Chapter 166 - The Greatest Trace (2)

A dragon did not die even when killed.

Even if it was torn to pieces and cast all across the world, a dragon's will, perfect and therefore tenacious, would still be alive and breathing everywhere.

It was a being born that way from the beginning.

What should I do when that time comes?

When the cursed dragon crawls out again in a time when I am gone.

Will the knights of that time truly be able to do as I did?

Even if the me of today goes around sowing seeds for their future.

※※※※

["Vlad! Vlad, snap out of it!"]

Vlad was still stiff as stone, letting out only suppressed groans.

Quijano within him kept shouting to wake Vlad, but Vlad himself, who was hearing those words, could not even twitch a finger.

"Grrrrgh!"

THUMP!

THUMP!

The pressure he could feel because he was a swordsman and the instinct flowing through his blood were shouting at the same time.

If you resist, you die.

So lie flat and stay down.

"Do you want to live?"

The man who had come with the fog was smiling as he looked at Vlad.

A single shard forcibly embedded in his heart slowly began to beat along with the young dragon's struggle.

"Then beg. Just like you did back then."

The man was walking backward, and so he was walking not toward tomorrow, but toward the past.

Frausen.

He was looking at Vlad's blue eyes, which so closely resembled someone's, and recalling old memories.

"Go... fuck... yourself."

But unlike the dragon back then, the young dragon before him did not bow his head and beg to be spared.

Frausen looked at the middle finger Vlad had raised toward him with great effort and gave a faint smile.

"You've got one useful thing, at least. Spirit."

Quijano inside and Frausen outside were looking in different directions, but what they felt was the same.

The Swordmaster who cherished rising stars had always been a man who loved challengers.

"A shame you're a dragon."

But no matter how much he liked him, what stood before him was a dragon.

It was a being that fed on someone's possibilities to grow, and so it had to be killed.

The man drew his sword.

A rattling sound came from the ill-fitting scabbard.

"... I told you, it's Vlad."

But the man who had introduced himself as Frausen soon paused at the sound he heard.

There was a strange vibration hidden in Vlad's voice.

"I'm not a dragon... I'm Vlad, you son of a bitch."

The world known as the greatest Dragon Slayer now stood before Vlad.

A colossal existence before whom any knight would have no choice but to bow his head.

Yet even before that tremendous existence, Vlad was slowly reaching his hand toward his sword.

"Hup!"

If he died here without being able to move, then who would repay Justia's sacrifice?

The words she had gifted him were still written upon his chest.

I had only been a squire of no consequence, yet she had called me the knight who protected the breaths of children.

"...!"

["...!"]

From the tip of the sword he finally touched, Vlad's world began to spread.

A single flower that only I had been able to see.

The world that could now be seen even through both unclosed eyes was hanging from the tip of Vlad's sword.

The world the boy dreamed of began to fill the blood-reeking room, little by little.

"... Oh."

How precious were young things that could express their possibilities toward the world?

As they glimpsed the world the boy had dreamed of gathered at the tip of his sword, Quijano and Frausen were thinking the same thing at once.

That before the most perfect dragon, I had wanted to protect this.

"Yes. Vlad."

Vlad's world was no longer confined to the world within, but now flowed out into the world beyond.

But he himself, trembling, had not yet noticed that his world had slipped beyond its shell.

This present moment could not help but be the most dangerous and the most heartbreaking.

That was why I had asked the knights to protect this moment.

"Now die."

In Quijano's eyes, he could see the world Vlad had created, but in Frausen's ears, only the screams of the countless stars trampled beneath the dragon's claws were circling clearly.

"... Hm?"

The tip of the raised sword flashed.

But perhaps because of that brief hesitation...

The tip of his sword, held high and taut, could not fly toward the young dragon's throat.

"Gah!"

Vlad, who had been lying there, suddenly began to sink beneath the bed with a short cry.

And with him, Vlad's world that had been flowing out vanished like a mirage.

At the sight of Vlad plunging in with a splash as if the bed were a bathtub, Frausen's eyes widened.

"... Oh."

It was a situation beyond common sense, enough to fluster even a swordsman who handled the unexpected.

But no matter how he watched with his eyes open, Vlad and the young acolyte who had been lying there until just now had already disappeared.

Even now, only the bedsheet fluttered where they had been lying, making small ripples.

"... In every age, those mage bastards are nothing if not bewildering."

Only then grasping the situation, Frausen gave a hollow laugh and bit his lip.

I should not have hesitated.

This was not why I returned.

"Hiding within mystery will only buy you a moment, young dragon."

As soon as Vlad had grown distant, Frausen's expression vanished once more, and he glared dryly at the floor beneath the bed.

Only the bloodstains of the fallen holy knight filled that place.

His hollow world, invisible no matter how hard he closed his eyes, began to catch the small ripples still ringing there.

※※※※

Vlad gritted his teeth at the dizzying sensation of falling endlessly.

