Chapter 230: The Dragon-Eagle’s Knight
Mana was the blood of the world. The most core and pure mana could easily assimilate gods, and even the diluted mana could create trinkets that ordinary people could use.
Corleon believed that, speaking solely of mana itself, it was something that could provide life to the world—a necessity for the world.
Therefore, mana ought to exist. Unlike Mystery, mana would not twist and assimilate by mere observation. Only upon contact—or in the use of magic—would it exert its influence.
Thus, mana was also a gift from the world to all living beings.
But since mana was the blood of the world, and the Mystery represented by the gods was an extension of the world’s rules, there were always mages who sought to pry into Mystery with mana, eventually allowing Mystery to affect the present world.
Mages were similar to gods, except that unlike the pure divinity of gods, mages carried human desires.
Yet, to recklessly pry into Mystery would naturally stain them with it. Hence, the stronger a mage became, the closer he drew to godhood.
While some actively touched and wielded mana as mages did, there were also lords, who received mana’s blessing passively.
By occupying a land and gaining its recognition through various means, a lord could receive the mana’s blessing of that land.
The larger the territory, the stronger the blessing. Yet how much of that blessing could be wielded depended on the lord’s own mana affinity.
Of course, for magical beasts, there was no such problem of affinity. They were born from mana itself. Thus, when the Dragon-Eagle of the Misty Forest took flight, immense mana continuously spilled forth from it.
Its breath exhaled a mist that obscured sight, leaving only the cry of the eagle, a call faintly laden with oppression.
Within the mist, the Dragon-Eagle exhaled toward the ground. The gray fog enveloped the fishmen below, draining their life force. When the mist dispersed, only desiccated husks remained.
The Dragon-Eagle charged through the fog toward the battlefield. Naturally, the mist could not block divine sight, so Corleon could clearly see Richard upon the back of the roaring Dragon-Eagle.
One hand clutched tightly at its feathers, while the other raised high the Dragon Spear. He swung it down at the fishmen below, a pale-blue force rending open a fissure in the earth. Fishmen caught within it were ground to dust and erased.
The Dragon-Eagle, through its pact with Richard, supplied him with mana. Having reclaimed his noble bloodline, Richard could wield it. The Dragon Spear he held was made from the Dragon-Eagle’s horn, bearing its innate affinity with mana.
This mana pried at the power of the Great Annihilation Stone, tainted by its will, then released it purely as mana imbued with the essence of annihilation.
Though weaker than direct release that wrought destruction, this power was far more controllable.
Richard’s face flushed red, veins bulging on his forehead.
It was his first time soaring upon the Dragon-Eagle’s back. Though discomfort gnawed at him, excitement filled his expression. He felt himself stronger than ever before, gazing down at the endless swarm of fishmen.
A sense of destiny welled within him.
Thus he swung the Dragon Spear with all his might, heedless of how mana’s scour tore painfully through his body.
Suddenly, from the rear ranks of the fishmen, a will surged forth and hurtled toward Richard.
It was the will of the Fishmen’s god—it would not allow Richard to slaughter unchecked.
Even though Fishman Deep Divers could resist the Mystery of the Dragon-Eagle, the beast’s own strength was overwhelming. With Richard, a human knight, upon its back, given enough time they could annihilate the one hundred thousand fishmen driven here over three days by their god.
Thus, the Fishmen’s will acted, seeking to assimilate the knight’s will and erase the Dragon-Eagle’s existence.
Corleon, who had long been prepared, split off a fragment of his will to crash into that divine will.
As before, Corleon’s will eroded and assimilated the god’s, forcing it to retreat along its original path.
In the instant of this clash, both the Dragon-Eagle and Richard raised their heads.
The Dragon-Eagle’s eyes glimmered with doubt and fear, while Richard’s reflected confusion.
It was a collision of divine wills, unseen to beings of their level, perceived only vaguely.
The clash ended quickly. When it could no longer be sensed, the Dragon-Eagle circled restlessly in the sky, while Richard pressed a hand to its back, soothing it.
Soon recovered, the Dragon-Eagle resumed its one-sided slaughter against the retreating fishmen.
The Fishmen’s divine will fled decisively, but the fishmen themselves could not retreat so swiftly.
From among them, towering Deep Divers rose, shaking off soil and roaring at the Dragon-Eagle in the sky.
The Dragon-Eagle cried back, swooping over one of them. Richard swung the Dragon Spear in perfect accord, cleaving downward with pale-blue mana.
The Deep Diver stomped hard upon the ground, spreading its arms like embracing a tree, and caught the force in its grasp.
“Grrr… Hhhkkk…”—a roar of both pain and fury. The mana, capable of rending the earth, only left a wound upon its chest before dissipating.
The Deep Diver opened its palm, from which sprouted a long tentacle. With a violent lash it whipped toward the Dragon-Eagle, the appendage stretching ever longer until it vanished into the clouds encircling the beast, coiling about its wings.
