360 – Dragon Slayer – Part 1

Lately, I often ponder what lies beyond the end.

After I have finished everything, what will I be like, what will I do? What colors will illuminate my life, having regained a healthy body, free of the Evil Dragon?

First, the wedding, that’s set in stone. Invites sent to everyone we know, a celebration not dripping with extravagance, but lively nonetheless.

Yuri was already throwing out ideas, vaguely. Apparently, we’re destined for at least two, maybe three weddings. In which case, she wants to switch roles when it’s her turn – me as the bride.

I could practically taste the devious intent, wanting to marry my TS form.

Though, it doesn’t sound entirely unpleasant. If I’m the bride, I get to wield the power of the bouquet toss, don’t I? Rig it with flight and stealth functions and turn it into a treasure hunt – now *that* would be entertaining.

And further down the line, if I were to have children with them…

Ideally, they’d take after their mothers more than me. That the kids would get along swimmingly. How many? Three per person?

That’s something that needs more deliberation.

It might seem premature to be indulging in such reveries when the mental seal is still 90% intact, but truth is, I’ve done most of the groundwork. Only a few pieces left to fall into place, really.

Crippling the black mages, the Dragon’s lackeys… success.

Researching and studying the Dragon’s traits and abilities… success.

Leveling up so that one day I can go toe-to-toe with him physically… success.

Amassing an army of allies to back me up… success.

Acquiring the Dragonheart… success.

Ascension… failure. God damn it.

Look, half of that was just messing around in a TTRPG campaign that turned into something real, but the end result is me consistently sticking it to the Dragon.

The mental seal is robust. I’ve overcome the emotional suppression side effect. Like Aisha and the Great Behemoth, I even managed to isolate and corrupt portions of it.

Of course, it was more like the Dragon slicing off a piece of himself and wagering, “Try corrupting *this*, or you die,” but the attempt matters. Experience is born from trials.

If I spend my life honing the art of “slicing and dicing the Dragon,” someday, no matter how much he squirms, I’ll be able to whittle him down, bit by bit. Consider this: it took me a mere ten years to enter the Violet Tower and rise to this level.

Give me unlimited funds and another decade…

So, barring any external interference, I’ll get there eventually. That means my last task is to completely eliminate the possibility of such “external interference.”

The search for, and destruction of, the Dragon’s Body.

Launch a full-scale assault with the backing of the Imperial Emperor. Hunt down the Dragon’s physical form, hidden somewhere on this continent, and obliterate it with everyone’s help. Turn him into chicken nuggets. And then slowly dismantle what remains in my head.

That will be the period at the end of “The Mad Mage.”

Once the dragon’s carcass has become chicken stock, I won’t need to be a Mad Mage anymore. A less Mad Mage, a Sane Mage, a Love and Peace Mage. Something like that.

Which leaves the “how.” How do I find the Dragon Body? Judging by how the b*stard’s playing this, he’s really well hidden.

I could just subcontract Aisha to find it for me. Pass the buck and let her deal with it.

“b*stard.”

But there’s a method I should try first.

Irid mentioned it. The Imperial Sword Saint, the boy knight… he has no name. For such a renowned figure, strangely few people know his name. Even if he’s hiding it, the Imperial family that commands him doesn’t know the Sword Saint’s name? That’s incomprehensible.

I know this phenomenon. His name was consumed, erased by the Dragon. I myself am a case study in this.

Furthermore, the boy knight’s behavior was peculiar. If the Imperial Family had no need of him, he roamed the continent to eradicate the seeds of black mages.

Thinking about it, it was strange. If one were a knight loyal to the Imperial Family, shouldn’t they provide 24-hour close protection, just in case the Emperor was in danger?

Even if not to that extent, it would make sense to at least remain nearby, ready to rush to his side at a moment’s notice.

Moreover, his duties had a peculiar aspect as well. He traveled around each magic tower, determining the amount of Imperial funding. Thanks to him, the Violet Tower received ample support, allowing them to continue their happy research lives.

Wasn’t this movement like searching for something? Be it the means or the end.

