Chapter One Hundred and Fourteen: The Beginning (Part One)
“Whoo-roo-loo.”
A giant, thunderous snore hit me like a brick wall, accompanied by a foul, warm wind that nearly made my eyes roll back as I struggled for breath. I quickly held my breath and took several steps back from the swirling gray stones.
Then, I watched as the Dragon suddenly opened its mouth wide, revealing a bl**d-red, slimy maw that yawned before me like a vast living cave made of flesh. Each of its vicious fangs looked like they could do more than just bite; that stench was growing stronger by the second.
Just as I was about to scold it to shut its trap, I heard a “zing!” Something on the dragon’s tongue lit up with a red glow, and the dragon promptly flicked it toward me with its tongue. A completely black scythe, its twisted handle glowing with bl**d-red patterns, landed at my feet with a resounding “clang!” It looked as if it belonged to the Grim Reaper himself.
“Ah.”
It’s my Captain Gray…
I stepped forward, bent down, and picked it up, wiping the sliminess off with my sleeve, gripping it in my hand.
Buzz—
The blade vibrated again, accompanied by a slight “hiss” as its gargantuan, curving edge slowly turned a reddish hue. Steam mingled with wisps of Dead Smoke rose up from the blade and handle, evaporating the dragon’s saliva in the blink of an eye.
Thump thump!
Thump thump—~
I could hear a heartbeat resonating from the scythe, perfectly in sync with my own.
Two meters of terrifying scythe! As for its weight, not even I could guess, but when I held it, it felt like an extension of my body. I could practically sense its “excitement” coursing through me, and it left me riding that wave of emotion.
“Looks like I’ve neglected you a bit lately.”
I stroked the blade, whispering softly before I flung the scythe to the side!
Vroom—
With a sound that felt like it tore the air in half, a thunderous crash followed.
The black scythe still hadn’t struck, but just the surge of scorching air from my swing shattered trees and rocks dozens of meters away, sending smoke swirling as a chasm, at least more than ten meters long and bottomless, ripped open the previously pitch-black magma rock.
In the next moment, I gripped the scythe, jumped, and landed on the Dragon’s sprawled head. Its massive body started to move like a mountain, and the rocks beneath me let out a series of mournful groans as my viewpoint shot up in an instant. Then with a thunderous “boom,” the great Dragon lifted off the ground, shaking me around as we plunged into the cloud-like gray fog above.
It had no wings, yet it seemed to command the wind freely, soaring through the gray sky with a speed that made me feel like I was performing Moon Step.
The dragon’s horns were so thick that even if I wrapped my arms around them, I wouldn’t grasp them fully. So, I held onto Captain Gray with one hand and firmly grabbed a strand of hair as tough as steel with the other, sitting cross-legged on its head, allowing the Dragon to spiral through the sky, roaring like a ruler: “Roarrrrrr!”
The sound echoed, reverberating in the gray mist, and for a split second, my surroundings opened up like a page turning, that earth-shattering roar transformed into a long, profound sound in my ears, almost as if my eardrums were cushioned. I instinctively closed my eyes, relishing the fierce wind pounding against my face.
After a while, I suddenly felt the Dragon dive, its body plummeting rapidly.
I opened my eyes again, the fierce dragon twisting joyfully in the air, and in the blink of an eye, we crashed back down to the peak of the rocky mountain we just left.
“Boom!” A huge thud echoed, shaking the ground and exploding dust clouds outward, as the dragon slowly leaned forward, its mountain-like head lowering to the ground.
During this process, I rose leisurely from its head and looked around, gradually seeing a sea of dark, bobbing heads emerging from the dispersing dust.
These were the cursed fairies of the Land of Dragons…
These fairies surrounded me and the Dragon, a number so vast it was dizzying. They knelt on the ground, their emaciated bodies hunched grotesquely, their green skin faintly glowing white in the darkness. A few older, stronger male fairies rode on the backs of hairless, grotesque hounds at the front, looking like their leaders.
And at the center of this leadership pack, the most robust male fairy, dragging a body covered in sores, slowly approached me after the dust settled, dismounting from the beast and carefully kneeling on the ground. His head lowered, right hand raised, fist touching his forehead, while the hound beside him emitted a mournful whimper, lowering its grotesque head as well.
“In the Abyssal Tongue, great… Lord Vidam, savior of the forest clan, avatar of Helavis, chosen by the Brifenn…”
The fairy said, their speech not only more fluent than before but also with a tone that held a hint of authority, causing a chill down my spine.
“In the Abyssal Tongue, our tribe has been imprisoned, cursed to live for a thousand years without d*ath, guarding this scorched earth, living alongside decay and dragon corpses. Today, we will finally see a turning point. Great Lord Vidam, our clan swears to uphold our promise, when the day comes to break free, we will obey your command and follow the god until a hundred years pass.”
?
“W-wait a second!”
Hold it right there, I’m a bit confused.
If I understand correctly, the curse has been broken? No, wait, that can’t be right. It’s clear it hasn’t been lifted; I can smell the stench wafting over here… but could it be my imagination? Wasn’t it this same fairy who spoke earlier? Wasn’t its face once covered in sores? Now it seems fine?
The rot on these fairies is still there, but it doesn’t seem nearly as bad, even the hound—
And isn’t my title “Sir Apostle”?
What’s with that whole new string of titles? I get Lord Vidam, savior of the forest clan I humbly accept, but Helavis’… what was that? Isn’t Helavis the Dragon, along with being chosen by Brifenn…?
How much have I missed during my time away?
The fairies wouldn’t dare meet my gaze, so I stared at the messy head of their leader. After a moment of thought, I finally caught on to the term “Brifenn.”
I had been pondering that bird-beaked b*stard doctor’s cryptic lines before dying. He clearly knew more than I, including the suddenly absorbed Divine Reliquary’s white branch, which he called the “Holy Tree Brifenn,” a term I’d never encountered until now.
Before this, the Dancer Miss Ailna referred to it as “a ten-thousand-year white tree birthed by the Ancient Deity.”
“Whew—”
I let out a breath.
I quietly gazed at the fairy leader for a moment, then glanced back at the mass of heads behind it. My mind was still churning. It felt like there were too many fairies, giving me a serious case of tension; I just couldn’t concentrate. So I waved my hand: “In the Abyssal Tongue, let them withdraw for now. Just a few can stay; I have something to convey.”
The fairy leader obediently relayed something in a language I couldn’t understand to the few behind it, who then started yelling at the kneeling fairies.
Before long, the stooped figures began to crawl away en masse, swiftly disappearing into the far-off fog and darkness, leaving only five leaders and their hounds, kneeling quietly before me and the Dragon, as if waiting for a “divine decree.”
Let’s talk about Brifenn—
I glanced at them, intending to ask directly. However, the words changed at the tip of my tongue, turning into: “In the Abyssal Tongue, Brifenn has passed on to eternal slumber, and all that remains is this small twig in my hand…”
