Chapter 500 – The Lord’s Obligation

“He got what he deserved.” Miria huffed while crossing her arms over her chest. “He’s lucky there’s a barrier around the arena.”

The girls watched from their seats as a group of four, accompanied by a dedicated healer, carried the Demon King out of view and into one of the exit gates.

A sly chuckle escaped Grea’s lips as she smirked cruelly. “You know there isn’t one in the recovery chambers, right?”

Something akin to a flash of understanding passed through the panthergirl’s eyes, her wildly swishing tail going absolutely still. Just as she was going to get up, someone pressed down on her shoulder from behind.

“Don’t do anything unwise,” Silvia insisted gently. “We wouldn’t want to complicate things for Asterios if someone finds out how those in power here abuse their position for petty things.”

“She’s right.” Tina nodded while sitting by the smart princess. “Especially when we can just send someone inconspicuous in our place. Like an additional healer or such, perhaps without much experience. In the end, everyone makes mistakes.”

All the other ladies turned to look at her.

“What?” Their Summoner friend blinked back at them.

“Wasn’t Tina supposed to be the nice and honest one?” Bryn whispered to Althea, who was next to her. “All about that noble honor and respecting the duels?”

“I heard something happened during our excursion into the Nethernight Realm,” the emerald-haired teacher replied in a similar tone. “Or maybe her roots are finally showing up. She’s been spending quite some time with her family after the revelation.”

“I can hear you guys!” The target of their gossip yelled at them from the row above, evoking a few giggles from the more mischievous members of Ast’s entourage.

Taming down her snickering, Miria directed her gaze down into the pit once more, her mind successfully distracted from the idea of further punishment for the rowdy demon man.

“So, who’s going in next?” She scrunched her nose adorably. “It was supposed to be set up with more exciting fights later on, no?”

“You should have paid more attention when we were reviewing the contestants instead of falling asleep on Master’s bed all coiled up around his pillow.” Selene faced her with a stony expression, causing her feline sister-mate to blush heavily.

“It smelled too much like Master…” Miria muttered under her breath.

“Anyway, the upcoming battle should be slightly more entertaining for those craving some real combat,” the foxy woman continued. “Next goes that veteran adventurer who came out of hiding to join in on the fun, offering those pesky nobles a good deal, according to what Tina’s family gathered.”

“Ah, yes, that one. The guy with a quite fitting moniker for our festival.” Tina stoked her chin while thinking back to their discussion back then. “Dragonsbane, was it?”

“Oh, that sounds cool!” Miria clapped her hands excitedly. “Nothing gets the crowd going like archenemies fighting each other! Even if no one really knows Master is a real Dragon!”

“It certainly is much cooler than his real name.” Selene let out a ladylike chuckle. “Gwen’s digging managed to unearth that someone heard him mention Adam once or twice.”

A sudden cracking sound made them all whip towards the source, finding Althea, who had been mid-motion, fixing her position in her decorative throne, now frozen above the seating with one of the armrests almost broken off.

“Did you just…” The Lesser Dragon peered at them with her eyes wide.

~Oh no…~ Tia’s voice echoed in their heads.

“Uhhh…” Grea looked between Selene and Althea, the group visibly confused by the unexpected reaction of the pair. “Ladies?”

Ast’s brilliant mentor fell back down onto the cushion. “It’s not Adam… It’s ADAM… As much as I hope both the name and the moniker are pure coincidence…”

~Anti Draconic Armament Marionnette,~ the Dryad added slowly.

“It’s less of a who and more of a what,” Althea turned towards the coliseum, her sharp gaze boring into the silhouette revealed by the just-opened entrance into the battleground. “A controversial weapon developed by the elves back during the Age of Draconic Conquests, which singlehandedly spread chaos amongst the ranks of True Dragons, felling dozens, if not more. It’s practically a walking, living, thinking Spellslinger designed to counter specifically the draconic kind. It’s one and only task—complete annihilation of the enemy.”

