Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 459: The Sword of Damocles (19)

Dragon Raja 3

Osho was also retreating slowly. The only one who remained calm was Ruri. He had transformed into both a demon and a madman, completely fearless. He stood closest to the head of the engineering team, gripping his blade, staring straight at him as the man slowly straightened his back. At that moment, everyone felt as though a ghost was standing behind them. This defied all logic—a body filled with so many bullets should have had its bones shattered into thousands of pieces! The bloodied human figure moved aimlessly, incredibly slowly. He had lost his eyes, so he had no vision. His nerves had been destroyed, leaving him without touch or feeling, and his hearing and sight must also have been lost. He was no longer human. Yet, under some force, this creature, deprived of its five senses, was still alive and trying to escape.

The figure turned its head aimlessly. His face had been caved in by the rain of bullets, with countless bullet heads embedded in his facial bones. The brass bullet casings glimmered faintly, as though countless eyes were staring at the humans. No one dared to move or make a sound, afraid that he might suddenly rush toward them.

Ruri stood behind the monster with his long blade. No one saw how he had moved.

The monster seemed to realize there was an enemy behind it and, dragging its injured leg, it rushed toward the Ama-no-Murakumo, the sharpest bone in the world, which was vibrating violently in response. Ruri followed closely, keeping a fixed distance. The monster ran faster, and Ruri kept pace, the distance never changing. The monster stretched its hand forward and leaped into the air. The Ama-no-Murakumo, embedded in the ground, vibrated and flew into the air in response to the monster’s call! Ruri’s blade finally swung out, the blade light like a twisting flash of silver lightning.

No one could clearly see what happened in that instant. Ruri and the monster passed each other in midair, each landing on the ground. Ruri’s long blade had been cut in half, and the monster’s hand, along with its head and half of its shoulder, had fallen to the ground. Yet no blood flowed. At the severed spot, the muscles writhed, and the cells continued to regenerate rapidly. Ruri extended his hand and caught the vibrating Ama-no-Murakumo in midair. He then turned and drove it into the monster’s spine before striking its chest with his broken blade. This lifeform, whose abilities had been forcibly enhanced by the Holy Corpse, finally collapsed. What scattered were fragments of the embedded bullets, and the human figure crumbled like sand.

The Ama-no-Murakumo pierced through the body, pinning something to the ground—a creature with a golden single eye.

“Liquid nitrogen! Liquid nitrogen! That’s the true form of the Holy Corpse! It’s a parasitic lifeform!” Osho shouted in frenzied joy.

The engineering team snapped back to reality, spraying tons of liquid nitrogen to cool the dangerous entity. A heavy cylindrical quartz containment pod sealed the Holy Corpse. Clearly, Osho had long predicted its true nature. The true god was not the Yamata no Orochi, nor was it any mighty giant beast. The true god was the Holy Corpse—a parasitic lifeform that could control massive creatures. That’s why it could never be killed; it would always transform from one form to another. It could become a bloated, massive creature, or hide within Susanoo’s body, waiting for a chance to revive. No matter how many times humans killed it, they only destroyed its vessel. Without understanding its true form, they could never kill its core.

This time, it had encountered a truly formidable opponent. It had met the most terrifying humans.

As the liquid nitrogen’s vapor dissipated, people finally saw the true form of the Holy Corpse. It resembled a malformed embryo, with a large, swollen head and a single enormous golden eye. What looked like a tail was actually a spine wrapped in flesh. Its ribs protruded from the flesh layer, and when it parasitized a host, it likely used these sharp ribs to insert into the host’s spine and take control of the body. The Holy Corpse hadn’t died. It twisted and let out a “hissing” sound, its golden eye flickering. But inside the quartz containment pod, it had no host to parasitize, and its own strength was too weak.

Osho shone a strong flashlight at the Holy Corpse. The light penetrated the fleshy exterior, revealing half-developed organs inside.

“Look at it, how beautiful it is! What a perfect method of evolution! Before being executed by the Black Emperor, it voluntarily evolved into a parasitic lifeform! In this way, it continued its existence!” Osho placed both hands on the capture chamber, praising this ugly parasite.

“If… if the god is a parasite… how can it help us evolve?” someone hesitantly asked.

In the imaginations of the Oni Clan, the god was supposed to be a towering, majestic creature. Its small amount of blood alone could help them complete their evolution. But now, in front of them was this ugly, tiny god, with barely any body fluids to speak of.