In my opinion, the boy knight was someone deeply influenced by the Evil Dragon. But whether that influence was a positive or negative direction for me, I did not yet know.

Either way, I suspected he held information I did not. Therefore, it would be necessary to meet him and hear his story.

Of course, not a one-on-one meeting.

“Jewel says she wants to try doing business in Crown Hall. She thinks a mid-to-low priced clothing brand targeting the middle class will be a hit…”

Yuna Blackraven Violet Iris, an Ascendant-grade Illusion Magician.

“A last name that’s just ‘Black Raven’ is a bit, you know, lacking in effort, isn’t it? I’m starting to not want to be your daughter.”

Aisha Blackraven, a fragment split off from the terrifying Evil Dragon.

“Then find yourself a husband with a cool last name and marry him.”

The Blackraven, a once-in-history genius mage, a mad mage.

And––

“…Wh-why, why do I have to be… involved in this…”

Ping, the hero of the Goddess Order, recognized by the Goddess herself.

“What’s with her?”

There was a reason for selecting and bringing Ping along. Rumor had it that she had a direct line of communication with the Goddess. Some say she even had more authority than Bennett, the hero who drew the Holy Sword.

So, if perhaps, the boy knight turned out to be an avatar of the Evil Dragon or its loyal minion… I intended to use Ping to request a divine force assault from the Goddess.

Even if the Goddess preferred humans to judge for themselves, she tended to deliver divine punishment quite actively when it came to matters involving the Evil Dragon.

Alright.

Three mages and one hero. A hero party complete. One might say it was a balanced party with a perfect harmony of offense and defense. With this, we shall meet the boy knight.

Aisha tilted her head.

“So where is this guy supposed to be?”

“He’s out hunting black mages again today. Apparently he reports his movements to the Imperial Family in real time, so Irid was able to find out his location. Let’s depart.”

“Mm. Let’s hurry and have a chat, and then buy souvenirs on the way back.”

“Wh-why, why me… I was supposed to watch the stars with the Pope…”

And so, we embarked on a short journey.

There was no one who did not know the Sword Saint of the Empire. His renown stretched across the entire continent.

He, with the appearance of a boy, wandered the land, chastising evil. In the places he passed, only the corpses of villains remained, decaying. He could single-handedly destroy an entire knight order. He was, perhaps, the strongest on the continent…

“All just words. That a single person could be that strong—what nonsense is that?”

The gaunt black mage scoffed.

Those who abandoned humanity for power knew all too well of limitations. There was a limit to what a person could achieve. Even if one chose the ‘most efficient’ method—drawing out and crushing the souls of others to absorb their magic—they would not dare utter the word ‘invincible’.

In this world, where souls bloomed into diverse abilities, there was inevitably such a thing as compatibility.

The black mage watered the flowers with a watering can. Gurgle, gurgle. The stream of water flowed, wetting the petals, and the flowers, saturated with moisture, gleamed with life.

They were beautiful flowers. If only the soil in which they were planted wasn’t made of human corpses.

“My fable is named ‘Higan Dokka (Other Shore Poison Flower),’ I can cultivate flowers from the corpses of the dead. Heh heh heh… these flowers secrete different toxins depending on the cause of the corpse’s death.”

A poison that stops the heart, a poison that rots from the extremities, the variety was plentiful. It was the product of long years of research.

But poison had its limits. No matter how potent, it could only truly unleash its lethality by somehow flowing into the opponent’s body.

“Those who shroud themselves in thick magic, or those who block everything with a barrier… dealing with those fellows is far too tricky. Compatibility, you see. That’s why I formed a collective.”

Swish, rustle.

The people sitting in various places within the cultivation room rose to their feet. They were poisoned, blue veins visible beneath their skin, and were doomed to die if they did not receive regular antidotes.

Clang.

One by one, they drew their swords and prepared to fight.

“Damn it, I’m sorry! I have no choice if I want to live…!”

“The antidote, I need the antidote! My body is so itchy!”

“Sniff, sob… waaah!”

All of them, once, lived their own lives. Adventurers who sought to explore dungeons, wandering knights who came to investigate reports of disappearances, hunters who sought to catch animals.

