Chapter 236: Dragon Worship Cult

Half a month has passed since the night the Blades of Night confronted the royal house, and Wang Yu and his companions vanished from Alestler, spirited away by long-distance teleportation arrays.

During this time, neither the Blades of Night nor the royal family made a move, as if both sides had tacitly agreed to let this long-simmering conflict dissolve into silence.

In truth, however, the change had already taken root. Some members of the Blades of Night chose to leave the capital, heading toward the outlying towns and regions of the Alestler Kingdom; to them, there were places in Alestler far more worthy of protection than the royal city.

The Blades of Night’s special operations squad, following the successive departures of Zig, Wang Yu, and Shuggin, was officially disbanded. The very unit that had inadvertently steered the course of the war between the kingdom and Sevintan had simply ceased to exist.

Of course, the dissolution of the special operations squad did not hinder Father Fang in his plans.

After that day, Father Fang contacted the members of the Church of Nightfall who remained in the capital’s shadows, utilizing the resources of the Church of Light to provide a path out of the city for these followers of the Lady of Night, who had been targeted by the royal house.

During this period, the Church of Nightfall and the Church of Light reached an accord: the Church of Nightfall would begin proselytizing throughout the Alestler Kingdom and beyond, and the cooperation between the Church of Nightfall, the Church of Light, and the Blades of Night would continue.

The prayer communication network, aided by the growing number of the Lady of Night’s followers, would spread to every corner—a web woven by three organizations, gradually unfolding to cover an ever-widening expanse.

The royal house took no further action against the Blades of Night, for they knew full well that the Blades were indispensable to the kingdom.

If those who made it their mission to protect the realm were to abandon it, then even if the royal house held absolute control, Alestler would inevitably slide into decline.

Edward and Charles were subsequently appointed by the royal house as the nominal leaders of the Blades of Night. Further negotiations and arrangements were still underway, but one thing was certain: once this incident reached its final conclusion, the relationship between the crown and the Blades would be irrevocably altered.

As for Wang Yu, Zig, and Avia, the royal house issued a stern warrant for their arrest, citing three grave crimes: attacking the palace, disrupting the order of the kingdom, and conspiring to harm high-ranking leaders of the realm.

Regardless of whether they were citizens of Alestler, anyone could claim a massive reward by delivering the lives of these three fugitives to the kingdom.

It was, admittedly, a staggering bounty: titles of nobility, vast sums of gold, and, most importantly, a favor from the Kingdom of Alestler.

In the current state of Alestler, such a favor essentially meant a fiefdom within the occupied territories of Sevintan.

Though the lands of Sevintan were largely desolate and bitter, the prospect of governing a territory entirely of one's own was a goal many spent their entire lives pursuing.

Sevintan had essentially brought about its own ruin, allowing Alestler to pick up the pieces; the other human kingdoms of the continent could find no fault with Alestler claiming the Sevintan lands for itself.

After all, it was not Alestler that had slaughtered Sevintan, but Sevintan itself, which had sacrificed its own populace to summon the God of Fear.

The other human kingdoms, though green with envy and watching like hungry wolves, could only nitpick at how Alestler handled the Sevintan refugees, hoping to scrape some benefit from the margins.

Yet, with the Church of Light present within the borders of Alestler, it was not for the other kingdoms to cast aspersions; the Church would ensure these matters were handled properly.

The Kingdom of Alestler grew calm once more. A kingdom possesses its own inherent resilience; no matter the magnitude of the storm, as long as the structural integrity of the state remains intact, the impact will soon be washed away by the passage of time. Such was the state of Alestler now.

The descent of the dragon and the assault on the palace—an event that could certainly be called a major crisis—seemed to have ended with the royal house leaving behind nothing but a wanted poster that drew the eyes of the masses.

...

Within the Alestler palace, Finance Minister Bordeaux walked the corridors, accompanied by a group of figures whose faces and forms were entirely shrouded in the darkness of grey robes.

The grey-robed figures, varying in height, followed Bordeaux in silence; only their leader engaged in conversation with him.