“Finding the parasite isn’t enough; it also needs a host and food.” Osho smiled. “Only a rare few in this world are suitable to be parasitized by the god, such as Izanagi and Susanoo. Unfortunately, the ancient bloodlines didn’t understand the great significance of this parasitism and killed it before it could fully evolve into the new White Empress. It’s not this form of the god that will grant us the path to evolution, but the fully evolved White Empress! We will witness the new king ascend the throne and usher in a new chapter for the world!”

A pillar of light descended from the sky, enveloping both Osho and Ruri. The rotor blades of a helicopter sliced through the rain, the massive roar echoing in the well. It was a black helicopter with its doors wide open, and Chisei sat inside, his long black coat billowing in the wind.

At the last moment, the final armed forces of the Yamata no Orochi clan had arrived.

Ruri, who had remained silent all along, suddenly seemed to awaken from a deep dream. His eyes lit up, with golden mandala-like patterns swirling in his pupils. Slowly, he lifted his head, gazing up at the dark figure descending from the sky, the fierce wind blowing open his coat, revealing his ribbed chest.

“Brother! Brother! You’ve come to see me, haven’t you? Have you come for my graduation ceremony?” He laughed wildly into the wind.

“Or… have you come for my coronation?” His smile vanished, replaced by a look of venomous malice. “Will you dye my ceremonial robes red with your blood?”

Ancient, majestic words descended from the sky, resonating like the language of the gods. The domain of Kingship enveloped the Red Well, and tens of thousands of stainless-steel plates fell, pressing the king’s fury down upon everyone’s heads. The law of gravity was forcibly altered, and everyone felt ten times their weight bearing down on their bones. No one could stand, except for Osho and Ruri. Everyone else struggled to support themselves on their knees and arms, as if bowing to a descending king. Even if their heads were severed by the falling plates, they couldn’t escape.

Chisei gazed down at the bottom of the well. His face showed no trace of pity as he surveyed the mangled bodies and flowing blood. Molten gold seemed to flow through his pupils.

“Come on! Crush me with your righteousness! Haven’t you been doing this for years?” Ruri shouted. From the moment Chisei appeared, Ruri had been gazing up at him, arms outstretched, howling like a beast.

Chisei sat quietly, his gaze piercing through everything, reaching far beyond.

“Patriarch, we don’t have much time left. In your domain, this helicopter won’t hold out for long,” said the young priest piloting the helicopter, his expression calm.

The dashboard was blaring alarms, with the instruments flashing wildly. Rivets shook loose from the outer shell. Without Chisei’s protection, the helicopter would have already crashed within the domain of Kingship.

“Chime, do you really want to ascend the throne? Do you remember the story I told you? The one about the Monkey King who sprang from a rock? He was a god of war by nature, later overthrowing the palaces of heaven and battling the gods.” Chisei spoke softly. “I said how powerful and majestic that Monkey King was, but you said, ‘How lonely he must be.’ He was born a hero, but there were no others like him in the world. Isn’t a king that same kind of lonely creature? I remember you used to be most afraid of loneliness.”

In the howling wind from the helicopter, one could only communicate by shouting. Yet Chisei’s voice was low—he knew his brother could read his lips.

When Chime was young, he was frail and often bruised from being knocked down on the playground, like a lost deer. He couldn’t keep up with anyone. So, when Chime played basketball, Chisei would always sit on the opposite side, not making a sound, but his lips would constantly move… left, right, defend, shoot, under the basket… Chime would just follow his brother’s instructions, somehow managing to appear in the right places at the right times. Only then would the other kids be willing to play basketball with him.

“Brother, what are you talking about?” Chime laughed madly, shouting. “Monkey King? I’ve forgotten all about that! We’ve grown up, haven’t we? Our blades have been stained with the blood of many people! We’re no longer pure, right? What right do we have to talk about fairy tales together?”

“Royal blood is cursed. It shouldn’t exist in this world. You and I are the last inheritors of this royal blood. If we die, the fate ends, doesn’t it? No one will ever use the Holy Corpse to complete the final evolution, and all ambitions will end.”

Chisei spread his hands, gripping the hilts of the blades at either side of his seat. Kumogiri and Dōjigiri gleamed as they were drawn simultaneously, ringing out in unison. He leaped from the helicopter, his coat billowing in the wind. With the two Oni-slaying blades and the domain of Kingship, he descended from the sky like a swooping eagle.

The fully armed priests followed Chisei out of the helicopter, using grappling guns to shoot at the walls of the well, hanging high in the air. Chisei, however, plummeted straight down.

Ruri held his crimson long blade horizontally in the air. Chisei’s twin blades slashed out with dazzling arcs of light extending over ten meters. The three blades clashed, the sparking fire illuminating the long-lost brothers’ faces. Chisei’s expression was cold as stone, while Ruri’s was like that of a demon savoring blood.