Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 449: The Sword of Damocles (9)

Dragon Raja 3

“No… that’s not snow! That’s… something like spider silk!” The pilot’s voice had a tone of disbelief.

Anjou saw it too. The mountains were not covered in snow but in some kind of white silk. These strands spread across the ground, wrapping around the trees layer by layer, as if a giant silkworm in the center of the mountains was spinning a cocoon, trying to enclose the entire area.

Suddenly, the screen turned blood-red, as if liquid was seeping upward from the bottom of the display. In the headset, they heard the pilot’s horrified exclamation: “You… who are you? How did you get in here?”

The camera swiveled, showing a cherry-red blade piercing the pilot’s heart. Holding the hilt was the seductive and ghostly Ruri, clad in the regal attire of The Hime of Clouds and Silence, sitting calmly behind the pilot, as if he had always been a passenger on the helicopter.

The terrifying sound of a blade being drawn from a heart echoed in the hall, followed by the wind-like sound of gushing blood. In the next moment, the feed cut off, leaving only a static snowstorm on the big screen.

Cassell College’s eye on Red Well had been blinded. The limited information Viper had gathered confirmed that the god was indeed at Red Well, and Ruri had already arrived. The Oni Clan was preparing to welcome the god’s rebirth. However, the satellite codenamed Sky Watcher was still on the other side of the Earth, and Divine Punishment would take another 50 minutes to be ready. Would they have enough time?

Sweat beaded on Anjou’s forehead. He was perhaps the most experienced dragon slayer in the world, having encountered countless crises, but today’s events were beyond even his experience. Any wrong decision would lead to the same outcome, and that outcome was death—an entire nation’s death.

His mind raced, but no clear solution came. What could he do in 50 minutes? Send more helicopters to Red Well? Bomb the area with mid-range missiles? Or should he abandon the idea of waiting for Divine Punishment and reveal the existence of dragons to the U.S. government, thereby gaining access to the nuclear weapons aboard strategic submarines in the Pacific?

Fifty minutes. In that time, he had to ensure the god remained at Red Well. Anjou paced anxiously, like a lion preparing to attack. After all, he had once been a founding member of the Lionheart Society.

“Principal, the clan leader is on the line. He insists you take the call,” Sakurai Hideichi hurried over, holding a cordless phone.

Though he was reluctant to waste time on that disappointing student, Anjou took the call. He remained silent, waiting for Chisei to speak.

“Principal, by now I assume you’ve realized the flaw in Divine Punishment. It’s launched by satellites in low Earth orbit, which take about 90 minutes to circle the planet. In other words, you cannot choose the timing of the strike,” Chisei’s voice was soft and distant. “With the entire Kanto branch’s betrayal, the Oni Clan has undoubtedly infiltrated Yamata no Orochi. When you and I learned about Divine Punishment, so did they. Osho is always one step ahead of us. He won’t leave the god at Red Well to be destroyed by Divine Punishment. Before the Damocles Sword arrives, they will move the god. The only way to stop them is for someone to sacrifice themselves, like a nail, to pin both Osho and the god at Red Well, awaiting Divine Punishment.”

Anjou immediately understood: “You’re already on your way, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I will arrive at Red Well in 15 minutes. Tonight, I am still the clan leader of Yamata no Orochi. I have not surrendered, which means Yamata no Orochi has not surrendered,” Chisei said calmly. “I know that among your students, I’m not one of the exceptional ones. I failed to grasp your teachings and made many mistakes. I’m not as interesting as Caesar, Chu Zihang, or Lu Mingfei. I liked them and once thought about becoming friends with them, but it’s too late for that now. Please pass along my regards to them. I hope that by correcting my mistakes, I might earn a passing grade from you.”

Anjou was silent for a long time. “I’m sorry for the things I said to you.”

“It’s nothing. The reason I sought you out was to be scolded. There’s no one left in this world who can scold me, except for you.”

“Have you figured out the meaning of ‘duty’ yet? Or are you still determined to die for it?”

The call abruptly ended. Anjou stood silently, holding the phone, his mind flashing back to many years ago. Nineteen-year-old Chisei had sat beneath the skylight of his office, drinking a few glasses of alcohol, and had asked in an extremely serious tone, “Principal, how much of a price can one pay for justice?” From that moment, Anjou had remembered the clear-eyed but confused young Japanese man.

