“What...is that?”
“Prince Figaro, you must escape!”
Elsewhere, in the royal palace’s council chamber, Prince Figaro and the seven great nobles were in disarray. A jet-black dragon had suddenly emerged from the Sacred Garden and was approaching the palace, flapping wings which looked made from the very essence of darkness. Smaller dragons, likely its underlings, were swooping down on various parts of the capital, and the city was in complete chaos.
“Lord Giesz, mobilize the Capital Defense Corps immediately. I’ll request backup from the Royal Institute of Healing and all of the elite healers.”
“Y-Yes, of course!”
As Albert Baycladd, heir to House Baycladd, efficiently took charge of the situation, the prince dashed out of the chamber.
The ominous star that had been the topic of concern recently, heralding most severe rot...
“Is that the cause?” Figaro muttered.
“Your Highness!” a guard called out, trying to stop him.
“Out of my way!” the prince snapped, shoving the guard aside. He ran across the palace gardens, shouting, “Why? Why?!”
Saintess Artemisia had been safely returned to the palace. The kingdom’s prosperity was supposed to be assured. So why had an abomination risen from the Sacred Garden? It was divine ground!
“There you are, saintess,” echoed the deep rumble that was the dragon’s voice. It carried throughout the capital, coasting on the wind. “My fragment.”
The dragon’s bloodred eyes locked onto the Saintess’s Spire. Silhouetted against the sunset, the creature opened its jaws wide.
“Dragon’s Breath.”
Pitch-black flames erupted from its throat and a powerful gust of wind followed, knocking the confused prince off his feet. Next he knew, a searing heat wave—hot enough to scorch heaven itself—had blown away the entire upper half of the tower despite its heavy protective barriers.
“Arte—”
Before Figaro could say his sister’s name, falling debris blocked his view. A dull shock ran through him, and when he looked down, he saw the pointed tip of a piece of masonry embedded into his side. Something felt slippery and, upon raising his right hand, he saw it was coated in bright red blood.
“Blood...? I’m...bleeding...?”
The jet-black dragon slowly descended onto the edge of the ruined tower. It was hard to tell from the ground, but it seemed that the altar chamber was now fully exposed atop what remained of the structure. Through a crack in the broken wall, Figaro could just glimpse Artemisia in her ceremonial garments.
“Why...? Her blessings...should have protected us...” Figaro groaned in anguish.
As if mocking him, the massive dragon’s voice rippled through the air.
“Her blessings? My divine power, human. I lent it to you pitiful creatures.”
Figaro’s golden eyes widened in shock.
Clearly amused, the black dragon continued, “You’ve done well to protect the kingdom all this time...for the sake of my return.”
✦ ✦ ✦
“The fell dragon king gave the saintess her powers? What do you mean?”
In the underground mine far south of the devastated royal capital, preparations were complete, and all the prisoners had stepped atop the teleportation circle. Carmilla was explaining the lore behind the fell dragon king’s revival to Zenos, having just remembered it.
“I told you before that Galhamut was defeated by the demon lord on the southern continent long ago and fled here, burying himself underground until he could recover,” the wraith said.
“Yeah, that was part of your ghost story back at camp.”
After the hundred-year-long Great Human-Demon War drew to a close, new nations had begun to rise across the continent as the era shifted to one of human power struggles. Carmilla explained that Galhamut had remained deep underground the entire time, trying to heal.
“Perhaps the wound inflicted by the demon lord was more grievous than anticipated,” she ventured, “but instead of recovering as he expected, Galhamut’s body began to decay.”
“How do you know that?” Zenos asked.
“Otherwise, he would have had no reason to bestow some of his power onto a human. He must have been cursed by the demon lord, unable to use his divine power of regeneration himself.”
If he hadn’t done anything about it, Galhamut would’ve withered away. Instead, he’d had an idea: If he couldn’t regenerate himself, he could lend a portion of his divine power to a human and have that human heal his wounds instead.
Zenos, Lily, Aston, and the White Tiger all exchanged silent glances. Beneath their feet, the mana flowing from the collected manastones began to illuminate the teleportation circle with a pale blue glow.
“When the first king of Herzeth traversed what is now the royal capital, he must have heard Galhamut proclaim that whoever built a kingdom there would receive the power of the heavens. It must have sounded like a divine revelation.”
Unaware that the voice belonged to the king of fell dragons, the man had likely believed it’d come from a divine being, and established the nation of Herzeth. His wife, who received Galhamut’s power on the hill now known as the Sacred Garden, had become the first saintess—and with her powers of healing and prophecy, the kingdom had grown in size and strength.
“Galhamut had two reasons for granting humans his divine power and ordering the kingdom’s founding,” Carmilla explained. “One was, as I said, to have the saintess perform daily prayers directed at the Sacred Garden, where he lay asleep, thus channeling the regenerative powers he had granted her. The other was to establish a stable, powerful nation, ensuring his resting place remained undisturbed until the demon lord’s curse faded.”
“The saintesses’ prayers were...healing Galhamut’s wounds...” Zenos murmured.
“Of course, the saintesses themselves likely believed they were spreading divine blessings across the nation, but the power they were using was Galhamut’s. Since it carried traces of the fell dragon king’s magic, I imagine it did keep external threats—magical beasts especially—at bay.”
Indeed, while plagues and natural disasters had affected the kingdom in the past, never had a truly dangerous beast breached the capital itself. Perhaps the stronger creatures could sense Galhamut’s lingering aura and steered clear of the place. If so, the “blessings” did have incidental protective effects.
The first king had designated the place where he’d received “divine revelation” as the Sacred Garden, preserved it carefully, and built the Saintess’s Spire so that its altar would face the hill directly. As a result, Galhamut was safely ensconced within the kingdom, and over the ages, the divine power the successive saintesses poured into him had slowly nursed him back to health, leading to his resurrection.
The Sacred Garden had remained evergreen due to being constantly bathed in this divine power.
“W-Wait a sec,” Aston said, stunned. “So you’re saying, what, this whole kingdom was built so the dragon could resurrect?”
“The first king believed steadfastly that he had received a divine revelation,” Carmilla said flatly. “But yes, ultimately, that was the truth of it.”
Silence fell over the group.
“But,” Lily said, clenching her fists, “this is our home now. We can’t let him take it.”
“Yeah. Agreed,” Zenos said with a small smile, patting Lily’s head. “So...this power that Galhamut gave the saintesses. What is it, really? How does it work?”
Carmilla had said before it wasn’t magic.
“If I had to guess,” the wraith said, pausing for a moment before continuing, “it would be the ability to manipulate time.”
“Time...”
“Indeed. I doubt the saintesses themselves are aware, but the regeneration of wounds, I suspect, happens by locally reversing the flow of time. As for their ability to foresee the future, well...it would make sense that they could catch glimpses of it by pushing time forward.”
“Seriously? That’s crazy...”
If Galhamut had the power to manipulate time, his abilities far exceeded human understanding.
As the magical light at their feet filled the circle and began to slowly rotate, Carmilla said, “If Galhamut has returned, that means the demon lord’s curse, which limited his ability to manipulate time, has finally been fully broken. When used by human vessels, his power could only be used to reverse wounds or, at best, catch fragments of the future. But if Galhamut regains the full extent of that power, he will be unstoppable.”
“And what does he have to do to get his full power back?” Zenos asked innocently.
Carmilla paused once more, then answered.
“He has to devour the saintess.”