Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 463: Dark Day (2)

Dragon Raja 3

“Are they… from Yui?” After several seconds of silence, Koeru asked, his voice trembling violently, sounding nothing like himself.

“Yui?” Anjou was momentarily taken aback. He had anticipated various reactions from Koeru after hearing the news, but who was Yui? Where did Yui come from?

“Not from Yui? Then… Chiyoko?” Koeru hesitated before mentioning another name, and Anjou finally realized that Yui was a Japanese woman’s name.

“And who the hell is Chiyoko?” Anjou asked, exasperated.

“Then… Tazuru? Tomie?” Koeru racked his brain, “It couldn’t be Yoshiko, right?”

“You old bastard! Haven’t you been boasting all these years about living a celibate, solitary life? Didn’t you say you’d rather die than marry and pass on the cursed imperial bloodline? Who’s Yui? Who’s Chiyoko? Who the hell are Tazuru, Tomie, and Yoshiko? Were they your dance partners at the senior citizens’ ballroom? Old classmates from your cooking class? Or cheap women you picked up in Kabukicho?” Anjou ranted in fury, letting loose all his insults. “Weren’t your organs supposed to be failing? How come your kidneys are still working fine?”

“Hey! Don’t insult my friends! They all have respectable jobs!”

“Respectable jobs? What, like seducing ramen chefs?”

“They’re izakaya owners… wait, wait! I wasn’t lying to you! I said I’ve been living a lonely life all these years, but don’t lonely men go to izakayas to blow off some steam? I always used protection… But did you just say I have sons? I have sons?”

“It’s just a suspicion, but it seems very likely…” Anjou said softly.

“Their names… tell me their names! Do they look like me? Are they doing well? And… who’s their mother, after all?” Koeru’s hand was shaking so much that he could barely hold the small phone.

With his own father’s lessons as a warning, Koeru had been telling himself for years that imperial blood was a curse. Passing it on to his descendants would only doom them to the same fate, so he had never longed for “sons.” He never imagined that the day would come when he would have them. And now, he was so nervous, like a father waiting outside the delivery room for the first cry of his newborn child. He was desperate to know what they were like, to see them, yet at the same time, he was afraid.

How had they been all these years? Who had taken care of them? Had they ever suffered from poverty? Had they ever been bullied? Had they made any wrong turns in life? Had they fallen in love with anyone? Would they foolishly get mixed up with the underworld, wasting their lives like those ignorant thugs on the streets?

Countless questions surged from Koeru’s heart, bursting forth like a torrent of pearls.

He could never have imagined that his sons were indeed part of the underworld, and not just any members—they were kings. Their lives were far from being wasted; they were burning brightly.

Anjou didn’t know how to respond, so he remained silent for a moment.

“Hey! Anjou! Anjou!” Koeru shouted, losing his composure.

The phone went silent, and the call disconnected. At the same time, the ground shook again as a new wave of tremors struck Tokyo, knocking everyone to the ground. Koeru crawled on the floor, clutching his phone, trying to redial, but realized that Anjou’s number wasn’t in his call history.

That moment of hesitation—what needed to be said was left unsaid.

Anjou quietly took off his headset. The helicopter they were aboard had reached the airspace above the artificial island of Kaiyō, shaking violently in the storm. Kaiyō Island was about ten kilometers from Tokyo, and the volcanic eruption had caused electromagnetic disturbances. Even with long-range communication equipment aboard the helicopter, he hadn’t been able to finish his conversation with Koeru.

Kaiyō Island was a man-made floating island, serving as a link for the Tokyo Bay Transoceanic Highway. To its east was the cross-sea bridge, and to the west, a ten-kilometer-long underwater tunnel. This was the final stronghold in Tokyo Bay; once the tide of Death Servitors crossed this artificial island, there would be nothing left to stop them.

Searchlights illuminated a large circular area on the sea’s surface, where the tide of Death Servitors was pouring across the artificial island. These creatures were even more terrifying than Death Servitors. While Death Servitors could still be considered living beings, the Shishou were moving corpses created by alchemy.

It was only after seeing this horrifying tide with his own eyes that Anjou decided to call Koeru. The tide of Shishou was far denser than he had imagined. He began to doubt that he would make it back, and he didn’t want to let this secret die with him. But the damned electromagnetic disturbance cut the call short. Koeru had learned he had twin sons, but he didn’t know their names. Perhaps it was for the best. Compared to Anjou, Chisei and Chime’s survival odds were even lower. Why burden a father with such sad news? Let Koeru fly to France, believing he was always a lonely widower.

