Chapter 167

A familiar madness gleamed unmistakably in the dead man’s eyes.

“What is this…” Rezette muttered under his breath.

A gnawing sense of wrongness tore at the edges of his thoughts. He pressed his boot against the corpse’s side and rolled it over to reveal the hidden half of its face. The moment he saw the grotesque skin, patched with clusters of black scales, a hollow, bitter laugh escaped his throat.

“A Dragonborn,” he said, his voice laced with scorn.

One of those miserable creatures. Unchosen hybrids. The cursed offspring of dragons and humans, trapped between two forms.

They were all his kind.

Rezette’s stomach twisted violently. A surge of bile rose up, burning his throat. The answer to the oppressive, suffocating energy that had hung over the ravine was now clear.

Bodies were strewn everywhere. The fallen Dragonborn and Argan soldiers lay tangled in grotesque disarray. Residual magic from the Dragonborn still surged across the battlefield, flickering and wild, sweeping the area in chaotic waves like a storm struggling to die.

This had not been the work of a few. There were too many. And the regular soldiers… they never stood a chance. Against creatures like these, unprepared troops were only ever fated to lose.

Suddenly, from farther up the slope, where the darkness was thickest, came a faint scraping sound. Something was dragging its feet across the rocks. Then came the heavy, erratic thuds of fists slamming into something solid, the impact violent and irregular.

Rezette froze as a fresh surge of magic trembled through the ground. The source of the disturbance was close. Too close.

It was his horse that reacted first. The pitch-black beast, nearly indistinguishable from the shadows around it, tossed its head and flicked its long tail. Then, without warning, it bolted up the steep, narrow trail ahead.

Rezette’s feet moved on instinct. He chased after the steed, his heavy steps quickly shifting into a full sprint.

“Hey! Who goes there? What the hell are you doing out here?” barked a voice from nearby.

The shout came from a Ugel soldier. The man squinted through the gloom, unable to make out Rezette’s face clearly. Mistaking him for one of their own, he sounded more annoyed than alarmed.

But the darkness was thick. It wrapped around Rezette’s tall frame and swallowed him whole, from head to toe.

“Wait a second. Do we even have someone like that in our unit?” the soldier muttered suspiciously, narrowing his eyes.

***

Fragments of the shattered barrier drifted into the air like golden petals caught in the wind.

A low, guttural growl rumbled nearby, like a beast letting out a warning from deep within its throat.

Elise blinked slowly. Then her breath caught as full awareness returned. She glanced around, her golden eyes wide with urgency.

She had just dismantled the barrier—the final defense surrounding the Argan encampment. All that remained was to activate the teleportation circle and return to the capital. But something was wrong.

“What…?” she whispered.

The magic circuit had vanished.

Where there should have been vibrant streams of mana stretching across the earth like strokes of bright ink, there was nothing. The energy had faded without warning, leaving no trace behind.

Panic surged through her chest. Elise dropped to her knees and frantically swept her hands across the ritual’s surface, searching for the pattern.

“This can’t be happening,” she said, her voice shaking.

The barrier was already gone. But now, without the circuits, she couldn’t rebuild it. She couldn’t even cast a proper teleportation spell to escape.

“Your Highness?” called one of the knights behind her.

It was the first time the Rotiara knights had shown visible unease. Until now, they had remained calm and unflinching. But even they could see the danger closing in.

The Dragonborn were advancing. They stepped into the space that had just moments ago been blocked off by the barrier.

Their footsteps were loud, jarring, and horribly uneven. Each thud felt like it rattled the bones beneath her skin.

Elise’s arms trembled as she dug into her robes and pulled out a bundle of emergency scrolls. They were etched with activation scripts by Andrei himself, spells that should work even without proper circuits—as long as she had mana.

“Please,” she murmured. “Please just work…”

She pressed her energy into the parchment.

Nothing happened.

No glow. No surge of power. Not even the faintest flicker of light.

Her hands froze.

“My mana… it’s gone,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Just then, something shifted in her belly. A soft, sudden thump. The baby had kicked—as if answering her.

Her eyes widened.

“…Ah,” she breathed.

She understood now. The mana hadn’t vanished. The child inside her had absorbed it.

A wave of dizziness washed over her. Her vision swayed as if the world itself tilted. Elise planted one hand firmly on the ground, trying to keep herself from collapsing.

She had believed herself prepared for anything. She had thought she had accounted for every risk.

But not this.

Not her child consuming the very power she needed to survive.

“I thought… I was doing my best,” she whispered, her voice catching on her breath.

Her shoulders trembled. A sharp chill ran through her limbs.

