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〈 Chapter 267 〉 Reality and Ideal (4)
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The dragons that symbolized immortality and perfection have all fallen beneath the earth. The ancient dragons that once represented complete beings no longer exist on this land. No, perhaps one still exists… but it is a being that can no longer be called a dragon.
The primordial dragon with broken wings has lost its pride.
That enormous creature, coiled within the dragon’s city, was not called a dragon by anyone.
Thus, all that remains on this land are mere hybrids, only slightly mixed with the blood of the ancient dragons. This came to be with the death of the black dragon.
Grrrr.
However, even if diluted, that greatness has not completely vanished. A dragon is still a creature close to perfection.
To prove this, the dragon looks down below. Just as the platinum starlight becomes poison for the Demon Lord’s Army, so does it for the dragon.
That light is filled with hatred.
Hatred etched deep into its DNA.
The dragon, feeling an instinctual sense of revulsion, moved its wings. With a flap of its enormous wings, a storm surged. The wyverns circling beside the dragon were pushed away, and the heat lingering in the canyon also began to dissipate.
The flapping of the giant dragon’s wings is a storm in itself.
The approaching wind forces the knights to kneel and lower their posture. They embed their weapons into the ground, bracing against the oncoming gust. This sight pleases the dragon. It is only natural for mere creatures to lower their postures before a dragon.
However, there are those who do not comply.
An entity standing without the slightest tremor.
The collar of the spear-wielding hero, Galahal, flutters loudly in the wind. Yet, there is no disruption in Galahal’s stance.
Holding the platinum spear, he simply turns to look back. He sees the wounded and dirty knights. Galahal meets their gaze.
What fills that gaze is fear.
And, an anticipation directed towards him.
Galahal has no intention of betraying that expectation. He never did, thus he tightened his grip on the spear. The platinum starlight flares up around Galahal.
“——Hoo.”
A short breath escapes through Galahal’s gritted teeth.
With that, he is prepared. Bang.
As if to directly confront the oncoming wind, Galahal kicks off from the ground and begins to run. He must face a dragon floating in the sky while running on the ground. For a moment, the necromancers feel doubt about this.
Zzzap!
With a light kick off the ground, Galahal leaps and slams his spear down to the earth. With a crack, the ground splits apart as Galahal’s body is lifted into the air. To a height unattainable by human strength.
Then, with a thud, he plants his feet on the cliff and begins to run up the wall, repeating the same action. It resembles a performance trick; however, from the opponent’s perspective, they cannot simply watch.
“Spell!”
“Short chant….”
The necromancers panic and begin to chant spells.
The riders mounted on wyverns hurriedly attempt to block Galahal’s approach, but… there has never been a hero that was thwarted by mere wyverns.
Galahal is no different.
The platinum spearhead traced a line in the air. As a spear, its range is horrifyingly long. The platinum trajectory precisely targets only the riders on the wyverns.
Cough!
With a scream, the riders let go of the reins of the wyverns. And, Galahal catapults himself onto the wyvern, who has lost its rider. Naturally, Galahal cannot control the wyvern.
He merely uses it as a stepping stone.
He bends his knees, then straightens them. Slamming the spear down on the wyvern increases his jump’s momentum. After repeating the same action three times, Galahal successfully approaches right in front of the chanting necromancers.
Just as the spearhead is about to trace the platinum trajectory…
Grrrr!
The dragon will not let this happen.
The dragon opens its mouth wide towards Galahal as he passes in front of it. Massive mana swells within, and fire does not spark.
It howls.
It may not give significant damage to the hero, but at the very least, it can knock the airborne hero down to the ground. Just as the dragon is about to let out its roar.
Zzzap!
Galahal’s spearhead strikes the dragon’s jaw.
The dragon’s mouth snaps shut, and no sound emerges. When the dragon quickly lowers its head again…
Cough…
The necromancers are spitting blood as they fall to the ground. Along with the wyverns. And, amidst the falling wyverns, there is a hero gazing at this place.
Whack.
He swings the spear to shake off the blood.
The spearhead still shines brilliantly. No, it has absorbed even more light than before.
That light no longer feels hateful.
Just as the ancestors did, the dragon is beginning to feel fear.
