There was a spasm at Richard’s temple.
“Tell me where I erred.”
Richard hung his head and fell silent. After some moments passed, he opened his mouth. “The wedding ceremony. At that time, I was at the temple. I saw you two kissing at the altar.”
“Me…and my wife?”
Wife.
“…Your Majesty. At first, I thought you felt antipathy toward Brunhild.”
“I did.”
“But I…I loved Brunhild from the start.”
Sigurd looked at Richard with shock. “It can’t be that you…”
Richard’s face twisted into something ugly. “She’s been dear to me since she was born. I’ve always protected her, even when you persecuted her unreasonably. When you chased her out of the castle, I secretly gave her a coin. I was also the one who watched over her, sending her money and a flower every year. When I learned she was living with the dragon, I rejoiced. And all the while, what were you doing? You were acting like a tyrant, never giving a whit of consideration to her. You went beyond unreasonable and stole her future when she was trying to take steps toward happiness. And after all that, now what? You made her your wife? Spare me the nonsense. Just how thoroughly do you have to violate her will to be satisfied? How dare you show up out of nowhere and steal what’s precious to me.”
Richard’s expression was fanatical as he ranted.
He gave Sigurd a glare filled with all the negative feelings in his body. And then he said, “It should have been me by her side at that altar.”
Sigurd was unable to look away from his menacing look. This was the first time he’d ever seen Richard express his feelings so openly. The vassal’s earnestness kept Sigurd’s attention locked on him.
That was why Sigurd didn’t notice that he was being stabbed until he felt the pain in his chest.
“Gah… Guh…”
Blood spilling from the corners of his mouth, Sigurd turned around. The foreigner had pierced Sigurd’s heart with the Healing Blade.
A normal person would die instantly, but Sigurd endured. God’s Power had made him stronger than a normal man.
Despite the pain, Sigurd began weaving the Thunder in his right hand.
The foreigner drew the red blade from Sigurd’s chest and swung it again, tearing into Sigurd’s right hand. His movements were accurate and precise.
The blade was piercing his right hand. He couldn’t fire an arrow of light like this.
The foreigner drew the blade from Sigurd’s right hand and attempted to attack once more.
But Sigurd wasn’t going to take that lying down. Even with his right hand in dire shape, he moved forward. He must have known that if he backed off, the foreigner would pull out the sword and wound him again. By sacrificing his right hand, he kept the blade from being used again. His opponent was unable to pull out the sword as Sigurd reached for him with his left hand.
The foreigner calmly responded, kicking Sigurd away.
This got the king to back off. The sword slid out of his right hand, and he hit the ground. Sigurd only managed to touch the foreigner’s foot slightly with his left hand.
His assailant raised his sword again, ready to strike the finishing blow.
But then something strange happened.
The foreigner’s foot started burning.
The place that Sigurd had touched went up in white flames. They crawled up from his foot, swallowing the foreigner up.
It was God’s Flame.
The foreigner rolled all around and tried to put out the fire. But no matter how wildly he flailed around, the fire showed no signs of abating. God’s Flame would not vanish until it had burned its enemy entirely.
His scream rang out through the gardens.
The foreigner burned up like the sun, then fizzled out. The Healing Blade was also swallowed up in the blaze.
“Ngh… Kuh…”
Having defeated the foreigner, Sigurd remained on his knees, unmoving. Blood gushed ceaselessly from his chest. Though he hadn’t been killed instantly, he was still mortally wounded. With not much breath left, he said, “Is…anyone there?”
But he had ordered all the knights away.
“Heh, heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh.”
After witnessing this all play out, Richard cackled.
Sigurd turned to him for help. He had no other choice. “Could you call someone for me?”
But Richard did not move. He gave a nasty smile, looking down at Sigurd.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment. God is with the good, after all.”
Richard pulled a little vial out of the pocket of his robes and drank down the contents, free from the foreigner’s control. There was no one to stop him now.
Richard’s body began to change.
His spine bulged out, and his body swelled up. His back split open, and membranes leaped out with a black spray of blood. They were wings. He grew claws that dug into the earth. His face transformed, becoming like that of a crocodile.
A dragon had appeared—and a great one at that, over ten meters long. It overwhelmed Sigurd with its majesty.
And then something strange happened to it.
The dragon’s skin sloughed off and began to peel away, then melted. A foul stench filled the air, drowning out the scent of flowers that typically filled the garden. Yellow pus burst out, scattering all around. Bloodlike mud spilled out from the holes in its body. When this polluted blood touched the flowers, they wilted and died.
This was the price for drinking the unfinished drug. Yet Richard also owed this ghastly form to the fact that he was already a corpse. He had become a dragon so hideous that one would think he was a messenger from hell.
The rotten dragon sensed power within his body. He knew it was God’s Power.
Then the creature opened his mouth, and a light began to gather there, the very same kind that made up the arrows of light. The rotten dragon fixed his aim on Sigurd and said, “Even if she did, I will never forget your sins.”
He condemned the king. “Atone, Sigurd.”
Sigurd closed his eyes. It looked as if he had accepted his judgment.
The arrow of light shot from the dragon’s maw, and a flash so bright it pierced through eyelids tore through the darkness of night.
There came the sound of the arrow tearing through flesh.
Then the sound of someone falling.
But the sound was lighter than expected. It was not the thump of a man falling.
Because a woman had fallen in his place.
The dragon’s and Sigurd’s eyes widened. They couldn’t believe what they were seeing.
Brunhild had collapsed. The right side of her chest, along with her right arm, had been blasted away.
“Brunhild…”
Sigurd embraced his wife with trembling arms. Red blood was gushing from her wounds.
He cried, “Brunhild!”