Chapter 316
The war was over, but the silence that followed the demise of Falazure was heavier than any battle cry.
Orario had claimed a costly victory against the evilus, a triumph stained by the absence of dozens of gods and the countless faithful who would never see the city streets again.
High above the Beol mountain range, cutting a path south through the clear, post-conflict sky, were two figures of staggering power: Bahamut, and Aasterinian.
On Bahamut’s vast, armored back, four figures clung tightly to the scales that served as temporary, if terrifying, seating.
Draco held on, his gaze focused on the blur of the horizon.
While his siblings…….Dimitra, Vasileios, and Vasiliki……were holding on for dear life.
Their destination was Edas village, where their remaining familia and their crucial allies, the decimated Astraea Familia, waited.
‘The Astraea Familia should have woken up by now, but…’ Draco's brow furrowed, the distress lines deep.
He had acted out of desperation, knocking out the grieving girls to prevent them from rushing into certain doom after the loss of Astraea.
At the time, with his own goddess fighting Falazure, he was forced to make a quick decision.
Yet, guilt churned in his gut.
They were broken vessels barely held together by the thread of justice their goddess had woven. Now that thread was severed.
Many of the Astraea Familia carried dark, searing pasts like scars; losing their divine moral compass could send them spiraling into dangerous, unpredictable vengeance.
“Sigh, I hope they can get through this,” Draco muttered, the wind whipping his words away. Loss was never painless, but for girls already teetering on the brink, it was an abyss.
Thud!
The air suddenly exploded outward.
The sheer force of the landing rattled Draco, shocking him out of his spiraling thoughts. Bahamut and Aasterinian, having calculated their speed, had landed a respectful distance from Edas village to avoid terrifying the local populace.
Draco, followed immediately by Dimitra, Vasileios, and Vasiliki, hastily dismounted as both Dragon goddesses shimmered, reverting to their far more manageable humanoid forms.
“Phew, finally land!” Vasileios yelled in relief, staggering toward a nearby pine tree and clutching its trunk for stability.
“Weak,” Vasiliki muttered, precisely wiping a smudge from her lip line with an air of practiced disdain.
“Weak? Says the girl who was puking her guts out seconds earlier,” Vasileios retorted, still swaying slightly.
Vasiliki returned a level stare.
“And why would you assume that I was referring to you, unless you actually think you are a weakling who can’t handle flying?”
“Oh, my bad then. Forget what I said,” Vasileios conceded quickly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Gullible,” Dimitra interjected smoothly, giving Vasileios a light, patronizing pat on the back before walking off toward the path.
“What!” Vasileios sputtered in confusion, his previous relief forgotten.
He stood dumbfounded for a few seconds before sprinting to catch up with the group.
Meanwhile, ahead of them, Draco, Bahamut, and Aasterinian walked side by side, Draco quickly detailing the events post-battle, focusing heavily on the cost to their allies.
“You mean to tell me that someone got Astraea?” Bahamut repeated, her voice low and edged with disbelief.
“Astraea,” Aasterinian echoed the name, a thoughtful tilt to her head.
“Ah, that justice…”
She paused abruptly, catching the darkening severity in Bahamut’s expression.
“How?” Bahamut pressed.
“Was it Erebus?”
“I have no idea,” Draco admitted, his voice barely a whisper before falling silent.
The air grew heavy.
The trio walked on, shrouded in the somber reality of the loss, the only sounds being their footsteps, the rustling of leaves, and the distant, muffled bickering of Dimitra, Vasiliki and Vasileios.
After what felt like a small eternity, Bahamut let out a deep, measured sigh, smoothing the severe lines of her face.
“Astraea was one of the few untwisted goddesses in the mortal world. It is truly a shame to lose someone of her integrity. She won’t be able to return for at least a thousand years.”
Bahamut shook her head, pulling herself out of the melancholy.
She then turned to her companion, whose large, inquisitive eyes were currently fixed on a beetle crawling across a piece of moss.
“By the way, Asta,” Bahamut continued, “I never asked. Why were you there, and how did you find me?”
Bahamut’s battle with Falazure had been an intensely private moment; Aasterinian’s perfectly timed intervention was definitely more than coincidence.
“Ah, finally you asked!” Aasterinian chirped, her tone suddenly eager.
“Well, I am here for a lot of things, but most importantly, I am here to take Draco with me for a while.”
“Take me?” Draco questioned, thoroughly confused, while Bahamut fixed Aasterinian with a skeptical, piercing stare.
“Hmmm,” Aasterinian nodded, her expression serious for less than a second.
“But before that, I have to explain a few things.”
She turned her attention to Draco.
