At the same instant, all the scorching poison of the dragon’s stored breath erupted from his sliced windpipe and exploded everywhere. The force of the explosion blew my body into the air. For a brief moment, I thought I saw the corners of the foul-dragon’s mouth curve up, as if he were saying, “Bravo.”
If the miasma and scorching heat that was Valacirca’s breath had issued from his mouth, it would have headed for all of us. But it erupted out like an explosion, and all of it headed towards me instead, as the one who had slashed the dragon’s throat. Of course it would. It was obvious what would happen if you stuck a knife in a hose full of water just before it was about to start spraying. But despite how obvious it was, my body had moved before I’d thought at all. I’d taken such a direct hit that I was sure not even my soul would remain. But...
Maybe taking down a dragon isn’t a bad way to go. That was my honest, natural thought. If this is how I go, it’s pretty good. Cut the throat of a godly dragon, and perish. What an amazing end.
The storm of burning fire and poison corrosive enough to melt bone engulfed me. But a moment passed, and all I felt was confusion. The pain of my flesh burning, the agony of my bones melting, was yet to come. The badge of honor on my arm shone weakly, protecting me. Its shine was quickly swallowed up by the storm of heat and poison.
But in that moment, I felt that Mary was scolded me, saying, “You mustn’t give up.”
The intense heat and poison hit me at last, finally surpassing the protection of my stigmata. My skin melted. My flesh melted, exposing my bones. My eyeballs, my organs started to melt. Gritting my teeth through the pain, I pulled out Overeater.
“■■■■■■!!”
Voicelessly screaming with a scorched throat and unable to see, I stabbed the blade into Valacirca’s body. I could feel the thorns of mana growing. My body, being melted away by poison and heat, started being repaired. It was agony enough to drive me insane. The cells throughout my body were incinerated, regenerated, incinerated again. Still I kept my desperate grip on Overeater, with hands that were melting and regenerating over and over.
I melted.
I healed.
I melted.
I healed.
There was pain, only pain.
Pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain—
If you just let go of the sword, all this—
I forcibly suppressed the thought.
Pain.
Pain.
Pain.
I had to live.
Pain.
Pain.
I melted.
My body melted.
I healed.
Pain. Pain, pain, pain...
But through it all, I had to live.
Because that... was my promise... to my god.
To the end. To the end. To the very, bitter end!
Never give up on living!
With my entire body consumed by excruciating pain, clinging onto a single promise, I lost consciousness.
◆
I woke up lying in a puddle of blood.
“Will! Hey, Will!”
“Sir Will!”
Menel and Al had shaken me awake. Reystov and Ghelreis were also looking over me, concerned.
“Nn... ggh... Wait, what?”
Strangely enough, my body wasn’t hurting. In fact, I felt great.
“Hey, can you talk? You know what’s going on?”
“I’m... okay, Menel.”
“Don’t stand yet.”
“No, really... I feel pretty good.” I got up. I didn’t even stagger. My entire body was covered in blood and felt disgusting, but that was all. The blood splattered on me was still warm. I couldn’t have been out for very long.
I looked around. Valacirca’s now-unspeaking corpse lay there quietly. He was huge. Seeing him lying there silent had given me a new appreciation of his size. I had cut down a dragon... and survived... apparently. It didn’t feel real.
Lying on the battle-ravaged ground were Calldawn and Overeater, both of them completely intact. These were definitely weapons from the age of the gods. It seemed that even dragonbreath couldn’t destroy them.
The pale dwarven warrior spirits were slowly beginning to fade away. Perhaps slaying the dragon, which had always been their desire, had left them with no more unfinished business in this world. Without their help, we would have had no chance of winning.
“Thank you.” I lowered my head. In reply, they raised their shields and axes and gave us unreserved smiles.
“You saved us, brothers.”
“Thanks for the support.”
“Farewell, friends and forebears. The young master and I will take it from here.”
Menel, Reystov, and Ghelreis spoke in turn. Al was the last. “I swear I will bring back the Iron Country as it once was,” he said quietly, placing his hand over his heart.
They replied to this with satisfied smiles, and then slowly, like smoke, they rose toward the heavens. Gracefeel’s Herald-flame quietly accompanied them. For a while, we stood in silence and watched them go.
After I had seen off the dwarven warriors, I took a moment to check what state I was in. Even my mithril mail was in tatters, and my clothes had been completely incinerated. It was no surprise. I had taken a blast of fully-charged dragonbreath face-on. The cloak I was currently wearing had apparently been considerately put on me by Al as I lay on the ground naked. I still had burns and poison sores all over my body. I looked at my arms and saw that my badge of honor was still there. I breathed a little sigh of relief.
“Hm?”
Except for those burns on my arms, all the other burns and sores across my body were slowly fading.
“What?”
Something was strange. Ever since I got up, I’d been feeling fantastic. I felt as if I was overflowing, somewhere deep inside me, with an outrageous amount of power and fight.
“Umm...” I looked around near me. My eyes settled on a large rock as big as a person’s head. I picked it up easily with one hand. The weight wasn’t unusual, but it was unusual that I was able to grip it one-handed with just my fingers. That should have been nearly impossible.