"My lords, the gift you have provided is proof enough of your sincerity. I trust His Majesty the King will be most willing to engage in dialogue with you; after all, your objectives and ours overlap in certain respects."

Bordeaux spoke with a tone of practiced courtesy, carefully avoiding any hint of insincerity.

At his waist hung a small pouch, from which a faint, rhythmic glow emanated; it pulsed with a life of its own, appearing to contain some living creature. This was the gift the others had bestowed, as Bordeaux had described.

"Indeed. We do not wish to have made this journey in vain. This gift was merely to ensure you would offer greater sincerity in return—specifically, by sharing the information regarding that dragon. All else is secondary."

The leader of the grey-robed figures spoke in a flat, genderless, and ageless voice, reiterating their purpose once more.

"That goes without saying. You shall not be disappointed."

Bordeaux nodded with a smile, pushed open the doors ahead, bowed his head naturally, and entered the chamber of Doran Charlemagne, the King of Alestler, gesturing for the grey-robed figures to follow.

The hall was empty save for the throne and the King seated upon it.

Except for the leader, the other grey-robed figures instinctively lowered their heads as they entered, as if feeling an invisible pressure radiating from the figure on the throne.

"Your Majesty, honored guests from the Cult of the Dragon have come to pay their respects. This is the gift they have brought for you."

Finance Minister Bordeaux approached the throne, holding the pouch containing the living thing in both hands, and presented it to the figure above.

Doran Charlemagne took the pouch. Without a hint of suspicion or a check for traps, he opened it. As a crimson light spilled forth, the true nature of the gift was revealed.

It was a massive, beating heart. Compared to a human heart, this one—flecked with keratinous growths, severed from its shell yet still pulsing with immense power, its texture tough and resilient—was far larger and brimming with vitality.

"This is the heart of a dragon in the stage between youth and adulthood. Its vitality was preserved perfectly during the extraction. We hope this gift satisfies you, as the master of Alestler."

The leader of the cult explained the nature of the heart.

"Are you not the Cult of the Dragon, a sect that seeks and worships dragons? Why would you offer a dragon’s heart as a gift?"

Charlemagne Doran asked calmly, questioning why members of the Cult of the Dragon would use such an organ as a tribute.

"Indeed, our doctrine is to seek out dragons, to serve and assist them. But, much like human kingdoms, there are differences among dragons."

"The dragons we worship and follow are the true, orthodox, and pure-blooded ones, those who carry the ancient heritage. We serve them and act according to the will of these great beings."

"Yet, there are some dragons who, despite possessing dragon blood and wielding the mighty bodies of their kind, are renegade heretics who have turned their backs on the collective. These are the objects we must seek out and purge; in the eyes of the dragons we follow, they are absolute heretics."

"We have come to Alestler because we heard a dragon had appeared within your borders. We are here to pay our respects and hope to gain His Majesty’s assistance in tracking the dragon recorded in our archives."

The leader of the cult explained their reasoning and their intent.

"In other words, your target is Zig Wilsbach, the dragon living in Alestler, is it not? Bordeaux, have someone bring them the dossier on Zig."

Doran Charlemagne said nothing more, merely giving the order for Bordeaux to retrieve the files for the cultists.

"We thank His Majesty for his assistance. Zig Wilsbach—is that the alias he uses to live in the human world? ...Though, in truth, our real target is not this dragon, but rather, we need to use him to find another dragon who truly poses a threat."

The members of the Cult of the Dragon were unusually candid. While Bordeaux went to fetch the files, they admitted their true goal was not Zig, but rather to use him as a "stepping stone."

"Oh? Is that so? And what kind of existence is your true target?"

Doran Charlemagne asked, his tone unchanged, though he seemed slightly intrigued.

"It is a silver dragon—an existence of extraordinary power, yet an absolute heretic. Her strength has prevented us from successfully purging her thus far."

"She has constantly hidden her tracks, intervening and sabotaging our cult and the dragons we follow. Zig Wilsbach is inextricably linked to her. We need to use him to find her: the silver dragon, Arielian."

The leader of the grey-robed figures spoke, drawing a crystal from his robes and crushing it. As the crystal shattered, a vivid image manifested before Doran Charlemagne and the cultists.

