Chapter 250

[Translator – Peptobismol]

Chapter 250: Clash (3)

【You arrogant fool-】

【Get off me now!】

The Dragon King roared. Orsay was still latched onto his left neck, resembling a fierce beast rather than a noble dragon. The action lacked any sense of grace.

Although the scales were tough, preventing the teeth from reaching the flesh, it was still an annoyance. Using his breath to shake Orsay off would have been easy, but their wings and limbs were tangled, making it difficult.

【Fall!】

Orsay raised his left arm. The blackened hand turned red as if it had been seared by flames. Smash! The hand, forming a short arc, struck the Dragon King’s chest.

【Gah!】

The Dragon King tried to defend himself, but he was a moment too late. The claws slipped between the scales, causing internal injuries. Blood gushed from the Dragon King’s three mouths.

His massive body, seemingly immovable, began to tilt. Stepping back, he retreated to the edge of the summit. Aselle, still on Orsay’s back, chanted a spell.

“D-Deep Frozen!”

A bluish mana condensed at his fingertips and shot out. Crack! The cold energy hit the spot where Orsay’s claws had pierced. The Dragon King felt something strange and roared in anger.

【You little creature! How dare you-】

【What did you do?!】

“Eek!”

Aselle clung to Orsay’s spikes in terror. Suddenly, large ice spikes began to sprout all over the Dragon King’s body. The rapidly growing ice resembled weeds pushing through cracks in the pavement.

【Grr...?!】

The Dragon King’s faces froze. His body was getting heavier quickly. The cold seeping through the neck wound spread throughout his body.

All six of his eyes locked onto Aselle. It was unbelievable. Could that small human’s magic really affect him? The Dragon King was confused when—

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Seizing the opportunity, Orsay spread his wings and pushed him. Thud! The Dragon King, teetering on the edge, was shoved back. Losing his balance, his foot slipped off the edge of the tower.

【This can’t be...!】

【Well done. Let’s go!】

The Dragon King began to fall. Orsay, laughing heartily, gathered his strength. In an instant, his blackened body transformed into a human form.

Thud! Orsay, now a man in black, reached into his chest. Aselle, losing his grip, screamed.

“Kyaaaah! Argh!”

Aselle clung to Orsay’s side, screaming in terror. Unlike Ronan or Shullifen, Orsay wasn’t gentle with him. The ice-enchanted shoes were Aselle’s only lifeline.

Slash! Orsay pulled his hand from his chest. In his blood-stained right hand, he held a spiral spear.

It was the secret weapon created to defeat Navardose. Orsay took a running start and leaped from the tower’s summit, aiming the spear at the Dragon King’s chest.

【I’ll pierce you and make you reveal Navardose’s location!】

Orsay shouted. The spiral spear absorbed surrounding mana, glowing with a dark light.

Sensing the danger instinctively, the Dragon King narrowed his eyes. He didn’t know what the spear was made of, but he couldn’t afford to get hit by it.

【...How insolent.】

The third head sighed. Taking control of the body, he spread the heat stored in the Dragon Heart throughout the body. Crash! The ice that had restrained him shattered and fell away.

“H-he broke free!”

Aselle gasped in shock. The Dragon King’s hot blood melted the cold flowing through his body in an instant. Boom! Simultaneously, a pair of wings exploded outward.

【Grr!】

The golden-scaled wings were massive, filling the sky. Thud! Orsay, knocked away by the wind pressure, crashed into the tower’s outer wall.

The stench of blood was overwhelming. The Sky Tower’s summit was littered with the bodies of Nebula Clazier’s followers. Among the sixteen corpses, two were bishops and three were Lycopos.

Instead of focusing on defense as usual, they had charged and paid the price. The once impenetrable Protection of the Stars had been torn apart like paper by Ronan’s swordsmanship.

Shullifen’s storm sword followed through the breaches, leaving their bodies mutilated. Ronan, spinning his sword, spoke as if lecturing.

“That’s what you get for relying on cheap tricks. Do you even remember the last time you trained?”

“Damn it, what have you done?!”

A cultist, staggering from blood loss, charged with a scream. His movements were erratic, and his hand holding the sword trembled.

“Pathetic.”

The idea that this was a branch leader was pitiful. The elf Brigia from the Baydian Mountains briefly crossed Ronan’s mind. In hindsight, that elf had been genuinely formidable.

Sighing, Ronan dashed forward. As their bodies passed each other, the cultist’s fell apart into seven pieces.

“Heook...”

“Next.”

Cries of shock erupted from all around. Ronan slowly scanned the area. The cultists he made eye contact with stepped back, their faces drained of color and the previous bravado gone.

“Come on, cowards. Are you too scared to fight?”

Despite the anger and humiliation, the cultists couldn’t bring themselves to step forward. With victory in their grasp, Ronan decided it was time to start the next phase. He pointed his sword at them and spoke.

“Alright. Here’s your last chance to live. Tell me how to stop the First Star from descending.”

“How... how do you know about that?!”

The cultists’ eyes widened in shock. Ronan had no intention of answering, so he simply walked forward with his sword raised.

The ritual seemed to be complete, but there might still be a way to stop it. This was the time to cling to even the faintest hope.

With each step Ronan and Shullifen took, the cultists retreated further until they reached the edge of the summit. Despair settled on their faces, when a voice rang out from behind Ronan.

“What on earth is going on here?”

The voice was both unfamiliar and chilling. Ronan felt a shiver run down his spine.

He turned to see an elderly man, taller than him by a head, standing with his hands behind his back. His long beard reached down to his chest and seemed long enough to wrap around his forehead.

“What the hell...”

Ronan’s eyes widened. He hadn’t noticed the man’s approach. Mana shimmered around the old man’s shoulders like a beacon, power second only to Cain and Abel.

“Hmm, ]nice sword.”

As Ronan was about to speak, the old man muttered while stroking his beard. In his left hand was a familiar sword, one bearing the emblem of Garcia—it was Shullifen’s.

“How did you...!”

Shullifen’s brow furrowed. The sword that had been in his hand was gone. A chilling sensation ran down Ronan’s neck.

“Damn it!”

Sensing the danger instinctively, Ronan quickly moved back. Splash! Blood spurted from a wound on his shoulder. A sharp cut marked his skin.

“Impressive reflexes.”

The old man widened his eyes as if to ask how Ronan had dodged the attack. Ronan gritted his teeth. If he had reacted a moment later, he would have lost his arm.

“Shit, Ronan.”

Shullifen urgently reached out. The sword in the old man’s hand dissolved into wind and reappeared in Shullifen’s grasp. He chuckled grimly.

“Heh. Interesting ability.”

“Fuck, are you a mage?”

Ronan spat on the ground and growled. He had missed the man’s movements for just a moment. Shullifen quickly raised his sword, ready for battle. The old man, looking between the two, spoke.

“I am Archbishop Alon Mondre of Nebula Clazier. Your reckless defiance ends here.”

[Translator – Peptobismol]