Anjou didn’t believe in curses, being a man who sought to break fate. But when he realized the connection between Koeru and Chisei, he couldn’t help but feel as if he had been struck by some force akin to destiny. It was like what Koeru’s father, the Chess Saint, had said—imperial blood truly seemed cursed. To inherit this bloodline was to inherit power, but also to say farewell to happiness. From the Chess Saint, who died as a breeding machine, to the lonely and widowed Koeru, and then to Chisei and Chime, the natural-born enemies—every person who bore the imperial blood struggled in pain. This was why Anjou refused to let Koeru die in Japan. He was angry at the tragic fate and had decided to help Koeru fulfill his final wish, to at least live long enough to see the chapel where his mother once told him stories.

The shore-based combat platform descended slowly, landing on the edge of Kaiyō Island. These platforms were defensive units consisting of triple-barrel machine guns, grenade launchers, personal missiles, and armored shells. They were deployed along the coastline to suppress enemy landings. Additionally, they had a large cache of light and heavy firearms, enough to arm an assault company. Such firepower might have been enough to blow up an amphibious landing ship, but against the enemies they faced, these weapons were as effective as the crossbows used by Genoese archers two thousand years ago—utterly negligible. The most troublesome thing was that the tide of Shishou wasn’t affected by the artificial island. The creatures split in two as they approached, flowing around the island like waves breaking against a reef.

They had arrived too late. Half of the Shishou had already crossed the island. Even if they could build an impenetrable defense on the island, it would only stop half of the tide, while the other half would already be turning Tokyo into a city of death.

Anjou tossed the Seven Deadly Sins weapon to Chu Zihang and handed a rocket launcher to Caesar. “I heard the Gattuso family developed the Burning Blood. Don’t hesitate to use it if necessary.”

“I’ve only got two rounds. If I had two hundred, there might be some hope,” Caesar said, raising an eyebrow. “Under these circumstances, are you still planning to give it a shot?”

“Are you kidding? Chisei said he’d turn himself into a nail to pin the god down in the Red Well. If I can’t stop this tide of Shishou, can I still call myself the principal of Cassell College?” Anjou replied calmly.

“It’s not that I’m doubting your courage, Principal,” Caesar responded, “but hasn’t our mission to stop the tide already failed?”

“Lend me your hunting knife.”

Caesar tossed him Dictator. Anjou rolled up his sleeves, yanked open the door, and slashed his own vein with the blade. The cut was deep, and blood sprayed into the storm.

Almost simultaneously, the Shishou battling the tide looked up toward the sky, their pupils igniting with golden flames. Just moments ago, they hadn’t paid any attention to the helicopter hovering above. Driven by the god’s pheromones, they had relentlessly surged toward Tokyo, indifferent to the fresh blood and flesh around them. But now, they were all drawn to the helicopter. The helicopter hovered slowly in the air, and the creatures moved their heads in unison, like sunflowers following the sun. But these sunflowers were grotesque, pale, and broken human faces. Being stared at by them was like falling into hell, surrounded by the gaze of ghosts. Caesar instinctively gripped the hilt of his gun, and Chu Zihang’s knuckles cracked audibly.

Even the Shishou that had crossed the artificial island began to turn back, silently staring at the sky, like pilgrims witnessing a divine revelation.

Caesar suddenly remembered—they had seen this before. Chisei’s blood had a similar effect on the Death Servitors. However, Chisei’s blood could only attract the nearby Death Servitors, whereas Anjou’s blood seemed to possess a greater allure, even surpassing the god’s pheromones.

“Principal, it looks like they think you’re delicious…” Caesar couldn’t believe his eyes. Anjou’s bloodline was also S-Rank, undoubtedly excellent, but the imperial bloodline was the pinnacle of hybrids, a force that transcended the rules. How could Anjou’s blood surpass Chisei’s?

“Yes, don’t mention this to anyone,” Anjou said as he tightly wrapped the bandage around his wounded wrist. “I’m not sure why, but my blood has a deadly allure to the Death Servitors. I’ve tried analyzing my own blood, but I’ve never come to any conclusions.”

“There really are a lot of monsters in this world,” Caesar remarked. “Alright, we’ve attracted them. Now what do we do?”

“Before they go berserk, get inside the shore-based combat platform!” Anjou clipped a rappel line to his waist and jumped out of the cabin.