Chapter Thirteen: The Black Dragon's Assault
Ailrac, as the imperial capital of the Holy Empire, was a name synonymous with splendor and glory. Yet now, the streets that should have been bustling with carriages and crowds were utterly deserted. All thirteen million residents of the capital had locked themselves away in their homes, shutters tightly closed—and the cause of this was the gigantic creature relentlessly crashing against the magical barrier in the sky.
With a body stretching some thirty meters from head to tail, it possessed immense power. Each beat of its twin wings sent gales sweeping through the air, driving its massive form into the magical array again and again. Its size and appearance left no doubt: this was a dragon, the undisputed apex of the Holy Continent’s food chain. The beast roared ceaselessly, golden slit pupils burning with fury, as though vowing to obliterate the nation’s great protective array.
“How did it come to this! You—tell me why a black dragon has returned to assault the capital! Who provoked the dragons?”
In his lavish palace, Emperor Kesk XIII hurled his favorite white stone goblet to the floor in rage. He seized a marquis from among his cowering courtiers and demanded an answer.
“I—I don’t know... Your Majesty, please be assured, even a dragon cannot destroy the barrier so meticulously crafted by countless magicians.”
The unfortunate marquis had no idea what madness had seized the dragon race; he could only try to soothe the emperor’s wrath with gentle words.
“I know that, but this is a black dragon! Surely you all understand what a black dragon means?”
Kesk XIII took several deep breaths to compose himself, casting a regretful glance at the shattered remains of his goblet before returning his gaze to his ministers. If it had been a common dragon, he would not have been so enraged, but a black dragon signified something else entirely—a harbinger of national annihilation.
The black dragon’s infamous reputation was surpassed only by that of the venom dragon. Every inhabitant of the Holy Continent knew the legend of that mad black beast. Centuries ago, before the Holy Empire ever bore that title, there was once a powerful empire on the continent. No one expected that empire to be destroyed in a single night, and the cause was just one black dragon.
The reason for this annihilation was learned from the few survivors, and those who heard it could only sigh at the irony. One fine morning, the empire’s magicians were hunting an elemental sprite—a highly coveted being. During the chase, perhaps out of frustration, some foolish mage unleashed a large-scale spell that struck a cliff face, sending rocks tumbling down onto a black dragon sleeping below.
Enraged, the black dragon laid waste to half the empire. Black dragons were the fiercest warriors among their kind, their resilient hides immune to any magic below the eighth tier. Only archmages stood a chance against them, and even then, they could barely wound, let alone slay, the beast. That battle forced humanity, in its arrogance, to realize who truly ruled the top of the food chain.
In the ruins of his palace, the emperor of that long-lost empire calmly questioned the black dragon, seeking the mastermind behind the attack. But the dragon, still smeared in blood, merely yawned heartlessly, muttered, “Sorry, I was half-asleep,” and lazily flew away. The emperor, upon hearing this, died of apoplexy amid the rubble. Naturally, politics held no mercy—the wounded empire was swiftly partitioned by its neighbors, and the black dragon was henceforth nicknamed “the Black Madman” by later generations.
According to a bard’s tale, the Black Madman was, in truth, none other than the Black Dragon King, an existence on par with the Archmage. As for why the dragon was napping there that day—only the gods knew.
While Kesk XIII raged in the palace, His Holiness the Pope was already maintaining the magical barrier himself. Hovering in midair, he watched the black dragon’s bloodied body with deep puzzlement. Why would it batter itself so brutally just to attack the capital?
For the Holy Empire, the only good news was that this black dragon’s combat strength seemed diminished. After some two hours of relentless assault, the dragon finally collapsed in exhaustion atop the magical array, gasping for breath.
“Light Magic—Swords of Sacred Sealing!”
At once, the Pope ordered the barrier dispelled. As the black dragon began to fall under its own weight, a ring of radiant swords formed around it, restraining any further rampage, and gently lowered it to the ground.
“Young black dragon, tell me—why have you attacked the capital?”
The Pope approached the dragon. Indeed, from its size, it was yet immature—a juvenile still growing.
“Wraaaah! Raaah!”
Tears of rage and grief welled in the dragon’s enormous eyes, each bigger than the Pope’s own head. It opened its maw and unleashed a torrent of wailing and snot, drenching the Pope from head to toe.
“...Speak in human tongue.”
The Pope was not angry; he calmly wiped his face. The black dragon, realizing humans could not understand, began to shrink under a strange power until it became a child of about ten years old—black-haired, black-eyed, with an adorably round face that would make countless aunts swoon and want to scoop him into their arms—if only he were not a black dragon.
“You damnable humans! You killed my fiancée!”
Though bound by the swords of light, the dragon-boy still roared in a childish voice.
