295. The Key to the Nine Thousand Mile Sky (11)
Lysir did her best. She was wise enough to know that her and Jerolen’s future depended on the man before her.
Excluding Abel’s presence, Queen Leia’s elves had the numerical advantage and were confident in their naval battle.
On the other hand, Jerolen’s forces, though few in number, had her.
A dragon’s breath could shatter a flagship. No, only a dragon’s breath could destroy the Serpent King’s flagship.
In this era where many things had disappeared, Queen Leia’s elves dared not provoke Jerolen in the presence of Lysir.
But with Abelesas present, assuming the two dragons were evenly matched, all Jerolen had left was his own military power. And the truth of war lies in numerical superiority.
If the man before her was Abelesas’s spouse, or at least in a close relationship, his will could determine the current stalemate.
“Do not hate him.”
Thus, the dragon, closer to a god than anyone in the Material World, the last survivor, could only bow her head and plead.
Not for herself, but for one person and the people he cared for.
But as the conversation continued, Fernandez’s expression grew colder. By the time the dragon pleaded, he closed his eyes and bowed his head.
Abel’s face showed anxiety, and Lysir looked half-resigned. She glanced weakly at Abel.
If Fernandez decided to tolerate Jerolen, war would break out. And if war started, she would have to oppose Abel. Was it possible? Against one of the most ferocious dragons during the Celestial War?
‘How many cities did Abel burn before she went into seclusion?’
Probably about that many.
Considering that dwarven cannons could shatter dragon scales, the fact that even dwarven cities burned under her breath proved her military power.
On the other hand, Lysir was a gentle dragon. During the Great War, she was too young, and by the time her wings hardened, most dragons had already disappeared. Though she had lived long, her time spent fighting was short.
She looked at Fernandez with tense eyes. Under the night wind, his half-gray hair fluttered as he silently bowed his head.
Unable to bear it, Abel stepped forward and gently grabbed his sleeve.
“Fernandez.”
“Wait.”
Fernandez reached out to stop Abel. He sighed deeply and looked up at the sky. A faint halo surrounded the white moon.
A storm was coming.
Facing the wind, he turned his head to look at a corner of the deck. A silhouette flickered.
“You deceived the one you loved most.”
“……”
“If the word ‘love’ is too embarrassing, let me rephrase it. You betrayed the one who trusted you the most. King Jerolen.”
Had the banquet ended? Jerolen walked out with a face flushed from alcohol. His long cloak fluttered roughly in the night wind. He silently looked at Fernandez for a moment.
For a brief moment, their gazes crossed in the air. Jerolen smiled bitterly and reached behind his back. Clang, the cold sound of steel clashing. In his hand was a long spear.
“It wasn’t Queen Leia’s will to find me. And her authority among her people was too solid, so it couldn’t have been the will of the people either. Was it you?”
“Yes.”
“We both have much to be curious about. The night is long and lonely……”
-Kiiing……
The spear blade gleamed with a cold light under the moon. With the spear pointed straight, Jerolen, with his lion-like mane of hair, spoke.
“All two armed men need is curiosity. Isn’t that right?”
“……Why?”
Despite Fernandez’s question, Jerolen silently stared at him.
Reasons and explanations would come later.
Seeing the stubborn competitiveness in Jerolen’s eyes, Fernandez silently drew his greatsword and took a stance.
The Mourning Sword, the pale blade of the greatsword, glowed faintly under the moon. Seeing this, Abel and Lysir’s faces turned pale in an instant.
“Fernandez! Why……?”
“Jerry! Stop! There’s no reason to fight, no benefit to gain. Can’t we resolve this with words?”
The two dragons urgently shouted as if they would pull the two men apart at any moment. Fernandez, without turning his head, looked straight at Jerolen and said.
“I felt something when I killed the two Serpent Kings. Will you answer me?”
“What?”
“Guimerin imitated a god, and Malerun imitated a demon.”
A king who tried to create a new god by taking the divinity of a dead god.
A king who tried to ascend by taking the souls of his people.
And……
“What did you imitate?”
Implanting the divinity of a god into a dragon. That itself wasn’t much different from Guimerin’s method. But, making a contract with a dragon imbued with divine divinity to ensure his own immortality……?
“At least Guimerin tried to lift the curse of his race through the created god. His methods were disgusting, but if he had a final defense—.”
[You cannot mock her. No one can laugh at her! She acted solely, solely for her people. Solely for the well-being of her race!]
[Then you should have shared your god’s spirit with your precious comrades. King Guimerin!]
His excuse was ugly, his methods disgusting. And personally…… Guimerin, who stole his son’s body to extend his life, was unforgivable.
But, if he were given a final defense. If there was one truthful word from his mouth. At least he acted for his people. Even if it was the arrogance and desire of a dictator, an absolute monarch. Even if it was a petty favor for eternal puppets……
“How much did Lysir tell you?”
“What you told Lysir.”
“If that’s all.”
“I didn’t lie. I didn’t pretend to be kind, nor did I deceive love. I loved that beautiful dragon, who was no different from our people.”
“Then, was the story about your lifespan and power also true?”
“……”
Imbuing a dragon with divinity. It’s a power so great that even a dead dragon could be resurrected. A power strong enough to pull the soul of a dragon, which should have faded with time, back into the mortal world.
If a living dragon gains that power, the dragon could become a god. Like the celestial dragon Kaladpelin. It could ascend to immortality at any moment.