But the Dragon-Eagle’s body was immense and mighty. It beat its wings regardless, dragging the massive Deep Diver along the ground, plowing furrows as it was hauled.
Yet, with its wings bound, its flight height and speed were hindered.
From afar, other Deep Divers charged forth, trampling their kin underfoot without hesitation, roaring as tentacles sprouted from their palms.
The Dragon-Eagle grew restless. Its body was strong, but it was no true dragon, lacking steel-hard scales. The Deep Divers’ fangs could pierce its flesh.
At that moment, Richard swung the Dragon Spear upon its back, the mana of the Great Annihilation severing the taut tentacles.
These appendages, formed of condensed mana, were resilient and extendable—but unlike the Deep Divers’ bodies, they could not withstand the Dragon Spear.
Freed, the Dragon-Eagle soared high, abandoning low dives and instead exhaling breath to spread mist. Yet the Deep Divers roared back without fear.
The standoff continued until the fishmen retreated. Only then did the Deep Divers sink back into the earth as if into water, swimming toward the Nation of Fishmen’s core, dorsal fins the only sign aboveground.
Corleon’s will slowly faded.
…
The Dragon-Eagle descended through the mist, wings beating, landing before Marl.
Marl, dazed, stared at the beast. From behind it came Richard’s voice: “What are you so scared of? Just charge forward. I’m here, aren’t I? My Dragon Spear can pierce their bodies. You need to learn to trust your comrades.”
The Dragon-Eagle gave a low growl, as though responding to Richard, but Marl could not understand.
Richard leapt down nimbly, jogging toward Marl while still speaking to the beast. “Yes, they are strong. But if we don’t attack, we’ll never kill them.”
Coming beside the seated Marl, Richard exclaimed, “Priest Marl, your body looks like it hasn’t had water for a month! Quick, drink some. This is from the Misty Forest. Tastes a little strange, but it won’t kill you—I’ve drunk it several times.”
He uncorked his waterskin, pressing it toward Marl’s lips.
The stench that stabbed up Marl’s nose and into his brain made his eye twitch. He clamped his mouth shut, trembling as he shook his head. “No need. Have the fishmen retreated?”
His voice was hoarse. From his pit on the ground, he had seen only Richard upon the magical beast driving back the fishmen.
“Yes, they’re gone. If not for Crulud being a little timid, I could’ve killed a few Deep Divers.” Richard said, shifting so Marl could better see the Dragon-Eagle.
Its gaze, wary and fearful of Marl, turned dissatisfied, loosing a low growl. Richard ignored it and introduced, “Crulud—that’s its name. The Dragon-Eagle of the Misty Forest. Of course, now it’s my partner.”
“I see…” Marl rasped. “Your partner is indeed strong. But it cannot appear freely before men. Ordinary folk cannot bear the price of looking directly upon it.”
Hearing Marl’s words—which to it sounded like praise—Crulud’s opinion of Marl shifted slightly.
From a man reeking of that hateful aura, to simply a man carrying it.
Richard froze, scratching his head. “Really? Then Crulud can’t live with me?”
The Dragon-Eagle growled.
Richard nodded. “Alright, then stay in the Misty Forest. When there’s danger, or when I need you, I’ll call you.”
It growled again.
“Of course I won’t let my partner starve. Once things here settle, I’ll ask the Earl to grant me sheep and bring them to the forest for you.”
Satisfied, the Dragon-Eagle flapped its wings and flew off the battlefield.
Only after it left did Richard turn to Marl. “Looks like I’ll have to carry you back. But what about Fog Fortress? I saw light in the sky and feared it was the fishmen attacking—that’s why I rushed out with Crulud.”
He hoisted Marl onto his back as he spoke.
“After leaving the forest, I saw the sheer number of fishmen. Are they launching a full assault? Even with me urging Crulud to strike, those Deep Divers are strong.
“And from above, I saw so few warriors left in the fortress. Just days ago there were many.”
As Richard muttered, Marl, on his back, looked toward the fortress. The barrier above it had already dissipated.
Marl cut him off. “Your timing is just right. Earl Raul wants to see you.”
“To see me?” Richard was stunned.
…
Richard’s feelings toward his liege were complicated.
A knight who had never seen his lord—among all the shames he bore, this was the greatest, even more despised than his weakness.
Only recently, when the fishmen came near the villages, did he learn that the lord he once served had already quietly changed.
Were there other knights like him, who did not even know their own lord? Richard sometimes asked himself.
Yet, when he saw Earl Raul sitting upon his chair, a rotting stench wafting from a gaping hole in his head, Richard nevertheless prepared without hesitation to kneel on one knee.
But the Earl, looking on the brink of death, suddenly raised his hand to stop him. The movement was so forceful that liquid sloshed from the hole in his skull.
“There’s no need to kneel to me. You are Richard—you should not be Richard who serves anyone.” Earl Raul said.