'What the hell is this!'

From the fourth floor to the third, from the third to the second.

He was in the middle of endlessly falling with a strange sensation, but Vlad held the young acolyte beside him tightly in his arms.

The farther he got from the man who had introduced himself as Frausen, the more Vlad's frozen fingers gradually loosened.

"Grgh!"

And at last, Vlad and Jean fell all the way to the very bottom of the church.

There stood Nibelun, reaching his hand toward them as they came down.

"Light as a feathe...!"

He hurriedly chanted the spell, but things that fell had no wings.

THUD!

"... Was what you should have become, but the spell was a bit long."

Watching Vlad fall from the ceiling with the loud clatter of armor, Nibelun could only smack his lips.

"Guaaaah..."

"What is this? What on earth happened up there?"

Whether because he was in pain from falling to the floor or because his body was still stiff, Vlad could not easily get up from the floor.

"Look at this! In all my life, I have never seen or heard of a being with this much spiritual pressure!"

Nibelun took Jean from Vlad, hurriedly rummaged through his coat, and thrust a strange object toward Vlad, who still had not come to his senses.

"What is that?"

"It's a distortion indicator. A tool that measures mystery, worlds, and divinity."

When he thrust it toward Vlad, the needle tip of the compass spun round and round at high speed, as if it had broken.

"Huh? What's wrong with this thing?"

Seeing that, Nibelun tapped the compass in confusion, but the compass itself was only performing its role splendidly.

"Uuuugh..."

But Vlad, rolling on the floor, had still not fully escaped Frausen's spellbinding pressure.

Far from answering the question, Vlad was still twitching, and as Nibelun watched, a lanky shadow began to rise inside the cell.

"He was overwhelmed."

It was Bishop Pierre, who had been detained in the church basement by Gunther.

Having experienced many sinister beings, Bishop Pierre immediately recognized Vlad's condition and drew a small club from his coat.

"I'll say this in advance. I have no personal grudge."

"Huh?"

"No, perhaps I do have a little."

Vlad, who had been suffering for some time from a paralysis like chills, was horrified to see Bishop Pierre swing something down at him, but this time there was simply no way to dodge.

"Only His will shall drive away the fog of delusion!"

WHACK!

WHACK!

WHACK!

Three strikes rang out inside the cell.

Though they had struck his head, the sound rang out clear and resonant, and with it, Vlad sprang upright and clutched his head.

"What the hell are you doing!"

"I merely drove out the energy that had taken root in your head."

Vlad's skull was throbbing from Bishop Pierre's merciless blows, but just as he had said, Vlad was moving normally now, unlike before.

Bishop Pierre grinned and wagged the small gavel in front of Vlad.

For some reason, the little gavel, like the kind judges used, seemed to be covered in faint bloodstains.

CRACK!

CRUNCH!

But before he had time to spit out a word of resentment, the ceiling of the cell began to rumble.

Someone's fists, coming down toward the basement, were shaking the church of Moshiam without mercy.

"I think he's following us!"

"How about it? Think you can take him?"

Unlike Nibelun, who had turned deathly pale, Bishop Pierre seemed ready to prepare for a decisive battle, but Vlad, who would have to become the sword, only shook his head in frustration.

"Well, that must be why you were overwhelmed."

"..."

Even under Bishop Pierre's rebuke, Vlad did not dare make excuses.

After all, drops of Justia's blood were still spattered all over Vlad's armor.

The hole the young bird inside the shell had pecked open to the outside world was still far too small to check.

"Shall we leave for now?"

"How?"

The vibrations shaking the ceiling were drawing closer and closer.

Moreover, this place was underground, so if they escaped to the first floor, they would certainly face the unknown being.

It was only natural for Bishop Pierre to question Nibelun, who had suggested they leave.

"Mystery shows a path anytime, anywhere."

"Hmph. You Beastfolk always use words like that to deceive people."

Lightly ignoring Bishop Pierre's sneer, Nibelun hurriedly pulled a long carpet from his backpack.

Its size should have made it impossible to fit inside the backpack, but the way he smoothly drew it out looked very familiar.

"We hang this on the wall."

When Nibelun placed the carpet against the cell wall, it stuck fast, as if nails had been driven into it.

"Set the direction... There, done."

Nibelun, who clapped his hands together as if everything was finished, lifted the carpet.

Vlad and Bishop Pierre watched, wondering what in the world this bizarre nonsense was, but what lay beyond the carpet was not the wall of the cell, but a fog-filled street of Moshiam.

"Let's go. This won't hold for long."

"..."

"..."

Looking at Nibelun, who had connected two places that could not possibly be connected, the devout priest and the knight who possessed a world were left speechless.

BANG!

BANG!

They wondered whether it would truly be safe, but seeing stone dust now falling from the ceiling, Vlad and Bishop Pierre had no choice but to hurry.

["Do not waste the present she created. There is nothing in this world more precious or costly than the price of a life."]

