Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 470: Dark Day (9)

Dragon Raja 3

The sharp blades drew perfect circles, radiating a crimson glow, like a solar eclipse where the sun’s brilliance still shone around the moon’s shadow. His opponents shattered under Uesugi’s swords but still surged forward like a relentless tide.

Anjou and Uesugi steadily advanced toward Caesar and Chu Zihang by the tower crane, each step taken over broken bones and blood.

If ever there were a fitting description, “though thousands stand in my way, I shall press forward” was perfect for these old daredevils. With their white hair flowing in the wind, even someone as arrogant as Caesar could only admire them in awe.

He loaded the last of his Burning Blood into his magazine and fired at the heart of the Death Servitors’ ranks. The bullet left the barrel, the quartz casing shattered, and the pure fire element ignited, setting everything in its path ablaze.

The immediate task was to clear the battlefield and open a path for Anjou and Uesugi. The glow of Black Sun had already faded—such a powerful Yanling was never meant to last long—but even without it, Uesugi maintained a crushing dominance. He slashed through the advancing Death Servitors, his Tang-style Broadswords sending off sparks as they cut through bones, like a welding torch slicing through steel. Whenever his blades dulled, Uesugi discarded them, pulling new ones from his bag—Izumi no Kami Kanesada, Kozuka Kagenobu, Hizen Tadahiro, Mikazuki Munechika—each worth a fortune, but quickly worn out and discarded like common tools.

Even Anjou had to admit that, if not for the peculiar properties of Time Zero, he could never have defeated Uesugi. Purely in terms of combat strength, Uesugi could kill him in an instant.

“Let me catch my breath…” Anjou panted, using both swords to prop himself up. His body temperature was dropping rapidly—one of the aftereffects of the third-degree Blood Rage.

“Do I need to carry you, old man? We’re almost there—your students are just up ahead. Even if you’re out of strength, squeeze some from your bones!” Uesugi shouted as he shook off the blood on his sword, though the blade was already chipped.

At this point, the difference in their bloodlines became apparent. Both had been fighting side by side, but while Anjou was drained and bleeding profusely, Uesugi seemed to grow stronger, his body glowing red with exertion, his once-withered muscles swelling as if he were a young man in his prime. When Anjou’s strength failed, Uesugi tore off his tattered shirt, revealing a massive dragon-and-sun tattoo on his back. He slung Anjou’s arm over his shoulder and dragged him forward. Anjou used what little strength he had left to wield Greed, blocking attacks from the left, while Uesugi slashed through Death Servitors on the right.

Anjou’s vision blurred as blood loss took its toll, and his legs, submerged in the cold seawater, had gone numb. He doubted he could make it to the tower crane, where Caesar and Chu Zihang were holding their position, fighting off wave after wave of Death Servitors. Now was the perfect moment to detonate the sulfur bomb, as the Death Servitors were all concentrated on the artificial island. A well-timed explosion could wipe them out entirely.

“You go on… let me rest for a bit,” Anjou tried to shrug off Uesugi.

He didn’t bother with the typical “I’ll catch up later” lie—Uesugi wasn’t like Caesar or Chu Zihang, who might have believed such nonsense. Uesugi knew that being left behind here meant certain death. He also wasn’t one for teary farewells or dramatic speeches, like those in the movies where someone shouts, “Don’t give up! We swore to protect the world together!” That wasn’t Uesugi’s style. He was a former king of the underworld, a man who had seen too much death to indulge in sentiment. He knew when to abandon someone, and who to leave behind.

In this situation, the one to abandon was clearly Anjou. Uesugi could still fight his way out, but if he stayed with Anjou, their chances of survival dropped significantly. And Uesugi had his sons to find. He was like a newly crowned father, and a newly crowned father couldn’t die.

“You idiot! I came to save you!” Uesugi bellowed. “Get it through your thick skull—I’m here to save you! If you die, wouldn’t that make my trip here pointless?”

Anjou’s head buzzed, and for a moment, he didn’t understand what Uesugi meant. Uesugi had come to save him? Wasn’t Uesugi here because of the sudden revelation about his sons?

