Chapter 93 Failure, Defeat

Distant from the skirmish, but watching from a cliff far above the forest ground, the woman with divinely white hair watched, keeping her hands orderly behind her back as her eyes seemed to see past all of the fog and through the thickness of foliage.

Crescentia mumbled to herself, “…Let’s see how you handle yourself, Emilio Dragonheart.”

–

[Increasing Dragonblaze | Increasing Physical Capabilities]

The azure flames born of his dragonblood were instinctively amplified by his own natural aptitude for wind magic; this combination brought on a new realm of power to this fireball. If it successfully landed, the resulting explosion would be capable of leveling a small village.

Seeming to notice the true nature of this fireball, the hero-rank swordsman had his expression shift ever-so-slightly into one of seriousness and preparation.

“Troublesome. I’ll admit you possess impressive firepower, given some years, you will be a mage worthy of challenging me,” Siegmare said calmly.

Just as he moved his hand forward to unleash the destructive, azure fireball, Siegmare did something of his own, drawing both of all-black blade and his all-white sword, planting them both into the soil in front of him.

“N’gha ng lw’nafh ah ehyee sides ot ahehyee coin. H’ ah ya role l’ oversee h’, enact h’, ng persecute. Feast, double mgepahororr’e r’luhhor.”

What left Siegmare’s lips were unintelligible words of a language that sounded anything but human, but it invoked something akin to magecraft.

Manifesting in front of the hero-rank swordsman, a black-and-white door appeared, engraved with two, hollow faces on each side.

As the mystical doors opened, what was revealed inside was a sight that stunned him; it was an existence beyond this world, an entity shrouded in such enigma that it flooded the mind with a thousand, concurrent thoughts.

He only saw it briefly, but the massive fireball he unleashed continued traveling forward, burrowing directly towards the opened door to an unknown destination.

It hissed and sizzled; the air vibrated and the trees quaked in the presence of the azure sphere of destruction.

But, just as it reached the door, it was sucked in through the entrance with the double doors immediately closing to seal it inside.

“Close,” Siegmare commanded.

A muffled explosion was heard as the mystical, levitating door vibrated; cracks ran along its form, but it withstood the explosion of the flames within it.

Even in his mindless state, the overwhelming power of the man in front of him still buried fear into his pores, but he pushed on once again with the dragon blood pumping through his veins even greater.

BA-DUMP. BA-DUMP. BA-DUMP.

Scales stretched across parts of his body; his forearms began to be clad in scales, along with his legs and his collarbone.

[Dragonheart System | Further Amplification : Level Two Acquired]

He’s getting stronger. I should put an end to this now. The Lord has not yet deemed his life forfeit; I shall not let him kill himself before that is dictated, Siegmare thought.

Frantically, he threw azure flames towards the swordsman, though the man dodged it with just as much ease as before–a development came.

The flames shifted direction sharply, spiraling and tracking the hero-rank swordsman with a destructive roar.

“Ah,” Siegmare let out.

That’s interesting, Siegmare thought.

Still, it seemed simply impossible to inflict harm on a man of such a level; before the flames could reach him, an invisible wall seemed to exist around the man now, keeping the bright-blue inferno from harming him.

“Not quite enough,” Siegmare said.

The unseen barrier wasn’t there when he first punched the man, but it seemed now that Siegmare was prepared, yet still frivolous, there was little that could be seen.

He gritted his teeth, clenching his fists as the black blood flooded through his body further.

BA-DUMP. BA-DUMP. BA-DUMP.

Delving deeper into dragonhood, inching closer to the source of his strength, he sprinted forward with speed that caused the air to hiss around him, aiming to use his claw-like nails to carve through the black-and-white painted swordsman.

But–

Siegmare was directly in front of him now. Just a fraction of a moment before that, the swordsman was more than ten meters away, but by the time his left boot lifted and had yet to meet the ground again, Siegmare was before him.

“I will do this another way, then. Survive your own condition and that will be a worthy rite of passage through this judgment,” Siegmare quietly told him.

Just then, the swordsman swiftly hit the boy in the chest, siphoning the air from his lungs and knocking him unconscious as the restrained force rattled through his bones.

In the few moments before sinking fully into unconsciousness, the dragon blood was quelled, and his mind returned.

What…happened? He thought.

–

He didn’t know how long as he was knocked out, but he opened his eyes sharply, finding the fog that veiled the forest now cleared. The mutilated corpses of the Hunting Party were still present on the soil; chopped into pieces.

Now he understood how such a feat was possible, after having experienced the strength of the hero-rank swordsman.

Agony coursed through his body as he was left completely immobile, laying face down against the misty soil; he was left in this state both from the toll of Dragon Flow and the singular hit received from the mysterious swordsman.

Breathe, he told himself.

It was difficult to command his lungs as when he tried to inhale, it felt as if they were narrow and taut; each breath came in sharply, and when exhaling, he felt the soreness of his body quake.

Breathe. You have to breathe…! He told himself again.

He was hyperventilating now; it was impossible to control his lungs as they spasmed and felt as if they were cramping up.

Slowly raising his hand, it was shaking terribly; quivering from the mixture of pain and desperation flooding his body as he brought his palm close to his mouth.

…Come on…He thought.

With such anxiety coursing through his mind, it was difficult to concentrate and focus even a simple spell, but it was thanks to the caster glove he had that he was able to use it: a small burst of air was sent straight into his mouth and into his lungs.

It was just what was needed; the new flood of oxygen kick started his lungs back into proper form as he coughed out, spitting out blood as he sat himself up.

“…I’m alive…” He quietly said, holding his head.

Not being in the depths of eternal nothingness was a surprise to him, considering the type of entity he had just encountered, but he felt as if a stray miracle had found its way to him.

Now that he had his breath returned, he surged his agonized body with healing magic as blood trickled from his nose.

Though any relief he had was swept away as he picked up his staff, returning to his feet as he looked over, once again finding the sight of Vandread’s chopped-up corpse laid out on the soil.

“–” He was silent.

Why did this happen…? How? He questioned.