'... I understand.'

Carrying the still-sleeping Jean on his back, Vlad gritted his teeth as he felt someone drawing closer and closer.

He wanted to explode in anger right this instant, but if the opponent he had just seen was who they would face, defeat would be certain no matter how he charged in.

Resolve without a plan was nothing more than empty delusion.

Just as the voice had said, Vlad had no intention of throwing away the life Justia had saved so vainly.

"Lord Vlad!"

Following Nibelun's low cry from outside, Vlad stepped into the carpet.

The violent tremors soon reached the cell where they had been, but when Nibelun's arm, poking out, swiftly retrieved the hanging carpet, no one's voice could be heard inside the cell anymore.

"... They fled."

Nibelun's mystery had saved the group from the hollow world.

But Frausen, the pursuer, likely had no particular complaint to make against Nibelun for that.

For the mystery that the Beastfolk had never let go of until the very end must also have been one of the worlds he had tried to protect.

※※※※

A pale headstone was visible in the fog-filled clearing.

Realizing where he was from that headstone, Vlad quickly drew his sword and began watching his surroundings.

"It's good that we escaped, but why here of all places!"

"It was the only place I remembered."

Seeing Nibelun scratch the back of his head, Vlad wanted to explode in fury, but it was also true that they had gotten out because of him.

"Did we really have to come back to the cemetery in this mess?"

"A church is better than a cemetery after all, yes?"

"Are you crazy!"

Seeing Nibelun try to spread the carpet again, Vlad hurriedly kicked his backpack away.

"Ow, shit! What the hell!"

"There is a lot inside the backpack. It is quite heavy, more than it looks."

But the backpack Vlad had kicked only sat still without budging.

Yet even as he said it was heavy, Nibelun shouldered the backpack as if it were nothing.

"Where do we go now?"

"..."

At Nibelun's question, Vlad pulled Jean tighter on his back and hurriedly looked beyond the cemetery.

The cemetery was located on the outskirts of the city, so the city wall should have been right beside it, but all Vlad could see now was fog, with no surrounding structures visible at all.

"We won't be able to leave. It seems the place has already begun turning into a demon realm."

Saying that perhaps no one from outside could enter now either, Bishop Pierre quietly closed his eyes and began to pray.

"Then what are we supposed to do?"

"What else would we do?"

Bishop Pierre adjusted his grip on the gavel he held and began walking out of the cemetery.

"The reason Moshiam has become like this is because of a sinister curse that moves through the fog."

Curses were powerful techniques that black magic boasted of, but they shared a common weakness.

If their source was dispelled, they vanished without a trace.

"If you want to get out of here, all we have to do is destroy the source."

"And what is that source?"

At Vlad's words, Bishop Pierre's gavel moved slowly.

Vlad subtly stepped back at the sight of that gavel, but Bishop Pierre's fingertip was actually pointing toward something floating in the distance.

"The beginning of everything must be that thing."

"..."

In the middle of the city, above the fog like a sea, there was a single tree floating.

Though only half of it remained after Vlad had split it apart, the heaven-defying tree was still feeding on people's screams even now and spewing out fog.

※※※※

"Grrrrgh!"

The holy knights were struggling to maintain their defensive formation in the fog.

But several knights who had failed to look after themselves had already been mercilessly torn apart outside the formation, until their shapes could no longer be recognized.

As if the stigmata drawn on their foreheads meant nothing, the headless ones before them were completely unaffected.

"What sinister trick..."

Gunther, shaking his head as if dizzy, wore a deeply troubled expression.

If it had simply been sword against sword, it would not have been this difficult.

But the woman floating in the air was still endlessly tormenting the holy knights.

And she did so through methods familiar to them.

"No wonder she was not written in the complete exorcism texts..."

Only now somewhat realizing the woman's true nature, Gunther's eyes burned.

The woman was clearly a sinister being, but she was not a being born from the demonic.

"Apostate!"

A traitor who had forsaken the will of God.

And the wonders she was performing now were not things one could do without building up considerable spirituality.

"State your name! You wicked thing!"

Gunther shouted as if chewing and spitting out the words, full of hatred, yet the smile of the woman looking at him was only gentle.

"What use is a name? They are things that will be erased once swept away anyway."

With a faint smile, the woman soon clasped her hands together and lifted her head toward the sky.

Behind her was the heaven-defying tree stretching up toward the sky.

And right before her were the faithful servants of God, bleeding.

All of it was a sight she had longed for.

"I should have done this long ago."

Toward the sky far beyond the fog, the woman drew in a deep breath.

Then a hymn offered to God spread out.

"... What?"

At her voice, so fine and beautiful, the holy knights were greatly shaken.

The strange thing, however, was that unlike that beautiful voice, the hymn they heard was chillingly ominous.

As they heard the lyrics being recited backward within a familiar melody, even the holy knights ended up covering their ears.