Chapter 194 - The City Where the Dragon Roars (2)

It is said that the dragon sculpture was made by carving the most perfect dragon.

Timur, the Lord of Iron, had been waiting for this group to follow him ever since he received the piece of Ravnoma from the pilgrims.

Because dragons are immortal and constantly try to reunite to become perfect.

"Count Bayezid."

"…Duke."

Peter, gripping his sword, was watching Rutiger and Vlad fighting at the end of the hallway.

My son and the knight are trying to fend off the approaching dragon.

He wanted to rush towards them immediately, but Peter had work to do here.

"This is not the place. This is what we have to do."

Every knight of his time has his own duties.

Just as the knights of the current era have to fight in front of us, the knights of previous eras also have duties they must fulfill.

"We have to solve the root of the problem."

Timur nodded to Fernand and soon began drawing a large circle in the empty air.

Then the secret passage started to reveal itself.

The hallway that the wizard who deceived space had painstakingly hidden was revealed before Peter's eyes.

"Take care of the pieces of Ravnoma as you promised before."

"…"

The current situation almost began when the western Ravnoma, the family that guarded the oath, collapsed.

The pieces were becoming more perfect as they came together, and to resolve this situation, a new family was needed to guard the pieces on behalf of Ravnoma.

And the only family that could do that was Bayezid.

"Will Bayezid be enough, Duke?"

"I would be very grateful if you were by my side."

After hearing Timur's words, Peter lifted his head and looked at the ceiling.

The sound of the dragons howling over the trembling city.

The sound grew louder as time passed and the vibrations from the fragments intensified.

"Alright."

Those with power bear great responsibility.

Peter, standing in front of the dark hallway, nodded in agreement.

"I will become the guardian of another piece."

For Bayezid and for my children who will carry on.

For the sake of the next generation, Peter decided to pay his dues.

***

"Aaaah!"

It was so dazzling that the wide hallway seemed narrow.

Golden residual images intricately intertwined on the floor, ceiling, and walls.

In the feast of lines that continued at great speed, Mirshea's eyes began to falter, unable to find the way.

[Now is the time!]

The secret behind the one-strike killing technique is its unexpected character.

And the master who best understood the technique would be August, who shared the same swordsmanship.

"Who can control Dragulia!"

The path shown by August, the commander of the Imperial Guard, was so complex that it even deceived the dragon's gaze.

However, although the path was complicated, what he wanted was clear.

The swordsmanship of a duelist who wins with a single strike began to spread through Vlad's sword tip.

"...Imperial sword!"

A man's sword that any dragon-born would hate.

Mirshea's eyes distorted brutally when he recognized the sword, but it was already too late when he saw it, and when he recognized it, it had already arrived.

"I am not Dragulia!"

Thump! Thump! Thump!

A golden image slowly spreads through the ancient hallway.

As Vlad pushed Mirshea, the waves engraved by Jager rippled with each step he took.

"I am Vlad of Soara!"

Two knights pierce through, break through the wall blocking their path, and become entangled in a dense stone dust.

Mirshea let out a suppressed groan as he received a blow from Vlad, who felt as if his entire body had been stabbed with a sword.

'This guy is also affected by the fragments!'

The power and speed that only a dragon can have.

Due to his physical power that exceeds human standards, Mirshea once again distanced himself from the dragon pieces.

[We must continue controlling the battlefield! What did Jager say before!]

The one-eyed knight Jager had spoken.

Only attacks that flow like water can overwhelm the opponent.

That means you must always be prepared for the next step.

"There's a limit to what you can look at!"

Mirshea's sword began to extend as if it could no longer withstand Vlad's constant attacks.

Mirshea cuts off the momentum of the attack with a multicolored aura.

His world, in which he clearly cuts off Vlad's progress in a straight line, could indeed be considered perfect.

'Don't evade it!'

However, perfection means there are no flaws.

If there were no flaws in the other person, Vlad decided to become the flaw that would be engraved in perfection.

The mud fight that would take place from now on was also the method in which Vlad had the most confidence.

Claang-

"...!"

The shoulder armor that touched the sword was dented, and the breastplate began to crack.