The dragon has lost its pride. It is said that a dragon that loses its pride can no longer be called a dragon. While this is merely a metaphor about pride, for the current dragon, it is not a metaphor.
Boom!
The dragon’s heart beats loudly.
What escapes from its heart are black tentacles. The tendrils extend like parasites, penetrating the dragon’s brain and taking its place.
Fwoosh.
With gory blood splattering, the tentacles tear through the dragon’s scales, erupting outwards. Thus, the bizarre eyes of the dragon, transformed, turned black.
Galahal frowned, flinching.
The scene of the beasts being devoured by the black tentacles has been seen on the battlefield several times. The master of those tentacles knows no bounds. There was only one capable of doing such a thing.
The traitor has played with the dragon.
Feeling that the battle will lengthen, Galahal tightened his grip on the spear.
2.
The dragon has fallen victim to the traitor.
Listening to the resounding tremors, Raniel clapped her hands. Her palms collided, creating friction for the spell.
The stacked spell blazed fiercely.
The bright circuits hummed, and flames spilled over from between her hands. This was not a blow spell like her usual strong blow or crush.
「Take note.」
「It’s a spell useful for dealing with a traitor.」
A spell learned from the Grand Magus not long ago.
Though she does not consider it very powerful yet due to her lack of mastery… there is no better spell for sweeping away the minions.
Whoosh.
As she slowly pulls apart her hands, the highly concentrated mana takes shape into a spell. Feeling the mana bundle pouring out, Raniel opened her mouth.
“Step back.”
『······!』
Destel, observing the battlefield from a distance, widened his eyes. He hurriedly shouted.
『Everyone, step back! To the back!』
For a moment, the knights were startled by the sharp voice ringing in their ears, but they quickly turned to see the overwhelming mass of mana behind them.
Rumble.
A colossal ball of flame floats in the sky.
Burning under the blue sky, the flame resembles the sun itself. And the sun moves forward.
Where the sun is headed, a swarm of draconic minions, flying wyverns, and the necromancers preparing spells stand in wait.
“Ah…”
The necromancers, who had been chanting spells, gasped and lowered their staffs. No spell seemed capable of blocking the sun in front of them.
The surging heat made the necromancers’ retinas sizzle. Flames spread to their robes, and soon the wings of the wyverns began to blaze.
Kyaaaack!
The wyverns screamed, but still, the sun did not unleash its heat. It was merely descending slowly towards the ground.
And then, with a snap.
Raniel snapped her fingers.
At the moment the sun made contact with the ground, a flash struck the canyon, and the heat, compressed to its limit, was released.
Wooooosh!
The dragonbone made from the dragon’s bones resisting the mana, the necromancers in their resistant robes, and any spell they crafted… held no meaning against the overwhelming heat.
Crunch.
As the heat dissipated, what was revealed was ashes.
The once-endless army of the Demon Lord had turned to ashes. Facing the cleared canyon, the knights swallowed dryly.
‘A wizard active in the Phantom Territory is akin to a tactical weapon of immense value.’
They were not ignorant of this.
However, they never imagined it would be to this extent. The knights, swallowing dryly, turned their gazes to the girl standing behind them.
Rania van Trias.
She swept her ashen hair back and pointed ahead. The heat created by her spell had long since faded.
『···Advance.』
With a slight tremor in his voice, Destel commanded, the knights began to charge forward again.
『Thanks for the cooperation. Thanks to you, we can save some time. We may even make up for the lost time.』
The telepathic voice resonated only in Raniel’s ear.
Listening to that voice, Raniel replied.
“The dragon that appeared near Galahal is played with by the traitor, right?”
『Yes. He was consumed by the tentacles. I predicted this to a degree when the dragon appeared out of nowhere…』
“There’s only one dragon, right?”
『There’s no way they could be hiding another giant like that. There’s only one. I’m certain because I ‘saw’ it myself.』
Raniel nodded.
“Then there’s no problem.”
『I agree.』
Raniel and Destel reached the same conclusion.
Both were confident.
No significant problems would arise in the battlefield where Galahal remains. Especially since there is only one enemy.
‘Chloe has much to learn from this.’