“That’s right,” Koeru chuckled, wiping the blood from his face as he shifted Anjou higher onto his shoulder. “I came to ask about my sons, but I also came to save you. It’s a complicated logic—want me to explain it slowly?”

“At a time like this… you’re interested in explaining logic to me?” Anjou panted heavily.

“What can I say? Since stepping down as head of the family, my ambition has been to become a priest, and priests are supposed to ramble on and on. A priest’s job is to preach life’s lessons to lost sheep like you,” Uesugi said as he continued to swing his sword, chattering away. “Originally, I thought the world had nothing to do with me anymore—no relatives, no friends—so why should I care? That’s why I wouldn’t have stayed to save Tokyo. To me, Tokyo was a city filled with disappointment and pain. But now, things are different. My sons are in this city, so this world still has something to do with me. That’s why I came to save you.”

“Father Uesugi, your logic is a bit flawed. I was beginning to believe you were French,” Anjou smiled wryly. “If you care so much about this world with your sons in it, you should be out there finding them, not on this island about to die with me. I’m not one of your sons.”

“Of course, I know you’re not my son—you’re too old for that,” Uesugi sighed. “But only you can save this world where my sons live!”

“In your eyes, aren’t I the embodiment of evil? The ruthless bastard who would do anything for revenge! Saving the world? I’ve never given much thought to something so noble.”

“Old friend, the forbidden door has already been opened,” Uesugi suddenly became serious. “There’s no turning back for this world!”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying—maybe it’s the blood loss. I need to rest… just a moment’s rest…” Anjou slid down Uesugi’s shoulder, his body on the brink of collapse.

Uesugi threw his sword, pinning a Death Servitor to a nearby wall before yanking Anjou out of the water and slinging him back over his shoulder, marching forward with long strides.

Anjou never imagined he would be carried like a child, especially by someone not even as tall as himself.

Despite the relentless battle to reach this point, Uesugi was unscathed. Not only that, but he seemed to grow younger with every step, his muscles defined, steam rising from his bare torso. He charged headlong into the swarm of Death Servitors, each strike from his blade leaving dark red arcs of blood in the air. His was a fight of pure power—overwhelming, unstoppable.

“Even if you’re on the brink of collapse, you need to listen. Focus and listen to me!” Uesugi shouted, his voice steady and strong. “All of history is a history of war—whether human or dragon. We can defeat countless enemies, but we cannot defeat the greed within ourselves. The White Emperor has exploited that human greed to survive until today. To humanity, the legacy of the dragons is like Pandora’s Box. They think it holds power beyond this era, but when they open it, only devils come out.”

“I still don’t get what you’re saying.”

“The Dragon Kings,” Uesugi spoke slowly, “were awakened by humans, just as Osho wants to awaken the gods. The Bronze and Fire King, the Earth and Mountain King—they were all awakened, which is why they reappeared so close together. Someone has been reviving the Dragon Kings and luring you to slay them!”

“What are you saying?” Anjou snapped into alertness, cold sweat breaking out over his body.

“I can’t explain it clearly, but that’s my intuition. From the Bronze and Fire King to the Earth and Mountain King, and now the White Emperor, each revival has been part of someone’s plan. And in the end, it will lead to the return of the Black Emperor, Nidhogg. For years, the Yamata no Orochi clan has guarded the secret of the White Emperor, afraid that someone would try to wake it and make a pact for power. But in the end, the secret got out. Every move Osho made was so precise because he understood the White Emperor better than the Yamata no Orochi clan itself. He couldn’t have known all that just from studying myths and ancient records. Someone must have told him. But who? Was it a human or a dragon? Either way, the revival of the White Emperor was orchestrated, and Osho isn’t acting alone.”

Anjou felt as if he were falling into a dark abyss. How had he missed this? The collective awakening of the Dragon Kings wasn’t just a coincidence or an omen of the “end times.” Someone had been manipulating events behind the scenes.

Before Osho, the Secret Party had never believed anyone could control the resurrection of the Dragon Kings. But to some extent, Osho had proven otherwise. Could it be true, as Uesugi said, that the revivals were orchestrated by someone—or some secret organization?

And what could their ultimate goal be?