Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 382: Place Without Heaven or Earth (1)

Dragon Raja 3

Chime’s phone lay on the bar, playing an audio recording. Two people were speaking, and in the background was the endless sound of rain, creating the illusion that the listeners were standing in the rain as well.

“Dr. Herzog, it’s you. You’re not dead,” said Tachibana.

“Yes, yes, you should have guessed it was me.” The organ-like voice had a hint of amusement. “Maybe it’s time we changed our titles. I’ll call you Mr. Masamune, and you can call me Osho. After all, we can’t go back to the past. The dragon-like Soviet Union has ended, and we, the lost souls of that old era, must adapt to our new identities.”

“It’s you who must adapt to your new identity, right? Maybe I should call you the Dragon Doctor? Evolution must have given you a taste of the thrill of ruling the world, hasn’t it?”

“There is both thrill and pain. My evolution is not yet complete, as you know. Only the blood of a god can help me achieve the final evolution.”

“So that’s why you’ve been trying so hard to resurrect the god. The Oni Clan means nothing to you. As long as you’re alive and complete the final evolution, you can ascend to the throne of the world. All those who died have become your sustenance. You trample over their corpses, growing ever stronger. You’ve always been a ghoul. I still remember the night we destroyed Black Swan Bay. We poured 200 liters of fuel into the embryo incubation room, and those little embryos, those lives that hadn’t even opened their eyes to see the world, melted in the flames. But you smiled, saying not to mind the loss, just think of the value we devoured from those lives. Their nutrients would make us stronger. Only the strongest could stand on the throne of the world.”

“Yes, back then, I was foolish enough to speak my heart to you. That was the biggest mistake of my life—trusting a man as cunning as a fox, who then shot me in the heart.”

“I made a mistake too. I should have shoved a grenade into your mouth instead of just shooting your heart. No matter how strong your regeneration is, it wouldn’t help if you were blown to pieces, right?”

“Yes, yes, we both made mistakes,” Osho laughed. “Let’s call it even.”

“Our reminiscing ends here. Neither of us is fond of it. Now tell me, why did you call?”

“I wanted to arrange a meeting with you.”

“Is there really a need for us to meet?”

“Of course. We need to discuss how to divide the White Empress’ inheritance.”

“I’m not interested in the White Empress’ inheritance. If the god fully awakens, it will cause a catastrophe. I’m too old to climb to the throne after such a disaster.”

“No need to pretend to be a righteous man when it’s just the two of us, Major Bondarev. You know exactly what kind of person I am, and I know what kind of person you are. We’re natural partners. Wolves should walk with foxes. For ten years, you’ve been searching for the Well of Bones and coveting Takamagahara beneath the sea. Only that foolishly adorable student of yours would believe you’re doing all this to permanently bury the god. You’ve always been a master of disguise and patience, and I admire that about you. I’ve been looking forward to working with a partner like you.”

“And what would we be working for?”

“To resurrect the god, of course. That’s the only way we can extract the fresh fetal blood from its body—the Yellow Springs Path—the only path for humans to evolve into pure-blood dragons! But to open this forbidden door, I need a few keys. Some are in your hands, and some are in mine. Since neither of us can resurrect the god on our own, why not work together? Sharing the god’s inheritance is better than neither of us getting it.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll shoot you in the back again?”

“To compete for the throne of the world, shooting each other in the back is only natural, isn’t it? No king would share his power with anyone. If you get the chance again, just make sure to shove a grenade into my mouth.”

The call ended, and the audio stopped. The listeners were all sweating nervously, except for Finger, who was sweating from the heat. He had added a lot of chili peppers to his ramen and was eating in a sweat.

He had just found the group and hadn’t yet been briefed on the situation, so he didn’t understand the horrifying things those old men were discussing on the phone. Ignorance is bliss, so he ate another bowl of noodles while listening to the recording.

“Osho asked Tachibana for a meeting?” Caesar broke the silence. “They should be dueling, not meeting.”

