35. Infermur, the City Where the Dragon Awakens (2)
*
Ainard’s face was stained with confusion, fear, and anger. It was against the royal laws of the Elven Kingdom, but Ainard was practically sprinting through the palace.
“General! Armed in the palace…!”
“Where is His Majesty?!”
“His, His Majesty is currently in the sanctuary…!”
“Move aside!”
Ainard roughly shoved the shoulder of the royal guard and barged through the door. Guimerin’s palace was deep and vast. The king’s sanctuary was located in the heart of the palace, and armed entry was strictly forbidden.
However, the guards could not stop the furious prince’s steps. Moreover, they too were feeling the oppressive atmosphere that now enveloped the palace and the commotion coming from the sea.
“Your Highness. No one is allowed beyond this point.”
“…Lady Meladia. Step aside.”
“If it’s urgent news, I will deliver it to His Majesty. I apologize, but Your Highness must wait for a moment. The royal sanctuary is off-limits to anyone except His Majesty and those he has personally authorized. Even you, Your Highness, cannot enter.”
“How dare you command me?!”
“It is the king’s order. Please comply.”
“How dare you!!”
Ainard’s hair stood on end. Those who have reached the pinnacle of warriorhood carry magic within their bodies.
Like a calm sea, his always orderly magic surged with rage in an instant, tearing through the air.
But Meladia was no less a formidable opponent. The king’s personal guard and executioner. Among the elves, there was no one stronger than her in the Guimerin clan.
Meladia threateningly placed her hand on the hilt of her sword and crouched slightly. Ainard, enraged by Meladia’s stance, gripped his own sword hilt. The two warriors’ stances aligned.
Regardless of their emotions, they were warriors who had reached the pinnacle. Almost instinctively, their eyes locked onto each other’s openings. A tense atmosphere swirled between them.
“Calm down. You cannot harm the royal bloodline.”
“Impudent and insolent! I am the prince of this kingdom, and by any other measure, the admiral of the fleet! How dare you, a mere guard dog, try to stop me?!”
“Yes, even a guard dog has its own laws and duties. If I reveal this to my master, would it not be the duty of a guard dog to stop it?”
“How dare you threaten the royal bloodline!!”
Ainard and Meladia exchanged heated words but refrained from drawing their swords. The foundation of elven swordsmanship lies in a single decisive strike.
Strike second, but strike first. Elven swordsmen of their caliber could observe their opponent’s technique and exploit the opening.
Even if their skills were not equal, the one who struck first in a battle of openings would often lose more than half the advantage. They stood glaring at each other, maintaining their stances.
At that moment, the sanctuary door opened, and a servant dressed in ceremonial robes quietly walked out.
“His Majesty has summoned you, Your Highness.”
“…Very well. Meladia. I will settle this with you later.”
“As you wish.”
Meladia shrugged her shoulders, released her sword, and stepped aside. Ainard gritted his teeth and entered the sanctuary.
*
-Kurrrrung…
From afar, a massive vibration struck. All the ships in the harbor were colliding and breaking apart, but Guimerin’s flagship seemed almost unscathed despite the enormous waves.
Inside the flagship, it was as calm as if nothing was happening outside. Though tension lingered among the soldiers, the ship and its furnishings remained undamaged and peaceful.
Moreover, the sanctuary located within the ship was even more serene. King Guimerin leaned against a massive tree in the center of the sanctuary, looking down at the approaching Ainard.
On the pristine white table before Guimerin, a servant quietly bowed and stepped back as Ainard approached. Guimerin gestured lazily.
“Come and sit, my son. Is this your first time in the sanctuary?”
“…Yes.”
The sanctuary’s ceiling was bathed in light resembling the sun. The sanctuary was covered in lush green grass. Ainard hesitated, carefully stepping on the earthen floor.
‘Ah…’
Is this what the continent feels like? Ainard shuddered momentarily. Pure-blooded elves could never set foot on the continent, and Ainard was born after the elves were driven to the sea. The sensation of soil was entirely foreign to him.
“Yes, the continent is like this. There are places harder than this, and places softer than this. Isn’t it a pity? That the elves gave up that vast land and now cling to swaying tree dwellings, spending their days in consumption?”
Guimerin took a sip of tea and laughed. Ainard quickly composed himself and stood before Guimerin. Ainard looked down at Guimerin.
“Your Majesty. The dragon is about to awaken.”
“I know.”
“…General Aildern has betrayed the elves by allying with Franzrit. Whatever the price, it is an unforgivable act of treason.”