However, progress does not stop.

Mirshea's eyes widened as he saw Vlad taking the attack with his body alone.

"So this is the alley! Bastard!"

The sword deflects using the angle of the armor, and the resulting impact is resisted using rigid body techniques.

A truly reckless and unexpected attack.

However, the alleys of Soara were a place where one could not dream of tomorrow if they could not endure the present.

"Keuheuk!"

Vlad's forehead seemed to flash, and soon filled Mirshea's field of view.

Agh!

Intense pain that appears at the end of a flash.

Today, Mirshea experienced a headbutt for the first time in his life.

"It's like this!"

"Aaaah!"

Joseph had said.

The basics in war are not to give in to what the other side wants.

Wherever you want, whenever you want, and however you want.

Vlad's attack, which started from the mud below, gave Mirshea none of what he wanted.

"Who am I! Say it again!"

He is fierce because he was born as a dragon and rough because he grew up in the alleys.

However, what he wields is a noble imperial sword.

From the roots to the fruits that grew, the unexpected that did not fit at all roared loudly in Vlad's name.

"Tell me! Mirshea!"

Vlad's world is a multifaceted one.

The name of Vlad, which changes depending on who sees it, was something that only he could define.

***

"The knights of Maringen are in front of me!"

"Harquita! Build your defenses!"

"Podmils, and Ronnie, escort the wounded!"

The lords who rushed out of the meeting room hastily summoned the knights of their families.

The Dragon Slayer Knights and Wyverns are still trampling Bastopol from the sky.

However, the knights, including the lords, quickly began to form a formation as if they had finally found their place.

Push-!

Keeeeeeek!

And from afar, a wyvern flies away with a chilling sound.

There was a light that extended directly from the ground that had just been hit.

It was someone's spear, faster than an arrow and sharper than a sword.

"It's Lord Valkov!"

"Valkov the spear!"

The knights of Baranov began to cheer as they saw the helpless wyvern fall.

"...Go and bring all my spears."

Valkov was so exhausted that he trembled at the orders he had given.

Blood-stained with dust ran from his forehead to his wrists and his armor was cracked here and there, but Valkov's eyes were not yet dead.

"According to the number of flies flying over there."

There is a place for everyone.

And for Valkov, the spear thrower, it was more appropriate to strike the wyvern flying above than to deal with the dragon called Mirshea.

***

Rumble! rumble!

The hallway continues to tremble even now.

It was a mysterious corridor, but the dragon sculpture ran wildly to the point that even the passage trembled.

"…Let's begin."

"Alright."

The deepest part of a city made of steel.

Timur and Peter, who walked through the dark corridor under the guidance of the wizard Fernand, finally stood in front of the sealed box where the dragon pieces were kept.

Rumble!

Deodeodeodeodeok-!

Sealed boxes containing dragon fragments.

The seals calling out to the dragons with all their might began to howl even louder, as if they had noticed the presence of Timur and Peter.

"Mmm!"

Timur's world flowed through his closed left eye.

After breaking through the lock that only Baranov could pass through, the knight's sword touched the dragon piece.

Thump!

"Keuuu!"

"...!"

If the cry of an animal and a human were to mix, would this sound come out?

The strange and indescribable screams made even the experienced Timur and Peter shudder for a moment.

"...It has gone quiet."

"It stopped for a moment."

A weak stream of blood escaped from the pierced sword.

Timur nodded, looking at Baranov's ship, which had fallen silent alongside him.

"Now it's your turn."

The dragons currently rampaging outside were under the influence of these pieces.

These are the remnants that fell from the most perfect dragon and the disasters that will continue to be caused by dragons in the future.

Unless these things are stopped even for a moment, those born with dragon blood will continue to trample Bastopol.

"I'll cut it."

"I'm ready. Count."

Peter closed his left eye, looking at the strands of Ravnoma that could no longer function properly.

Peter's world, flowing slowly, resembled the strong walls of Sturma.

"Ha!"

Kwaang-!

Peter cut the locks of the fallen Ravnoma, which had cracked completely.

