Dragon Raja 4; Chapter 44: Journey to the End of the World (44)

Dragon Raja 4

Macallan and Jörmungandr simultaneously darted backward, their rapid movements leaving charred marks on the teak deck. Both activated their force fields, which expanded quickly, distorting the surrounding scenery like two transparent bubbles. When the bubbles collided, the resulting explosion sent shockwaves across the deck, causing several stacks of containers in the corner to collapse moments later, melting into molten iron as the contents turned to ash.

Macallan drew a black blade from his lower back. This weapon didn’t appear to be made of metal; it resembled a large fragment of obsidian or black crystal, with irregular edges and arcs of bright white-purple light flowing inside. Seeing this, Jörmungandr activated the domain of her Yanling: Heaven and Earth Furnace. Electric currents wrapped around Dōjigiri, heating it to a semi-molten state. The fragments of Kumogiri slowly floated up and fused with Dōjigiri, extending the blade to four or five meters in length. The curved edge, quenched in the cold wind, radiated an eerie red hue.

Under the oppressive force of Jörmungandr’s dragon might, Macallan could no longer maintain his Saha World. The surviving passengers woke as if from a dream, trembling before the crimson sea and the writhing dragons. Some cried out in terror, while others activated their golden pupils and drew weapons in a futile attempt to protect themselves. But against Dragon Kings, their efforts were meaningless. Even this massive tens-of-thousands-of-tons ship was unworthy of being the stage for a battle between Dragon Kings. In myth, they fought on city cores, reducing them to ruins; on mountains, flattening them; on seas, evaporating them into salt lakes.

They circled an unseen center, paying no attention to anyone else. Ripples formed on the sea’s surface as an elemental storm gradually took shape around the Yamal. Thick clouds gathered from all directions but could not penetrate the space surrounding Macallan and Jörmungandr.

They vanished and reappeared simultaneously, their movements too fast for anyone to follow. Only the wounds accumulating on their bodies revealed the intensity of their clashes. Each exchange triggered explosions of lightning, fire, and shockwaves, with the steel frame of the ship glowing red from the heat. They seemed to defy gravity, running freely along the towering walls of the ship and the outer hull. In Jörmungandr’s hands, countless intricate sword techniques bloomed like flowers, relentlessly piercing through Macallan’s force field. Yet the black crystalline weapon in his hand suppressed the red blade Jörmungandr wielded. Every full-force swing of his weapon unleashed bright arcs of electricity, like the thunder chisels of the god Lei Gong from Chinese mythology.

“Excellent! Excellent! This is the sister I remember!” Macallan exclaimed. “Faster! You have to be faster! At this speed, you won’t be able to kill your brother!”

Despite the high-speed battle, Macallan spoke effortlessly. Jörmungandr, however, remained silent, swinging her long blade, cutting down everything in her path.

Sasha had also woken from the illusion and immediately commanded the crew to lead the surviving passengers to the lower decks for safety. According to maritime law, he was still the captain of this ship and had a duty to ensure everyone’s safety. Some hybrid-bloods with expensive tickets mingled among the regular passengers. Many of them had unstable bloodlines, prone to anger and bloodlust, but on a battlefield for Dragon Kings, they were no different from helpless rabbits.

Macallan and Jörmungandr charged into the first deck, where many of the ship’s important public spaces were located: restaurants, bars, and reading rooms. By the time they emerged, the entire first deck looked like it had been bombed, with walls between compartments shredded by Jörmungandr’s crimson blade. Macallan, wielding his black crystalline short sword, was barely fending off her relentless attacks, yet still had the presence of mind to pour himself a drink as they passed through the bar.

A sofa from the reading room was tossed onto the forward deck by the blast. Macallan sat on half of the sofa, panting as he sipped his drink.

“You’ve regressed, brother!” Jörmungandr remarked as she approached, her red blade in hand, walking gracefully yet seductively. The talons on her feet dug deeply into the deck with every step. “You were once the strongest warrior among us. You devoured the bones of Fenrir and Herzog. What has weakened you?”

“I have a son now. I’ve become a sinner,” Macallan sighed. “But you remain the same girl as before.”

This casual remark made Jörmungandr’s expression change sharply. “You’ve built a family? No! Impossible! None of us are capable of producing pure-blood offspring!”

“The times have changed, sister. By combining science with alchemy, we can surpass the limits father imposed on us. You too could have a family, a clan, perhaps even your own kingdom,” Macallan shrugged. “Listen, sister, times are different now. We can’t keep fighting our old war with the same mindset. We both need to survive Ragnarok, and I truly want to work with you. We stand on the threshold of a new era…”

His words were interrupted by a sharp whistle, and the Yamal shook violently. The earlier battle had already destroyed many critical systems, but the ship’s structural integrity should have remained intact. Yet, steam explosions occurred from bow to stern within a matter of seconds, releasing clouds of steam that billowed like thick fog. Though the fog didn’t hinder the Dragon Kings’ battle, both displayed surprised expressions as they sensed the changes within the ship.

