Dragonlord

Ep 136. I Did? (4)

When Asarda’s formless sun had fallen, numerous campfires instead illuminated Chell. Even though it was only early evening, the lack of sunlight made it seem later than it actually was.

An oily scent of roasted meat wafted about the surrounding atmosphere as the people sang in celebration of their guardian deity’s appearance. With all the food that fell out of the skies bolstering the people’s festivity, Asardans continued to flock to the orange-haired girl and the feathered professor that guarded her side.

“…”

Light’s disinterested eyes stared into one of the fires feeding off the oil that was dripping into the blaze. Sitting alone on a polished tree trunk, the half girl emptily watched on as the festivity continued throughout Chell.

Eventually, Serenis would take notice of the half girl sitting in her lonesome, walking over to stand by her side.

“All by yourself? Where did Ilias go?”

“…Over there.”

The dragonlord’s gaze followed where Light was pointing to a peculiar wooden table. A ring of warriors surrounded it, laughing and cheering at the two sitting across from each other.

On one side sat a burly Asardan, his muscles chiseled beyond what Serenis would’ve thought possible in a human body. Compared to Patrick, the warrior was at least twice as tall, and triple in width; he was the epitome of a giant.

And on the opposite side sat a skinny purple-haired youngling, grinning back in confidence at the sweating warrior. Their hands were locked against each other upon the table, seemingly in a contesting manner.

Even as the surrounding crowd watched in anticipation, Serenis only frowned at the sight, unable to understand what was going on.

“…What are they doing?”

“You’ve never seen people arm wrestle?”

“No. Is that some sort of sport?”

“Yeah, it’s where you…well…do that. Each person tries to bring down the other person’s hand onto the table.”

“A contest of strength, then?”

“Pretty much.”

“I see…how come you’re not joining? Ilias seems to be having fun.”

Light pursed her lips at the dragonlord’s last comment. Her eyes darted between the sitting warrior’s arm – which was practically as thick as her waist – and her own, which may as well be a twig in comparison.

Finally, she turned to Serenis with narrowed, twitching eyes.

“…You’re joking, right?”

“Perhaps.”

A loud bashing noise interrupted their chat, followed by another series of gasps and cheers. The defeated warrior was rubbing his aching arm, the crowd cheering on the youngling’s seemingly never-ending winning streak.

While another warrior arose to challenge the red dragon, Light let out a small, tired sigh.

“They don’t know when to give up…I hope no one gets hurt.”

“I’m sure Ilias is controlling herself. That table wouldn’t have lasted otherwise.”

The half girl nodded in agreement, studying her sister a while longer. Given all the years Ilias had spent living alongside people in Partivine, she had little doubt that the youngling would keep herself under control.

Though, there was another dragon in the party – one that Light couldn’t really trust to keep themselves under control.

“…By the way, where’s Raizel?”

“She’s gone outside to find a place to sleep. She wasn’t fond of all the noise here.”

“…Wild animal.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

Light let out a sheepish laughter at her own comment. As scary as Raizel had been at first, the steel dragon had since grown on her; now, she could throw around comments about the steel dragon as she would a long friend.

Serenis beamed a soft smile at the sight of Light’s laughter.

“Are you feeling a little better?”

“What do you mean? I wasn’t feeling bad or anything.”

“About your home, I mean.”

“…Oh.”

Light blinked twice, opening her mouth a few times to say something back. But when nothing came out, the half girl let out a pained groan instead, rubbing her head as she stared up into the murky night sky.

“…I don’t know. I do feel better, but…I’m not sure if that’s because I’m okay or because I’m just far away from home. Ever since you appeared, too much happened too quickly.”

“…I apologize if that’s the case.”

“I don’t mean to blame you. If anyone’s to blame, it’s…”

A number of phrases brushed past Light’s mind – alongside a single name of a peculiar divinity.

Every tome she’d read, the Twelve were described as benevolent, essential beings to their world: deities that mankind could not do without. Not a single text would attest to the horrors she’d experienced, as if it was unthinkable for a deity to be evil in the first place.

Not even the one that had claimed the lives of all her friends and family.

“…You know, before, I used to think deities were all nice people. I even thought it’d be cool to meet them.”

“…”

“But now that I’ve actually seen what they’re like, I don’t know what to think of them anymore. All the books say they’re supposed to be fair and just…that a long time ago, they protected us from the evil demonlords. Can you believe that? You’re not even half as evil as what the books say.”

“…Are you disappointed?”

Light let out a heavy sigh, shaking her head in response.

“…Not at you. I’m more disappointed that our deities weren’t really…trustworthy. A deity took away all my friends and family, but I’m not even allowed to talk about it back home…and even if I mention his name, nobody believes me anyways.”

“Ilias believes you, does she not?”

“…”

“So does Karas.”

A brief silence settled in as Light slowly shifted her gaze towards the dragonlord. Serenis wasn’t looking back at her, but the resolute glow in their eyes mirrored the confidence she held for her sister and teacher.

