Dragonlord

Ep 119. Scream All You’d Like. (1)

Ep 119. Scream All You’d Like. (1)

No sane man would think one would intrude an armed keep with an army of five – or two, as it has turned out. The soldiers had thought it a careless mistake, the encounter a mere chance entertainment in their otherwise idle standby time.

Hence, none quite suspected the supposedly-careless mage pair to be destroying their army with spell after spell.

‘…Especially that…raven.’

The success of Light’s initial strike was mostly attributed to the surprise it carried; once the soldiers were wary of her capabilities, they had no problem defending themselves with their antimagic gears. Compared to what they’d been equipped for, a mage in training wasn’t anything to write home about.

But Karas was a different story altogether. His spells would weave and curve to find their target from all sorts of unexpected angles; even with their specialized gears, blocking the professor’s spells was nearly impossible.

“Kh…! Archers! Fire!”

On command, waves of arrows rained down upon the two: arrows that were supposed to destroy spelled barriers. If they couldn’t block the professor’s spells, taking him down was the best alternative.

But strangely enough, the jagged walls of stone Karas erected were deflecting the projectiles all too easily.

“Care not to waste your mana, Light. Their weapons seem to destroy magic.”

“…Really? Why’s your spell fine then?”

“This isn’t a spell.”

“…? It isn’t?”

Karas smirked as the layer of dirt and stone over their head protected the two. Not a single arrow was getting through.

- ‘Magic replaces the work, not the materials.’

Or so an archmage had told him once.

“…It’s a trick I learned from Mr. Lairaff.”

Quickly grabbing a hold of his student, Karas then proceeded to dash out of the half-dome he’d created. The layer of stone soon collapsed where they’d been standing, demolished under the weight of a hazel greatsword.

“…Tsk.”

“…”

Backing into the rampart’s corners, Karas gently placed Light back down. Standing in between her and the approaching swordwielder, the professor protectively held his hand over the half girl.

“You’re…?”

“Heritch.”

“…”

“Need I say more?”

Actually, he did need to say more.

While Heritch sounded like the two intruders would recognize his name at once, neither of them had any clue who this man was – other than the fact he owned a big sword.

But it soon became apparent who he was when Heritch raised his hand to signal the army behind him.

“Lancers, forward. Casters, side.”

Soldiers immediately reorganized themselves on command. In mere seconds, rows of pointed pikes were aligned and aimed at Karas and Light, while a hundred spellcasters stood at the ready from both ends of the enclosing lancers.

‘Ironic. Nostalgic, even.’

One hundred years ago, Karas had been the one moving them.

And he’d promised never to return to those days. If he ever did, she’d beat him back to his senses.

‘…I wonder if you still will?’

The professor took a brief glance at his student behind him. He then hovered his eyes over her eyes, blocking off Light’s vision.

“? Professor, what’re you doing?!”

“I’ll be just a minute. Close your eyes and cover your ears.”

“I don’t want to! I can handle it!”

“Shroud.”

Ignoring his student, dark streaks of light ruptured forth from the professor’s hand to encase Light in a layer of pitch-black veil.

Confirming that the spell was in place, Karas then turned to face the approaching army – specifically towards the commander that stood behind the row of lancers.

Sighing, Karas spoke towards the Akeian commander.

“…I don’t suppose you’d let us go?”

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“Foolish. The empire offers no mercy upon its intruders.”

“If you’re insistent on harming us, then I’ve little choice but to retaliate. Are you certain you’d like to continue?”

The commander scoffed at the professor’s nonchalant attitude.

“Bold words for a cornered dog. You should know by now it’s pointless to protect your ally with magic. Our weapons destroy all spells.”

“…Ah, you misunderstand. The spell isn’t necessarily to protect her from you and your men. It’s to protect her from myself.”

“…?”

Frowning at the professor’s nonsensical answer, Heritch struck out his raised hand. Lancers charged forth in unison at the signal, and casters released elemental arrows of all sorts towards Karas.

The professor took a deep breath before the oncoming attacks.