~But, from what you told me after I woke up, it was supposed to have been lost in one of the final battles shortly before the Dragons escaped the realm,~ Tia said with a discernible frown in her words. ~Its destruction was the only saving grace of the Spellsong families, who smuggled this project behind their Queen’s back. I think there was a great division amongst them after the wartime ended and the repercussions came.~

“Wait...” Tina’s brows rose sharply. “Could that be why Imadil…”

They instantly searched for the spot taken by the Sver’tuil family, finding the peculiar artificer duo where they were expected to be. And just as the new contestant that everyone was focused on pulled back their hood, the long-lived magical smith’s carnation turned pale as snow.

※ ※ ※

Down on the ground, Asterios watched his next opponent approach with a slow and deliberate step. It was a man, that much was clear, even hidden underneath the somewhat ragged cloak. His broad shoulders and general posture gave that away, even if he seemed fairly on the leaner side. Only his somewhat glowing purple eyes and, surprisingly, his bare feet, were unobstructed by the getup.

Perhaps some kind of peculiar mage.

He stopped silently a fair distance away, remaining unmoving.

Asterios, still in his Battle Form, tilted his draconic head. “Keeping your cards close to your chest? I wondered if any of the challengers picked by the nobles would actually do everything in their power to win.”

His adversary continued to glare at him. “This is the end of the road for you, Dragon.”

The voice that came out of the man’s throat sounded strained, perhaps parched, or just extremely tired. And even though many people called Asterios a Dragon in jest, especially during today’s festivities, this person’s tone caused him to frown. The way the word was emphasized felt deliberate. And reeked of animosity.

This guy knew.

Or, at the very least, completely believed in his conviction.

Ast’s whole body tensed up in preparation for any sudden moves. “Who are you?”

“A dead lizard needs not to know its hunter’s moniker,” the mysterious figure answered the same way. “You’ve been a thorn in our side for way too long. So much so that even this weapon has been reawakened. And when it steps onto the battlefield, Dragon heads shall fall.”

Finishing his sentence, the cloaked individual unhurriedly reached up and pulled back his hood.

~A noctis?~ Asterios thought, his pupils narrowing.

The bald male bore the characteristic skin tone of the cursed elves, albeit slightly discolored in a few places, and with a weird line going along his collarbone, the part below still concealed by the fabric. Still, the marks and scars of fierce battle all over the visible surface of his body were unmistakable.

~What?~ Althea’s surprised voice echoed in his mind. ~Wasn’t he supposed to be a High Elf?~

~Do you know anything about this guy?~ he inquired right away, diving into the bond shared between him and his mates, their exchange proceeding without a fraction of a second lost.

~He was known as Dragonsbane centuries ago. A living weapon of the elves, Anti Draconic Armament Marionnette,~ Tia joined in. ~He’s an artificial Dragon killing machine made by elves. Those under Queen Civienne. So why…~

“My master sends his regards,” the man interrupted their conversation, seemingly speaking up right after finishing pulling down his hood.

Next went the whole cloak as he grabbed the connecting piece at his neck and threw the outfit aside. The reveal evoked a wave of gasps in the audience, most likely due to the fact that he was naked to the bone. Although from a quick glance that Asterios threw at his enemy, he was missing all the intimate parts, including his genitals and nipples. Smooth surfaces replaced those areas.

The second reason might have been the disturbing state of his frame. It looked like it had been pieced together limb by limb with weird black lines connecting the sections. One of them was the horizontal arch over his collarbone, where at the top the dark skin ended, and at the bottom a slightly tanned skin started, covering his whole torso.

His left arm, from the shoulder up to the wrist, was light brown. The right one was similar but of a much darker shade. Down from the waist to mid-thigh, the carnation was nearly white. Then, the left leg down until the shin was rosy, and the right about the same as that of a common human. Hands and feet looked purplish, every finger and toe colored differently like a rainbow.

Overall, it was a rather unsettling sight.

However, that wasn’t what caught Ast’s attention.

The last sentence had.

“You are part of the cult,” Asterios spat with a growl.

“And you have meddled in matters way over your caliber, whelp.” A sound resembling a growl came from the monstrosity. “Now I’m compelled to kill you before the mental shackles crack. You were your own unmaking.”