“The price was simple. The desire to become a vampire’s thrall and advance inland.”
“…Is that possible?”
“It is possible. Who do you think sent this secret letter?”
Guimerin pulled out a secret letter written in chicken blood from Franzrit. Ainard bit his lip.
“Surely not…!”
“It was quite a meaningful experiment. I handed over the woman you trusted most to Franzrit’s bats. To conclude, it was successful. Yolande is now living inland.”
“…You handed over… my mother… to the vampires?!”
Ainard staggered in shock and shouted.
“Why, why would you do that?!”
“Is there a reason it shouldn’t be your mother? If it were the bloodline of some lowly laborer, would that be acceptable? From my perspective, your mother and every other elf carry the same weight. I am the king, and the king does not favor any subject.”
Moreover, Yolande was trustworthy. Guimerin smiled as he looked at Ainard. Ainard felt a chill run down his spine.
The king does not see people as ‘individuals.’ He treats elves as a ‘species.’ Like ants… like a child looking at ants.
“Aildern, that child, knew this too. That child personally took Yolande to Franzrit. That must have been when that child began to harbor different thoughts.”
“…The fleet is in crisis. General Aildern has blockaded the harbor, and the dragon’s resurrection is imminent inland. Your Majesty, we must evacuate. The inland is dangerous.”
“Do you wish to abandon the inland?”
“We cannot covet what we cannot have and drive our people to their deaths!”
Ainard could not understand the king’s actions. After all, elves cannot set foot on land.
So why, why must we be bound to this wretched harbor and offer our precious people as food for the dragon?
“My son. Do you know why our race cannot set foot on land?”
“…Was it not because our gods disappeared from the Hall of the Gods in the Temple of the Gods?”
According to elven legend, at the end of the Celestial War, the elven gods vanished, and the elves, having lost their blessing, lost their dominion over the continent and were cursed by the Temple of the Gods.
In human legends, it is said, ‘The arrogant…’
The price of arrogance. The price they paid for their arrogance when they were the conquerors of the continent.
It was unfair and heartbreaking. Was the price of arrogance a reason for an eternal punishment that would last for generations?
“We killed our god.”
“…What do you mean…?”
“Literally. During the Celestial War, we killed our god and then sought to divide his divinity among ourselves. We wanted to distribute the god’s essence among our entire race to end that dreadful war. That was the resolution of three elves.”
Pain flickered in Guimerin’s eyes.
“They were three young elven heroes who seemed to embody all the potential, power, and blessings of our race. Guimerin of the Six Plains, Malerun of the Heavenly Spire, and Jerolen of the Nine Thousand Peaks. These three heroes finally breached the entrance to the Material World leading to the Elven Temple of the Gods and slaughtered the elven gods.”
It was the end of the ancient Celestial War. The elves were driven out, the dwarves disappeared, the dragons were buried, and the demons were sealed in Hell. Thus, the age of humans finally arrived.
The three elven heroes destroyed the Elven Temple of the Gods and stole its divinity. But as the elven gods were torn apart, they cursed their own children.
[You shall never tread upon history again.]
From that day on, the elves slowly declined. They could no longer create their own history. A fallen race, wandering forever without a homeland. That was the position of the elves now.
The three heroes blamed each other and parted ways. To the west, to the east, to the south. Becoming rulers of the three seas, forever deceiving their own kind.
Thus, the Elven Trident. The three Serpent Kings.
[The evil lies in our vanished gods.]
Until they themselves came to believe it.
When Guimerin finished speaking, Ainard staggered and collapsed. He glared at Guimerin with burning eyes.
“You… brought ruin upon us all!”
“You are wise. It’s like seeing my younger self. My son. Thanks to your help, we avoided the worst. If the dragon had been resurrected and we hadn’t prepared for Aildern’s ambush, even you would have been in danger.”
Guimerin smiled as he touched the messenger’s letter with his fingertips. That ‘human Inquisition Officer’ had done quite a big favor.
If this messenger hadn’t ended up in Guimerin’s hands, he might have been ambushed while focusing on the dragon.
Guimerin looked down at Ainard with gentle eyes.
“…One last question, King Guimerin. Why did you need the dragon?”
“Look at this tree.”
Guimerin pointed to a massive tree standing tall in the middle of the sanctuary’s meadow. Ainard’s hollow eyes followed Guimerin’s hand to the tree.
“It’s a tree that grew from the last branch of the World Tree. And look at that light. What do you feel?”
