Dragon Raja 2; Chapter 44: Sword Devil with Flaming Rage (5)

Dragon Raja 2

“So I just wait here, until they call me in?” Caesar sipped his strong drink.

“They’re looking forward to seeing you, and they will call for you,” Parsi bowed slightly. “That’s also why your uncle arranged this year’s board meeting at Splendid Hotel, so you could make your formal debut in a familiar setting, meeting the most powerful among the hybrids.”

“The powerful?” Caesar played with the word.

The door of the building slowly closed from the inside, four ancient heavy locks clicked into place, sealing the structure completely.

“Everyone’s here. I hereby announce the start of this year’s annual board meeting.” Anjou, sitting at the head of the long table, rang a small brass bell.

Because this building was originally a place where ancient monks secluded themselves, it was exceptionally dark. Though it was daytime, a row of candlesticks was placed on the long table, illuminating the faces of the board members.

There were six people in total—four men and two women. On either side of Anjou sat two very old men, their ages indeterminate, each in a crisp black suit with a deep red handkerchief in the breast pocket. One held a cane, while the other fiddled with rosewood prayer beads, muttering under his breath, an odd contrast. Another man, seemingly in his thirties or forties, wore a bright yellow tracksuit, with a bicycle helmet resting beside him. As a board member of an elite institution like Cassell College, he had actually biked to the meeting. Sitting beside Lisa was a board member so young it was shocking—a sixteen or seventeen-year-old girl, her light blonde hair pinned up, her baby-fat cheeks bearing a serious expression like a delicate doll. A butler with white gloves stood proudly behind her.

“The attendees are the same as last year. The absentee remains absent, and Gattuso is still represented by Frost Gattuso, my old friend, in place of his brother,” Anjou said, pointing to the elderly man with the cane beside him.

Frost Gattuso rang a small bell: “Report and announce.”

It was customary to speak only after ringing the bell at the board meeting to avoid interruptions.

“What are we supposed to conclude from this?” he asked impatiently.

“It’s that stack of papers in front of each of you,” Anjou said.

The directors all flipped through the intricate report simultaneously, going straight to the last page. The conclusion read: “The King of Bronze and Fire was terminated.”

Though the college emphasized Chinese education, to accommodate directors of different languages, the report was issued in English. The statement meant: “The King of Bronze and Fire has been slain.”

The directors were silent for a moment, confronted with this conclusive verdict. It was an epoch-making event, which had taken six months to finalize the report to avoid any misjudgment. Even though they had expected this conclusion, seeing it in writing required a moment of pause to accept.

Frost rang the bell again: “In history, no Dragon King has ever been confirmed dead. Anjou, you need to provide proof.”

Anjou said nothing, but instead produced a prismatic crystal, sliding it along the table. The directors exchanged glances. Finally, the old man with the prayer beads reached out to take it, squinting at it under the light. It was a piece of synthetic quartz crystal, marked with the logo of a Texas-based optical products company. The surface was slightly convex, with a magnifying effect. At the center of the crystal was a dark red thread-like mark, resembling a strand of congealed blood. The old man’s pupils contracted slightly. His hand trembled as he passed the crystal to the next person.

“The Philosopher’s Stone,” he said softly after ringing the bell, “it’s indeed a newly created Philosopher’s Stone.”

“The crystal of the ‘fifth element’ in alchemy, the Philosopher’s Stone, is said to be able to turn all metals into gold. It is also the elixir that grants immortality and is the most sacred object in alchemy.” Angers nodded. “As you all know, we have lost the method to refine this crystal. The last alchemist in history to successfully refine the Philosopher’s Stone was Nicolas Flamel, at 5:00 PM on April 25, 1382. No one has succeeded in the following six hundred years. Our current reserves of the Philosopher’s Stone were all obtained from ancient tombs. But you hold a brand new Philosopher’s Stone in your hands, albeit a small one. It was refined from the bones of the Dragon King, whose name is Constantine.”

“My name is Constantine. I once reached the top of the mountain of fire, melted the ocean of bronze there, and forged the name of God.” The girl recited this ancient scripture softly.

“Now that he’s dead, the name Bronze can only be written on his tombstone.” Ange’s voice was cold and stern. “A dead god is just a pile of bones!”

After a long silence, Lisa stood and applauded. Following her, all the school directors rose and applauded. Angé slowly rose to his feet, accepting the accolades. He rested his hands on the table, gazing at the candlelight. His voice was low, “This is a groundbreaking breakthrough, but before we achieved this glory, tens of thousands of our companions died on the journey. I propose a moment of silence in honor of our fallen companions. This is the price they paid for.”

The school directors all lowered their heads. The meeting room was silent, and the sound of waves surging below the cliff could be faintly heard.

The moment of silence ended, and the school directors returned to their seats. Frost rang the bell. “Lord of Bronze and Fire, is the Philosopher’s Stone you forged so small? You slew the Dragon King, and you even used a 2.75-gram Philosopher’s Stone to make a bullet.”

“We only used one finger joint from the Dragon King’s skeleton to refine this Philosopher’s Stone. If we completely destroyed the skeleton to refine it, the yield would be much greater, but we are reluctant to do so.” Ange said, “The significance of this Philosopher’s Stone is simply to prove that we have obtained a real dragon bone, not an empty shell. If Constantine still leaves an ‘egg’ in the ‘boneyard’ and can wake up again, then we will undoubtedly not be able to refine the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“‘The first generation cannot be killed’—this was the iron rule we believed in,” Lisa rang the bell. “But now this iron rule has been broken. Why?”

Ange shrugged. “That’s not an iron rule, just dogma. The dogma is that they’re ‘immortal,’ simply because they’ve never been killed. It’s actually very simple. Creating eggs takes time. We don’t know how the Dragon King creates them for himself, but it’s clear that they’re not naturally formed. If you kill the Dragon King before he creates an egg, his spirit won’t be able to transfer into it, and he’ll die.”

“The Dragon King can’t be unaware of his own weakness,” the girl rang her bell. “The first thing they’ll do after waking up will probably be to create eggs.”

“Yes, just like an alchemist who can create the elixir of immortality, every time he dies and comes back to life, he should first create a piece of the elixir and keep it with him.” Ange said, “But there are exceptions. First, every time a dragon king wakes up, his initial power is incomplete, and he may even have no memories. Like half-bloods, they need a process to comprehend their own bloodline. Secondly, when enraged, a dragon king will prioritize revenge. We used the killing of his younger brother Constantine as an opportunity to make older brother Norton furious. So, although we haven’t found Norton’s dragon bones, we have reason to believe that Norton is also dead.”

“All the twins of the ‘fire’ faction of the four great monarchs were killed,” the old man twirling his Buddhist beads rang a bell and pondered, “Are all the four great monarchs twins?”

“It’s possible, but we still don’t know whether ‘twins’ have any special religious or genetic significance to the dragon race,” said Ange.

Frost rang the bell. “Where are Constantine’s bones kept now?”

Ange raised his eyebrows and was silent for a few seconds: “A safe place.”

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