~Do you need help, Master?~ Miria’s anxious voice arrived in Ast’s ear, and he hyperfocused on the bond once more, everything else slowing down.

~No, I’ll handle it. We need to try to keep up appearances that this is still part of the show. Panic will break out when people realize there’s a terrorist attack in the middle of a festival,~ he hastily responded. ~Focus on keeping everyone safe. I might have to go all out. But you have permission to interfere at your own discretion. I won’t blame you even if you jump in right now.~

~We’ll be on standby,~ Selene said tensely, then her voice quietened. ~This is our fault.~

~I don’t think it’s that simple,~ Asterios replied. ~We’ll talk later.~

Then, he tuned them out and reached into his draconic ancestry to scan his adversary with enhanced sight, not willing to take any chances with so many people present, even when shielded by powerful arrays. A frown marred his scaly forehead as he didn’t detect any trace of magic from Adam’s frame, as he decided to call the weapon, which now seemed much less absurd than when he had first heard this person describe himself as such.

This individual truly wasn’t a person. Or he was dead in the truest sense of the word. Not even the slightest hint of spiritual energy coursed through his flesh. As he made his move, bringing his left palm up and towards his face, there wasn’t any trace of mana being called forth. It was both confusing and unnerving at the same time.

However, not as shocking as what Adam did next.

The weird amalgamation suddenly bit its middle finger and tore it right off, spewing it to the side.

Black blood flowed out of the partially ripped yellow digit, and in a blink, a weird aura shot out of Adam’s very core of being. Asterios shuddered under the invisible pressure and stumbled, grasping his chest. His legs buckled, and he dropped to one knee, his vision momentarily swimming. Strong discomfort held his heart in a tight grasp, every beat sending small jolts of pain into his system.

Yet, the sensations seemed… familiar.

Much stronger and more intrusive than when he had last experienced it, but his mind and body, for some reason, recognized the inner workings of the spell that had just been unleashed.

Asterios racked his brain for the answer at the same time as his spiritual senses dove into his sources.

~The… Lesser Dragon habitat?~ It came to him nearly right away.

And everything became clear.

Quickly, he redirected all his energy and focus currently split between his Hearts solely to the second, black one. Just like back then, a suppressing formation had been deployed, targeting his Dragon’s Heart. The man’s moniker became even more fitting, and Asterios wondered just how many True Dragons had fallen to such a trick.

Thankfully, he was no typical True Dragon.

Completely ignoring the fact that his scales gradually shifted shades from red to black, Asterios regained his strength and focus just in time to swing his greatsword forward, where it clashed against another blade, deflecting an incoming blow.

“What?” Adam jumped back while regarding Ast’s rising form with a perplexed gaze.

The man held a massive scimitar made of extremely wild and sharp water in his right hand, which was missing a pinky, blue one if Asterios remembered correctly.

So, each part held an exceedingly high-tiered spell.

With a few fast swings, half-moons of swirling water surged towards Asterios, which he skillfully parried. Every projectile crashed into the ground by his sides, carving deep trenches in the brick flooring. Thankfully, his Spellslinger was made of much sterner stuff than most swords, including other legendary artifacts from its makers. It was supposed to withstand his draconic might, not just fight it like its counterparts from the long past.

And the living one in front of him had been created with just the initial purpose.

“How can you still move?” Adam was clearly surprised that his technique hadn’t worked out. “Unless that bastard of a master was wrong and you are no Dragon. But then, that should have exploded your source on contact.”

“Who knows?” Asterios smirked, taking a battle stance. “Maybe you are just defective after centuries of rusting away in some ancient basement.”

The stitched man snarled and pointed his whirling blade downwards. With a hasty stab, he severed his white left big toe. In a flash, a barrage of crystal lances grew towards Asterios at an unbelievable pace and in an unimaginable amount, all of them angled perfectly at his figure.

There was only a split second to react, and Asterios sheltered his body behind his weapon, stopping the assault of at least the middle of the horizontal avalanche. Many spikes grazed his frame, almost effortlessly slicing through his scales and digging into his skin and flesh. They glittered like diamonds but were even harder and more dangerous.

Such an attack would have skewered him from top to bottom.

