"...Do you believe me now?" the Dragon Lord asked.
"Do you expect me to believe that from something this small?" Caron snapped.
"This is maddening. Who in their right mind tells a messenger to take a breath attack?" the Dragon Lord scoffed.
"Is it because you're old? This is trendy these days, but you don't seem to relate very well," Caron said with a shrug as he looked down at the Dragon Lord, who was now in human form.
The Dragon Lord's lower body was frozen solid as the result of Gratia's breath striking him while he was transformed into a human. He regarded the human-shaped Gratia with a hint of wounded pride.
"Sure, that crazy man would've, but I never thought you would make such a choice," he said.
"Lord, don't you find this situation odd? You're dead." Gratia replied.
"And yet, I'm alive here at the same time," the Dragon Lord said.
"Have you submitted to the Demon King of Void?" Gratia pressed.
"The 'me' you knew and the one standing before you now are entirely different beings. You and I lived in different worlds. I didn't submit to the Demon King of Void; he merely trapped me in this world," the Dragon Lord explained.
His eyes were a deep, dark black, with pupils as dark and glossy as obsidian. He fixed that gaze on Caron, then murmured, "There are a lot of differences from him."
"Who is he?" Caron asked.
"You will learn soon enough," the Dragon Lord answered.
Caron frowned deeply and said, "That's why I hate old men. Why can't people just speak plainly?"
"Come with me; the preparations to welcome you are complete," the Dragon Lord continued.
Caron stepped forward and grabbed the Dragon Lord by the collar, grinding his teeth as he asked, "You expect me to march into that city with you?"
"You have no manners whatsoever," the Dragon Lord chuckled.
"Who do you think you're fooling? I'm not following you into the city. Unless you're about to shove every last troop in there, what kind of idiot would walk willingly into a place to die?" Caron snapped.
From the outside Glory looked intact. There were no magic circles on its walls, no conspicuous siege engines. Yet the place lay right at the heart of enemy territory. The Dragon Lord's invitation was effectively an order to surrender.
Still, a certain curiosity tugged at Caron. The evidence suggested that Rael Leston commanded the forces inside. Given how things unfolded, it seemed Rael had been the one to request a parley.
Perhaps Guillotine's condition wasn't merely wear, because Rael also held his Guillotine in hand.
The one thing that's certain is that they're enemies, Caron thought.
Rael had sent monsters to block Caron and his army. Over three days of battle, Caron's forces had lost roughly thirty percent of their numbers. The enemy's losses were enormous too, but unlike them, Caron had stood at the front and personally carved a path through waves of foes.
"If someone's got business, they should come in person. Don't you agree, old man?" Caron asked insolently.
Gratia poked Caron's ribs with a finger and began, "Still, he is an elder—"
"Right now he's just a pathetic traitor feeding off the other side. Don't expect any respect from me," Caron cut her off.
The Dragon Lord laughed loudly, then nodded and replied, "You have a point. Very well. I will inform him of what you said. Where should I tell him to come?"
"Do you really think he'll accept my offer?" Caron asked.
"Of course," the Dragon Lord answered.
"And what if I've set a trap?" Caron threatened.
"Any scheme would be futile before overwhelming force," the Dragon Lord said.
Whoosh.
Golden mana surged from his body, and soon the ice that had covered his lower half vanished without a trace.
The Dragon Lord's mana had instantly erased Gratia's power. It was strength befitting someone who stood above all other dragons.
"Before you go, a piece of advice," the Dragon Lord began, and his black eyes flashed once more. "Don't lose your presence of mind, whatever happens. You are the one who will reach the root."
With those words the Dragon Lord vanished at great speed, as though using a draconic incantation.
Caron examined the spot where the Dragon Lord had been, then turned to Libre and ordered, "Start setting traps immediately."
"What sort of traps?" Libre asked.
"Anything you can set," Caron answered.
"It doesn't seem like it'll be effective, but I'll comply," Libre replied.
They would need to prepare for guests. They were valuable visitors who could reveal the secrets of this damned world.
Caron glanced at Gratia and softly asked, "Is there any way to defeat the Lord?"
Gratia exhaled and answered, "If you shove endless demons and demonic monsters at him, it might work. No matter how much of a Lord he is, the power of the Dragon Heart has its limits."
"Share any weakness, then," Caron pressed.
"It seems like you already regard him as an enemy," Gratia observed.
"I guess I'd have to talk it over to know for sure, but no matter how I look at it, I think the only way forward is to kill those bastards. Do you really think anything in this world gets solved by talking?" Caron asked.
It was ridiculous to think they could bridge their differences and join forces through talking. Those who had absolute power had no reason to negotiate; they would simply force submission. Still, he wanted answers on why Rael Leston blocked their path, what this blasted world truly was. Rael had to know something.
Caron circulated mana through his core and stared at Glory. A chill tension spread through him and tightened his muscles.
***
The sun set, and night descended. A crimson moon rose into the ashen sky, casting its dim, red glow over the land.
From atop a hill, Caron and the army he commanded stood in formation, waiting for their "guest." The demons and demonic monsters under his command looked as if they could charge at any moment, their instincts sharpened by three days of brutal battle. The air itself was thick with murderous energy.
Caron sat on a tall chair the demons had prepared for him, quietly gazing down at the city below.
