Dragon Raja 4; Chapter 40: Journey to the End of the World (40)

Dragon Raja 4

Perhaps the personality of the host also partially influenced the Dragon King. Her anticipation mirrored that of Chu Zihang in the old days. According to ancient Chinese beliefs, the creature had already evolved into something akin to a jiao or chi, entities that were extremely close to true dragons. Using it as bait might awaken what lurked below.

Macallan closed his eyes and frowned slightly, pressing one hand to his temple while waving the other to stop Jörmungandr from taking action. This was the first time he had shown a strained expression since boarding the ship. The passengers trapped in his Saha World were struggling desperately, their faces shifting between blankness, terror, and joy, but none willing to sacrifice themselves to the hatchery. Most of the passengers had spent a fortune to buy tickets, either because they had been cast out by the hybrid-blood world or because they knew their bloodlines would eventually spiral out of control. Though dangerous, they were undoubtedly powerful.

An elderly man suddenly began bleeding from his nose, unable to withstand the pressure from Macallan any longer. Stumbling toward the bow, he waved his wife off, not wanting her to follow. He had bought a ticket for two, and his wife had boarded with him. According to the passenger list EVA had provided to Chu Zihang, the man was from the British Snowden family. He had no issues with bloodline safety; instead, he had hoped to extend his life through super-evolution with his wife. His aging and weakening bloodline made him the first to give in, but with his last bit of strength, he gestured to his wife, seemingly to stop her from coming after him.

As the elderly man fell into the sea, his wife finally broke free from the illusion, collapsing to her knees in tears.

A white shadow descended from the sky, landing beside the elderly woman, and slapped her hard across the face. “What good is crying? People always pay the price for their greed.”

It was Reginleif, dressed in cold-weather gear and carrying a halberd. She looked fierce, though the cute little backpack on her shoulders slightly undermined the effect.

“You couldn’t resist that guy’s illusion either?” Reginleif glared at Chu Zihang angrily. “You’re so weak! What’s the point of having a weak ally like you?”

Jörmungandr coldly watched her without responding. Noble as she was, she saw no need to reply to a puppet saintess, and simply not punishing her for her rudeness was already a kindness.

“Are you here to help us complete this grand ritual, or are you still concerned about your ally, Mr. Chu?” Macallan smiled.

“Neither!” Reginleif’s face was cold. “It’s because your helicopter doesn’t have a pilot!”

She had long planned her escape, with Macallan’s helicopter as the most important tool—it was her only way out of this hell. She didn’t necessarily need Cassell College’s protection. It would be nice to have, but if she didn’t, she was confident she could survive in the outside world with her beauty and intelligence. Though she hadn’t learned how to fly a helicopter, that wasn’t an issue in her mind—surely Macallan would leave a pilot on standby. She had planned to threaten the pilot with death if they refused to take off. But when she reached the helicopter, she found no one in the pilot’s seat, and the engine wasn’t even warmed up. Macallan clearly had no intention of abandoning the ship and fleeing.

She should have enacted plan B: steal a motorized lifeboat and escape. With her hybrid blood’s resilience, she might have survived until a rescue ship arrived. But then she saw Chu Zihang standing next to Macallan through the helicopter’s windshield, with Vincent on the other side. The cold-faced Chinese man had fallen into Macallan’s illusion, just like Vincent, reduced to circling his master like a loyal dog. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret. She pulled a flask of mulled wine from her backpack, something she had packed for a bit of warmth and comfort on the journey. Silently, she drank half of it before resolutely grabbing her halberd and jumping out of the cockpit.

Chu should be able to fly the helicopter—after all, in her eyes, he could do anything, except fall in love.

Reginleif advanced slowly, gripping her halberd, the cold wind stirring the hem of her white winter coat, making it look like flowers blooming beneath the snow.

“Your Highness, have you always been this straightforward?” Macallan spread his hands. “Aren’t you going to negotiate with me?”

“What right do I have to negotiate with the Saint Palace Medical Society?” Reginleif replied coldly. “I’m just a clone, aren’t I? An endlessly replicable product.”

“The differences in the cloning process are significant. That’s why you are a saint, while your sisters are mere handmaids. Your blood is a precious medicine, the only thing that can soothe the cravings of those wretched demons.”

