Dragon Raja 4; Chapter 37: Journey to the End of the World (37)

Dragon Raja 4

As soon as her footsteps faded, the sharp bone claws slit Herveil and Orlune’s throats, then quickly retracted back into the floor. The claws’ owner had no intention of letting them survive to use the first-aid kit; she just didn’t want to confuse Reginleif with her actions.

In the lower deck, Persson was lifting a young girl dressed in a pink nightgown, gripping her neck viciously and savoring her terrified expression and trembling body beneath the silk. Caught in Macallan’s illusion, he saw the girl as a pink rabbit, ready to express his anger and desire upon her. The girl sobbed, terrified of the violence and humiliation she was about to endure, but even more so of Persson’s golden eyes.

But death came swiftly. An halberd pierced through Persson’s body from behind, pinning him to the wall. Reginleif’s slender hand gripped the halberd handle, blood splattering onto her pale skin, shockingly vivid against it. She caught the falling girl with her left hand while twisting the halberd with her right, destroying Persson’s heart. The saint had never learned basic morals or ethics and thus knew no mercy. She had spared Hervor and Olrune out of pity, but there was no such sentiment for Persson.

“Find somewhere to hide or eat something that makes you happy,” Reginleif told the girl as she walked away. “It’s useless to do anything else right now.”

The girl stared at Reginleif in shock. It was a miracle to see someone so calm amidst all the chaos on the ship. Fierce and deadly one moment, yet dragging a suitcase and wearing a fluffy hat the next, she looked like a carefree traveler stopping for coffee.

Reginleif descended deeper into the ship. As the sound of ice scraping against the hull grew louder, a dark passage appeared before her. The sign read in Russian: “Watertight Compartment Inspection—No Entry.” She deftly operated the controls, draining hundreds of tons of seawater from the compartment before pushing open the heavy door.

The massive skeleton was half-submerged in seawater, with an iron box balanced atop its neck bones, secured tightly by mechanical locks and iron chains. Above it, misty mercury vapor descended.

Vincent hadn’t stationed anyone to guard the resting place of the old Saint, as everyone who knew the secret had already been executed by him. At this moment, he didn’t need the old Saint. The high concentration of mercury vapor was enough to keep her in check and prevent any trouble. To Vincent, the role of Maria of the Stars was simple—she had been to the hatchery and bore its mark. By merging with this ship, they effectively turned it into a vessel made from Maria’s bones, allowing them to return to that place. Therefore, she had to stay alive, for as long as she lived, the ship would retain its passage to the hatchery.

Reginleif, already equipped with a gas mask and knee-high rubber boots, waded through the water to the iron box. It was a two-meter cube, painted blood red, with a pale skull on it, likely the insignia of some unit from the Third Reich. To seal the uncontrollable Maria of the Stars, Vincent had used something from the bottom of his arsenal. Even after soaking in seawater for so many years, the iron box showed no rust, though it wasn’t entirely airtight—solidified cement oozed out of its seams.

“My dear child, you’ve finally come,” a weak, elderly voice spoke from inside the iron box.

“Your suffering is about to end, dear grandmother,” Reginleif replied calmly.

From the pocket of her cold-weather gear, she took out four old brass keys and inserted them into the four corners of the iron box, turning them one by one. Thick white vapor hissed from the vents, and the panels on all six sides of the box began to loosen, though the cement inside still held them together. Reginleif reached into her toolbox for a hammer and chisel, but before she could begin, spider-like claws rose from the darkness around her. These sharp claws attacked from all directions, bypassing Reginleif and tearing open the iron box and its cement interior with ease. The frenzied claws scraped and clawed, accompanied by eerie cries from within, as if a disfigured woman were desperately tearing away the bandages from her own face.

As the dust settled, the contents of the iron box were finally revealed—a terrifying yet beautiful sight. Inside was a cage formed by twisted ribs, containing an ancient head. Thanks to the protection of the rib cage, the head still bore traces of human features. Mucus and white hair clung to the head. Reginleif scooped seawater from the ground and washed away the mucus, and slowly, the head opened its eyes. Until now, it had been breathing slowly, and for the first time in many years, it was able to breathe through its nose and mouth again, no longer reliant on the blood-vessel-like structures to absorb oxygen.

Maria of the Stars, the sole survivor of the 1943 expedition, had undergone uncontrollable hyper-evolution due to contamination from the hatchery—a miraculous occurrence of life. Years ago, when Vincent sealed her in the iron box and filled it with cement, he hadn’t intended to keep her alive. But her powerful genes found a way to survive in just a few hours, using her rib cage to protect her vital head. Over the years, she had grown like a tree, but had never been able to escape the mysterious iron box—until Reginleif, with the keys, arrived and disrupted the alchemical matrix within the box.

Maria’s eyes slowly moved, fixing on Reginleif, who nodded in acknowledgment. Reginleif then drew a short knife and sliced open her wrist, letting her blood drip onto Maria’s lips. Maria eagerly drank her young blood, and gradually, color returned to her pale face. Before their eyes, her head began to rejuvenate—her skin regaining moisture and vitality, her white hair shedding as silky new hair grew rapidly. Reginleif had once told Chu Zihang that her blood was a medicine, and it had the same restorative effect on the mutated Maria, especially since their genetic sequences were remarkably similar.

Maria suddenly sat up—an unbelievable feat for a creature whose head was housed within her ribcage—but to Reginleif, it seemed as though she had indeed risen. The rib cage slowly opened like a blooming flower, and her elongated neckbones extended, revealing her head emerging from within, like a delicate stamen. She gazed silently at the dark ceiling of the cabin, and for a moment, despite her grotesque body, she seemed like the same imperial saint gazing at the stars in the photograph.

“Did you remember to bring me cigarettes, dear child?” She lowered her eyes, looking at Reginleif with a kind gaze.

Reginleif rummaged through her backpack and showed her several different cigarette packs. Maria shook her head, unfamiliar with the brands. Finally, Reginleif randomly selected one, lit it, and handed it to her. Maria silently enjoyed the cigarette while Reginleif stood opposite her, within the massive skeleton that had grown outside the iron box. The two of them stared at each other for a long time—both with sculpted features, though their expressions were separated by a century. Reginleif smiled, and Maria smiled back.

“I’ve fulfilled my promise, Grandmother Maria,” Reginleif said.

“You’ve worked hard, Reginleif. You’re such a good child,” Maria replied.

As she smoked, Maria began to laugh softly, then cried, and then silently screamed. The blood-vessel-like structures growing from her body pulsed violently, while the bone-like spider claws angrily slashed at the mechanical locks and chains that had bound her. Her massive form trembled as if trying to rise, her once-beautiful face now contorted with bitterness and malice.

She was free once again, but those who have returned from hell are always transformed into demons.