Chapter 203 — The Creator of Dragons
“Kraaagh!”
Screams of agony echoed from every direction.
Demons shrieked as shards of enchanted lances tore through their ranks. Those caught directly in the explosions lost limbs outright — but even those merely grazed by the shards screamed in pain, their flesh sizzling and melting away like wax.
Winona’s eyes widened. “That can’t be… Purification magic?!”
Purification. Exorcism. Banishment. Holy destruction. Every one of those was deadly poison to demons — magic so sacred that only a seventh-circle archmage could normally wield it. Yet here, dozens—hundreds—of such spells had been unleashed at once?
Her blood ran cold. Someone’s here who shouldn’t be. Melvinger… could it be him?
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
“Drive the demons back!”
“Leave none alive!”
The thunder of hooves drew near — and through the forest emerged a formation flying a familiar banner.
Winona’s heart sank.
The hated sigil of the Melvingers — the banner of the Star’s Legion — fluttered into view.
“S-stop them!” she shouted, her voice cracking. Her subordinates scrambled to form ranks, but they were too slow. The Star’s Legion was already upon them.
“Show them our valor, Lions of Azure!”
Herman led the charge of the Azure Lion Knights, their lances glinting as they swept into the demon flank like a great blue wave.
Their horsemanship was divine — blades flashing in perfect rhythm with pounding hooves.
BOOM! BOOM!
The demons who tried to stand and fight were trampled beneath the knights’ charge. The ground shook as steel-clad warhorses crushed the unorganized ranks, scattering them like dust.
“Aaaagh!”
“Damn you humans—!”
They couldn’t even muster their demonic energy in time.
Gregory’s cult had always been more religion than army. Thirty years ago in the Great War, their individual power had meant little in mass combat. They were strong alone — but hopelessly weak together.
Herman knew that history well. He refused to give them even a second to regroup.
The Azure Lions fought with renewed fury, their lances blazing with Purification runes Elric himself had engraved. Each strike burned away the demonic taint.
“No way we’re letting those blue-clad bastards outshine us!”
“Let’s go crack some demon skulls!”
“In the name of our fathers!”
“In the name of our fathers!”
The next wave crashed in — the Black Skull Mercenaries.
Unlike the disciplined knights, the mercenaries thrived on chaos. They plunged straight into the melee, turning the battlefield into a storm of steel and blood.
While the Azure Lions drove the demons into clusters, Black Skull struck from the sides — overwhelming them in savage bursts.
“Crush them!” roared Karot, cleaving through a demon’s torso.
Behind him, Hayes swung her massive sledgehammer — each swing erupting in a crimson spray. Every impact shattered bone and armor, sending the enemy crumbling into smoke.
“N-no…!” Winona gasped. Panic clawed at her mind. If this continued, her entire detachment would be wiped out.
BOOM!
A sudden blast of force slammed into her chest, forcing her back. She barely raised a barrier in time to deflect the blow.
And there — before her — stood one of the Star’s Legion officers.
Cold eyes. Stern face. Sword gleaming with energy.
Ate.
“You’re the leader of this pack,” she said flatly.
Winona’s mind spun. How could she have known? But there was no time to think — Ate was already upon her.
CRASH! BOOM!
Their blades collided, shockwaves rippling through the air.
Ate fought like a storm unleashed — swift, relentless, with every motion radiating lethal precision. At first, her style resembled Elric’s — but soon Winona noticed subtle differences.
Wind roared around her blade. Between the gusts, flashes of red flame and yellow lightning intertwined — then coalesced, spiraling up her arms.
Fwoosh! Crackle!
Flames burst from her feet, lightning danced from her sword tip, intertwining until they spun around her like a living vortex.
Fire and thunder — perfectly balanced. A new art, unseen in any of her previous battles.
Elric’s words echoed in her mind—
“Of course you’re one of mine. What kind of lord wouldn’t claim his own?”
“You helped Brian and stood by me — that makes you family.”
“And someday, tell me what you’re hiding too.”
Every word reverberated through her chest. Her heart blazed with purpose — her sword, with divine fury.