In the image, the sky was choked with dark, roiling clouds and flashes of lightning. Over a vast plain, several dragons of different varieties pursued a silver dragon that beat its wings in desperate flight, its magic leaving a brilliant trail behind it.

Multiple breaths erupted simultaneously from the pursuing pack: the corrosive, sickly green flames of a black dragon; the searing, laser-like crimson beams of a red dragon; the lightning storm of a blue dragon, woven from countless flickering arcs; and the freezing breath of a white dragon, a mixture of pure, biting cold.

The breaths converged, a terrifying explosion of energy erupting at the point of impact. The target was singular: the silver dragon ahead.

With extreme agility, the silver dragon utilized the powerful magic surging through its wings for propulsion, its massive frame moving with startling speed.

A silver blur streaked across the sky, climbing sharply to evade the slower breaths of the black and white dragons.

Then, mid-climb, the silver dragon twisted its body, massive energy brewing within its heart. As a dazzling silver light flared across its scales for an instant, a blinding white cannon of light erupted from its gaping maw, colliding head-on with the combined breath of the red and blue dragons.

A violent explosion tore through the point of contact, a terrifying shockwave sweeping across the plain. The ground was ripped apart by the aftermath, countless trees and shrubs torn from the earth, and a dense cloud of debris and soil surged into the sky.

The crystal recording the scene seemed to suffer under the impact, the image becoming chaotic and difficult to discern amidst the disturbance.

When the image finally cleared, one could see the red and blue dragons that had unleashed the massive breath falling from the sky, their bodies charred and broken, their immense weight crashing down to the earth.

The already ravaged plains trembled without cease.

In the next heartbeat, the White and Black Dragons, caught off guard, were struck as a figure erupted from the billowing smoke, her waist-length silver hair dancing in the gale; though she bore the form of a human woman, her speed and strength were monstrously absolute.

"Boom!"

She streaked through the air, arriving at the White Dragon's side in an instant, her pale right leg descending like a falling star to slam into the beast's neck, sending visible ripples of concussive force through the atmosphere; the White Dragon let out a mournful wail as its neck buckled, its colossal frame plummeting helplessly to the earth.

"Awoo!"

The Black Dragon lunged from behind the woman—the transformed Silver Dragon—its hideous maw agape, jagged fangs interlocking as it sought to rend her diminutive form to shreds.

"Bang!"

Yet with a flicker of motion, she appeared directly before the Black Dragon’s snout and delivered a merciless punch; her seemingly delicate fist collided head-on with the charging beast, a thunderous roar erupting as the dragon’s head snapped sideways, its golden eyes rolling back into its skull, rendered unconscious and broken by the sheer force of the impact.

In the span of a few breaths, four great dragons had been dispatched by this silver entity, who now hovered amidst the lightning-riven sky, her silver hair and white robes swirling in a display of inexplicable dominance and unbridled spirit.

The image froze upon the face of the Silver Dragon, Arelian, as she whipped around to stare directly at the observer, her features resolute, beautiful, and fiercely gallant—and, above all, terrifyingly powerful.

"Those dragons must have all been legendary in stature..."

Even as a sovereign of a nation, Doren Charlemagne could not help but be shaken by the implications of the scene etched into the crystal, as he pondered in the silence of his own mind.

"At that time, over a dozen adult dragons converged to hunt down the Silver Dragon, Arelian, yet after a brutal struggle, every dragon that pursued her perished, while she herself vanished without a trace. Thank you for your intelligence; I trust that with this, we shall soon track her down."

The leader of the Dragon Cult accepted the dossier on Sieg from Bordeaux, offered a brief introduction to their target, and turned to depart.

"I recall that dragons have not appeared on this continent for an age. Sieg must have been within our kingdom for quite some time; why did you not emerge then?"

As the cultists prepared to leave, Doren Charlemagne posed the question.

Pausing, the lead figure in the black robe pondered for a moment before turning back, a faint, inscrutable smile playing upon his lips.

"The world is changing. Once, there was room for heresy upon this continent, but now, every dragon that dares to set foot beyond the Endless Sea is a heretic; the cleansing has begun."