“Believe in those that believe in you, child. For they will never bring you harm.”

“…”

A brief pause followed as Light drew up those that she believed in.

Finally, the half girl beamed a faint grin as she answered the dragonlord.

“…I believe you too.”

“Hm?”

“I still think you’re a weirdo, but…you’re pretty okay for a demonlord. You get along well with everyone. Raizel’s…a little scary, but I believe her too.”

Serenis widened her eyes at the unexpected comment. A soft grin gradually replaced her surprise as she nodded in agreement.

“Is that so? I’m glad.”

Thud!

Another arm fell to the table as Ilias brought down yet another challenger. The red dragon’s triumph and the bout of deafening cheers she roused were quick to fill any silence.

“…Hey, Serenis?”

“Hm?”

“You said you’ve died before, right? What was your life like before then?”

Upon hearing the question, Serenis finally turned her eyes to meet the half girl’s.

“…Why do you ask?”

“Just curious. You’re a demonlord, that must’ve been something.”

“…Being a demonlord didn’t necessarily change the way I lived. It was merely a title bestowed upon us by others. The life I’ve led was mostly uneventful.”

“Pft, no way. If that’s true, then why’re you going around looking for deities now? You must have a reason, right?”

“…Atonement, I suppose.”

“Atonement? Did you do something wrong?”

The dragonlord’s eyes slowly sealed shut, turning away to avoid the half girl’s inquisitive gaze.

She gave her answer in the most neutral voice she could muster. Yet even so, Serenis couldn’t prevent her voice from shaking ever so slightly.

“That’s right. I’ve wronged…far too many to count.”

“…”

Once upon a time, the cheers and laughter that filled her world were that of her brethren’s.

When Serenis closed her eyes, she could almost paint her world anew – the same world she’d lived and breathed in, thousands of years ago.

And while Light couldn’t stare into the dragonlord’s mind, she could at least discern that the topic wasn’t the most pleasant one for her peculiar friend.

“…You know, I’m not the one to talk, but…you should look after yourself sometimes.”

“…?”

“Ilias told me that a couple days ago. She got worried because I was crying so much. But, see…I think you need that advice more than I do.”

Serenis wore a puzzled expression when her eyes opened back. She glanced towards the half girl who seemed strangely confident in their words.

“And what is it that makes you think so? I can’t say I recall crying in front of you.”

“Well, maybe not on the outside, but…I don’t know, it just feels like you are sometimes. You have this really weird…aura. It was like this ever since I met you.”

Blinking in evident surprise, Serenis let out an amused snort as she looked away.

“…The extent to which you can read others is quite staggering. I dare say even the deity of emotions would be shocked at your vigilance.”

“Blegh…what kinda deity is that? I bet it’s another weirdo.”

“…It’s Aldrid’s son.”

“…I never said anything.”

Chortle laughter mixed into the sounds of burning firewood as the night deepened. Amidst in the warmth of fires and festivities, even their harshest of memories felt a little lighter.

And for some others, the entire night was a walk down memory lane.

✧ ✧ ✧

Karas sat cross-legged and cross-armed, watching the former deity from a distance.

Truth be told, the professor had no choice but to watch from a distance. He could only cut through the swarming crowd so many times. Unless he resorted to brute force, Aymeia was practically impossible to get to.

Surrounded by Asardans that flocked to her with offerings and praises, Aymeia lost herself in a nostalgic night of being worshipped.

“Lady Aymeia!”

“…Mm?”

When she’d first been swarmed with the people’s attention, Aymeia had been, admittedly, on edge. She’d been reluctant to speak, much less touch others or accept their offerings.

After hours of continued attention, however, Asarda’s guardian was starting to lose her alertness – enough to allow a little boy to walk up to her unharmed.

“I heard you saved us from the empire! Thank you!”

“…Mhm. You’re welcome.”

Aymeia answered the excited boy in a surprisingly warm voice. She’d even bent down on one knee to meet the child’s eyes, nodding back at his delighted grin.

…After the first two hours of arguing against her own people, Aymeia had since accepted the role of being called their savior.

In her defense, she’d tried to correct them numerous times – that their savior wasn’t her, but the crow-headed monster and his party of dragons. But her efforts were sabotaged by that very crow himself; the dragons didn’t seem one bit interested in stepping in to correct the Asardans, either.

Apparently, that all translated to Aymeia having to answer to the people’s gratitude by herself.

…Not that she was complaining.

Aymeia patiently waited as the boy frantically rummaged his pockets. He soon produced a small, colorless flower to offer to the deity before him.

“Here! This is for you!”

“…”

As Aymeia accepted the flower, her eyes quietly stared into its colorless petals. Even though it wasn’t particularly pretty or noteworthy, she found the item more mesmerizing than any other.

She’d received mountains of gifts by now – as rare as flowers were in Asarda, it didn’t make sense to give it any more meaning than the other offerings she’d received. Even though it was the boy’s most prized possession, even he hadn’t thought that his guardian deity would make much out of his offering.

