I Became the Wrong Race

262 – People of the Pantheon (5)

For a wizard, his laboratory or workshop his is a more comfortable and comfortable space than his home

It is also an intimate place. It was a space optimized for one’s mana and magic, so being dominated by such a space was like being dominated by magic.

Llewelyn knew that. Even though she knew, she kicked the prophet out of her lab.

The reason is truly absurd.

‘If we go out, it’ll look a bit like that.’

It was for the simple reason that it would look better to kick out a prophet just because he had something to discuss.

It is an extremely inhumane and vicious act, but whatever.

The opponent is a prophet. If it had been an obedient courtier, it wouldn’t have gone this far, but Llewelyn didn’t like the prophet.

Unlike the courtier, who had an androgynous appearance, and the empress, who had the appearance of a beautiful woman, it was not because she was her grandfather.

In fact, her appearance wasn’t bad because she had a cool old-age vibe, but she did some things.

So Llewelyn kicked out the prophet without feeling any guilt and saw Ortemilia.

Ortemilia looks somewhat uneasy. The usual confident attitude that she felt a bit excessive was no longer visible.

From that attitude, Llewelyn noticed that there was something she didn’t dare say.

Perhaps, the Dragon King may know why he shows such aggression towards necromancers.

For that reason, Llewelyn poured the wine that the Prophet had brought for him to drink into the cup he had brought for him.

“… Can I give it to you?”

“I’m not a child, I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

“That’s true, but if you try to drink even a sip at a banquet, the kid will take it away, saying he doesn’t drink this kind of thing…”

Ortemilia smiles bitterly. When Llewellyn imagined Orthemilia like that, she smiled without even realizing it.

“I guess it’s an old man.”

“Well, mainly.”

“If you want to do that, please do it. Because he is that kind of person.”

Ortemilia smiled slightly, as if she was glad that the topic had changed.

“It’s probably okay because it was brought by a prophet.”

“Hmm, I guess so. “The Prophet will not eat just anything.”

Ortemilia took the offered wine and took a sip.

The way she drank wine with restrained movements gave me the impression that she drank it often. After all, she was in the basement of a bar when Llewelyn first met her.

At the time, she thought she was just finding a good location, but now that she thought about it, she thought it might be because she enjoyed drinking.

Of course, it’s just a guess, so I don’t know.

“Huh?”

“Was it a coincidence that we met in the basement of the tavern at that time?”

“At that time… Ah, is that time?”

Ortemilia shook her glass with a faint smile on her face, and the wine sloshed lightly in her glass.

The anxiety that the Prophet’s study was being arbitrarily occupied seemed to be slowly disappearing. As the old saying goes, out of sight, out of mind.

There may have been trust that Llewelyn would prevent the worst-case scenario.

“Yes. “I enjoy drinking.”

“Green grapes too…”

“Well, I made it to use the leftovers from making alcohol. Who am I, am I not an alchemist?”

Smiling with satisfaction, Ortemilia stretched out her breasts, and her plump breasts, which were difficult to say were not there, stood out under her clothes.

She was too worthless to be soaring with desire. Although Llewellyn was relieved, she sat down in front of Ortemilia. As she poured wine into another empty glass, she glanced at the door.

A tightly closed door. There was no sign beyond that. Although the Prophet kept grumbling and was suspicious of Llewelyn, the Prophet was also the strongest necromancer and the head of the three clans.

It means that one has the talent, intelligence, and insight to rise to that position and hold the position. Llewelyn sipped her wine, thinking he wouldn’t be back for a while.

“… Hmm.”

She frowned at the unfamiliar taste that left her mouth.

“Why are you doing that?”

“Well, just. “What can I say?”

“Hmm?”

Ortemilia tilted her head and took another sip of her wine.

A natural yet somewhat elegant feeling, as if you are used to drinking wine. It was something that someone like Llewelyn who had never drank alcohol could not imitate.

She took a sip and tilted her head again.

“It’s a great taste that makes you think the prophet saved it. Is there something wrong?”

“Uh, why should I spend a bit?”

There are so many people who drink wine, and even in religious stories like the Bible and other things, they drink wine like water, so I thought it was edible.

It didn’t suit Llewelyn’s taste his. Llewelyn’s personal experience is that Isla’s honey-infused fruit tea is better than this.

Ortemilia seemed to have relaxed, burst out laughing, and then covered her mouth and let out a laugh.

It was a faint laugh. Should I say that the sound matches its appearance?

“Because I always look dignified, I often forget…” ” “Well, you were still a child.”

“What a child. “I’m twenty now.”

“Twenty is a child. Do you know how old I am?”

“Uh, well.”

“I’ve probably seen at least a hundred more winters than you. “I hope you don’t feel bad for treating me like a child.”

“… “At least a hundred times.”

Winter comes when the sun goes down. Although it was expressed as a hundred winters, I did not understand it as literally 100 years.

The cradle moves freely. There won’t be many cases where you can tell that it’s winter, and you may have felt it once in a while.

Frost on the windows, a sharp drop in temperature, a little snow on the terrace.

White breath coming out as I pull up my shawl. That must have accumulated a hundred times.

It’s best to assume it’s hundreds of years old. As Llewelyn thought, she wondered what Orthemilia, who had lived for so many hundreds of years, she would know.

Why on earth does the Dragon King hate necromancers so much?

It may be hard to say otherwise, but the Dragon King’s actions were far from rational. It’s too impulsive for someone who came all the way to the continent with the goal of finding Llewelyn.

