Chapter 196 — The Creator of Dragons
“L-Lord…!”
“What on earth happened?”
When Elric rushed to the infirmary after hearing the news, the first thing he saw was Brian, pale and motionless on a sickbed.
Ate and the household guards straightened to salute him, but Elric waved them down and hurried forward. When Brian tried to rise, Elric stopped him before he could strain himself.
Brian couldn’t even meet Elric’s eyes.
“…I’ve shamed you, my lord. I’m sorry.”
“Whether you should be ashamed or not—that’s for me to decide. Explain.”
Brian dropped his gaze, unable to answer. Instead, Ate stepped forward and spoke.
“Soldiers of the Twork Viscounty defied your direct orders and began harassing the villagers…”
Brian silently motioned for her to stop, but Ate ignored him. He was worried that speaking further would cause unnecessary trouble. Ate, however, seemed to think let it cause trouble then.
Normally she was quiet—so much so that her presence sometimes faded despite her excellent skills. But right now, she burned brighter than anyone in the room. Her anger over Brian’s injury, and over what Viscount Kuranshivil had done, radiated from her.
As Ate’s explanation continued, Elric’s face hardened.
[A crossroads,] murmured Mephisto, who had been listening silently. [Do you see the larger picture first—or the smaller one? Duty, or loyalty? Your choice here will decide much of what follows.]
Duty. A Demon King–class being was running rampant nearby—Gregory—who had seized the dragon’s nest to hasten Azazel’s resurrection. Stopping him was the sacred duty of House Melvinger.
That meant suppressing the current internal conflict, rallying the army, and marching to stop the demons. If he sided with Brian instead, the army—already showing signs of division—could splinter completely. Civil strife would leave no room to carry out his mission.
Yet if he chose the latter—morale and justice—the situation would flip completely. It might disrupt the command structure now, but loyalty and unity would grow stronger once the outcome proved him right.
That was what Mephisto meant: at this crossroads, what did Elric truly value first?
Elric’s answer had been decided long before Mephisto even asked.
[What are you talking about?]
[…?]
[If a bucket leaks inside, it’ll leak outside too. How could I fulfill a “mission” if I can’t even manage my own house? I’m no longer just myself. I’m the head of the Melvingers.]
There wasn’t the slightest hesitation in his voice.
[The head of the Melvingers,] Mephisto repeated quietly, a faint smile on his lips. [Perhaps… that’s the right judgment after all.]
He chuckled softly. But somehow, that laugh sounded a little bitter—or perhaps that was only Elric’s imagination.
“If Sailor hadn’t stepped in, Brian might not have survived,” Ate continued.
Viscount Kuranshivil, enraged that a mere retainer had dared defy him, had struck mercilessly. Brian had resisted as best he could with the techniques he’d trained, but against someone beyond the Seventh Circle, it had been hopeless. He was left broken and bleeding on the ground, and conflict between Twork’s forces and the Star’s Legion had nearly erupted outright.
That was when Sailor Holmes appeared and intervened.
“Even as a Company Commander, stay out of this. It’s a matter between two noble houses. Outsiders should not meddle!”
“Heh. Sorry, but I’m not exactly a stranger to the Melvingers. My last disciple in old age—my daughter—is one of them.”
“So you mean… you’ll intervene personally?”
“If necessary, I’ll bring the entire Holmes House into it. How about that?”
Even Kuranshivil, arrogant as he was, could not afford to clash directly with a Company Commander. In the end, he withdrew with his men back to camp.
Elric’s gaze naturally shifted to Sailor. He’d rushed here the moment he heard of Brian’s injury and hadn’t realized Sailor was already present.
Standing beside Sailor was a woman of the Borfur tribe—the same mysterious blind woman Elric had seen earlier through his wraith’s vision.
What kind of divine power is this…?
Up close, the aura around her was even more enigmatic. Elric couldn’t quite define it.
[An Apostle,] Mephisto murmured.
Apostle. One chosen by the gods, tasked to spread their will upon the earth—sometimes called a divine incarnation.
Even within the Empire, few outside the Orthodox Alliance ever saw one. Yet here she was, in the most unlikely place.
[Judging from that energy… the god of the Azure Heavens, perhaps?]
Mephisto’s eyes gleamed with curiosity as he examined the blind woman up and down. Though the Orthodox Church usually despised demons, he showed no hostility—only amusement.
The blind woman, despite her bandaged eyes, seemed to stare directly at Elric.
No… higher than that.