“In the end… did I change anything at all?”

A shadow of despair crept over the gold in Elise’s eyes.

If only she had known the Ugel army would deploy Dragonborn. If she had been more cautious. If she had listened when Andrei urged her to take each step carefully…

But no. This wasn’t just misjudgment. It was punishment.

Punishment for pushing her body too far. For risking everything without a single thought for the life growing inside her.

That was why her stomach ached now. The baby must have sensed it—must have been protesting, crying out in anger.

Why won’t you put me first?

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice nearly inaudible. “But it’s all right. I won’t let you die.”

She bit down on her lip, the pain grounding her. With her mana depleted, only one option remained.

She had made a contract with Semeschta, one forged to protect her in the face of mortal danger. She had vowed never to use it—had sworn to spare Rezette that grief. But now…

There’s no other way. One of us has to survive.

Elise shoved aside the knight who had rushed to steady her.

“Go. Get out of here,” she ordered.

The knight looked stunned. “What… what are you saying, Your Highness?”

“I can’t use magic right now. Don’t die here for no reason. Run. Get to the capital.”

“With all due respect,” another knight called out, “if we abandon you now, we may find a fate worse than death waiting for us.”

“I’d rather die here than face that,” someone else muttered. “At least this way, it means something.”

“They can snarl and thrash all they want, but they’re nothing compared to our liege,” one knight growled.

“They’re just beasts. They’ve got numbers, that’s all.”

“We’ll hold them here. Get inside the command tent. Now!”

There was no time to weigh her options. No time for fear. If she stayed, she would die for nothing. But if she fled now, she might have a chance to recover enough mana to protect them all.

Elise braced herself and rose to her feet. Her legs wobbled, but she forced them to move.

At the same moment, the knights who had formed a shield around her broke formation. With fierce cries, they sprinted in opposite directions, weapons drawn.

The clash of steel rang out.

The sound of blades slicing through flesh. Screams of pain. Guttural roars of fury. Battle cries thick with resolve.

All of it surged around her like a storm, pounding at her ears, shaking the ground beneath her feet.

Elise gritted her teeth and ran toward the tent.

She had barely taken a few steps when her breath caught in her throat. Her lungs burned. Her legs faltered. Deprived of mana—of her very life force—her body had become nothing more than a brittle shell.

“Ha… h-hah…”

She collapsed just short of the tent, hands braced on the ground. Blood welled up in her throat, metallic and sharp. Fearing the sound might draw the enemy, she pressed a trembling hand over her mouth.

Her fingers brushed against something wet.

She looked down. A thin, bleeding cut ran along her palm—likely from a blade of grass or stone. Tiny drops of blood welled up, bright red and glistening in the dark.

Blood.

A cold shiver ran down her spine.

Dragonborn were said to hunger for the scent of human blood.

And then, from just above her, came a rasping breath.

Harsh. Wet. Close.

Elise gasped and jerked back. She hadn’t even sensed it coming.

A towering creature loomed over her—a monstrous fusion of man and beast. Its torso was draped in jagged black scales. A single glance at its twisted form told her what it was.

A Dragonborn.

The moonlight behind it cast a long, shifting shadow over her body. Its yellow eyes glowed, pupils narrowed, wild with hunger and madness. They were locked onto her bleeding hand.

She froze.

Thoughts stopped. Fear hollowed her mind. The only instinct left was to close her eyes, tight and final, as though that could shield her from what was coming.

Then—

A wet, sickening sound. Like a blade sliding through meat.

A spray of black blood splattered across the ground in front of her.

…Ah.

Elise slowly opened her eyes.

The Dragonborn stood still, unmoving. Not even a scream had escaped it.

As she began to lift her head, a large hand reached down and covered her eyes again—gently, firmly.

She knew that hand. Knew the weight. Knew the warmth.

“Keep your eyes shut.”

A voice. Deep and familiar.

Elise’s lips parted, but no sound came out.

Is this real? Am I imagining this?

Her wounded hand was lifted and caught in a much larger one. Warm lips pressed to her skin. A tongue brushed across the cut, tasting the blood, cleaning it with slow, deliberate care.

Then, with both hands, the man brought her palms to her ears, guiding her to cover them.

“Don’t listen to anything.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. They ran along her jaw and chin.

The man’s mouth followed the trail of her tears. His breath brushed her skin. His whisper, low and steady, curled around her like a promise and a threat.

“Just count to thirty. I’ll be back before you finish.”

One. Two. Three…

Elise’s lips moved faintly.

Her count faltered. She reached ten, then lost her place. The numbers fell apart in her mouth. She had to start again. One. Two. Three…