Dragon Raja 4; Chapter 81: Dragon Song in Ultramarine Hall (6)

Dragon Raja 4

As the elevator reached the ground floor, Frost and his team retreated through the emergency exit, which was divided by countless security doors. Normally, each door required a password, fingerprint, and retina scan, but with EVA’s intervention, all doors were unlocked. Despite his usual reliance on a cane, Frost sprinted with the speed of a leopard. Each time they passed through a door, one of his guards stayed behind to manually close it, standing armed behind the door. Each door cost a life to defend, but the Gattuso guards showed no fear, and no one hesitated.

These were the elite soldiers the Gattuso family had trained for the final battle. The Council members watching from afar could only imagine.

Frost arrived at the last door before the vault’s waiting area. Behind him, a dozen gates had already fallen, separating him from the mysterious pursuer. The cameras hadn’t captured the intruder’s image—wherever he went, the chips overloaded and burned out. Frost checked the situation behind him through his phone’s camera, seeing only bright flames before the camera cut out.

One of his guards pulled a lever and hoisted the heavy circular steel door open. Frost and his remaining guards were stunned. Ahead of them was still the emergency passage, but it was now raining lightly inside.

The nearest security door had already fallen, and beside it stood a guard holding a gun—one of the first men Frost had left behind to defend a door. The guard looked at Frost with disbelief.

It seemed as if space itself had been distorted by some mysterious power. They had returned to the earlier part of the passage, now moving back toward the elevator shaft that had been destroyed.

Someone’s terrifying footsteps echoed closer. The small observation windows in the security doors flickered with blinding firelight. As the intruder approached, the doors opened automatically, and the brave guards didn’t even have time to scream.

The Council members felt their hearts gripped by an icy hand. Even through a camera, even across thousands of kilometers, they could feel the terrifying pressure of the intruder.

The final security door was breached, and golden flames surged into the space. Out of the flames came a brilliant figure. No one could see his face clearly—it was as if a blazing sun in human form, or a god descended to Earth.

The guards retreated while firing their weapons, but the bullets were bent away by the god’s force field. One guard drew a hunting knife and lunged forward, shouting, “Frost, run!”

But the guard couldn’t even touch the figure. A bullet, caught mid-air by the god’s force field, spun violently. With a flick of the god’s finger, the bullet reversed its path, piercing the guard’s forehead and sending his body flying.

The guard’s sacrifice bought Frost two seconds, but Frost couldn’t summon the courage to turn and run. Trembling, he fell to his knees before the divine figure. The glowing flames around the figure shimmered like radiant wings. The other guards tried to protect Frost, but with a single breath, the god’s flames exploded, turning the guards to ash.

“Frost, hold on! Reinforcements are on the way!” EVA’s voice echoed repeatedly.

Frost removed his earpiece and tossed it aside. He lifted the bronze chest containing the dragon skeleton with trembling hands, not daring to look up at the god’s face.

Beowulf slammed his fist on the conference table, cracking the hard oak. That coward Frost had less courage than his guards!

The divine figure took the chest from Frost’s hands. Only then did everyone notice that Frost was still clutching a cane. Everywhere Frost went, he carried that cane—a white vine staff with a bronzed head. It looked like an antique. Many assumed it was just because Frost was old, but from his earlier display, it was clear he was fit enough to run a marathon.

Frost tightly gripped the cane, forming a strange hand sign. He looked up at the divine figure and roared, “Om Ban Za Sa Do Kya!”

It was the Lion’s Seal, a mystical hand sign from Eastern esoteric teachings. Combined with the Vajra Satva Mantra, it was said to awaken the lion within one’s heart. No one had expected Frost, the Gattuso family’s acting head, to be a master of this Eastern mysticism.

Frost’s eyes glowed with an intense light as he drew a sharp rapier from his cane and thrust it at the luminous figure. It turned out Frost was also a master swordsman!

The Council members stared in disbelief. No one had ever seen this side of Frost, nor had they expected him to be capable of such a powerful strike.

While most of the Council and the Board of Elders were rated at the highest levels of hybrid bloodlines, they rarely showcased their abilities, especially someone like Frost. His image was that of a powerful magnate who could crush the world with his wealth, without needing to resort to his bloodline powers.

But now, his swordsmanship was a force of nature, even splitting the divine figure’s glowing flames.