And so, the boy was quite surprised when Aymeia prompted him further about the peculiar plant.

“What flower…is this?”

“Huh? Oh, it’s a moonbloom!”

“…A moonbloom…”

Despite the familiarity of the name, nowhere in Vulka’s memories could she find traces of the flower she held. A dragonlord had no use for a flower’s name.

And yet, Aymeia had always known its name.

Always.

- ‘Lady Aymeia? What’s wrong?’

- ‘Yuris, I…I think I killed the flower you gave me…’

- ‘Oh? Haha, please, there’s no need to cry! It’s not dead. It’s just asleep.’

- ‘But…but the petals are all withered and colorless. It wasn’t like this when you gave it to me…’

- ‘That’s because the sun has risen, my lady. You see, moonblooms only bloom when there’s just the right amount of light –like the full moon we had last night. When there’s too much or too little light, it’ll fall asleep.’

“…”

Slowly, Aymeia raised her gaze into the distant night sky.

With no moons or stars, the only source of light nearby were the numerous campfires around her – none of which the small flower in her hand could see. The bloom resting within her palm was completely devoid of light.

With a gentle smile, Aymeia then hovered her other hand over the colorless bloom, summoning a small, orange ember to levitate above it.

She’d done this before. Thousands of times.

Vulka hadn’t. But she had.

“Woah…!”

The boy marvelled at the sight unfolding before his eyes. The flower he’d believed to be colorless from birth was slowly gaining hue, its translucent petals being shaded in a vibrant orange. It raised its head towards the small ember glowing above, feeding off the light that shone upon it.

When the flower had regained its proper form, Aymeia let out a satisfied sigh. At the same time, the boy bounced his arms up and down in excitement from his guardian deity’s magical display.

“Th…the flower came back to life!”

“It was only asleep. It just needed some light.”

A soft smile curved Aymeia’s lips as she reminisced the flowerbeds that she’d once spent her days in.

As much as she taught her followers, she, too, had learned from them – especially about how to take care of Asarda’s wildlife. She’d gave her utmost effort in maintaining her homeland’s vibrant atmosphere, both for herself and her people.

‘…That’s right. Back then, nights like these were unthinkable.’

No matter the time of day, one would always be able to raise their gaze and see something glowing in the sky. The sun, the moon, or the stars that accompanied them – they all served to guide her people, and illuminate the land that housed them.

Asarda had never seen such murky skies – not until their guardian deity had ceased to care after her people.

“…”

Aymeia retreated her flames, blowing softly on the flower in her grip. Then, she handed the gift back to the boy before her, placing it into his little hands.

“Huh? Lady Aymeia?”

“Take it with you – it’ll stay this way, at least for tonight. Let everyone know what a moonbloom truly looks like.”

“But…I don’t have anything else to offer you…”

Smiling, Aymeia gently rubbed the boy’s head.

“That’s okay. You’ve given me something far more precious.”

The people had always been grateful for their guardian deity’s efforts.

And, to this day, they hadn’t forgotten who their guardian deity was. Even when Aymeia herself had forgotten, they’d passed their tales through songs and stories to remember Asarda’s halcyon days.

And because they hadn’t forgotten, they were able to remind their guardian of who she once was.

✧ ✧ ✧

Karas sat in silence, watching the series of gift-giving between Aymeia and her followers. His hands rapidly flew across his notepad as he furiously recorded the transpiring events like any historian would – all the while keeping the silent conversation within his head.

‘Good, she’s seeing progress. So the hypothesis was correct.’

‘…Really? It was that easy? Are you fucking kidding me?’

‘Don’t celebrate just yet. She’s far from fully recovered.’

‘Slaver, you don’t understand! She’s been beyond saving for centuries, you can’t just – oh, I don’t even know anymore.’

‘…That begs the question…just what HAVE you tried to restore Aymeia’s memories?’

‘I left her be in her temple.’

‘…’

‘What? She’d have anger bursts every time I’d appear. What else was I supposed to do?’

‘I’m glad you’re dead. For her sake.’

Although Felicir was resting inside the professor’s head, the Reaper’s spirit was internally rolling his eyes.

He didn’t have eyes anymore. But he’d roll them if he could.

‘You know what else pisses me off, slaver? The fact that your stupid dragonlord was hellbent on killing me, and yet she’s leaving Aymeia be. This is discrimination! We’re both deities!’

‘…Did Aymeia abuse her divinity like you?’

‘What? No. She hardly knew how to wield her divinity.’

‘Then, did Aymeia torture others as you did?’

‘I did no such thing! I merely executed the most efficient of methods to preserve the Twelve’s rule.’

‘Lastly, are you a dragonkin like Aymeia?’

‘? Of course not. That’s disgusting.’

‘…And yet you’ve the mind to question why Serenis discriminated you. Interesting.’

Another series of complaints reverberated through Karas’ head.

Fortunately, he was growing used to ignoring the Reaper’s voice.