Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 417: God’s Downfall (9)

Dragon Raja 3

Thirty minutes passed, and the tremors in the ground suddenly subsided. The girl, who had been standing like a statue, looked down at the tunnel entrance below.

An unbelievable roar echoed from the tunnel, like a dragon roaring inside. A hot, humid gust of wind rushed out, and a few seconds later, the super-sized tunneling machine, weighing dozens of tons, was propelled out by a torrent, slamming into the opposite wall of the well.

Shio had succeeded! He opened the Well of Bones ahead of time. The moment the tremors ceased, faint cheers echoed from inside the tunnel.

What a lunatic. Watching the final rock wall crack and the towering red water engulf him, he had cheered in triumph.

The waters of the Akakikawa River, frothing white, burst out of the tunnel and turned into a massive waterfall. Its temperature was close to body temperature, and its color was as crimson as blood. God had reshaped the ecosystem of the Akakikawa River, turning the Well of Bones, originally meant to imprison it, into its womb. Various dragon subspecies acted as its guardians. In the blood-red waters, specks of silvery-blue light shimmered—countless vipers, the size of pythons, writhed in the bloody torrent. Their cries, accompanied by shadows of serpentine bodies flashing through the red waterfall, were sounds utterly alien to the human world.

When these creatures touched the mercury-laden waters, an even greater roar erupted. It was hard to tell if it was fury or agony as millions of beings writhed in the mercury-poisoned waters. But the water’s surface was 80 meters below the well’s edge, and they couldn’t leap out, slamming futilely against the well walls. For the dragon subspecies, this was a massacre. Thinking of them as living beings was heartbreaking, but letting them into the human world would spell disaster.

The girl remained on the beam, silently observing the carnage—a slaughter of monstrous beasts. Her pupils were hollow, devoid of any emotion.

A beam of light illuminated her from above. A black helicopter hovered over the Red Well. Chisei had rushed from Tokyo at full speed. Though he didn’t witness the Well of Bones being breached, he saw this scene of sorrow.

The serpentine, dragon-like creatures writhed in the depths of the well. Mercury stains spread across their scales and pale underbellies. They were clearly in excruciating pain. If they were sentient, they would have wished for death.

This reminded Chisei of ancient texts about families that once raised dragons. They kept the dragons in deep wells, using various means to prevent their escape. Some installed iron grates at the well’s mouth, while others nailed the dragon’s tail to the bottom of the well. These mighty creatures were forced to submit to confined spaces, subject to the will of humans far weaker than themselves.

The texts never explained why humans raised dragons. Perhaps it was for the rare delicacy of their flesh, or for their immense power.

From the dragons’ perspective, this suffering was no less than what humans once endured under the dragons’ enslavement.

But what could be done? This was a war between two civilizations, and only one could survive.

A spotlight shone on the girl, and she raised her hand to shield her face. Chisei couldn’t make out her features clearly, only catching a glimpse of blood trickling slowly down from her nose. Persisting in an environment dense with mercury vapor had caused her hybrid blood to deteriorate.

① The story of the “Dragon Tamer Clan” does not originate from ancient Japanese texts but rather Chinese ones. It is said that during the reign of Shun, a man named Dong Fu was skilled at taming dragons, and Shun bestowed upon him the surname “Dragon Tamer Clan.” He raised dragons in Weicheng, Huaguo, where the “Dragon Tamer Wells” were described as having “left and right straight poles above with sunken wooden grids below, totaling eighty-one mouths.” Huaguo was located in present-day Henan, though the exact location of Weicheng is difficult to verify.

The girl had been standing steadfast on the beam, waiting for Chisei to arrive.
“Don’t shine the light on her,” Chisei ordered the Yasha operating the spotlight. “Lower me down.”

The harness lowered Chisei onto the beam. The girl didn’t even glance at him, her focus entirely on her phone. Thirty-five minutes had passed. She had fulfilled her agreement with Shio, demonstrating her unwavering commitment to her promises—even though Shio had already perished in the tunnel.

She turned and walked toward Asuya’s Alfa Romeo. As she brushed past Chisei, neither spoke. He noticed the emblem on her chest and gained a rough understanding of her identity. On fundamental issues, Cassell College and the Yamata no Orochi Clan were aligned: neither could allow a god to awaken. At the critical moment, someone from Cassell, infiltrating the Yamata no Orochi, had secured the Red Well.

Yet Chisei didn’t thank her. The girl hadn’t guarded the Red Well to help the Yamata no Orochi Clan—her goal was simply to kill the god. They were no longer allies.

