Chapter 157: The Dragon and the Flower Bloom at Night (1)
It was cold.
Yuran’s body, held in his arms, had gone cold and showed no sign of movement.
Lian stared blankly down at her face.
Smeared with blood, filth, and sticky mucus, her face looked far paler than usual.
Her tightly closed eyes appeared peaceful, almost as if she were in a deep sleep.
But if only that were true.
She wasn’t merely asleep, nor had she simply lost consciousness.
“……”
Lian’s vacant gaze drifted to her chest.
A chest that didn’t move at all.
A breath so faint it couldn’t even stir a single hair.
The chilling reality all of this signified pressed down on his chest like a heavy lump of lead.
Death.
It was none other than her death.
‘Ah.’
Suddenly, time seemed to come to a halt.
The damp, fishy air pierced his lungs, but he just stood there, dazed, as if he’d forgotten how to breathe.
‘Because of me.’
Yuran had died.
Yuran.
The hero who rose to fame as a demon hunter, who brought hope to those consumed by despair.
One of the seven radiant lights.
A native of Garusol, she was surely destined to be remembered as one of the great figures who would someday save the continent.
But that future would never come.
Because here, in a place where she was never meant to die, she had met her end.
The seed of a hero had withered in vain, before it could even bloom, in this dark and damp underground sewer.
A brilliant star had fallen before it had the chance to shine.
And all of this—was because of none other than Lian Gwendil himself.
That fact drove Lian deeper into despair.
“……”
Lian raised a trembling hand and carefully placed it over Yuran’s chest.
“Hoo……”
Then, like his last remaining hope, he gently breathed out and began to release his divine power.
A warm, radiant light began to rise from his fingertips, quivering as if trying to seep into Yuran’s body.
But the light failed to enter her.
As if mocking his desperate wish, the light merely hovered around her, dispersing meaninglessly into the air.
There was only one situation where this would happen.
When divine power was used on a being whose flame of life had already been completely extinguished.
“...Ah.”
Lian’s hand fell limply.
Even so, Yuran’s face remained astoundingly peaceful.
Like someone in a deep sleep, her pale face bore no traces of pain.
Aside from one broken horn on her forehead, there were no noticeable external injuries.
If anything, the axe deeply embedded in her back might have been it.
That, too, was surely a terrible wound—but knowing Yuran’s strength, Lian couldn’t believe that such an injury alone had cost her her life.
Then was it because she had been devoured by that Tentacle Mass?
What was the cause?
What could have possibly... led to this?
Now, all that drifted idly through his mind were thoughts that had no meaning or use anymore.
‘Even this.’
And then, suddenly, the events from just moments ago resurfaced in Lian’s mind.
Just like what had happened with Anguster.
He wished, as he came to his senses, that he might be standing at the crossroads where everything could still be reversed.
So that he might save Yuran.
‘Please.’
Lian sincerely wished for it.
But deep within, a cruel voice whispered that this—was reality.
“Ahh…”
Thud.
Just then, accompanied by a heart-wrenching moan, someone fell to their knees.
It was Professor Shagas.
He slowly reached out, gently stroking Yuran’s cold cheek.
“Ahh, Yuran. Yuran…”
What escaped his lips wasn’t quite a sob or a wail—it was a strange sound, as though something were being roughly scraped out from deep within his guts.
He didn’t cry aloud.
Instead, with his head bowed, his entire body trembled as he clawed at the ground, trying to suppress the emotions boiling up inside him.
His nails broke and blood oozed from his fingertips, but it seemed he didn’t even notice the pain.
The sudden and horrific death of the student he’d cherished like a granddaughter brought a level of pain that far surpassed anything he’d ever known—shredding his heart and soul to pieces.
“……”
A lifeless student, and a teacher weeping silently before her.
Lian just stared blankly at the scene.
And then—he heard it.
A voice, faint and soft, echoed in the corner of his ear.
— “…There is still one method left, my dear.”
“...Hup!”
Lian immediately began pouring divine power into Yuran once more.
He forgot even to heal his shattered right arm. He squeezed out what little divine power he had left, now nearly depleted, clinging to hope with desperation.
It was like pouring water into a bottomless jar.
Even knowing the divine power wasn’t being absorbed and was fading away without meaning—he couldn’t stop.
He mustn’t stop.
“Please.”
The moment a desperate prayer escaped his parched lips—
…Thump.
“…?!”
He heard a sound.
Faint, but unmistakable—it was the sound of a heartbeat.
Lian froze, holding his breath in shock.
Had he misheard?
He instinctively lowered his head, pressing his ear to Yuran’s chest.
Beyond the cold skin, he focused every ounce of his attention on catching the sound he so desperately hoped to hear, from deep within.
