Rumble rumble rumble!
As Zeke entered the valley, he heightened his vigilance against the eerie energy emanating from all directions.
'This energy...ʼ
It was a sticky aura clinging to his body.
It was none other than the energy of the Outsider Species.
The dragon energy had been thick at first, but as he delved deeper, the Outsider Species energy grew stronger, making Zeke increasingly curious about the true identity of the Red King who had set this trap.
'Is it connected to Harvey West, who wielded the power of the Outsider Species? Or...ʼ
Even using the Akashic Code, he couldnʼt pinpoint the exact nature of the Outsider Species energy.
Whenever he tried to read the information, the Karma Data would shatter.
'If I capture the Red King, I might learn the true nature of the Outsider Species power.ʼ Zeke pressed deeper into the valley, protected by his Shadow Armor.
But then, something appeared before him.
"Zeke Draker."
Surprisingly, the figure that emerged was Don Juan, the boss of the McCain Cartel, whom Zeke had killed long ago with his own hands.
Zeke saw through the essence of Don Juan, whose eyes were entirely black, and immediately realized that it wasnʼt real.
"I was wondering what kind of trap youʼd set. A mental-type trap, is it?"
Ssssh—
As Zeke muttered, the Authority of the Third Eye rose from his body.
In the face of the Blood Kingʼs mightiest mental authority, such a trap was utterly useless.
Zeke casually invoked the Authority of the Third Eye to dispel the illusion of Don Juan.
Yet Don Juanʼs form only blurred slightly before returning to normal.
Zekeʼs eyes gleamed with interest at the sight.
'Itʼs not a simple illusion?ʼ
Don Juan patted himself down and looked at Zeke.
"I sensed it from your memories, but your temperament is as impatient as ever." Zeke drew Laevatein and aimed it at Don Juan.
"This isnʼt an illusion set by the Red King. What are you?" Don Juan nodded.
"Yes, as you say, Iʼm not just an illusion. And Iʼm certainly not the Don Juan you killed in your past life or this one."
Zeke unleashed a fierce killing intent as the unidentified entity in Don Juanʼs form mentioned regression.
The entity waved its hand dismissively.
"Whoa, calm down, Zeke Draker. I didnʼt force this appearance just to fight you." The entity in Don Juanʼs form grinned and glanced around the valley.
"Do you know what this place is?"
Zeke didnʼt answer, instead maintaining his killing intent and wariness toward the unknown being.
The entity shook its head, as if resigned.
"This place was once called the Dragonʼs Grave. It was designed to lure dragons in, neutralize their power, kill them, and steal their hearts." It pointed to itself.
"This form right now. Itʼs born from your past fears, regrets, and resentments." Soon, Don Juanʼs form faded, replaced by Arthur Draker.
"This one is the same. This valley cleverly exploits the gaps in oneʼs existence to manifest their true form. Those who set the trap here amplified this power to make the illusions even more realistic. All to strike at the resilient minds of dragons." Zeke addressed the unknown entity in Arthur Drakerʼs form. "Youʼre saying youʼre also an illusion created by that damned trap." The entity chuckled and shook its head.
"I admit that Iʼm relying on this valleyʼs unique power to face you like this. But Iʼm no mere illusion."
It continued, looking at Zeke.
"Do you know why I came to meet you in person?"
The entity spoke in a familiar tone, as if it knew Zeke very well.
But since its face was Arthur Drakerʼs, Zeke felt intense revulsion.
Sensing this, the entity nodded understandingly.
"This face must be uncomfortable. Alright, how about this?" The entityʼs form changed again.
Zekeʼs eyes wavered for a moment.
The new form was none other than Zekeʼs mother, Laura Agamemnon.
The unknown entity, now in Laura Agamemnonʼs form, smiled at Zeke.
"Oh, this form shakes you the most. Well, it makes sense. Do you know why even mighty dragons with supreme authorities and powers fell into this trap and couldnʼt recover?" The entity in Lauraʼs form grinned playfully, as if amused.
"Dragons are inherently emotionless beings. If I had to compare, theyʼre like ancient trees that live for thousands of years. What changed them was interacting with humans, learning their emotions and expressions." It continued slowly.
"Dragons of old wouldnʼt have fallen for such a childish trap. But they mingled with humans, even sharing their hearts and trying to transcend their lifespan limits. Truly undragonlike behavior."
Zeke said to the unknown entity.
"What are you trying to say?"
Delighted, the entity in Laura Agamemnonʼs form clapped its hands.
"Oh, youʼre finally speaking. What I mean is... even dragons who loved someone in the past saw that personʼs form here, lost control of their emotions, and were drawn in despite knowing it was a trap. Just like you now." Zeke raised his sword and said.
"I didnʼt come in because of some childish emotion."
"Is that true? If thereʼs a surviving dragon, donʼt you think you should save it?" The entity knew exactly what Zeke had thought outside the valley. 'No way, is that...ʼ
Zeke realized who the entity before him might be.
As Zekeʼs eyes narrowed, the entity in Laura Agamemnonʼs form elegantly raised a hand, bowed its head, and said.
"Now I can finally greet you properly. Zeke Draker." It straightened up and looked at Zeke.