She walked with a limp, blood flowing from her knee down to her foot, soaking one of her socks. Her injuries were severe; in her final fierce blow against Asuya, fragments from the shattered blade had injured her knee. Asuya had misjudged her condition; otherwise, he might not have lost. Her agile combat style wasn’t energy-efficient, and she didn’t aim for the graceful, dance-like precision others might. By the time she faced Asuya, her stamina was nearly exhausted. Unable to rely on sophisticated knee or elbow strikes, she gambled on a brute-force attack, trading serious injury for victory.

As for Nagafune, he’d had the opportunity to shoot her in the head. But confronted with her ice-cold, expressionless face, he couldn’t believe she was so gravely injured, let alone incapable of sprinting.

“Hey!” Chisei called out.

The girl stopped. Chisei tossed a first-aid kit to her. She caught it, considered for a moment, then threw her Kiku-Ichimonji Norimune to Chisei. “Your man died in the tunnel. He told me to give this to you.”

Chisei gently stroked the hilt, recalling the young clan head Shio. “May I ask your name?”

“Zero, undergraduate at Cassell College, student ID AL042251, temporary agent of the Execution Bureau.” The girl climbed into the Alfa Romeo with difficulty, turned the car around, and drove onto the lift platform.

Standing at the edge of the Red Well, Chisei watched her taillights fade into the distance. She was heading toward Tokyo, speeding at 150 kilometers per hour on a makeshift road. It reminded Chisei of another girl skilled at driving—similar to Zero, equally silent and aloof.

Behind him, the reinforced well cover of steel and composite materials slowly closed. Deep within the Red Well, the ichthyosaurs writhed in pain, massive waves crashing as they roared like something from hell.

The streets were flooded with light. Hundreds of engines roared—cars, trucks, motorcycles, even bulldozers. Heavy machinery blocked the entrances and exits to the district. Motorcycles carried swords and shotguns, and car trunks were open, revealing stacks of Remington rifles and short-barreled shotguns. The convoy halted under a massive advertising screen. Below the screen, Caesar and Chu Zihang stood back to back, their postures as feral as wild beasts.

The standoff between the two sides had lasted over an hour. The Yamata no Orochi forces had not advanced further. Hundreds of gun barrels were pointed at Caesar and Chu Zihang, yet none fired.

“Is their boss stuck in traffic?” Finger craned his neck, squinting. “I’ve finished my meal ages ago, and the big shot still hasn’t shown up!”

Caesar was equally puzzled. The killing intent on both sides was palpable, but the Yamata no Orochi had simply formed a human wall to block them, seemingly waiting for someone.

“This is such a major event. Chisei himself should be handling it, but he’s still not here,” Chu Zihang murmured.

“Maybe he really is stuck in traffic,” Caesar turned and shouted into the store. “Lu Mingfei! A bottle of whiskey, ice bucket, and glasses!”

“Boss, is this really the time for drinking?” Lu Mingfei found the whole thing absurd.

“Any time can be a time for drinking,” Caesar took a deep breath, calming his heartbeat.

He surmised that the Yamata no Orochi wouldn’t initiate an attack. Their goal was Chime, as well as information on the Oni Clan and the Osho. If they intended to attack, they could have simply thrown an incendiary bomb onto Takamagahara’s roof, turning it into an inferno in moments. Their hesitation to act meant that the negotiator had yet to arrive. This person was likely Chisei. Caesar hoped that when Chisei arrived, he would see Caesar calm and composed, making it harder to gauge his side’s mindset and gaining leverage in negotiations.

Of course, part of it was because Caesar was bored. What could be so important that Chisei couldn’t split his attention?

A Rolls-Royce bearing the spider emblem stopped under the railway bridge near Shinjuku Station. Kazama Ruri smoked a pipe, silently waiting for news from the Red Well.

He was in charge of orchestrating the blockade of Shinjuku’s gangs. On one hand, they couldn’t afford to relax; on the other, they couldn’t act rashly. It was best if they could hold out until Chisei returned. Kazama Ruri had once been the leader of the Outer Five Clans, but he knew he wasn’t qualified to lead negotiations.

He held high hopes for Chisei, believing he could quickly resolve the situation at the Red Well. In the past, Kazama Ruri hadn’t liked Chisei. The young master had been too idealistic and impulsive. When they first met, Chisei, still a boy with a hint of childishness, had told Kazama Ruri, “If gangs are just shadows hiding in the dark to make money through violence, then we deserve to be destroyed.” Kazama Ruri had inwardly scorned this so-called “righteous boy” who had never seen the dark side of the world.