Which might actually have had smaller chances of killing him than Adam would expect due to Tia’s overpowered regenerative power, but was scary nonetheless. And undoubtedly massacred not just one True Dragon back in the day.

Triggering a crystal sigil embedded in the core of his greatsword, Asterios invoked a seismic wave of high frequency while swinging upwards. Intense vibrations and noise forced many spectators to cover their ears, but they did their job, shattering the crystal field into bits and pieces. The pressure reached the elven amalgamation and sent it hurling backwards with minor cuts all over its skin.

Asterios watched his enemy get up without serious injuries. Dragonsbane’s durability might be immense, but he was certain it wasn’t much of an issue for him if he put his will into his techniques. Perhaps even Dragon Breath would be enough after getting strengthened with the energies of his amazing mates. Defeating an anti-draconic weapon, which was surely protected against most if not all draconic attacks, with something so basic might evoke an interesting reaction even.

However, there was just one small, albeit crucial issue.

With so many body parts that unquestionably hid numerous deadly spells from his special sight, each of them triggered by separation from the individual, Asterios didn’t know what he could trigger by accident. Adam’s offense was currently his best defense. A reckless approach might end up in a disaster. It wouldn’t be silly to assume there was a panic reaction that ensured mutual destruction after the living Spellslinger was chomped on and swallowed whole, limbs chewed into bits.

And that left only two options.

One, let the elf expend almost all of his magical ammunition until the danger levels drop low enough, hoping that the regenerative spell, which had to be part of his kit, remained in the last batch of final body parts.

Two, incapacitate him completely without considerably harming his body.

Out of these, Asterios wasted no time making his choice. The safety of his subjects was of utmost priority.

With a sharp whiz of air, the spent sigil was expelled from its slot, replaced with another one. Bright golden light shimmered over Ast’s dark sword as he spun it around and stabbed the tip into the ground. Just as Adam picked another finger to rip off, his previous water scimitar dispelled by the received blow, a thunderous bolt of lightning struck him right in the chest.

The flickering arc connected Ast’s weapon with the man’s torso, zapping it continuously. A pained scream filled the air as the target struggled to stand under the paralyzing might of the electric current coursing through his muscles. It was potent enough to affect even Asterios, seeping into his hand gripping the pommel. Still, the other person had it way worse, especially thanks to being wet, for an obvious reason.

Taking a deep breath, Asterios kept his eyes on the enemy. Not sure for how many seconds Adam would be immobilized after he dropped the spell, he had to act fast and without fail. If only the token he needed had already been in place, but no, the magic he thought of was too dangerous to keep on hand in case it was somehow possible to use it against him.

Better safe than sorry. Though not as much in the current situation.

Grasping the next crystal badge in his free hand, Asterios stopped the lightning, triggered the expulsion, and slammed the new one into place quickly enough to fight against the pressurized air before the mechanism turned off. In the next moment, he sliced his palm down the edge of his blade, and it shimmered with an ominous black-purple aura.

Menacing pillars of perturbing shadow rose around Adam in an octagram. One more column, made of obsidian glowing with violet runes, appeared behind the man’s back. Just as he started regaining control of his body, lashes of darkness shot out of the outer posts, latching onto him and beginning to spin counterclockwise. Faster and faster, the malicious bindings bound their prey to the central support.

In a few seconds, the living Spellslinger turned into a wriggling mummy, restrained by energy supposedly so evil that just mere touch made a person feel like their skin was being continuously ripped off and their flesh melted off their bones. There should be no way of staying clear-minded or even sane in such a predicament, not to mention tearing off any fingers, toes, or limbs.

Hopefully, the crowd would forgive such drastic means, even if not fully grasping the spell, as the scary columns dispersed, leaving only the one in the middle, alongside the shackled prisoner. Ast’s side would need to quickly come up with an explanation before someone—

Asterios was ripped out of his inner musings, his head whipping towards Adam as piercing pain assaulted the back of his head, like an incrementally growing migraine. Squinting his eyes, he spotted some kind of liquid dripping from the mummy’s chin. His pupils narrowed into thin slits as he smelled the scent of blood.