Then, the dragon sculpture trying to escape from the sealed box began to struggle.

"Hurry and swear in front of the Sword Master's chest!"

Fernand, who summoned mysterious power at that moment, summoned a huge and heavy space and began to block the top of the sealed box.

Kuuuuung-

Fernand's space, glimpsed through a distorted vision, looked like a very small and compressed mountain.

The reason why the ground still trembles even though it has a mountain on its head is probably because the dragon piece is very desperate at this moment.

"I'll continue doing what I have to do where I need to be..."

Thump!

With Fernand's help, Peter plunges his sword into the place where the lock was.

The same strange cry as before began to resonate from the tip of his sword.

"The name that is responsible and will pay a fair price is Bayezid."

Peter's expression began to distort as he made his oath.

Unlike Timur's time, this time his blood flowed along with the inserted sword.

"Until this name expires, Bayezid, I swear I will fulfill my task."

No one can say the oath now.

The only thing that can say that something will be protected is the guarantee of a powerful person.

A longtime pillar of the North and a supporter of the only remaining Ravnoma.

And only Bayezid, who had taken a new step forward by defeating Gaidar in the West, was qualified to make Peter's current oath effective.

And the Sword Master's seal also judged that Peter's oath was legal and solid.

"Argh!"

Peter's blood that had escaped along the sword began to accumulate.

The place where it began to accumulate was where the Ravnoma lock had been until a moment ago.

A new lock made with Peter's blood began to replace the Ravnoma lock, which could not fulfill its duty due to its fall.

***

Bastopol, the city where dragons roar.

However, the city, which until now trembled precariously, is slowly starting to recover.

"…!"

"…!"

The same fierce blue eyes locking onto each other.

The Wyverns running wild there also struggled with their heavy wings due to the sudden sense of powerlessness.

'Agh.'

[Don't let go of the sword! It's barely begun.]

Vlad, thrilled by the constant euphoria, was startled as he suddenly felt his body grow heavy.

But Vlad wasn't the only one perplexed by the current situation.

'Stopped? The dragon fragment?'

There was a call growing stronger and more perfect the closer he got.

Mirshea tried to heed the call and fulfill the mission, but the current situation showed a completely different aspect from what his father had said.

'Even Ravnoma's seal, not just Baranov's?'

Baranov's seal, which had a rightful owner, could be calmed, but no one could appease Ravnoma's seal, which had already fallen into disgrace.

Contrary to what Timour and Fernand thought, the seal, having lost its legitimacy, could not be contained by anyone.

[Looks like you're ready, Vlad!]

Until the Swordmaster acknowledged it.

The power you possess is merely a condition to become a guardian.

Because it was Bayezid who protected, nurtured, and believed in Vlad's young potential against Kihano, Peter could become a new guardian of the oath.

"…!"

Vlad gritted his teeth as he felt an enormous heat emanating from his back.

The hunter's task was to bring the prey before the hunter.

Gazing at the target he had to capture until the end, Vlad gripped his sword tightly again.

"If you survive, tell that guy who calls himself my father..."

"…What?"

From the collapsed mansion, a blazing volcano began to emerge.

The name of that volcano was Rutiger Bayezid.

"That one day, I'll come looking for him."

It was Rutiger Bayezid, the dragon hunter.

"Mirshea-!"

A volcano that had reached the deepest world and was beginning to crawl into reality.

The color of the world Rutiger painted was entirely red.

"Let's finish this!"

Rutiger's world, born in a field of pure white snow but hotter than anyone else's, flew toward the dragon that had lost its wings.

Exactly to where the dragon hunter had cornered it.

Kwaaaaaaaaa!

The unbearable heat began to burn Mirshea's fingertips.

Now that the call of the pieces had disappeared, what Mirshea wore was just a human body.

"Keuuuuuuck!"

This shouldn't be happening.

He should have taken the piece from here, following the incessant call of the dragon.

So, what exactly was the energy of the Swordmaster that my father felt?

"…!"

Suddenly, an inexplicable intuition crossed Mirshea's mind.

City of Moshiam, Swordmaster, Imperial Sword.

The person connected to all this was observing me right now.

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