“The hell?”
“What?!”
Everyone’s eyes widened. But somehow, I still felt that I could go further. I squeezed my hand. Cracks formed in the rock. The cracks became fissures, spread in the blink of an eye, and the rock broke apart, falling from my hand in pieces. I was speechless. What was that?
“You sucked the life from a dragon of the gods. What did you expect?”
I heard the flapping of wings. A raven with crimson eyes landed on a large piece of rubble in front of me. It was Stagnate’s Herald-raven.
◆
“Your soul and body were heated red by dragonbreath, forged through an exchange of life with the dragon, and quenched with the dragon’s dying blood.”
I frowned.
“Your face tells me you’re confused. To put it bluntly, divine dragon factor has mixed deeply into your soul and body. It makes sense that you can break a rock with your bare hands. You’ve become something somewhat close to a dragon but with the form of a person, and right now that’s expressing itself unsuppressed.”
Umm.
“As I’m sure you’ll be able to tell if you try it out, in that state ordinary blades won’t pierce your skin, and the Words of ordinary sorcerers will feel like nothing more than a gentle breeze. If you wield any ordinary weapon, the weapon will break, and as dragons are close to the Words, dragon factor will multiply the power and accuracy of your own Words as well. Your lifespan... well, who can say? Your natural lifespan doesn’t seem to have increased as far as I can tell, but you’re much more resistant to infirmity and infection. As a result, you might live some amount longer.”
What was this insanity?
“That said... Right now, you’re burning with power and a desire to fight, aren’t you?”
“Yes, it’s... quite strong.”
�
��It was factor from that prideful and violent dragon. It’s to be expected. That state will cause the beast within you to grow. Do your best to suppress the dragon factor and not let its power go to your head. Otherwise, it will be your downfall.”
Siegfried suddenly came to mind. He was the main character of a German heroic epic, a hero who gained an immortal body by bathing in dragon blood but brought himself to ruin through love and hate. What destroys warriors is sometimes not the battles they fight, but the comeuppance for their actions.
“I’ll remind you, I don’t want to see you dying a miserable death.”
“Stagnate...”
The god of undeath’s Herald-raven clicked its beak and laughed. Its body was slowly starting to disappear, unraveling into a mist the color of darkness.
“I’ve used up all of my strength but, well, I did help slay that meddlesome foul-dragon and put you in my debt. Not a bad trade. You do feel grateful to me?”
“Yes.”
I wasn’t going to deny that. If not for Stagnate’s interference, I would have died. Though I hated to admit it, I owed her my life.
“Wonderful! When dealing with a hero like you, burdens of obligation and debts of gratitude pay far greater dividends than suppression and subjugation! I will regret losing those dwarven warriors Gracefeel guided, but I expect it will serve me better not to ask for them and increase the debt you owe me.”
“This is what’s scary about you.”
I was susceptible to that kind of manipulation. And I couldn’t just dismiss her if I owed her gratitude, even though she was an adversary to the god of the flame. Now that I thought about it, she’d managed to put Blood and Mary in her debt for certain things in connection with the High King, too. The essence of this god was definitely in her crafty manipulation skills and not her prowess in battle. Plus, because we’d once engaged in serious mortal combat, the god of undeath had a good understanding of the lines I would never budge on. I had no intention of going back on my words calling her an enemy, but it really was difficult to know how to approach this god.
“Well, it’s time for me to go. Gracefeel, thank you for your assistance.”
Gracefeel’s Herald-flame came floating gently down. Stagnate’s eyes as she watched her descend had a slightly complicated look within them. There were probably a lot of complications between these two gods as well.
“Stagnate, god of undeath.”
My god answered in a quiet tone.
“Even now, it is not too late. Will you not cast away your ideals? Will you not put away the power of undeath and guide souls with me again? If you will do this, I—”
“Stop there. And no. I will pursue my own ideals. My choice is made.”
“I see.”
The Herald-flame wavered. She seemed lonely and sad.
“Fare thee well, then, elder sister.”
“Yes. Farewell, younger sister of mine.”
Strangely, those words didn’t surprise me. They just felt right. I’d long felt that these two gods had something in common.
“Now then, William G. Maryblood. Your heroic brilliance has grown even brighter, and you have obtained vast power. But as brightness grows stronger, so darkness spreads. Take care. Do not go mad for war, do not hate, and keep the womanizing to a—oh, of course, you don’t have a woman.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“I understand your desire to devote yourself to my little sister there, but at least find yourself a partner. You’re depriving me of the pleasure of tempting your offspring!”
“That is an awful reason!”
Were all my children and grandchildren going to have to put up with this?! What kind of curse was that?!
“If you like...”
The Herald-raven cocked its head at me. Its red eyes glistened bewitchingly.
“I can manifest a female Echo here one day. Would you care to have a child with me?”
“...”
My god’s Herald-flame positioned herself between me and Stagnate and flared up fiercely, threatening her.
