NOVEL WEB Chapter 157: Here, Let Your Wings Be Clipped, Last Dragon!
"Reactor core: maximum output."
"Full speed: engage."
It knew nothing of what had transpired on the ground—nor, if it had known, would it have cared. In its battered state, its simple processing circuits were barely enough to pursue one conclusion:
"Objective: erase. Target: eliminate."
Still, even that primitive logic wavered when its sensors caught the form of the one it was meant to destroy—an all-too-familiar silhouette, standing perfectly still on the scorched earth below.
Familiar… familiar… familiar?
Its simple mind could not parse the meaning of that sensation. But the shape of the weapon in Guerrier's hand… the stance of the man himself… the echo of somewhere deep inside…
And then the voice:
"—Such a pity, Percival."
Guerrier spoke the name etched on the spear he now wielded, lowering his center of gravity.
"You were a knight of such noble honor… we might have been friends. But if I held you responsible for my knight's death, then I will hold you to account for yours."
He drew the radiant spear taut, as if it were the string on a bow—and he the arrow itself:
"I still have duties to fulfill. I made vows to my liege, to my men… and to myself. Though I carry countless sins in my name, my mission remains. When all is done, I will offer my life as atonement—to you, and to every felled fairy."
With those words, he began to bleed himself into the spear. The more life he poured, the brighter and more star-like its tip shone.
Guerrier's "Star-chasing Eye" locked onto Albion's charging form—and then, at full volume, he shouted:
"Holy Spear, court is now in session!
"By this vow to save Albion, judge my crimes!
"Fulfill your purpose, enact your duty!
"I become the arrow, cleaving a path to the future—
"Here, let your wings be clipped, Last Dragon!"
—
"Warning. Warning."
"High-energy impact detected ahead."
"Enemy weapon: unknown principle."
"Attack will inflict irreversible damage."
"Evade! Evade—"
"And yet… why…?"
"Processing unit… is… experiencing… emotion?"
But it was too late. Albion's flight system sputtered and died as the last of its power was siphoned into that glowing spear.
[Item: "Ruyi Magic Prohibition Codex"]
[Uses: 3/3]
[Banned Magic 1: Spatial Transfer]
[Banned Magic 2: Ranged Attacks]
[Banned Magic 3: Levitation & Flight]
The moment Altria laid her quill upon the final seal, the Last Dragon's engines stuttered—and its flight ended abruptly.
Pure-white steel caught the glow of the burning ruins as Guerrier's mortal spear pierced through the ancient scales, straight into the dragon's heart.
Albion screamed once—a single, terrible cry—then slumped in the ashes, carving a fiery channel through the fallen fortress. With that primal wail, the "Inferno Scourge," the pure-blood colossus Albion, was no more.
"At last… it's over."
Altria exhaled in relief, eyes drifting to the still form of Albion. Then she turned to face Guerrier:
"Guerrier… now that it's finished between us—?"
She caught sight of him swaying, then collapsing to the scorched earth. Her heart lurched.
"Guerrier!"
She sprinted to his side, scrambling to shake him awake:
"Wake up! What are you doing? Wake up!"
"You idiot, you fool—how can you just lie down and die now?!"
Her tears fell onto his motionless face as she shook him harder—only then did his eyelids flutter open.
"You… you were friends with Albion, weren't you?" Guerrier croaked.
She froze, then choked out:
"No! Never! I… I would never agree with you!"
A dry laugh escaped Guerrier as his strength returned:
"I thought not… Still, it was worth asking."
He pushed himself upright.
"I once rejoiced when you chose me as your companion, Altria. But we all must answer for our choices. I serve Lady Bävanxi now, and fulfill my vows to her."
"We remain enemies… if you want to settle accounts, best do it now."
She opened her mouth to argue, when a third voice cut in—hoarse, savage, familiar.
"Perfect timing—because I've been dying to settle my account with you!"
Guerrier's face went dark as Altria whirled around… to see that same hateful wolf-spirit standing in the smoke.
And the name he spat in venomous triumph was all too familiar.