But now, they were pawns of the black mage. The gaunt black mage stared at them with hollow eyes and grinned wryly.

And he spoke to the youthful boy standing silently in the depths of the darkness.

“Furthermore, there is compatibility even among humans, you see. Those who cry out for justice are always defeated by those free from such facades. Now, these people are all innocent. So, are you going to kill them?”

“…………”

“You can subdue them without killing them. But the moment my head is severed, the means to obtain the antidote will vanish forever. Then, you will end up killing them all with your own hands. Sword Saint.”

What will you do?

You’ll hesitate, won’t you? The hero of the empire, the righteous Sword Saint, would naturally hesitate. Exploiting that hesitation is how clever people fight.

The black mage secretly released vaporized poison, watching carefully. The time it would take for the poison to fill the space was approximately one minute. If his hesitation lasted just one minute, they would be poisoned.

But the answer that came back was different from what the black mage expected.

The boy’s clear voice rang out, laced with a deep weariness.

“They all say it. People are quick to mistake it. Equating the slaying of the wicked with the heroic act of saving people. But it’s not the same. A judge and a hunter are different things.”

“⋯⋯⋯⋯?”

“I came here to kill, for the sake of killing.”

*Swish.*

The rustle of fabric, and then, in the boy’s right hand, a plain longsword materialized.

No hesitation flickered in the sunken eyes of the young knight. They were simply swallowed by a light like that of a damp cellar.

A shiver.

Sensing a creeping dread, the dark mage hastily commanded,

“…Damn it, attack! And bloom, ‘Venomous Mist’!”

“Manifestation, ‘Striking Form’.”

*Skit.*

Barely a sound. No afterimage remained in the sword’s wake. But the result was instantaneous.

The heads of those controlled by the dark mage flew, the poison meant to fill the room dissipated, and the arrows snapped in two, falling to the ground.

He killed the controlled without a moment’s hesitation.

“…What?!”

An unbelievable phenomenon, more akin to magic than swordsmanship.

“Damn it, ‘Curse of the Poisonous Bog’! ‘Arrows of Exploded Goblins’!”

*Skit.*

Severed and extinguished.

“Ah, artifact, activate! ‘Teleport’! Get me out of this dungeon—!”

*Swish.*

The artifact split in two, and the magic of spatial displacement coiling around the dark mage was also cleaved and dispelled. And now, the young knight stood directly before the dark mage.

He collapsed to the floor, shrinking back in terror.

“How, how— impossible, it’s impossible!”

“To allow the cutting of the un-cuttable. That is its ability. Perfect for an old man who only knows the sword. I trust that explains it.”

How could such an ability exist? Manifestation generally reflects one’s inner self. If this manifestation allows him to cut anything, then what… what is the young knight trying to sever?

“Well, I’ve satisfied your curiosity… now it’s your turn.”

“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”

“Have you ever felt destiny? That sense that your life, for good or ill, is flowing according to some will?”

“N—”

*Thwack.*

The black mage’s head was severed. His neck, mouth agape and eyes bulging, rolled across the floor, stopping in the corner of the dungeon.

The boy spoke to the severed head.

“I knew it, in truth. Your life didn’t seem all that extraordinary.”

*Click.* The sword slid home into its sheath. Now, only a corpse remained in the black mage’s dungeon. The boy turned away. Another dud. Time to draw the next lot.

A man’s voice echoed from behind him.

“Impressive swordsmanship, I must say. But… with that skill, could you not have saved those captured?”

“If he’d turned out to be the ‘winning ticket,’ my own life would have been at risk. When dealing with the divine, it’s best not to indulge in unnecessary regret. And you are?”

“『Mad Mage』… is what they call me. I lost my name somewhere along the road, so for now, that’s all you need to know. Let’s talk. First, let’s return these people.”

“……..”

*Snap.*

The Mad Mage flicked his fingers. Then, the hostages who had seemed dead, their necks severed, appeared unconscious in mid-air. He’d spirited them away before the Sword Saint could strike.

In that instant, the boy and the mage sensed each other’s differences.

The destination was the same, but the direction differed.