Tama River mountain region, Red Well.

White threads had climbed up the inner walls of the reservoir. They were growing from the bottom of the well, resembling some kind of fungal hyphae. These threads could contaminate not only soil and trees but even pierce through steel. Some of the threads had grown several meters long, hanging from steel beams or trees, like countless slender hands swaying in the wind.

To any form of life, these thread-like substances were deadly. They were highly corrosive—steel turned porous like a sponge when touched, and trees rotted from within. Within a kilometer radius, all life had completely vanished. Beneath the seemingly pure white covering, the entire mountain was already dead.

Ruri stood atop a white steel beam, his long hair soaked by the rain. He had been standing there for a long time. The people below in the well looked up at him, thinking he was a ghost tethered to the mortal world. He neither spoke nor moved, simply silently recalling memories of his life, though he could no longer remember anything.

The torrential rain fell, and lightning illuminated his deathly pale face. Only then did people notice that he was smiling.

The workers in the well were all dressed in protective suits coated with highly corrosive-resistant polytetrafluoroethylene, which shielded them from contact with the white threads. Pumps were working at full capacity, sending twelve streams of crimson liquid into the deep well—red like blood. The chemical mixture contained serum extracted from Death Servitor fetuses. The well was filled with dragon-like bones submerged in mercury, and the deadly mercury vapor still lingered at the bottom of the well. Yamata no Orochi had not had time to fully explore the well. The researchers at Iwa-nami Laboratory concluded that there were no living creatures left in the well, but now, bubbles were rising from the depths, as though something was breathing underwater.

Humanity repeatedly made such mistakes, never truly understanding the Dragon Clan. They always imagined dragons to be creatures like themselves.

White foam gathered on the surface, and the thick scent of blood filled the deep well. The water temperature rose steadily, nearing boiling point. Millions of dead pulmonate snails floated to the surface, the stench of their boiled proteins mixing with the blood’s scent, creating a nauseating odor. The pool of boiling water resembled a pot of soup teeming with flies.

Osho strolled up behind Ruri, speaking in a poetic tone as he praised this grand resurrection: “Take a breath, inhale the scent of birth. This is the true scent of life being born! A great life is awakening. Today, Satan returns to Earth from Hell, and he will cleanse this rotting world with fire, bringing about the rebirth of a new world.”

Ruri didn’t respond, only smiled coldly, as though filled with joy.

“The god has awakened. Now, let me borrow some of your precious blood to pay tribute to the newly reborn god.” Osho patted Ruri on the shoulder.

Chime drew his long blade, slashing his wrist and allowing his blood to flow into the deep well. It was only a few hundred milliliters of blood, diluted by the large volume of water until no trace remained. But the moment the blood touched the water’s surface, the entire Red Well trembled, as though some colossal creature was stirring in the depths of the mercury.

“Sonar has detected a large object rising!” The workers at the bottom of the well recoiled in fear, pressing their backs against the well’s walls.

“Let us welcome the return of the god!” Osho shouted loudly.

Millions of water droplets danced on the surface as the once-dead water suddenly turned into a raging torrent. A deep whirlpool formed on the surface, caused by the rapid movement of a massive creature. Ruri’s blood had attracted the being, which was eager to feed. It was incomplete and needed external genes to become whole. The serum from the Death Servitor fetuses had awakened it from its slumber, but it was Ruri’s blood—the blood of the finest hybrid descended from the White Empress—that the god truly craved. It was still in its newborn stage, weak and in desperate need of sustenance. The grim theories about the White Empress were correct: she had never been a friend to humanity. She gave humans her bones and blood only to prolong her life, avoiding the death sentence handed down by the Black Emperor. Every descendant of the White Empress was food prepared for the god’s own survival.

“It’s impatient. Let’s give it a challenge and see how strong this god really is!” Osho shouted. “Activate the water turbine!”

The first test began. The massive turbine at the bottom of the well roared to life, creating a powerful vortex designed to drag anything swimming in the water toward the well’s bottom. But the massive creature continued to swim leisurely, unaffected.

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