Chapter 4

That bone ring pressing against his chest through the fabric left Leon as a complete shell of himself during the muddy trek that followed.

Until the acrid smell of sulfur replaced the swamp's toxic vapors, and the party finally stopped at the foot of a towering black volcano that pierced the clouds.

I floated in mid-air, watching these sanctimonious idiots standing dumbfounded before the volcanic crater, and couldn't help but smirk to myself.

A few days ago, passing through Akaros crossroads, I had quietly switched the road signs.

The "Disaster Witch's Lair" placard that originally pointed toward my Blackthorn Tower now pointed straight at this damned volcano.

And these holy light-obsessed idiots, just as I'd predicted, chose that dead end without hesitation.

Arthur was now studying his worn map with a puzzled expression, obviously noticing something was off: "Strange... the map should show Blackthorn Tower, not a volcano."

"Maybe it's a trap set by that evil witch to mislead us!" The dwarf Finn waved his warhammer, shouting loudly, "Either way, since we're here, we can't go back empty-handed!"

I sneered inwardly.

Yes, this was indeed my trap, but not to mislead them—rather to make them someone else's problem.

The volcanic crater perpetually belched dark red poisonous smoke—this was the lair of the dragon Nidhogg.

That old beast was ill-tempered and despised uninvited guests. Having these knights disturb its lair would be more entertaining than any show.

"Knights! Whatever evil lies ahead, we cannot retreat!" Arthur raised his holy sword high, blazing with blinding white light. "For the Holy Light, for the innocent, charge with me!"

Like a rusty wind-up preaching puppet, he shouted his usual rally cry before leading the charge into the dark dragon's den.

Leon followed tight at the rear of the group. He gripped that broken iron sword with white knuckles, his palms slick with cold sweat.

The heavy gloom in his eyes hadn't recovered from "Cassius's" blow, and ever since pressing that trinket against his heart, he didn't even dare actively call out to me in his mind—just silently gritted his teeth all the way.

I cloaked myself and floated beside him, watching his pitiful, conflicted state. I couldn't help but tease him:

"Why so sweaty, poor thing? Scared of the dragon?"

"I'm not scared." His voice was muffled, carrying a trace of gritted-teeth obsession. "If 'he' could do it, then I can do it too."

I nearly burst out laughing in mid-air. This stubborn fool was still secretly competing with a non-existent rival.

Setting aside his internal turmoil, Nidhogg's lair before us was vast and cavernous, scattered everywhere with enormous bones and heaps of gold coins.

And atop the largest pile of coins coiled a massive black dragon.

Nidhogg.

This lazy creature was actually an old acquaintance of mine.

Centuries ago we'd even shared afternoon tea, discussing how to roast knights' armor to the perfect crisp.

It was quite lazy, usually never even leaving its den, but Arthur and his holy light zealots always loved branding it a "heretic," showing up to get themselves killed every so often.

The ancient wyrm opened those burning, slitted eyes, impatiently snorting out a puff of black smoke.

"Here come those flies again." It let out a deafening roar that rumbled and echoed through the vast cavern.

"Evil dragon! Today you die!" Arthur raised his holy sword high, leaping up to strike heavily at the beast's head.

This sword strike was powerful, carrying the strongest purification magic of the Holy Light Church.

And then—

Wham!

The creature didn't even use magic, just casually swatted like shooing away a fly.

Arthur flew like a rag doll smashed by a giant hammer, screaming as he traced a broken arc through the air before slamming into the hard rock wall with a thud, stuck so deep he couldn't be pried out.

"Knight Commander!" The remaining knights cried out in alarm, raising their shields.

But the ancient beast simply took a deep breath, its massive chest cavity suddenly blazing with terrifying dark red light.

"Damn, it's dragon breath!" Finn cursed under his breath.

I frowned slightly. Though these knights were annoying, I didn't want Leon getting roasted to charcoal here.

Just as I gathered magic at my fingertips, preparing to shield him with a barrier, something unexpected happened.

Leon didn't retreat.

He stared at the dragon breath about to erupt. That brief, absolute calm and madness belonging to the shadow assassin once again seized control of his body.

He stepped forward abruptly, directly crossing the collapsed defense line, standing like a solitary reef in front of everyone.

"Don't you dare hurt her!"

Leon let out a growl like a wild animal from his throat.

To protect a master who existed only as a voice, who even treated him as a "substitute," this devoted, broken fool exploded with power he couldn't even understand himself, driven by extreme jealousy and obsession.

The chipped iron sword in his hand suddenly boiled with black battle aura.

It was pure killing force—the ultimate technique that the man named "Cassius" had once used to slay gods.

BOOM—!

The searing dragon breath collided head-on with the abyssal black aura in mid-air. The violent shockwave instantly detonated, sending all the surrounding knights flying.

Leon gripped his sword desperately, his legs gouging two deep furrows in the hard rock.

"Ahhhhhhh—!"

Accompanied by a hoarse roar, Leon's arm muscles bulged as he split the dragon breath right down the middle with that mundane iron blade!

The black battle aura surging upward like a dark waterfall struck the ceiling directly. With a tremendous crash, the rock wall of unknown thickness above the lair was forcibly torn open in a massive hole.

Dead silence filled the entire scene.

Even I, floating in mid-air, raised an eyebrow slightly.

Arthur, who'd just slid down from the rock wall, had bulging eyes and froze even his motion of covering his broken nose, as if watching some ancient horror descend upon them.

And the lofty wyrm abruptly cut off the remaining breath in its throat.

Its massive head plunged downward, peering down through the dust and smoke.

When those burning, slitted eyes finally made out that face in the haze, and felt that familiar, soul-chilling dark battle aura, Nidhogg's pupils suddenly contracted to needle-thin slits.

The creature's expression rapidly transformed from extreme disdain to confusion, finally evolving into ghostly, bone-deep panic.

Its massive body weighing dozens of tons actually recoiled involuntarily like a startled hound.

The lair was now so quiet that even a single gold coin dropping would be clearly audible.

"Cassius?!" Nidhogg's voice cracked with fear. "You... what are you doing here?!"