“I’ve overlooked something. A woman with a broken heart will drag the whole world down with her…” Macallan muttered.

In the depths of the watertight compartment, the head of Maria of the Stars began chanting Rainer Maria Rilke’s The Book of Hours:

“This moment—
Who is weeping somewhere in the world,
Without reason, weeping for me;
This moment—
Who is laughing somewhere in the night,
Without reason, laughing at me…”

She was visibly aging at a rapid rate, yet the blood vessels growing from her massive body were pulsing intensely, her heartbeat as rapid as war drums. These veins also throbbed on the reactor’s surface, which was operating at several times beyond its safety threshold. Fuel rods were inserted deep into the reactor core, triggering a chain reaction that released immense heat, turning the cooling water into high-temperature steam. The steam, under immense pressure, flowed through various pipes. The design specifications of these pipes were far exceeded, and they began to rupture, releasing steam clouds.

This was a prelude to a reactor meltdown. Once the cooling water was depleted, the reactor would enter a “dry burn” state. Temperatures would continue to rise, the core would be destroyed, the fuel rods would melt into a single mass of metal, and finally, a chain reaction would reach critical mass, sending a mushroom cloud into the sky.

Orev, locked in the control room, continued his final efforts, but all he could do was delay the reactor explosion. As Macallan had said, a heartbroken woman would take the whole world down with her. Maria of the Stars’ revenge was indiscriminate, aimed at everyone. She had merged with the ship itself, and the reactor became her heart, the steam pipes her blood vessels. She was consuming her life force without reservation, ravaging her own body, first bursting her blood vessels, then planning to detonate her heart. She would bring down everyone on the ship with this hatchery.

Her pale head drooped lifelessly, like a withered lotus pod, and she murmured, “It’s over, Regileif, my dear child…”

Sasha had also figured out what was happening with the ship’s reactor. Orev had previously explained its workings to him, but Sasha had no knowledge of Maria, so he still intended to head for the control room.

As he ran, a blood-stained fire axe flew past and embedded itself heavily in front of him. He turned around, trembling, and saw Jörmungandr still in the pose of having thrown it. In her other hand, she held her long red blade, facing off against Macallan, who casually sat on a charred sofa drinking. Although Jörmungandr’s presence far overshadowed him, she remained on high alert, her body taut as a bowstring.

“Brother… Is it still appropriate to call you that?” Sasha asked hesitantly.

Jörmungandr glanced at him coldly. “You can fly a helicopter, right?”

“I learned to operate almost all military equipment while in Alpha Squad.”

Jörmungandr picked up Reginleif from the ground and tossed her to him. “Forget the others, it’s pointless. Take her and leave.”

Sasha looked upwards. The two had already half-destroyed the ship, and the helipad was riddled with cracks, but the helicopter was still intact. He should have rushed immediately to save the gravely injured Reginleif, but flashing blades and roaring flames crisscrossed around her, preventing his approach. The front deck had been burned multiple times and was scarred, but the area where Reginleif lay remained untouched. It seemed that Jörmungandr had been protecting her, ensuring an escape route by keeping the helicopter intact.

“Chu… Sister…” Regileif murmured, unsure of who or what the being before her was.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Jörmungandr said, “In the Dragon Raja, there’s no such thing as affection. We’re born enemies. I’m letting you go only because you’re too weak to pose any threat to me.” She waved dismissively, not even looking at Reginleif. “Go live your life as you wish, love whoever you want. Whatever Chu Zihang promised you, I’ll give you. But don’t ever return to the battlefield of Dragons. If you do, I’ll twist your head off.”

Macallan made no attempt to stop her, watching Sasha’s retreating figure. “Is it really alright to treat a vengeful sister like that?”

“She’s my replica, after all. If I die here, there’s still another version of me who will remember my story,” Jörmungandr replied. “Let’s head to the highest place.”

Macallan looked upward at the crane and nodded. They vanished from their spot and reappeared moments later on the crane arm.

From the beginning, the battle between the Dragon Kings had seemed to threaten the destruction of the world, but now everything was quiet. The force fields, lightning, and flames surrounding them had disappeared. They stood with weapons drawn, staring at each other from a distance. Though their bodies were far stronger than humans’, they still had weaknesses. Both knew each other’s vulnerabilities, and victory could be decided by a single, seemingly simple attack. The killing blow wouldn’t be flashy; it was always the simplest strikes that were lethal.

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