While doing so, Lian continued pouring divine power into her.
It might have been a meaningless act, but he simply couldn’t stay still.
And then, a moment later—
Once again, the sound came.
Thump.
“Her heart…!”
It was certain.
He didn’t know how it was happening, but Yuran—her heart was beating.
Slow and faint as it was, her heart hadn’t stopped moving.
The dying ember of hope had begun to burn once more.
‘In that case—’
Lian instantly ran through every possible method in his mind.
Divine power had no effect.
Magic wasn’t an option—neither for him nor for Professor Shagas.
Which meant only one option remained.
‘...Dragon’s blood.’
The dragon’s blood he had received from Airos.
Unintended as it may have been, the time had come to use it.
‘If I recall correctly...’
What exactly had Airos said?
Lian calmly searched his memory.
Airos had definitely said that dragon’s blood could be a powerful blessing, but also a terrible curse.
He had also said that sometimes, when young dragons lost control of themselves, their parents would feed them their own blood to help them regain their senses.
Yes—to help them come to their senses.
Lian could only hope with all his heart that the phrase “regaining one’s senses” could apply even in a situation like this.
‘And more importantly…’
Yuran—she was a half-dragon.
Perhaps the reason she was still somehow clinging to life was due to the overwhelming vitality of a dragon.
If he could stimulate and awaken that blood flowing through her body—then maybe, just maybe, she might come back to life.
‘I have to try.’
Lian didn’t hesitate.
The risks were high, but he didn’t have a second to spare.
First, he took the necklace from around his neck—the one given to him by Airos—and placed it around Yuran’s.
She already had a similar necklace around her neck, but he paid it no mind, letting the two necklaces overlap.
Then, he carefully placed his sword in her arms.
There was a clear reason behind these actions.
The necklace forged from Airos’ scales.
The sword forged from his teeth and scales, and one that had absorbed his blood.
And finally, the blood that had flowed from his very body.
By bringing all of these together in resonance, he was trying to maximize the power within the dragon’s blood—to draw it out to its fullest.
Next, Lian pulled out a few more items from inside his cloak.
Nothing grand.
Just some basic tools used for consecration.
But right now, even something like that was worth doing—this was how desperate the situation had become.
He carefully arranged the items around Yuran and began quietly reciting a prayer.
It was a consecration prayer.
“Gwendil, what are you…?”
Professor Shagas' voice rang out, tinged with confusion, but Lian didn’t answer. He moved swiftly and deliberately.
His eyes were steady without the slightest hint of wavering, and his hands moved without an ounce of hesitation.
“……”
Perhaps he sensed something in Lian’s demeanor.
Professor Shagas stopped asking questions and fell silent.
Instead, he tightened his grip on his sword, stood up, and began keeping watch around Lian and Yuran—as if to protect them.
His gaze was fixed on the Tentacle Mass, now nearly motionless and half-shriveled as it lay dying.
It hadn’t completely stopped breathing, and thus there was still the possibility it could lash out in one final frenzy.
“Hoo…”
Having completed all preparations, Lian pulled out a canteen from deep inside his cloak.
The very canteen that held Airos’ blood.
He had sealed it tightly just in case. Now, with trembling hands, he began to loosen the stopper.
Pop.
Lian carefully opened the cap.
And just as cautiously, with great care, he let a few drops fall onto Yuran’s pale lips.
Thump. Thump.
Yuran’s heartbeat grew slightly louder and more rhythmic than before.
But that was as far as it went.
The dragon’s blood moistened her lips, but it didn’t flow into her mouth—only trickled down her chin.
In hindsight, it was obvious.
She was unconscious.
“…Hoo.”
There was no time.
Her heart had definitely begun to beat again, but it was still so faint, it could stop at any moment.
Now frantic, Lian moved on instinct—without the slightest hesitation, he raised the canteen to his lips.
A hot, metallic sensation spread across his mouth.
Then, he gently lowered his head and placed his lips on Yuran’s.
And slowly, he began to transfer the dragon’s blood into her mouth.
As if breathing life into her—with all the desperation he had.
And then—
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
Yuran’s heart suddenly began to pound violently, wildly.
An immense energy followed.
A tremendous force, like a great dragon awakening from slumber, erupted.
Before long, the sun had set.
“Hm?”
Soaring across the sky as darkness began to fall over the city, Windy May suddenly halted in midair.
And then, she stared silently in a specific direction.
“This is…”
Her brow furrowed slightly.
Then her gaze shifted—not to the surface, but even deeper beneath.
“Yes, just a few days ago… that…”
The dragon’s energy that had erased her duplicate.
It was now resonating from underground.
So vast, so massive a power.