"Iʼve had many names. The One Who Shines by Himself, or The Arrogant Savior, and titles like Lord of Hell, Adversary of Light—countless ones. But theyʼre all just modifiers in the end."
Smiling, it approached Zeke.
"Lucifel. Thatʼs my true name."
*
"T-This is..."
Castro Pollock gaped from atop the Jupiter Castle ramparts as he watched the allied forces regroup.
All his schemes—monsters, magical beasts, even secret weapons—had come to nothing.
Thanks to the sturdy earthen wall Zeke had erected, the allied forcesʼ defenses were now stronger than before.
Even if they fired shells again, the allies could now predict the range and prepare countermeasures.
Castro clenched his fists, his body trembling with rage.
His adjutant, standing beside him, said.
"Corps Commander, please calm down. In the current situation, we, the besiegers, still hold the advantage..."
"Gaaah!"
Unable to contain his fury, Castro roared.
His eyes, gleaming with madness, turned bloodshot, radiating uncontrollable anger.
He drew his sword, pointed it at the adjutant, and snarled.
"We hold the advantage? The advantage? You call that drivel now?"
Castro vented his frustration at the adjutant, who had advised against his stubborn decisions that worsened the situation.
The adjutant, well aware of Castroʼs temperament, tried to soothe him.
"Their morale may be high for now, but this attack cost them food supplies and gear. Nothing is harder to control than hungry soldiers and knights. If we wait patiently, theyʼll collapse on their own."
It was rational advice, but Castroʼs ears were deaf to it.
He swung his sword at the adjutant and bellowed.
"You dare lecture me? Iʼm the commander! Iʼm the king here!"
A red Aura Blade surged from Castroʼs sword, and he slashed at the adjutant.
Startled by the sudden attack, the adjutant stepped back, drew his own sword, and blocked it.
Clang!
After deftly parrying Castroʼs strike and blocking the follow-up, the adjutant retreated without checking his surroundings and accidentally tumbled off the ramparts.
Thud!
Seeing the adjutant fall from the high wall, Castro grew even more frenzied and screamed in a mad voice.
"Iʼll kill them! Kill them all!"
At that moment, a black shadow slithered up beside Castro.
A black-robed mage, resembling a wax doll, stood next to him and whispered in his ear.
"The master craves blood. Open the gates and hold a festival of blood."
Castro, his eyes wild with madness, fell completely under the black mageʼs spell.
He turned to the knight behind him.
"Open the gates! Tell the riders and mercenaries to prepare to advance immediately!"
The knights, flustered by Castroʼs sudden order to advance, hurried down when he threatened them by drawing his sword again.
Boom boom boom boom!
Drums signaling advance echoed throughout Jupiter Castle.
The waiting mercenaries, caught off guard by the abrupt signal, rose in confusion.
"Whatʼs going on?"
"Are we heading out now?"
"Have they lost their minds?"
As the mercenaries grumbled about the incomprehensible order, their captain, leading the Breaker Mercenary Company, appeared.
The captain, eyes bloodshot and veins bulging, addressed his men.
"...Arm yourselves and prepare to move out immediately."
The mercenaries sensed something off about their captain.
"Captain? You okay? You look really bad..." Slash!
The captain swung his greatsword, decapitating the mercenary who spoke.
Blood sprayed like a fountain from the severed neck.
Face splattered with blood, he screamed at his men.
"The festival of blood! The festival of blood begins now!"
Starting with the captain, frenzied knights began appearing everywhere.
Like bloodthirsty demons, they armed themselves and rallied the soldiers to prepare to charge out.
Soon, the gates opened, and the legionʼs riders and mercenaries poured out of Jupiter Castle, racing straight for the allied forcesʼ camp.
"Raaargh!"
They charged with monstrous roars, consumed by madness like fanatics.
And at that moment, below the ramparts, someone crouched low, watching.
'This place is done for too.ʼ
It was Castroʼs adjutant, who had been at his side.
Castro and the soldiers thought he had fallen to his death from the sword blow, but he had faked it to escape.
The adjutant swiftly removed his insignia, shaved his beard, and altered his appearance.
As a former agent of Imperial Intelligence Room 13, the empireʼs core espionage unit, he possessed such skills.
After the emperorʼs death, Room 13 operatives scattered, seeking survival.
The adjutant had drifted until joining Castroʼs legion as an aide.
But he had watched Castroʼs downfall in real time, waiting for a chance to flee.
When Castro, lost to madness, created an opening with his swing, the adjutant slipped away naturally.
Having changed his look in an instant, he planned to slip through the chaos and leave Jupiter for elsewhere.
'Head to the lawless zone? Itʼs rough with all the thugs, but my skills should let me scrape by. Or join the Thievesʼ Guild as an experienced operative.ʼ
Pondering his options while scanning the area, the adjutant froze at the chilling presence behind him.
A black shadow had crept up, pressing a dagger to his throat.
'Theyʼve got me perfectly.ʼ
He realized his pursuer was a skilled operative from the same field.
Resisting sloppily would mean instant death.
The adjutant raised his hands and said.
"Iʼm a deserter. Iʼll tell you anything you want—just spare me." After a brief silence, the voice behind him spoke.
"Senior, long time no see."
The one holding the dagger to the adjutantʼs throat was none other than Boris.