“…Nothing.”
“Haha. Exactly.”
Guimerin’s eyes curved with sadistic pleasure. The light hanging from the sanctuary’s ceiling. That light was-
“Our ‘god.’ My son. The god I personally killed. The fallen form of that existence. Do you know why the Temple of the Gods seeks to harvest faith from the mortal world? A god who loses faith loses its divine essence and falls. Just like that! No reason, no wisdom remains. Just existence. Just!”
“You… you’re insane!”
Ainard spasmodically gripped the sword hilt. Though tangled in confusion, fear, and sorrow, his posture was as swift and precise as ever, ready for an attack.
Guimerin laughed as he watched.
“Why did we need the dragon? The dragon’s soul holds divinity, and the dragon’s body can contain it! My son. My son! We can resurrect our god!”
“Do you know how many of our people will die for this insane plan?!”
“1,732. And I also know how many will survive.”
“…What?”
Ainard looked into Guimerin’s eyes. Guimerin’s eyes were as empty as glass beads.
“That’s the number of soldiers sacrificed to kill one dragon during the Celestial War. 1,732. I remember the names of all the elves who died back then. In this era, elves have become half as weak. So, 3,464. Generously, sacrificing 3,500 elite soldiers should be enough to stop the dragon. And then? The remaining ten thousand people will start a new life inland.”
Guimerin slowly stood up. He turned around and reached out toward the radiant sphere hanging from the sanctuary’s ceiling.
“And when our god returns to our side. When we finally make that pitiful god, devoid of any memory, our servant, and lift our curse, then we shall once again tread upon the land and command! Death? No, not at all. All of this was a sacrifice. I will remember the names of all those heroes.”
Guimerin laughed madly as he gazed at the sphere. Regret, sorrow, madness, love, attachment. Fragments of all his emotions scattered brilliantly. Ainard made his decision as he watched.
-Thud.
“Keuk… huh?”
“You’re insane. I can’t entrust the future of our people to your hands. Guimerin.”
Ainard’s sword pierced Guimerin’s chest. The blade went straight through Guimerin’s heart and out the other side.
Guimerin was immortal, but not invincible. As an elf, he could be destroyed by a mortal wound.
-Thud.
“Keuk…”
“Elves do not sacrifice their own children. We do not place our flesh and blood on another’s scales. Guimerin.”
-Slice.
Ainard twisted the sword once and pulled it out. Crimson blood flowed down the blade. Ainard shook the sword once and sheathed it.
Guimerin slowly collapsed and fell to the ground. The meadow soaked up the king’s blood, turning red.
“Foolish… it’s not yet time…”
“The elves will not perish. King Guimerin. The elves do not sacrifice. I will break the curse born of your arrogance and desire, in my own way.”
Guimerin lay on the ground, gasping, and slowly smiled. Though it’s not yet time… you’ve grown well.
“Thank you.”
“What?”
“You’ve grown well. My son. You’ve grown well.”
-Thud.
The king’s body began to twist grotesquely. Ainard hastily stepped back, staring in horror at the dreadful sight.
An overwhelming pressure began to weigh down on his body. Like a dragon, no. Like a god.
[The three heroes divided the divinity of the Elven Temple of the Gods.]
[The Elven King was immortal, but not invincible.]
[The elven dynasty had never had a single succession until now.]
[But the royal bloodline had only one heir: Ainard.]
Information flooded Ainard’s mind. How? Why? Why do I have no siblings? For all those years, did King Guimerin not have a single child?
If not…
If not…?
If that’s not how he maintained the throne for thousands of years…?
-Slice!
Guimerin’s twisted face suddenly pierced into Ainard’s body.
*
-Krrr…
“Still unstable.”
Ainard lifted a trembling teacup to his lips. As he set the cup down, he smiled quietly.
Even in the deepest part of the royal palace, in the sanctuary’s hidden place, it was clear. The dragon had appeared. The dragon had returned. The dragon had arrived.
The image of Infermur burning was vivid in his mind. The insect-like humans, unable to move under the dragon’s terror, clutched their heads and gasped.
The dragon ignored them and charged toward the sea. The sheer movement of its massive body was an overwhelming force of violence. Flames continuously poured from the dragon’s mouth.
The embodiment of destruction, the devourer of the world. The primordial ruler. Dragon, wyrm, Atailatl. Our beloved Holy Grail.
“Come to me. I have waited two thousand years. Dragon.”
Ainard smiled bitterly. His face was gradually resembling King Guimerin’s more and more.
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