“First, I shall introduce myself properly, young Draco.”
“Uhm, I already know who you are, albeit only a little,” Draco interrupted.
“I recall seeing you shortly after my birth.”
“Hoo! Now that is interesting,” Aasterinian exclaimed, her eyes sparkling like captured starlight. She conjured a worn, leather-bound notebook and a charcoal pencil from seemingly nowhere and began scribbling furiously.
“I wasn’t aware that a hatchling dragon-kin possessed such detailed cognitive awareness at birth. Fascinating!”
She leaned in close, her face a bit too intimate as she stared into Draco’s eyes.
“Tell me, what else do you remember?”
Draco tried to avoid her intense gaze, but his eyes landed instead on Aasterinian’s enormous bust, which was now distracting him completely.
“Uhm…”
He was at a complete loss for words, until……
WHACK!
Bahamut swung a powerful open palm into Draco’s back.
“Ouch!” Draco yelped, the imprint of her hand temporarily stinging his skin.
“Asta, stop dangling your melons in front of the kid,” Bahamut commanded, her tone glacial.
“Ah, sorry about that. Didn’t realize he was already at that age,” Aasterinian replied airily, slowly pulling away from Draco.
She then turned, approaching Bahamut with a weirdly clinical focus.
Upon reaching Bahamut, Aasterinian did something utterly ridiculous: she raised a single finger and gently poked Bahamut’s much smaller, petite breasts, playing with the fabric covering them almost erotically.
“What the hell are you doing?” Bahamut finally exploded, her mind catching up to the sheer absurdity of the gesture.
“Hmm, your chest seemed a bit flatter than usual after the fight, so I was curious,” Aasterinian replied innocently.
“Huh, are you picking a fight, Asta?” Bahamut retorted, her entire frame fuming.
‘I think this is the first time I’ve seen someone get Bahamut this worked up. It’s kind of cute,’ Draco thought, nodding his head sagely while gingerly rubbing his bruised back.
“Anyway, as for some of the other reasons I came here…” Aasterinian continued, completely ignoring Bahamut's rising fury and returning to her original mission.
‘She really does everything at her own pace,’ Draco noted, exasperated.
“A certain crazy goddess has become active again,” Aasterinian announced, her voice suddenly dropping its playful cadence.
“One crazy enough to have initiated the wipe of an entire race because her lover was consumed with his little project.”
Bahamut’s fuming expression immediately solidified into grim seriousness.
“You don’t mean… Tiamat, right?”
“Indeed,” Aasterinian confirmed heavily.
“It is her.”
Draco stared at the two goddesses, completely lost.
“??”
“Ah, I haven’t told him about it yet,” Bahamut realized, seeing Draco’s confused face.
“I see,” Aasterinian said.
She turned back to Draco.
“Draco, do you remember the old man you saw at your birth?”
“Yes,” Draco replied instantly.
“Good, this makes things easy. Well, that old man is the strongest dragon god, Io. He is the creator of your race. And the goddess who loved him is called Tiamat.”
Aasterinian paused to let the names sink in.
“Thousands of years ago, when Io made the dragon-kin a viable race, he and Tiamat had an argument over it. That progressed into a conflict, which then evolved into a war when other like-minded gods and goddesses got involved. This ultimately led to the genocide of the Dragon-kin, leaving you as the sole survivor.”
“Wait, wait, wait, aren’t you skipping a lot of crucial details in between?” Bahamut interrupted, gesturing wildly.
“Well, I don’t want to bore everyone with unimportant details,” Aasterinian replied, tilting her head in genuine confusion.
“Boring details, you say? Those are like, very important parts of history!” Bahamut retorted, exasperated by her friend’s scholarly neglect of emotional context.
“Anyway,” Aasterinian ploughed on, unfazed.
“After learning of your existence….and the fact you are the sole survivor of Io’s legacy…..those opposing deities are stirring again. While the scale of conflict won't be as dramatic in the mortal world, Tiamat is not allowed to directly go after you until you undergo your right of passage into true adulthood, which is one of the main reasons I came here. That, and the fact that you are dying.”
The quiet rustle of leaves underfoot and the chirping banter of the trailing familia members instantly ceased, swallowed whole by the abyssal silence that followed Aasterinian’s final pronouncement.
The sun, climbing higher over the Beol range, filtered through the forest canopy, casting motley patterns of light and shadow over the mossy ground, but the brilliant morning illumination felt cold, failing to penetrate the sudden, heavy density in the air.
“What?” Bahamut’s voice, usually soft, soothing and playful, cracked with disbelief.
She stopped dead, her eyes….iridescent red pools…..now hardening into chips of glacial ice fixed solely upon Aasterinian.