Raniel thought this as she poured potions onto her skin, scorched by the heat of the circuits. She had to overheat her circuits to activate an unfamiliar spell.
Practice is needed.
Mumbling to herself, Raniel followed behind the knights. Unlike usual, where she would lead, this time felt unfamiliar as she followed the instructions instead.
3.
The next hero candidate, Chloe.
Naturally, she had never witnessed a hero’s battle with her own eyes. At best, she had read about it in novels or newspaper articles.
Just like the written media always does, it was filled with appropriate exaggerations and vague expressions. Such as:
『The hero swung his sword, and the beasts collapsed, spitting blood.』
『The starlight cut down everything in its path. After the light receded, there was nothing before the hero.』
…Having grown up reading such things, it’s no wonder Chloe could only imagine a hero’s battle as a static and bland scene.
Clang!
However, now.
Clang, kaaaang!
Chloe realizes her imagination was wrong.
Before her eyes, a hero is wielding a spear. His movements are neither bland nor static like the descriptions in the novels.
He kicks off the ground and charges forward.
With all his might, he swings the spear, twisting his body to evade a sudden attack by an enemy.
Rather than simplicity, it is noisy.
It is far from being static.
Chloe watches as the dragon, swallowed by the black tentacles, is a horrific sight. Just looking at it makes her shoulders shrink, wanting to step back.
And this feeling is not unique to Chloe.
Looking to the side, she sees the knights also feel fear from the dragon hovering above. However, what is reflected in their eyes is not just fear. They also harbor expectations.
Whom do those expectations turn towards?
It is the being facing the dragon alone.
Wielding a spear with platinum starlight, he swings and swings, resisting fiercely. Chloe looks towards the same place as the knights.
Kaaang!
The spear-wielding hero, Galahal.
He does not yield an inch. The tentacles swinging from the dragon don’t only target Galahal. They also reach toward the knights below.
However, those tentacles never manage to touch the knights.
Galahal’s spearhead prevents the tentacles from reaching. Whenever the dragon opens its mouth, he smashes its chin to prevent it from breathing.
Even though Galahal can endure it.
By not caring about the surrounding damage, he retaliates by taking the hits with his body… Even though he could easily achieve victory that way, Galahal chooses not to.
Clang!
While Kyle, who prioritizes victory, would ignore the surrounding damage and stab his sword in, Destel’s choice wouldn’t be much different.
Yet Galahal does not do so.
Even if it’s inefficient, he aims to save everyone as long as his abilities allow. It is because that is the belief that Galahal holds, and he desires to uphold this belief.
He is unlike the hero from fairy tales.
His battle shines with more desperation than nobility.
In the eyes of a third party, Galahal’s struggle is always desperate. He is wounded, bleeding repeatedly. He trusts in the hero’s regeneration and injures himself. Even now, it’s no different.
“······.”
To Chloe, Galahal’s battle is far removed from the hero’s struggle she imagined. Desperate, noisy, and not bland in the slightest.
Yet, for some reason.
To Chloe’s eyes, Galahal’s struggle shines brighter than that of the heroes from fairy tales. The hero, who shouts ideals in fiction, is not as radiant as the hero pursuing ideals in reality.
Slash!
As he cuts through a tentacle, Galahal stands right above the dragon’s head. Adjusting his grip on the sacred spear so that the spearhead points downward…
Thud.
He plunges the spearhead into the dragon’s nape.
The platinum spearhead flashes white, and the starlight, compressed to its limit, explodes within the dragon.
KaBOOM!
With a tremendous sound, the dragon, now headless, ceases its wing beats.
The dragon’s massive body crashes to the earth, shaking the ground with a thud. As the dragon’s crimson blood seeps into the ground, Galahal, atop its back, slowly raises his arm.
The platinum spearhead shines brilliantly.
Finally, cheers erupted from the knights. Amidst their cheers, Galahal surveyed the surroundings. Not a single knight lay dead in the chaos. Once he confirmed this, Galahal exhaled gently.
A faint smile graced his lips.
Chloe watched that smile for quite a while.
A line of words echoed in Chloe’s mind.
『The most heroic of heroes, Galahal.』
Now, she finally felt like she understood why he was called that.
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