“Is that so? Tell me the truth, and I will see justice done for you.”
The Pope nodded understandingly. If it was a case of vengeance for a slain mate, the dragon’s actions made sense. There were always reckless dragon slayers willing to risk everything for the magical materials that a dragon’s body provided.
“My fiancée was so powerful, so beautiful, but I hadn’t even had the chance to mate with her before hearing she died because of a human curse. You will all pay with your lives!”
“May I ask—what is your fiancée’s name?”
The Pope’s expression grew more uneasy. The description sounded suspiciously familiar, so he asked tentatively.
“Mayona.”
“...Wait a moment. I never heard that child was betrothed to a dragon.”
The Pope was utterly dumbfounded. He’d sooner believe the God of Light had made peace with Satan than believe that the cold Mayona would ever be engaged—to anyone, let alone a non-human.
“In our dragon tradition, we find a mate by knocking them out and dragging them home.”
The dragon-boy shook his hair—recently grown due to his human form—finding it somewhat bothersome. Abduction was simply the dragon’s way, universally acknowledged across the continent. Seeking a mate meant seizing by force, regardless of gender; if you liked someone, you took them.
“But you couldn’t even defeat her...”
“Hmph. Only a woman who can best me is worthy to be my mate. Isn’t that obvious?”
“Ahem. Every wrong has its culprit. Why not seek out the one who cursed her?”
The Pope realized this black dragon was a glutton for punishment. Though he didn’t know what grudge existed between Mayona and the dragon, he tried to gently persuade the dragon to find the real villain—this was a debt the Pope himself had not forgotten.
“Why bother with something so troublesome? Better to kill all the humans at once.”
The dragon-boy’s eyes were filled with confusion. To dragons, humans were like ants; rather than searching for one dirty ant among millions, it was simpler to crush them all.
“As expected, dragons are all thick-headed... I mean, you alone can’t do it.”
“My father is Douglas.”
When the dragon-boy named his father, the Pope’s face changed dramatically. Douglas was the Black Dragon King who had destroyed half an empire. So this black dragon was a prince after all.
“Even if your father is the Black Dragon King—”
“My father is Douglas.”
“Can you stop repeating yourself and have a proper conversation!”
“My father is Douglas.”
“All right, enough. Light Magic—Holy Light.”
The Pope gave up reasoning with the brute. This was not mere stubbornness; it was a mind unable to entertain a second thought. Besides, this was hardly the place to talk, and the dragon-boy was still stark naked. In the middle of the imperial capital, no less! With a casual spell, the Pope covered the boy’s vital parts in dazzling holy light—no matter the angle, only radiance could be seen.
With the Pope leading the way, the swords of light carried the dragon-boy aloft, following him into the great cathedral.
“Listen, black dragon, what I’m about to tell you must remain secret.”
The Pope released the binding swords and drew a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. At last, with a sense of relief, he said, “Mayona is still alive.”
“You’re lying! My father says not to believe a word humans say.”
The dragon-boy was not so easily fooled. Given all the rumors swirling about Mayona’s fate, and the fact that she had not come to stop him today, surely she was dead.
“I am not lying. This is a Soul Candle; it records the life and death of its bound soul.”
The Pope produced a candle from his spatial ring, its flame burning emerald green. For the person linked to a Soul Candle, the brighter the flame, the healthier they were.
“Then—where is she!”
The dragon-boy could smell Mayona’s aura in the magic of the Soul Candle, confirming the Pope’s words. He became visibly excited.
“I don’t know. All I can tell you is that she’s alive.”
In truth, the Pope had no idea where Mayona was. After her departure, he had watched the Soul Candle day and night; its flame had once dwindled so low it nearly went out, but then, as if aided by some mysterious hand, it grew ever brighter until it shone with health. The Pope had grinned foolishly for days.
Who rescued Mayona remained a mystery—perhaps she was lucky enough to meet a hidden master in the mountains, perhaps she agreed to some condition and could not return. In any case, it did not matter. The important thing was that she was alive.
“Since she’s alive, I’m relieved. Thanks, old man.”
Overjoyed, the dragon-boy shifted back into his massive dragon form, smashed through the cathedral roof, and soared off. Now that he knew Mayona lived, it was time to seek out his fiancée.
“My poor roof...”
The Pope gazed up at the ruined cathedral with a sigh. It seemed he was the only true victim in this black dragon incident. Still, he had gained much: the black dragon’s blood had been collected for magical research, and even more precious were the dragon’s tears. Everyone knew the indomitable pride of dragons; obtaining dragon tears was a thousand times harder than slaying one. Only an immature dragon could cry so loudly.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
PS: Please bookmark and recommend!
PS: It’s time to compete for the heroine’s favor!