Llewelyn sipped the wine again and frowned, thinking.

“If he’s about 100 years old, he might be young among necromancers.”

Orthemilia, equally sipping wine, blinked her bright yellow eyes.

“It would be fair to say that she is not young.”

“… What do you mean?”

Are you saying you’re not young? It’s not a general expression, but Llewelyn’s brain couldn’t keep up.

She wondered if the status window’s natural translation function was broken, but she wasn’t.

“Necromancers are not born anew. “It is different from blood relatives, where new individuals are created from blood in rare cases, or shapeshifters who can reproduce.”

The result of the necromancer falling to the dragon to avoid death. Llewelyn recalled new information, and Orthemilia fingered her glass with a dark expression.

I had an intuition that the secret of the Dragon King and the Prophet was hidden in ‘this topic’ that she was reluctant to talk about.

“Among the necromancers… I am the youngest. “I am a necromancer created in imitation of my mother, the Empress.”

It was a fact she was vaguely aware of. Llewellyn blinked her eyes, and Orthemilia looked at her Llewellyn and spoke.

“However, it cannot be said that there were no such attempts before or after me.”

A feeling of déjà vu suddenly comes to mind. Llewellyn recalled the first time she met her people.

A clear homunculus failure.

Poor kid who couldn’t control his hunger. As Llewellyn’s expression hardened, Orthemilia spoke in a whisper.

“And Yongin… It was treated as a useful experiment among necromancers.”

*

The Dragon King was imprisoned.

Of course, the quality of the prison cells was trivial. It is not a completely dark room, but a crude iron door that the Dragon King can tear down with a single swing of her tail. Instead of a completely dark room, there are torches hanging on every wall, creating a bright atmosphere.

But she didn’t try to escape. Dragon King, she also knew that her actions were not very rational and were greatly different from her goals.

It was closer to something I did out of anger.

I couldn’t bear to see the necromancer’s face, a deceptive look mixed with human traits, unlike that of a dragon.

So she took the plunge. She didn’t think she would get in the way. Her Her Her recovery Her Her Her was already over, her her attacks her her she were fierce, and even among her her three powerful forces her her her, there was no one who could stop her attack her.

The swordsman would have endured with that bizarre unique skill, and her foot terok would have’hit and counterattacked’.

So, she was honestly surprised when she was blocked.

She knew she was stealing my skills, but she was using them much better than she assumed.

To the point where I feel like there’s no point to it.

In fact, she thought it was already too late.

She came to advise us not to serve. No matter what she does afterward, she comes to tell the world that they are unnecessary and that they are the enemy.

But it was the opposite. He went from being their servant to someone who proudly used them as their pawn.

If you are evil alone, you can just kill him and be done with it, but what if the king is evil?

If the country is rotten from the root, the king is evil, and the ordinary people caught in the gap are blind, should we kill them all?

Is that even possible? The Dragon King did not have the power to destroy the world.

‘… Even though the enemy was over there.’

This is absurd. It’s as if that overwhelming madman is giving you complete trust. The Dragon King sighed.

It would have been better to escape now, but I didn’t feel like I had to.

There was someone outside the cell. A person stands silently. A woman with gray eyes that shine clearly even in the dark, as if watching over the Dragon King.

Annihilation, Lucilla.

If she were alone, she wouldn’t know. There would be Balterok and Geomseong not far away, and the Dragon King did not have the power to kill Jeokmyeol before the other two of the Three Rivers arrived for support.

They said they killed it once in the first place, but how can they kill someone who came back alive at once? The Dragon King sighed at her, not knowing that she had become a homunculus and came back to life.

It was a long way off since there were three clans. Whatever it was, it was like that. It was when I leaned my back against the wall with a feeling of despair.

Suddenly I felt footsteps. The scales trembled, and I felt the sound of heavy footsteps getting closer along the cold walls of the prison.

Be used to. The Dragon King is a fighting genius, and she never forgot the sound of his footsteps once she felt them.

Her bright yellow pupils were slanted.

‘If the Dragon King does something stupid, Lu Sila is ready to emit a temperature reminiscent of the sun.’ I saw her turn her head and look behind her and smile.

“Sejin! What happened? “Are you here to see your sister?”

There was literally no facial expression on the female’s face.

‘I can’t believe Jeokmyeol makes that kind of expression. True.’

The person who turned even the enemy into a female was a man who somehow resembled Lucilla.

A tall, handsome man with an aristocratic look.

She looked at her man for a moment and then focused on the sound of footsteps.

It belongs to the girl standing behind him. The Dragon King was shocked when he saw that face.

The Dragon King’s gaze lingered on the playful-looking girl with curled black horns like those of a sheep, bright yellow pupils, and light green hair.

He is a hateful necromancer.

The Dragon King’s fist his naturally gained strength. The urge to run out and tear her apart at any moment was filling her.

It was just as she was about to close her eyes to suppress her impulse.

Suddenly, there was a voice ringing.

“I wanted to meet you once.”

A cute voice that does not match the old-fashioned and old-fashioned way of speaking. When the Dragon King opened his eyes, there was a necromancer standing beyond the open cell door, a red-haired man with a worried face, and a man with a faintly nervous expression.

The girl, in particular, was at a distance where the Dragon King could rip her head off with a swing of her tail.

The girl seemed to know that well.

The bright yellow dragon’s eyes, faintly filled with fear, met the dragon king.

“Can we have a conversation?”

Bravely.