Glory looked nothing like it had during the day. Lights flickered in tall towers, illuminating streets that glimmered with deceptive splendor. The sight almost mirrored the old Glory—just as Rael Leston would have remembered it in his time.
"There are survivors in there," Gratia said.
Caron nodded and agreed, "It seems so. Poetic, isn't it? The final city, sitting pretty in the last act. The Demon King of Void really outdid himself with the theatrics this time."
He wondered who could look at such a radiant city and call it dead.
"Just one more step," he murmured.
He knew that the Demon King of Void himself would be waiting in the core of that place, but the foe blocking his way was still a mystery, and he doubted it would be simple.
"Do you really think it's Rael Leston?" Caron asked.
"You've believed that all along, haven't you, oath-bearer?" Gratia replied.
"There are too many inconsistencies. Starting with the fact that he took Seria in. Then there are the demons, the demonic monsters... and Rael Leston never reached this place," Caron explained.
"Are you certain?" Gratia pressed.
"Laia's memories, the fragments Void showed me—none of them ever placed Rael here," Caron said.
Glory was the place where the Demon Kings had first revealed themselves. The Demon King of Void had burned it to ash, and from its ruins, dark mana had spread across the world. In the annals of history, the city no longer existed.
So what they saw now was nothing but a fabrication—an illusion crafted by Void.
"Rael Leston couldn't cross the Veil," Caron continued. "Back then, he couldn't surpass the power of the Demon Kings."
Rael Leston had been a knight who reached 9-Star, but even he had never attained the strength of a Demon King. They had been far stronger than the ones of today.
Three hundred years had eroded their might, and the result of that decline now stood here as Caron himself.
"Well, to be exact, the Dragon Lord never crossed the Veil either," Gratia noted.
"Did anyone ever witness the Lord's final moments?" Caron asked.
"...No," Gratia admitted. "He vanished mid-battle against the Demon Kings. The fight was so fierce, they believed his body was simply obliterated."
Perhaps Rael Leston had never been the one behind this.
"If it's not Rael, then who's the Demon King standing in our way?" Caron muttered. "The Demon King of Havoc?"
"That's unlikely," Gratia replied.
Even to Caron, it was difficult to understand the Demon King of Havoc's past actions. He was no fool who would strengthen his enemy's hand. In fact, he had sent Caron a great number of troops—enough to devastate any army. Yet instead of attacking, he had turned his power upon the very Core of Sin itself.
If anything, Havoc had aided the expedition, not hindered it. That was Caron's conclusion.
"If not the Demon King of Havoc..." Gratia whispered, but her words trailed off when Caron rose from his chair.
"They're here," Caron said calmly.
From the glittering city below, a dragon soared into the air once more. It was the Dragon Lord. The crimson moonlight flowed over his radiant golden scales.
Whoosh.
With a thunderous gust, the Dragon Lord streaked toward Caron, halting midair in an instant. Then a knight leaped down from his back, plummeting toward the ground.
Boom!
The knight landed with a shattering impact, the ground cracking beneath his feet. He wore black armor and a matching helm, and cold, dark blue mana surged from his body.
Caron slowly drew Guillotine.
Shrrrk.
The blade's dark blue glow gleamed in the moonlight, and at the signal of his movement, the demons around him prepared for battle. Murderous intent filled the air so thickly it was almost tangible.
At Caron's faint flick of a finger, his troops looked ready to hurl themselves into death.
Step.
The knight said nothing as he approached. The closer he came, the heavier Guillotine trembled in Caron's grasp.
"Arghhh..." Guillotine responded, seeming to groan in agony.
Caron tightened his hold, exhaling slowly.
Step.
The knight finally stopped—about ten paces away. A single leap would be enough to close the distance and strike.
Caron narrowed his eyes, searching for an opening. The armor and helm were familiar—too familiar to mistake.
Whoosh.
A pulse of mana flickered from the knight, and suddenly, something materialized before Caron. The sight froze him in place.
"It's my gift to you," the knight said, his voice echoing in Caron's ears. "I hope you like it."
Before him lay bodies—many of them—lifeless, cold, their eyes still open. They were familiar faces.
They were Caron's comrades and his family. Starting off with Leo, Leon, Hugo, his mother, and his father. Even Orion and the other comrades were included.
And among them was Seria. The same Seria who had borne black wings only days ago. Unlike the others, she wore a faint, peaceful smile in death.
"She talked too much about unnecessary things," the knight said. "So I killed her. She'd done all she needed to anyway. Once something loses its use, you dispose of it, don't you agree?"
Shrrrk.
The knight drew his sword. It was a blade of the same dark blue hue as Guillotine. The weapon glimmered in the moonlight, steeped in murderous intent.
"This is the world I barely managed to protect," the knight said, his voice low and venomous. "I won't let some ignorant intruder trample through it. There's nothing for you in the Core of Sin. Leave now."
Then, his power surged—an ocean burst forth from him. Waves crashed from every direction, whirlpools erupted from the ground.
The knight tapped his helm, revealing his face beneath. He had blood-soaked golden hair and azure eyes.
He smiled wickedly at Caron, then added, "You came seeking the Demon King of Void, didn't you? Then look closely—"
The tip of his blade rose, aimed straight at Caron's throat.
"—and witness your end."