Her gaze seemed to come from far above—from the ceiling, or beyond. It was as if she were looking down upon not just Elric but Mephisto, the entire infirmary, from the heavens themselves.
Only later did Elric realize that sensation came from the Divine Sight of the Azure Heaven—a god-given power she possessed. Just as the sky observes all below, she borrowed that vision to watch him.
This is… unsettling.
Elric felt exposed, as if she could peel back every secret within him. He didn’t like it. So his first impression of Sarnai, the blind woman, was far from favorable.
Others might find her mysterious or divine, but not Elric. He ignored her, bowed briefly to Sailor, and turned to leave.
Thus, he never noticed how Sarnai’s Heaven’s Gaze flickered slightly as he passed.
“Thank you for your help,” Elric said.
Sailor gave a rueful smile. “No, if I’d arrived a little sooner, none of this would’ve happened.”
“This wasn’t your fault, Lord Sailor. You didn’t cause this. Don’t blame yourself.”
“You’re not planning…” Sailor’s eyes widened as he caught the meaning beneath Elric’s tone. But he couldn’t stop him.
Elric, usually full of calm wit and easy humor, now showed none of it. His eyes—steady, quiet, resolute—felt sharper than ever.
The Mage of the Stars…!
For a moment, Sailor was reminded of someone else—Usthen, the man he’d fought beside thirty years ago. The same gaze, the same quiet fury he showed whenever soldiers returned from battle, broken by the war against demons.
And afterward… a storm always followed.
“Ate.”
As expected, Elric’s voice carried a cold, burning anger.
“Yes, my lord.”
“What of the orders I gave earlier?”
“Not perfect yet, but many have agreed to support you.”
“Good. Contact all of them.”
“Understood.”
“And muster the entire army.”
Ate didn’t ask where they were heading. She already knew. Their blades had only one direction to point.
As Ate bowed and hurried out of the tent, Elric gave Sailor a silent nod and moved to follow.
But suddenly, Sarnai—who had watched silently until now—stepped forward to block his path.
Elric’s sharp gaze turned on her, questioning her boldness. Everyone in the room tensed—the Star’s Legion and the Borfur warriors alike—ready to intervene if needed.
From his expression alone, Elric looked ready to strike.
“The sacred land… has been invaded by darkness,” Sarnai said softly.
“I know.”
At that, the Borfur warriors’ faces paled. Nothing could shock them more than hearing their holy land was defiled. Yet Sarnai’s expression remained eerily calm.
“There’s something there you will need. Isn’t that so?”
Elric had the uneasy feeling that this mysterious woman had witnessed everything through her divine sight—from his battle at the dragon’s nest to Gregory’s invasion. Perhaps she had even foreseen it all.
Did she lure us to this village on purpose?
There were many things he wanted to ask her—but not now.
“This comes first.”
With that, Elric brushed past her and left the infirmary.
As he disappeared from sight, Sarnai murmured quietly,
“Perhaps the one the dragon awaited all this time… is not quite the same as the one the heavens foresaw.”
“We should strike.”
When Viscount Kuranshivil barged into Count Franz Calliger’s command tent unannounced, Calliger frowned—then froze in surprise.
A deep gash marked Kuranshivil’s left cheek—an injury he’d never had before.
Calliger instantly realized it must have come from the “small disturbance” his scouts had reported earlier. And suddenly, Kuranshivil’s blunt words made sense.
Bang!
Calliger shut the book he’d been reading and said flatly, “No.”
“You’ve told me to wait long enough! You said we’d strike soon, that Elric Melvinger’s head would be ours—but we’ve done nothing! What have we accomplished?”
“Because the preparations aren’t finished. We strike when the time is right.”
“That cursed ‘right time’! It’s been a month already! How much longer must we wait?”
Kuranshivil’s fury boiled over, the wound on his cheek throbbing painfully.
To be scarred not by Elric himself but by a mere vassal—his pride couldn’t bear it.
Calliger clicked his tongue inwardly.
Kuranshivil might be brutal, but he’d thought the man at least had the instincts of a predator. Apparently not.
Or perhaps that was exactly why he was panicking—because deep down, he realized Elric might soon crush him.
“We’re finally close to the harvest,” Calliger thought grimly. “And now this fool might ruin it all.”
Still, he needed the viscount for now. He had to rein him in.
“This morning, I finally made contact with His Highness the Crown Prince.”
Kuranshivil’s eyes widened.
Calliger’s lips twisted into a sinister grin.
“We now have evidence to send—that Elric Melvinger has allied himself with the rebel faction and the barbarians.”
The Talent-Swallowing Magician.