Frost roared, enveloping both the divine figure and himself in his domain. The air inside became thick, like glue, restricting the divine figure’s movements.

Maybe, as Porquinho had once said, in the end, hybrids always had to rely on their bloodlines. Even Frost, as noble as he was, was no exception.

But his desperate strike was easily avoided by the god. The figure seemed to have anticipated that this kneeling old man would not truly submit. With another breath, the flames ignited Frost’s sword, burning the finely crafted steel like a matchstick. Still, Frost didn’t give up, swinging his sword at the god’s throat while keeping his eyes fixed on the bronze chest.

Before surrendering the chest, he had twisted off the cane’s bronze head and thrown it inside. The head was actually a powerful grenade known as “The Fire Fang,” containing shards of “Burning Blood,” a mysterious crystal extracted from the bones of Constantine. The resulting fire would burn endlessly until all the fire elements in the area were consumed, followed by a powerful vacuum shockwave.

The bronze chest barely trembled. The Fire Fang had indeed detonated, but some force had contained the fire within a tiny space.

The divine figure passed by Frost, patting him on the shoulder. Frost’s body disintegrated into glowing ash.

As his charred phone fell from his hand, it was clear that in his final moments, Frost had been fiddling with it. The divine figure paused, sensing something was wrong. Moments later, the tunnel shook slightly as an upper gate opened, releasing a dark green liquid that flooded the tunnel, submerging both the divine figure and the entire passage.

This was Frost’s last act as a member of the Secret Party. Knowing he couldn’t escape, both the rapier and Fire Fang had been distractions. He had used his phone to transfer full control of the vault’s systems to EVA, who immediately issued the destruction order, opening the acid vents. The specially formulated acid could corrode even alloys and would harden into a glass-like substance when combined with the sealant rising from the ground, filling every inch of space and trapping the intruder—like amber trapping a fly in resin.

No wonder Pompeii was reluctant to hand over control of the vault. Although it was a guaranteed kill, it would also turn the entire vault into a grave for the divine being.

Meanwhile, in the lobby of the Roman Bank, clients were still chatting with their financial managers about this year’s returns, enjoying the coffee served by waiters, unaware of the massive events unfolding below. However, the London precious metals exchange was in chaos. Traders stared blankly at the large screens overhead. Ten seconds ago, the price of gold skyrocketed by 7%, while the euro plunged by 5%, as Europe had just lost 1/7th of its monetary gold supply.

In the Hall of Heroes, silence reigned, and everyone was engulfed in fear. Pompeii’s plan was flawless, yet the divine being had torn through the void, killed Frost before their eyes, and EVA’s swift actions left them unsure. Had they truly trapped the enemy in the vault? After seeing the assassination of Anjou through the holographic replay, none of them were confident. How had the enemy entered and exited that tunnel? It was as if a rift had been forcibly torn open in space.

This was no longer a matter of sending young fighters to the frontlines while they directed from the shadows. This was a real war. No matter if you were in a trench or the deepest bunker, you had to be prepared to die.

The group rose in unison, placing their hands over their hearts, paying their respects to the charging Frost Gattuso, who had, in the end, lived up to his title as a member of the Secret Party.

After a moment of silence, they sat down, forcing themselves to suppress their emotions and return to rational discussion.

“How did he do it? Did he alter the space within the vault?” Cadmus asked, his voice trembling as he glanced around.

After a brief silence, Charlotte broke it: “The foundational principles of alchemy and Yanling are interconnected. I don’t know if such a Yanling exists, but alchemy refers to the ‘Seven Kingdoms,’ which are considered the seven outstanding achievements of the craft: element transmutation, soul reforging, conceptual armament, time reversal, spatial creation, life creation, and cause and effect separation. Even after a thousand years of research, my family’s understanding of the Seven Kingdoms is still shallow.” She looked at the Vice Principal. “Flamel’s knowledge far surpasses mine; he should explain.”

“Charlotte suspects the enemy used spatial creation, an ability that allows the user to cut and stitch space as they wish, or even create their own pocket dimension,” the Vice Principal said. “In other words, he doesn’t need to follow human paths, and human-made doors are meaningless to him.”

“So he could connect this meeting room to his space at any moment, then appear here and kill us all?” Saint George asked.

“Then why hasn’t he? I look forward to a showdown with that sovereign!” Beowulf was unafraid.