Her hands, which moments before had been idly clasped behind her back, clenched tightly into fists, dragging the vibrant silver embroidery of her tunic taut across her shoulders.
Draco felt his heart slam violently against his ribs.
The confusion that had muddled his mind moments ago regarding Tiamat and the long-dead genocide was instantly incinerated by a terrifying dread.
“Dying?” Draco managed a whisper, the sound thin and reedy.
“But…I feel fine. Exhausted and a bit sleepy, yes, but not…”
He trailed off, unable to articulate the word.
Aasterinian sighed, the chaotic spark in her star-like eyes momentarily dimming to reveal a deeper, melancholy.
She snapped her notebook shut, making the unnecessary gesture seem important, and tucked it into the fold of her elbow.
“I was hoping to delay this part of the conversation until after we secured your friends, but your survival, Draco, requires immediate context,” Aasterinian began, her typically flippant tone replaced by one of terrifying gravity.
She turned to Bahamut, ignoring Draco’s frantic gaze for the moment.
“It’s not an illness, Bahamut. It’s an unsustainable existence. Look at him.”
Draco felt a sudden, sharp pressure….not physical, but metaphysical…..as Aasterinian’s gaze pierced him.
It felt like she was counting the very atoms of his being.
“Draco is an unstable existence,” Aasterinian explained, her voice low.
“Through a combination of Io’s desperate, last-minute intervention after finding you, you have survived the systemic unmaking of your race. But survival came at a cost. Your spiritual matrix….that unique blend of draconic essence, spirit and mortal evolution….lacks its natural stability. It doesn't have the communal foundation to sustain itself indefinitely.”
Bahamut’s breathing was ragged now, her control slipping.
“But his growth? His Falna? His strength has increased exponentially! Chronepsis said……”
“That is precisely the problem, Bahamut,” Aasterinian countered gently.
“His growth is too fast, too potent, straining an already critically fractured foundation. Think of his existence as a magnificent, high-speed engine running on a cracked chassis. The more power you demand, the faster the chassis disintegrates. The exertion in recent weeks, including the forceful activation of his incomplete dragon form, have accelerated the deterioration. His body is trying to adapt, yes, but his existence…..is suffering a catastrophic entropy.”
Dimitra, Vasiliki, and Vasileios had approached cautiously during the exchange, the sound of the goddesses’ hushed, serious tones having drawn them forward.
Vasileios stumbled slightly, his eyes wide, while Dimitra’s sharp features molded into an expression of cold
“Entropy?” Bahamut repeated, the single word dripping with dark realization.
She finally understood why she constantly felt that the explanation Chronepsis gave was lacking something.
“When will it happen?” she asked, the question devoid of emotion, a desperate attempt to maintain control.
Aasterinian looked at Draco, then back at Bahamut.
“The precise timeline is fluid, but if he continues to exert himself at this level, and without intervention… perhaps in a few years or less.”
The blow landed like a physical impact.
Draco staggered back a step, catching himself against a sturdy oak.
A few years.
All the battles, all the sacrifices, all the striving for strength, and he was running a race against his own annihilation.
“So this is why you came,” Bahamut stated, the her eyes softening slightly as the rage gave way to painful clarity.
“You knew this would happen.”
“I suspected, yes,” Aasterinian confirmed, picking up the thread of the narrative with practiced ease.
“Io, had placed several seals on some of the more troublesome abilities, so when one came undone…..I knew the clock had began ticking”
She paused, then waved a hand dismissively at Bahamut’s continued scrutiny.
“Anyway, worry not too much. I already have a fix... and Io is waiting for us in the Valley of Dragons,” Aasterinian chirped, a mischievous glint in her usually sagely eyes.
Bahamut leaned forward, her head tilting slightly.
“Valley of Dragons?” she questioned, her voice filled with curiosity.
Aasterinian nodded, her head bobbing with a hint of dramatic flair.
“It's where the one-eyed black dragon resides, along with some other fake draconic species.
As for why he stays there specifically, it’s to prevent certain idiots from using them.”
She paused, allowing the weight of that statement to settle.
"And that's not even the juiciest bit. A few years ago, Tiamat actually invaded and tried taming that one-eyed lizard, after Zeus's and Hera's brats failed... Can you imagine the nerve!”
“She nearly ruined my research”
Aasterinian huffed with indignation, flaring her nostrils, not realizing that she had, in fact, just dropped another bomb, leaving Bahamut, Draco, Dimitra, Vasiliki, and Vasileios utterly stunned once more.
A/N: Feel free to read ahead on pat3on, donate and read 1 extra chapter as a free member.