The tongue.

The tongue was a trigger too.

A powerful spiritual wave burst from within the bound elf, pushing Asterios back a step. The energy was immense and growing with each passing moment, so he immediately focused on his draconic sight again.

What he saw shook him to the very root of his existence.

He had never seen such an exorbitant amount of mana spill from anyone or anything in this universe.

And with how chaotically it was entangled with the man’s lifeforce while unraveling itself more and more, the conclusion was certain.

It was going to blow.

~Master!~ Miria’s loud cry rang in Ast’s head as he flexed his wings without a second thought.

~Stay behind the barrier!~ Tina’s harsh but just as terrified tone followed it.

~Bryn!~ Selene’s desperate shout echoed like a gong in Ast’s mind.

~On it!~ The angelic Valkyrie yelled back.

~I’m not ending up as dead weight again!~ Grea’s determined thoughts joined in.

That was the last sentence Asterios heard as his wings flapped and he shot right into Adam, crashing hard against the steely pillar. His arms, legs, tail, and wings formed a cocoon around him as piercing rays of pure white light slipped through the dark bindings, a multitude of colors flaring all around them as an enormous number of barriers formed around the arena.

Then, there was a flash.

And the entire pit filled with white, forming a milky bubble.

Shattering noise and screams rolled over the entire stadium as the first spiritual barrier shattered into glass-like pieces and dust. One, two, three, four, five. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. More burst, more came up, bringing the edge of the blast further and further, already passing the safety railing around the battlefield. People in the front rows began scrambling back in panic.

Shortly before the edge reached them, it stopped.

The assault ceased, and the obstruction slowly dissipated, vision into the pit gradually returning. It allowed everyone to witness the final rays of destructive energy tickling the most inner barrier, which originated from a single point near the middle of the martial stage. An understanding passed through the spectators as they realized that the white sphere was just trapped light and not the full force of the explosion that had intended to erase them.

No. Instead of a crater, they found a battlefield riddled with holes at different angles, spread in every direction from the epicenter of the blast.

And in that middle, a hunched, darkened, smoking figure resembling a person.

The individual was missing many chunks of its body. Half of their left calf was gone, bits of the right one hanging off its bone. The right thigh seemed fairly good, except for its entire front being burned to a crisp. As for the left one, it was littered with fist-sized holes.

Above the waist, things didn’t look much better.

Most of the right side at the level of the stomach, including the stomach itself, was erased. Thankfully, the chest suffered a bit less, though scraped badly enough for ribs to flash white amongst the black scales and charred flesh.

Then, the entire left shoulder, complete with its arm and its wing, was missing. Just a stump of the majestic appendage poked out of the person’s back. The right one was torn, sliced, and full of open spots, and its own arm was missing chunks here and there, but still present.

Most importantly, the head stayed on in its rightful shape and condition, including the horns standing tall and proud. If one ignored the unrecognizable singed layer at the front.

To make the horrifying sight a touch silly, the lizard-like tail had come out of the entire thing pretty much unscathed, slowly swaying as of its own will.

Everyone stared at the scene below them in silence, quickly figuring out who the fatally injured person was and what he had done. If not for him taking the brunt of the blast, trapping most of the force within the confines of his body, a much more powerful explosion would have struck the barriers, covering them in their entirety instead of poking at them in scattered rays, which had pushed through the individual’s defences.

Just as many heads filled with the thoughts of their lord’s sacrifice, someone amongst the crowd gasped. It was the only noise that broke the unspoken agreement to retain total silence. Then, such quietness continued as, this time, the spectators watched in disbelief how, bit by bit, the missing and damaged regions regenerated and recovered.

The barriers disappeared, and seven figures suddenly materialized around the husk of Asterios, though the more capable people caught their insanely fast movements. Bryn dove right into her healing spells, drawing on every remaining bit of her and her sister-mates’ energy to speed up their beloved’s recovery. In the matter of about a minute or two, Ast’s Draconic figure once again towered over them and the battleground.

When a deep, choking breath sounded throughout the silent area, followed by a heavy sigh, the stands exploded with cheers.

This was not the end of their lord’s story.