At that moment, Ate looked less like a soldier and more like a mythic warrior reborn.
“F-fire and lightning…?” Winona stammered. “A homunculus? But those perished thirty years ago with Uston Melvinger—!”
Rumble—!
Ate gave no answer. Her sword carved through the air, tearing the atmosphere apart. Thunder roared like the heavens splitting open.
While the battle raged outside, Elric spurred his horse toward the entrance of the dragon’s nest — the Sanctum revered by the Borfur tribe.
He had already scouted it once through the Eyes of the Dead. Now, he could feel the storm of mana within — far stronger than before.
“The demonic energy’s overflowing,” murmured Mephisto.
Elric nodded grimly. The magic wind inside was nearly suffocating. It was clear — a fierce battle was underway.
But most of that power was demonic. The dragon’s aura was faint — almost gone.
The tide’s turning against it.
“Accelerate.”
With a muttered spell, Elric surged forward — his form blurring as Haste wrapped him in speed. The deeper he went, the thicker the air became. Each step felt like pushing through a storm of iron and fire.
Even before reaching the heart, he knew — the being fighting the dragon was no ordinary foe.
“So it’s him…”
“[Again, that one, hmm?]” Mephisto chuckled. His purple eyes gleamed as he watched Elric’s own glow with violet flame. “[Nachtlam.]”
Crackle—
As Mephisto said the name, Elric’s aura shifted — a northern chill filling the air. He had called forth one of the six spirits — the Flagbearer, Nachtlam.
A phantom flag materialized briefly before transforming into an ice spear in Elric’s hand — the weapon Nachtlam had always carried into battle.
To wield a flag as a weapon required mastery of polearms, spears, even whips and binding arts. So the weapon that took shape — sleek, long, and deadly — was only natural.
“[Can he hear me, that one?]” Mephisto mused. The thought of another ancient spirit awakening intrigued him.
Elric didn’t answer — he only ran faster.
“[Oh, he hears me all right.]”
Mephisto smirked. “The others too, hmm? Pretending to sleep, yet always listening… You’re all watching, aren’t you?”
He chuckled to himself. “How amusing…”
Then—
Crash!
Elric burst into the heart of the cave.
The ground shook violently — dust and blood filling the air. The entire cavern seemed ready to collapse under the fury of the battle within.
A Demon King was striking down a dragon.
“KUOOOOOHH!”
Each gesture from the demon unleashed torrents of condensed miasma — blades of black wind and spears of shadow slicing into the dragon’s flesh.
Its roars grew weaker. Its scales split. Its wings tore. The floor of the nest had become a lake of blood.
“So that’s it,” Elric murmured.
The Demon King’s hand glowed as he slashed open the dragon’s long neck — revealing a crimson gem pulsing like a living heart.
The Dragon Heart.
The source of its life and magic.
“No…” the dragon groaned weakly, thrashing in agony. Chains of black mana rose from the earth, binding its limbs. The Demon King’s grin widened, fangs glinting.
He reached out —
—but Elric was already there.
“Pierce.”
Fwish!
The ice spear became a streak of white light, cutting through the air straight for the Demon King’s temple.
He swatted lazily at it — until his eyes widened. Too late.
Slash!
The spear grazed his cheek, shattering against the cavern wall behind him with a deafening crash.
The shards scattered like stars, radiating holy energy — Purification again. Every trace of demonic energy nearby sizzled and vanished.
Blood trickled down the Demon King’s face. He wiped it with the back of his hand, eyes narrowing.
He turned toward the entrance — where Elric stood, eyes burning like frostfire.
Crackle…
Another ice spear formed in his grip. Shadows writhed at his feet, the engraved seals across his body blazing to life — spirits whispering, begging to be unleashed.
“Mer… ving… ger…”
The dragon’s weak cry echoed through the chamber.
“So be it,” the Demon King growled.
He withdrew his hand from the Dragon Heart and spread his wings — one blazing with the mark of Azazel, the other etched with his own sigil.
Umbral Dominion.
Darkness — deep, suffocating, alive — coiled like tentacles from his wings, lunging toward Elric.
The Talent-Swallowing Magician.