Chapter 296: Side Story – The Last Knight of the Founding King

The blue glow that had not yet completely faded still lingered at the edge of the sky.

It was an hour when night had not yet fully fallen.

Along the road that crossed the prairie, where the deep blue darkness slowly spread, a man advanced.

“Emil! Emil Aureo!”

He was a dark-skinned man.

After receiving an urgent message from the Red Lady, he had gathered the members of the caravan who were in Varna and was now desperately searching for someone while shouting in anguish.

“Emil! Emil, Vlad’s son!”

The stream of refugees coming from Sturma seemed endless.

Seen from afar, the crowd was so immense that it looked like a giant serpent twisting across the plain.

Yet Ned moved against the flow of people, calling the boy’s name over and over again.

“I’m looking for the Swordmaster’s son! Rose’s Smile will reward any information, no matter how small!”

It was a human tide that could not be stopped.

As he fought against that current, the man’s body accumulated small cuts and injuries.

But he continued shouting the boy’s name as though none of it mattered.

“Emil! Emil Aureo!”

Thinking that this time it was his turn.

When he was a child, Vlad had saved that dark-skinned boy.

Just as Vlad had pulled him out of the back alleys back then, Ned now wanted to find Emil in that crowd and pull him out as well.

“Has anyone seen Emil Aureo?!”

“The Swordmaster’s son! Emil Aureo!”

And perhaps it was because Ned’s sincerity managed to move the people.

Little by little, more people began calling Emil’s name throughout the crowd.

“The Swordmaster is coming?!”

“Sir Vlad! Sir Vlad of Soara!”

One person’s voice became a massive echo.

Carrying anger.

Carrying sorrow.

Carrying fear.

The gathered voices began to fill the roads of the North like the roar of a gigantic beast.

Rumbleee…

But the salvation they were calling for was far away.

And the danger approaching was already breathing down their necks.

“Aaaahhh!”

“It’s an earthquake! Everyone get down!”

The survivors of Sturma knew perfectly well what those vibrations rising from the depths of the earth meant.

The gigantic dragon that seemed to pierce the heavens.

Those who remembered the nightmare of Sturma fell to their knees and began screaming once again.

‘…Is that the Deathworm?’

It was a vibration so intense that it seemed to shake the soul itself.

Ned had been shouting Emil’s name at the top of his lungs, but even he could not withstand that tremor and ended up dropping to his knees.

Rumble! Rumble! Rumble!

Beneath the sky illuminated by the Night of Two Moons, the northern prairies groaned.

And the destination of that lament was Soara.

Toward the brightest beacon of the North.

A dragon consumed by greed opened its jaws.

***

Tick.

Tick-tick.

Tick.

An unsettling metallic sound echoed through the fog-covered prairie.

It came from an old, worn compass.

The hooded black mage listened carefully to that sound.

“The dragon… is approaching.”

It was an artifact capable of detecting draconic energy.

Watching the needle climb higher and higher, the black mage smiled in satisfaction.

“Yes… yes… come this way.”

Each time the needle moved, the red glow of the magic circle pulsed like a heart.

And so did the corpse of the knight positioned at the center.

An old nameless knight who had chosen an honorable retirement, only to end up turned into bait meant to lure a dragon.

Pierced through by a sword, he had before him a solitary honor coin, earned over an entire lifetime and now being used as fuel for the magic circle.

Wheeeeeet!

“…What?”

Both the living and the dead remained silent within the prairie fog.

But when he saw the compass needle suddenly leap upward, the black mage showed a surprised expression.

“…What is this?”

The Deathworm was still on the northern roads.

It would need at least half a day to reach this place.

And yet the dragon-detecting artifact continued hammering frantically against the edge of the compass as though warning of imminent danger.

Tap-tap-tap-tap!

Suddenly, footsteps echoed through the fog.

Light and swift footsteps.

One of the assassins reacted instantly and assumed a defensive stance.

But it was already too late.

Thwip!

“Urgh!”

A dagger shot out from the fog.

It was a dagger with the distinctive design of the Southern Isles.

It flew in a curved arc like a butterfly and pierced the assassin’s knee.

“Die!”

Then something else appeared.

A massive pole tore through the fog.

Crack!!

It was one of the main support poles of a tent.

Normally it should have been planted quietly in the ground.

But when it came flying with such force, the assassin could not withstand the impact and his neck snapped.

“That’s for my father!”

Hampton spat out those words between heavy breaths.

As expected of a member of the Kannor family, famous for their sturdy physiques, he wielded that pole with terrifying strength.

“We’re under attack!”

“Barbosa’s daughter is here!”

The assassins were momentarily stunned when they saw the children emerging from the fog.

But once they realized the children had come to them on their own, the assassin leader grinned broadly.

“Well, well. Things are working out nicely! The fish are swimming right into our nets!”

His gaze shifted toward Lenia, who stood on the other side of the fog.

The girl’s orange eyes blazed with fury.

And he liked that even more.

“Capture her!”

The greater that fury, the more gold they would receive afterward.

The blood of Golden Duke Barbosa was worth that much.

“Whoever catches her gets double! And if you bring her back alive, I’ll pay four times as much!”

The man who put a price on flowers that were still blooming had eyes shining without pause.

And the other assassins, sharing his excitement, reacted in exactly the same way.

“Move aside! That brat is mine!”

“You can kill the others!”

The men blinded by gold charged toward Lenia.

Seeing them coming, Lenia bit her lips tightly and ran into the fog.

“Good, good. Everyone is so full of spi…”

Clang!

The men, completely focused on Lenia, rushed into the fog.

The assassins from the Southern Isles quickly began to spread out.

And taking advantage of that opening, a sword shot straight toward the group’s leader.