“Tch. I’m not asking for anything from you, you know. Is one child too much to ask? Rhea Silvia used to do it all the time, falling in love with heroes and bearing demigod children.”
The goddess of the fae, Rhea Silvia, was said to live for love. I was sure I’d heard those kinds of stories about her, too. As far as I remembered, that was mainly in the age of the gods, though...
“Well, no matter. I’m out of time. I’ll give up for now. Oh, yes, one more thing—”
As Stagnate’s transformation into mist finally approached its end, she thought for a moment.
“William G. Maryblood... I once suggested you try being loved by me. I must confess a lie.”
“What?” I said in confusion.
An apparition of an intellectual and kind of glamorous goddess with a mischievous smile overlapped the Herald-raven.
“I am in love with you, William G. Maryblood.”
And with that, the great god of undeath, my respected adversary, dispersed freely into mist and disappeared.
◆
For a while, everyone—even God—was silent. What just happened? That was what they call a confession of love, right? From a god? To a person? And not just any person, someone who had openly declared his hostility to her? And to top it all off, I’d been left feeling like the victim of a confess-and-run. What was I meant to do?
As I stood there confused, Menel slapped me on the shoulder. “Wow, you can’t hold down a goddess. Best of luck, Will.”
“Shut up!”
How was I supposed to respond to whispers of love from a god?! I wouldn’t even have known how to handle a person!
“Better prepare yourself now. Women like that look laid back, but they’re actually pretty clingy.”
“Please don’t, seriously...”
The fact that Menel spoke from experience made it all the more real and frightening. Couldn’t I just pretend I hadn’t heard her?
As we had this stupid exchange...
“My knight. Heroes.”
My god tightened up this strangely relaxed atmosphere with a solemn voice. Everyone sitting and standing corrected their posture.
“You slayed the foul-dragon well. You were magnificent.”
Finally, it started to sink in. I had beaten Valacirca. I had defeated that incredibly terrifying foul-dragon and survived. I could go home alive. The thought caused a rush of relief. It felt as if Gracefeel was looking at us with affectionate eyes.
“I shall reward your efforts. Speak unto me your desires.”
“If I may,” said Al, responding to her gentle voice. “Goddess of the flame. Would it be possible to clear the foul-dragon’s miasma from the area around these mountains, including Lothdor?”
“Now that the foul-dragon is gone, I can grant that request to an extent.”
“Then that’s what I wish for. Please purify our homeland.”
“Eh, then I guess I’ll ask for that as well,” Menel said with a shrug. “Gotta think about Dine and the others.”
Ghelreis said the same thing. “I would also like to ask that of you. For the sake of my late friends.”
Reystov nodded. “That works for me. I got what I wanted. This sword fought a dragon.”
I was a little surprised by how selfless everyone was. But then again, if they weren’t, there was no way they’d have come with me to fight a battle with such slim odds of victory.
“I’ll ask the same. Please purify and bless this land.”
“Your request is heard.”
Gracefeel’s Herald-flame incanted a Word I had never heard before. A fire blazed up exuding a curious holy aura. I could only describe it as “sacred fire.” As it spread, the fire caught alight the drifting miasma and burned it to nothing.
The fire burned up only the unholy poison, leaving no marks on anyone else. The holy fire spread across the land. The Rust Mountains began turning back into the Iron Mountains.
“Mourned shall be those who were lost; and blessed shall be those who are yet to be born.”
My god spoke Word after Word with compassion, as though she herself was praying. She spoke kindly and quietly, holding the endeavors of us small and short-lived people in a soft embrace.
“Let there be peace upon this land. May it flourish, and may there be joy.”
As her Words continued, God’s Herald-flame blurred and started to fade away. Just like the god of undeath, she had probably exhausted so much of her power that she was unable to maintain her Herald’s form.
“O heroic dragon-slayers. This land, and you that reclaimed it—”
Beyond the Herald-flame, I saw a god who had been emotionless smile softly inside her hood.
“Have the blessing of the flame forever.”
With those softly spoken words, a warm glow of light, and a striking release of the last of the sacred fire that was burning out the miasma, her Herald-flame disappeared. Unlike the god of undeath, she had hardly said anything personal to me. I thought that was very much like her. She might not have been as easy to get close to as Stagnate, but I was actually fond of the way my god was so earnest.
For a while, none of us said anything. Inside the Great Cavern, where everything had disappeared, we all basked in the glow of victory and the feeling of being alive. I suddenly got the idea to walk over to Valacirca’s corpse and close his large eyelid. With his eye closed, the foul-dragon looked just like he was sleeping. Until the moment he met his end, Valacirca remained a powerful, wicked, and proud dragon. I offered a quiet prayer for him.
I didn’t know where the soul of this formidable being would go. After all, Valacirca had said that life was a thing to be burned through, something that should shine brightly. He might have rejected a return to the eternal cycle and perished of his own will. But even so, I prayed. And I wished the soul of this dragon godspeed.
“Okay.” I finished my prayer and turned around. “We still have quite a lot of things to take care of, but let’s get it done and head back.”
The Lord of the Rust Mountains (Complete) Page 34