Karas had no right to judge whether one deserves to live or not.

From birth, he was an outsider to society – he’d merely mimicked mankind’s customs. His most trusted principle had always remained the same at core.

Only the fittest survive. That had always been the case, wilderness and society both.

Following suit, Karas gazed into the distance with forlorn eyes. Despite the oncoming wave of soldiers and their spells, his focus lying elsewhere entirely.

Souls of the dead were filling his vision. Some who had died minutes ago, some years ago – some, decades ago.

Clang!

Numerous pikes were jabbed forth, clashing against each other as they contested to strike the feathered figure. But none would reach their target.

The forefront lancers struggled to push their spears further, going as far as to empowering themselves with mana. But their weapons only madly trembled in place, unable to push forth or pull back.

And finally, one lancer dared to look up at their keep’s feathered intruder again.

Coating the crow monster was a transient shade of blue and green. The colors shifted about like living beings, spreading outwards and wrapping themselves around the lancer’s weapon to hold it in place.

“S…co…us…”

“…?”

One by one, the soldiers came to be entranced to the faint, mesmerizing voices echoing throughout. It was as if the floating colors were speaking to them.

As the colors dispersed, an ominous aura encroached upon the surrounding atmosphere. But Akeia’s soldiers found it impossible to take their eyes off of the faded images before them.

They mixed and converged, danced and beckoned. The colors began to form mist-like figures, resembling that of living people.

The images gradually cleared to be discerned by the naked eye.

“Come…”

What followed their wake was an explosion of harrowing screams, signalling their complete release.

“COME, COME WITH US!”

Harrowed spirits exploded outward from the feathered monster. Their spectral mist flooded every corner of the visible world, and swimming within them were countless illusory lights, screaming and cackling in a maddening cacophony.

Dead, hollowed eyes gazed over Telberk’s every living soul in a deathly glow. Rotting hands madly clawed from the mist to doom the living to the same fate they had suffered.

Soldiers gasped and yelped, falling unto the ground as their limbs were held by intangible phantoms. They clawed at the ground to no avail, dragged away into the depths of the darkening mist.

Screams of the dead were followed by screams of the living.

“…Men, steady! Hold your positions!”

Despite Heritch’s orders, the soldiers were long thrown into disarray; their commander’s orders amounted to little before the living hell that had been summoned before them. Soldiers watched in horror as their comrades were dragged into the deadly haze by what they could only describe as haunted spirits.

Before long, the soldiers dropped their weapons in horror, fleeing as fast as they could.

As his men fled, Heritch was forced to stand against the spectral onslaught by himself. His hands tightened their grip around his greatsword in an attempt to calm the commander’s shaking.

With a desperate battlecry, the Akeian commander charged forth, swinging his weapon downwards. Frightening as it were, all spells could be cut down by the empire’s equipment – he held no doubt that the entire illusion Karas had summoned would disappear in one slash.

But his blade pointlessly slashed across the mist, burying itself into the ground. The supposed illusion yet lingered, resulting in nothing but an explosion of haunted, mocking laughter.

“…No. No…how?!”

Once again, the Akeian commander roared in desperation, slashing at the air – this time stronger than before. He reinforced himself and imbued his weapon with magic, madly attacking the deathly haze that was encroaching upon him.

Nothing worked. Nothing at all.

Heritch raised his eyes. A pair of glowing red eyes were staring into his soul from beyond this hellish mist.

And soon enough, the soldiers that had been swallowed into this nightmare returned to greet their commander. The spirits eerily laughed in unison, rotting bodies dancing in the air around Heritch.

“…This is a dream.”

Heritch madly slashed at the phantoms of his own soldiers. But no matter how thinly their images were cut, the mist would immediately restore their broken figures back to shape.

Eventually, one soldier would wrap their arms around the commander’s leg. Another would climb unto his back, and several hugged Heritch’s prized greatsword. They pushed and pulled, all towards a single direction – towards the source of the hell they’d found themselves in.