“…Hehe, there was no need for you to show up so soon.”

It was a boy whose entire body was shining intensely.

The yellow mole atop his head remained motionless like a statue.

Anyone could recognize who he was at a glance.

“Emil Aureo. I was planning to take you with me anyway. You’re valuable merchandise too.”

When the leader spoke his name, the bright boy’s eyebrows twitched slightly.

Those men thought only about the fruit a flower would bear once it had withered.

But the young swordsman showed no disgust toward the reality before him.

“Hyaaah!”

He simply swung his sword.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

A shrill sound erupted as the two weapons collided.

It was a contest of strength against strength.

Realizing he was at a disadvantage, Emil quickly retreated and caught his breath.

“For someone your age, you’re not bad at all. You’ve been trained quite well.”

It had been a perfect strike.

But it had been completely read.

The other children had created an opportunity for him, but the assassin leader was not someone who would fall for such simple tricks.

“But you’re too honest. That’s why little brats raised in comfort are never useful.”

Fwoosh!

With the tip of his foot, he kicked up a cloud of dirt straight at Emil.

“…!”

It was a trivial trick.

But for Emil, it was an entirely new situation.

Startled by the dirt that blocked his vision, he took a step back.

However, the leader had already closed the distance.

Wham! Crack!

“As expected of a dragon’s body, you’re pretty durable!”

The violent attacks that pierced his body from every angle made his footing falter.

Without the spirit’s blessing, his organs would have been shattered long ago.

“Damn it!”

Under that fierce assault, the boy’s sword seemed to have lost its direction.

His movements were clumsy, almost like those of a drunkard.

The surrounding assassins openly laughed.

“Is that all you’ve got, Emil Aureo?”

Craaack!

The leader’s kick landed squarely.

The glowing boy’s body shook helplessly.

Unable to withstand the force of the impact, he was sent flying.

A groan escaped through his blocked breathing.

“Urgh!”

He couldn’t even break his fall properly.

He rolled miserably across the ground.

Even so, he still clung to his sword with all his strength.

The determination with which he refused to give up was almost admirable.

Creeeak!

“Ughhh…”

The leader began crushing his hand beneath his foot.

The mole’s blessing was still protecting him.

But even it could not counter pure physical pressure.

Little by little, the hand gripping the sword began to open.

“Hey, mage. How much did you say they’d pay for this kid?”

The leader looked at Emil like a fisherman admiring an extraordinary catch.

“You’d better pay well! I’ve kept him fresh and in perfect condition!”

Emil Aureo.

Vlad Aureo’s son.

The leader smiled proudly as he called to the black mage.

But the mage who emerged from the fog looked more confused than pleased.

“…He’s not a dragon.”

“What?”

Because the needle of the compass he was holding wasn’t moving.

Only moments ago it had been trembling like mad.

Now it remained completely still.

“This boy… doesn’t have dragon blood…”

Hearing that, the leader looked down at Emil.

“Then what exactly are you?”

The boy was being crushed against the ground.

But despite his miserable appearance, his shoulders were shaking slightly.

He was laughing.

“You’re not much.”

He raised his head with a mocking grin.

“Not even the assassins.”

The leader’s eyes narrowed.

And only then did he truly look at the boy.

Until that moment, greed and the glow of the mole’s blessing had hidden an important detail.

The boy’s hair.

Now he could see it clearly.

It wasn’t blond.

It was a pale yellow.

Rattleee!

Wheeeeeet!

With the shrill scream of the compass needle, someone slipped into the magic circle.

Even amid that fog, it was impossible not to recognize that brilliant golden hair.

“Hyaaaah!”

Taking advantage of the black mage momentarily leaving the circle, the boy lunged like a beast.

And the target he sought was the sword embedded in the corpse.

“Gaaahhh!”

The sinister runes carved into the sword began climbing up Emil’s arm.

They were cursed words so cruel and vile that an ordinary person wouldn’t even be able to look at them.

But the dragon blood flowing through his veins refused to allow those curses to invade his soul.

“Get away from there!”

The world of the most perfect dragon.

A world that crushed all possibilities.

And the world of curses created by the black mage, an existence that could never be accepted within that perfection.

“…Stop him!”

The black mage felt his magic circle collapsing.

His face filled with terror.

But Emil’s eyes were already shining with an intense blue color.

The dragon’s vertical pupils destroyed the world of curses.

And tore the sword free from the old knight.

“Stop him!”

Fwoooosh!

The instant the sword was pulled free, a storm erupted across the prairie.

The air that had remained trapped within the fog began to move violently.

The sword was the core of the magic circle.

And the moment it disappeared, the prairie wind burst through and swept away the milky fog.

[Well done, Emil.]

And then they saw it.

The green prairie.

The clear night sky.

And beneath the light of the Black Moon.

Joseph Bayezid.

[From this moment onward, every battlefield present here shall fall under my command.]

The banner he held fluttered in the air.

Upon the cloth, dark as the night sky, were embroidered the emblem of Bayezid and the white lightning bolt that symbolized the Founding King.

[All authority I exercise is simultaneously backed by Bayezid and by the Founding King.]

Crunch!

Joseph drove the banner into the ground.

And at the same time, the light of the Black Moon began descending from the sky.

Wherever the light touched, colors disappeared.

A world where only black and white existed began to spread.

[I, Joseph Bayezid, declare that from this moment onward I shall exercise my rights under the honorable names that guarantee my existence.]

The black-haired man closed his left eye.

Then, with a cold smile, he said.

[Even over your lives.]

Dark aura, black as the night sky, began to pour from Joseph’s closed eye.

Joseph Bayezid.

The last knight of the Founding King.

And with that rightful declaration, the world he unleashed began to devour the wretched crowd.