to this."

The godmother's gaze looking at Vlad sank heavily.

Although she had just realized how mysterious a being the Vlad in front of her was, in the end, dragons were nothing more than ominous beings to them.

"You all always end up trampling our home. In the very distant past, and even now."

"…"

It was said that there were countless possibilities trampled by dragons, but no one had suffered as desperately as the beastmen, who had lost their homes and even had them sunk into the sea.

Perhaps it was because of such a grudge that they had passed down a mystery akin to a curse to the Swordmaster.

"I am different from those outside. I am strictly..."

"No matter how much you try to explain it with your mouth, I do not know you."

The sounds of shouting from outside were growing louder.

They were the chaotic screams let out by the beastmen of the Luga tribe at the sudden intrusion of beings they could not resist.

"So give me your dagger."

"Why... the dagger all of a sudden?"

No matter how much he said he was different, to the Luga tribe's godmother, the face of Vlad before her was merely a dragon.

And not just an ordinary dragon; the remnant of the most perfect dragon, reconnected through his innate bloodline, was exactly the image of Vlad that the godmother had grasped.

However, the situation they faced was urgent, and with nowhere suitable to ask for help, the Luga tribe's godmother had to make a decision.

"If you want to make me understand, and also wish to take the imprint to kill a dragon, you must give it to me quickly."

With those words, the Luga tribe's godmother plucked the large feather tucked into her headband and began dipping it into the jet-black dye pot placed nearby.

Even though she had merely dipped it slightly, the brilliant feather turned completely black, which seemed to be a magic spell utilizing a mystery.

"Greedy beings who never let go of what they hold in their hands—those are dragons. Because they try to approach perfection through the things they have gathered."

Holding the dyed feather like that, the Luga tribe's godmother began to draw something on Vlad's dagger.

It was merely a drawing done with ink, but for some reason, it was a picture that ended up settling as a firm pattern on Jorge's dagger.

"But you said you were different, so try proving it with this."

Amidst the urgent shouts ringing from outside, a single jet-black imprint was suddenly engraved on Jorge's dagger, which was finally finished being drawn on.

Although it was merely drawn on the surface, the imprint, which had settled as firmly as if it had been hammered in, bore a shape akin to a jaggedly protruding snare.

"Let's see if you really are a fellow different from the other dragons."

"…"

Receiving the dagger, Vlad did not say much, but he felt he could understand what the Luga tribe's godmother wanted from him right now.

The beings known as dragons, who only possessed because they never shared.

However, the Luga tribe's godmother was telling him that he had to suppress even a dragon's instinct to show his true intentions.

* * *

"Urgh..."

Sitting inside the prison, Radu was shivering uncontrollably at a sudden chill he felt.

With even his face turning deathly pale, it was an appearance that looked unusually serious to anyone who saw it.

"What's wrong? Did you catch a cold?"

"Hnnng... He's here, he's here."

Bishop Pierre, who was next to him, approached the trembling Radu, but the source of the chill he was actually shaking from was not an illness, but fear.

"N-Nearby, Mircea... Mircea is here."

"...!"

The son of Dragulia, said to have inherited the dragon's blood most thickly after the Dragonblood Duke.

No matter how much he had weakened, Radu was also a dragon, so he could feel Mircea's presence.

However, his ever-approaching presence was merely akin to a death sentence for Radu.

"I need to get out right now, I need to get out..."

"Guards!"

Bishop Pierre, realizing the seriousness of the situation, called out to the guards who should have been outside the prison, but all that returned was an empty silence.

Because the guards had all rushed out in such a panic, leaving not a single person behind, the only ones inside the prison now were Bishop Pierre and the shivering Radu.

"Vlad! Over here!"

However, as if Bishop Pierre's shout was not in vain, there were people urgently running from the darkness beyond the torches.

Seeing those familiar shadows, Bishop Pierre waved his hands wildly to show they were here.

"Do you have the key?"

"If I had the key in the first place, would I have been locked up?!"

"Then step aside."

CRASH!

Bishop Pierre had flared up at Vlad's foolish question, but seeing the iron bars raining down, he had no choice but to shut his mouth.

It was because, no matter how rusted the iron bars were, they looked like mere twigs before the swing of Vlad's sword.

"Get up."

"Urgh!"

Entering the prison, Vlad firmly grabbed and stood up Radu, who was still trembling while saying that Mircea was here.

Radu, who was already greatly aged, had no choice but to dangle helplessly at Vlad's rough gesture.

"You said you ended up like this because your blood was taken, right?"

"Y-Yes."

Vlad's eyes, glaring at Radu, were shining blue.

That gaze, which he could feel because he was the same kind of dragon, slowly began to push away the fragments of fear that had settled in Radu's soul.

"Then what do you have to do to become young again?"

"What?"

"Lure them into the alley!"

"Take care of the godmother first!"

The shouts ringing from outside the prison were growing louder.

It meant the dragon killer knights had gotten close enough that they could be noticed just by the approaching sounds, and it also meant Vlad had little time left.

"Do you just need to drink blood again? Will you become young then?"

"…"

"Then, even if you can't handle Mircea, can you stop the other knights?"

Radu Dragulia.

A half-blooded illegitimate son who inherited the blue eyes but did not inherit the brilliant blonde hair.

Although all his possibilities had now been entirely stolen by his father, he too had a time when he shone brilliantly as a knight.

"Of course. Within the dragon killer knights, the only ones who could stop me, Radu Dragulia, were my father and Mircea!"

At the confident boast of Radu, who, though arrogant, seemed to have suddenly regained his true self, a brief smile hovered over Vlad's expression.

However, contrary to his smiling expression, a deeply cut wound had suddenly taken hold on Vlad's hand.

"Do not forget the reason why I am giving you this blood."

"...!"

Drops of blood fell one by one to the prison floor along the dagger engraved with the bizarre imprint.

Recognizing the dragon's brilliant possibilities within it, Radu's eyes began to turn bloodshot red.

Thick dragon's blood that could not be obtained even by catching dozens of dragons.

That blood was now falling pitifully, seducing Radu.

"You will help me stop the dragon killer knights. Radu Dragulia."

"Urgh! Gasp!"

Radu opened his mouth toward the falling drops of blood as if he had no time to breathe.

They were tiny drops, but with every drop he swallowed, his possibilities swelled, and Radu once again began to realize the fact that he was a dragon.

"Raaaargh!"

Fangs that grew longer every time his throat writhed, and muscles all over his body that gradually began to bulge.

And even strangely shaped tattoos that settled around his neck each time he swallowed Vlad's blood.

"Dear me."

Watching Vlad share his possibilities and Radu devouring them ravenously, Bishop Pierre was at a loss for words for a moment.

And in his line of sight, he began to see bizarre imprints gradually spreading around Radu's neck.

Those imprints were slowly spreading in jet-black around Radu's neck, looking like a snare made of thorny vines.