“It’s indeed unbelievable, but that’s what I gathered from monitoring Osho’s call. Three hours ago, he called Tachibana, asking to meet and discuss how to share the White Empress’ inheritance,” Ruri said.

“Do you have any information on Herzog?” Chu Zihang asked.

“The chief scientist of Black Swan Bay, the most knowledgeable gene scientist about dragons in history, originally belonged to the Third Reich Academy of Sciences under the Nazis. When Berlin fell, he was captured by the Soviet Red Army and sent directly to No-Name Port to research dragons and hybrids. He’s the second survivor of Black Swan Bay, and I’ve just learned that Osho is actually Herzog,” Ruri said. “But now things are clearer—Bondarev took away the research materials, but those technologies were also stored in Herzog’s mind, which is why he was able to create the evolution drug.”

“He’s been corrupted by the blood of ancient dragons. He’s an immortal monster,” Caesar said. “Even the Emperor might not be able to kill him.”

“I once emptied an entire magazine into him and rammed him with the back of a car, but it was completely useless,” Lu Mingfei recalled, shuddering. “He’s just like the Terminator!”

“It’s not just that simple. I don’t care who wants to resurrect the god, nor do I care about the consequences of the god’s resurrection. From the beginning, my goal has always been singular… I want to kill Osho! I want to kill him!” Ruri’s eyes gleamed, like a child looking at candy.

Lu Mingfei shivered. It was rare to see someone speak so happily and joyfully about their desire to kill. The more innocent and cute Ruri appeared, the more insane he seemed.

Caesar and Chu Zihang exchanged glances. Perhaps, on Japan’s stage, everyone was a lunatic, and they—the outsiders—were the simplest ones here.

“The college won’t intervene unless you can prove that Osho’s actions have crossed the college’s bottom line,” Caesar said slowly.

“If I can prove that Osho is nearing the final step of resurrecting the god, what would your response be as the college’s representatives in Japan?” Ruri stared into Caesar’s eyes.

“In that case, we would help you eliminate Osho. Don’t doubt our resolve in this matter. The college’s history is only a hundred years old, but the Secret Party’s history spans thousands of years. It has always been a violent organization throughout those millennia. We are the sharpest blade, and any force attempting to awaken a Dragon King will be cut down.”

“Good,” Ruri said, spreading out the architectural blueprints of Tokyo Tower on the bar. “Then we must eavesdrop on the reunion of those old friends!”

Drop by drop, the serum dripped into the filtration machine, mixing thoroughly with the red-black blood, triggering a fierce yet silent alchemical reaction. When the blood flowed out of the machine, it had turned bright red, like human arterial blood. Some dark blue residue of unknown composition clung to the filter, resembling the mysterious liquid from a witch’s cauldron. The blood re-entered Erii’s body, forcibly reversing the dragonification process, increasing the “human” ratio in her system.

This was forbidden technology. Every drop of serum was extracted from the blood of Death Servitor fetuses. The process was akin to killing the Death Servitors and injecting their life force into Erii’s body. Herzog’s research included this terrifying technology, unimaginable in its depth of understanding of dragons. If enough serum were available, this technology could even save fallen Oni, but the cost was too high for any family to use it as a routine medical treatment. Thus, Oni like Sakurai Akira could only be killed—a much cheaper solution.

Chisei sat by the bed, watching the sleeping Erii. Her skin was still porcelain white but now had a hint of warmth, and the black veins that had once bulged like angry snakes had smoothed out.

“We were lucky. If the Uesugi family head hadn’t returned early, the serum might not have worked after another 24 hours,” the head of the medical team said as he approached Chisei from behind. “We’ll keep watch here. You should take the time to rest.”

“When will she wake up?” Chisei asked.

“She’s currently sedated, but the effects should wear off in six to seven hours. The Uesugi family head will wake up by then.”

“I’ll rest after six or seven hours. She’ll feel more at ease if she wakes up to find someone by her bedside.”

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