But Jerolen chose to ride on the divinity of the dragon. Unlike accumulating divinity through achievements, directly receiving the divinity and power of another god is something a mortal body cannot endure. Even Fernandez’s soul burned when he wielded the Keyblade with that power.
Even the process of creating Diemonica is no different. Forcing divinity into a body to gain a transcendent form. Even if it’s a miracle created by half-divinity, the success rate of the Diemonica procedure doesn’t exceed 10% even among the most qualified candidates.
That was precisely why the Serpent Kings couldn’t become gods themselves. There was no way to contain divinity in a body cursed by the gods. Without a reliable safeguard, it’s not even something one could attempt.
Thus, they use dragons. Pour divinity into the dragon, and hold the dragon’s soul as collateral to form a contract. Like a contract between a demon and a human. Like ‘faith’ between a god and a human.
“Your name?”
“Fernandez Sernerd.”
“A priest?”
“…Now.”
“Both of us have things to ask each other, but the solution I can offer is still only one. I need to see your skills.”
Come. Jerolen’s eyes glowed coldly in the darkness as he spoke. Fernandez let out a short sigh and raised his sword diagonally over his shoulder. A solid stance. Firm, with no gaps. Jerolen raised his evaluation of his opponent a notch in his mind.
“I won’t kill you.”
“Bold.”
Jerolen let out a short laugh. Soon, the two men charged at each other.
* * *
-KAAAAANG!!
A spear shot forward. Fernandez momentarily lost track of the spear’s movement. His dodge was purely by chance and experience. The spear blade narrowly grazed Fernandez’s cheek, blurring for a moment.
Fernandez’s sword swept along the spear shaft, drawing a large semicircle. Crack, clang. The sharp blade scraped the spear shaft, sending sparks flying in all directions. And then, straight toward Jerolen’s throat—
-KWADDDDDUK!
Missed again. Fernandez narrowed his eyes and swung his sword. The trajectory of the greatsword drew a perfectly clean semicircle. The spear blade, like a snake, burrowed into the sword’s path, scattering its trajectory and exploiting the gap!
-KAGAK!
The two men exchanged no words. Between the clash of sword and spear, their gazes remained locked on each other’s eyes from start to finish.
A second divided into moments. In that lightning-fast time, an extremely precise exchange of attacks sought each other’s lives. One move, then another. One move.
-KIIING…!
Fernandez clicked his tongue briefly. The falling momentum was like lightning, and the charging spear blade was as heavy as a boulder. Despite the Diemonica’s body, even one highly trained, the fatigue from each clash was no ordinary thing.
Raising the blade, momentarily. Targeting the moment when Jerolen’s spear elegantly circled in the air, searching for an opening. The weakness of polearms, especially spears, is that they must consider thrusting in the chain of attacks!
-ZZENG!
The tendons in his sword-wielding arms writhed like snakes. The Diemonica’s body, capable of tearing a human skull bare-handed, swung with all its might, sweeping Jerolen’s midsection like an axe.
-KWADDDDDUK!
Space tore apart. The culmination of King Dane’s artistry and the Diemonica’s strength, a distant era’s swordsmanship bloomed at his fingertips. But—
-KWANG!
If it’s ancient artistry, for Jerolen, such techniques are already within the realm of instinct. The spear blade reversed in an instant. Simply thrusting, twisting, and swinging—all movements passed down from the ancient Celestial War!
“Hoo…”
Elves gathered around, drawn by the commotion caused by the two men’s clash.
Leia and her retainers frowned as they watched. The two dragons, unable to hide their anxiety, and Kirhas, cheering tensely from afar. The deck was buzzing with tension.
Surveying the surroundings, Fernandez took a short breath. It had been a fierce battle in the span of three breaths. He gathered his sword over his chest, swung it over his shoulder, and took a step forward.
A thrust. A technique that uses the length of the greatsword itself. However, the opponent’s weapon is a spear. Jerolen glanced at Fernandez’s stance and chuckled.
“Really. You remind me so much of the old days.”
-SWISH.
Jerolen’s leg turned half a circle as he stepped on the ground. He swung the spear blade behind him, resting the shaft on his shoulder.
A horizontal slash. Using the spear’s tip to gauge distance, aiming for the opponent’s neck in one strike. But the opponent’s weapon is a greatsword. A stance inevitably at a disadvantage in a swinging exchange.
The two men smiled at each other. One thrusting with a greatsword as if it were a spear, the other swinging a spear like a sword—in this moment—
-HUUUNG…!
Flexibility without obstruction. Techniques that reach a certain pinnacle touch upon the extremes of skill. The two men’s weapons stretched toward each other, intertwining in the air.
-KWANG!!
“Really, you remind me of him.”
“May I ask who?”
“Your old king.”
Struggling to steady his trembling hands from the impact, Jerolen pretended to be unfazed and laughed. Fernandez, too, though his wrist ached as if he might drop the sword at any moment, sheathed it without changing his expression.
Both men knew each other’s condition. This was closer to a manly bluff. I’m still fine, are you hurt? They exchanged such glances, engaging in a conversation bordering on provocation.
“Carlos.”
“Charlemagne…?”
“Well, human names are all similar.”
Jerolen walked over, step by step, and extended his hand. His fingertips trembled slightly. As Fernandez stared at the hand, Jerolen smiled bitterly and said.
“This is called a handshake. Our kind generally takes this unique gesture when we acknowledge each other, reach an agreement, or form a pact.”
“Nonsense.”
As Fernandez chuckled and took the hand, Jerolen gripped it firmly and whispered.
“Clear the area. Both you and I have a lot to say to each other.”
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