As the spirits began to drag Heritch towards the feathered figure beyond, a single tear rolled down his eye. The commander’s own horrified screams joined into the madness as he desperately tried to break free.

“Let go…! LET GO! RELEASE ME AT ONCE!!”

Eerie laughters were the only answers Heritch received to his pleas. Soon, he found himself collapsed unto the ground before the black, feathered figure.

The commander’s tear-filled eyes met the monster’s before him. Shuddering in fear, Heritch scrambled on the ground to back away what little distance he could.

“You…you’re no mage…this is no magic. You’re a necromancer…!”

“Hm.”

Karas took a step forward to close the distance Heritch had scrambled. Kneeling on one knee to meet their eye level, the monster stared into the human’s eyes with a benign, gentle smile.

“I’d rather you call me a mage still – though, I suppose that’s insufficient to describe all that I am. As you pointed out, what I’ve used is not magic. But it is not necromancy, either.”

After all, necromancy was just another branch of magic. And it was nothing more than controlling physical, tangible corpses by manipulating the mana they yet carried.

In that regard, the mist that had been unleashed upon Telberk wasn’t even close to necromancy.

Karas’ claws slowly reached towards the trembling commander. The tip lightly touched upon Heritch’s forehead as the professor spoke his next words.

“This mist is simply what I am.”

When Karas jerked back his hand, a thin strand of light was torn out of the Akeian commander to rest within his grasp. It was soon absorbed into the feathered figure, forever to remain a part of this nightmare.

Heritch’s body limply collapsed onto the ground afterwards, robbed of its former occupant.

“…”

Karas rose to his feet, holding his hand outwards. The spectral mist filling Telberk churned in response, beginning to flow back towards their source.

“Your time is done. Return.”

The spirits were rapidly drained of form and color. Maddening laughter and pained wails grew faint and distant, and the mist quickly cleared away.

When they had all but disappeared, the dawning sun was illuminating the keep – as well as the soulless bodies littered within it.

After a small sigh, Karas turned around to undo the spell shrouding Light, though he still held his hand above his student’s eyes. The professor then wrapped his other arm around his student, turning her away from the eerie scene to instead urge themselves towards the direction Ilias had gone.

“…Professor? What’re you doing, what happened? What about all the…the enemies?”

“They’re gone. No one’s here to threaten us anymore.”

“…Why’re you still covering my eyes then?”

“Because the sun is too bright.”

Karas hurriedly left the scene with Light, as if nothing had happened. At all.

Though, truth be told, the professor was still torn on actually bringing the half girl to where the dragons were. While he would gladly help them in challenging Lavnore, he found it difficult to see the merit in bringing Light as well. Though, he couldn’t exactly leave her alone, either.

But then, as if to solve his inability to decide, a friendly voice chatted up the professor from his side.

“Aren’t you being a little too confident in the dragonlord? You of all people know those two younglings can’t defeat Lavnore by themselves. If their lord’s otherwise compromised, those two will die without your help. Besides, the half girl will be much safer with four protectors than one. I’d hurry there if I were you.”

Karas slowly nodded in response.

“I suppose that’s a fair point.”

“Huh? What’s a fair point, professor?”

“? What he just said, of course.”

“What who said?”

“…?”

Karas blinked in confusion as he processed Light’s words. He then turned his head to face the source of the strange, friendly voice that had given him the suggestion.

A familiar man was floating in the air as a translucent image, arms leisurely crossed behind their head. He clicked his tongue in greeting, winking at the professor who’d finally spared a moment to look at him.

“Why, hello. Hope you haven’t forgotten who I am.”

“…”

Karas uncovered Light’s eyes. He needed to rub his own.

But no matter how much he rubbed his eyes, there they were, floating in the air before the professor’s eyes. And Light quizzically stared at her teacher, frowning at his odd actions.

“Uh…professor, are you okay? Is the sun really that bright for you?”

“…No, Light. It’s just…um…”

“? It’s what?”

“It’s…”

There were loads of words Karas could finish that sentence with. None seemed appropriate.

‘Reaper’ was one of them.