“Your demons have nothing to do with me! You want to negotiate? Fine! Give me back my helicopter pilot, and I won’t interfere with your stupid business!” Reginleif snapped impatiently.

Macallan glanced at Jörmungandr, but she didn’t even bother to respond. She kept her eyes fixed on the water, where the dragon-like creature circled the Yamal, its spiny back appearing intermittently as it eagerly awaited more bait to be thrown from the ship. But that wasn’t what she was waiting for. She was waiting for the mysterious sea eye to open and for the vortex to reappear. That was a battle worthy of Jörmungandr, the Dragon Queen. In comparison, Reginleif was just playing a child’s game.

“Miss Reginleif, I must remind you: all courage in this world is based on strength.” Macallan shrugged.

Suddenly, Reginleif leaped forward, leaving her white coat behind. Her summer dress billowed as she emerged from within it, swinging her halberd down heavily toward Macallan.

Macallan caught the halberd mid-air with ease, as if it were a conductor’s baton. Before Reginleif even had time to land, he flung her and the weapon more than ten meters away, bending the iron railing on the deck where she crashed. She quickly jumped to her feet, but a human wall had already formed in front of her. Macallan gestured toward the praying passengers, and those he selected slowly rose. Some were armed, others wielded fire axes or kitchen knives they had found, each moving like a mindless zombie.

Reginleif scoffed, grasping the tail of her halberd with both hands, and began to spin rapidly, using her body as an axis.

She lived up to her name—both as Saint Reginleif and as Valkyrie Reginleif.

Blood stained the falling snow, filling the air with the stench of iron. Her bright dress flickered like fireworks as she danced a deadly dance amid the bloodshed.

“Chu! Chu, you idiot! Are you deaf? Wake up! Wake up, you idiot!” Reginleif screamed at the top of her lungs.

Macallan smiled silently. Sasha had shouted similar words to Chu Zihang not long ago, but to no effect. Reginleif’s importance in Chu’s heart likely wasn’t greater than Sasha’s. Leaning against the railing, Macallan casually drank, enjoying the spectacle of Reginleif’s futile struggle. Whenever a gap appeared in the human wall, he summoned a few more from the crowd. When a passenger was nearly spent, he would simply gesture for them to jump into the sea to feed the fish.

The dragon-serpent grew increasingly excited, its calls becoming more intense. But it knew it had to eat quickly and escape before the mysterious sea eye opened and brought danger.

This was a game of carp leaping over the dragon gate—those who failed would fall and die beneath it.

The surface of the water trembled slightly as more creatures surged into the hatchery. They had stayed in the surrounding areas, avoiding the earlier vortex, but now they were drawn in by the fresh blood. They dared not invade the dragon-serpent’s feeding zone, though; instead, they tore at each other over its scraps. In this hatchery, ethics and morality meant nothing—every creature was a slave to evolution.

“At such an important moment, you still have the leisure to watch this gladiatorial display?” Jörmungandr’s fingers danced over the hilt of her twin blades.

They would never allow the dragon-serpent to escape the hatchery. It had accumulated more and more genes, becoming the sacrifice they intended to offer to the sea eye.

“Because it’s beautiful!” Macallan said dreamily. “Like a doe surrounded by hunting dogs. Every drop of her blood, every injury is beautiful. Even the hunter can’t bear to pull the trigger.”

His eyes grew slightly unfocused as he drank amid the blood and carnage, playing with life like it was nothing, yet presenting himself as a melancholic poet.

A baseball bat slammed hard into Reginleif’s back, and she grunted in pain, kicking the attacker several meters away. The next moment, a chain whipped across her waist, pulled tight by a man over two meters tall, who tried to drag her toward him. Reginleif pulled out a Kris blade strapped to her leg and sliced through his fingers. She had taken the blade and its sheath from Hervor—more convenient than the halberd for close combat. Gasping, she used the halberd’s shaft to choke the man, but then the baseball bat struck her back again, making her cough up blood onto the muscle-bound man’s back. She stomped hard, driving the slim heel of her boot through the baseball player’s foot.

Series Navigation

<< Dragon Raja 4; Chapter 39: Journey to the End of the World (39)Dragon Raja 4; Chapter 41: Journey to the End of the World (41) >>