Chapter 220

“…Haa!”

Nerys blinked, pushing down a sharp exhale.

The moment her hand touched the barrier, she had felt herself being drawn—almost swallowed—into somewhere else. And then she saw people. Countless people.

Their sins. Their choices. Their love. Their survival.

As if she had wandered onto the center of a stage where a play was already underway. No one there could see her, nor could she affect anything.

But she saw everything—their pain, laughter, fury—and she understood who they were.

The navy Jeweled-Eyed man. The one who betrayed the other two, the master of the wildcat banner—Bistor.

The gray Jeweled-Eyed man. Likely the one who died at Bistor’s hands and left someone behind—Pheros.

The violet Jeweled-Eyed woman. The one who passed her power to the platinum-haired girl and died alone—Elandria.

If Pheros’ descendant was Cledwyn, then it made sense why his territory was called “Maindulante.”

Maindulante—once meaning “Land of the Main.”

And “Main” was an ancient word for elf.

Even after pulling her hand away from the barrier, Nerys staggered under the shock. Cledwyn caught her tightly.

The dragon spoke in a mournful tone.

“Long ago, I ruled the world for ages. Humans, lesser than my nobler siblings or even their more twisted kin, could form only small settlements. Yet with the Jeweled-Eye warriors, they rose.”

Imperial citizens had learned that the age ruled by the evil dragon was a time of chaos and ruin.

Humans were among the weakest of races. Compared to wise elves, holy pegasi, and free fairies; weaker than hateful orcs, cunning gnolls, and regenerating trolls.

And above all stood the dragon. The dragon forbade humans from destroying the other races.

Naturally, humans suffered. When their number grew, they died again. Starvation. Disease. Monsters.

Six hundred years ago, three heroes rose, unable to endure it any longer.

Bistor was a prince of a powerful human tribe. Elandria and Pheros wandered the continent saving lives. Their followers grew, and humanity united to defeat the dragon.

And they won. Humanity thrived. The races who stood with the dragon disappeared.

The dragon sang wearily:

“I did not hate humans. But they must have hated me. And though Bistor, who disguised himself flawlessly as human, remained beloved, the other two—bearing mixed blood—were persecuted even as they saved humanity.”

So perhaps the three originally agreed to unite. To eradicate the other races so humans could claim the world.

But after meeting the dragon, Elandria and Pheros changed their minds. Perhaps they realized non-human races were simply living as they were.

Bistor killed them with the dragon. Then declared his loyal servants as the remaining two heroes. (T/N: What a sick bastard.)

Nerys recognized the faces near Bistor’s tent. The ones painted as Elandria and Pheros in imperial portraits. And the man in white—surely the first Pope in his youth. His portrait decorated every grand temple.

The couple looked toward the dragon behind the barrier. Surrounding her were all sorts of scattered belongings—quills, spilled ink, a bloodstained sword, a red cloak, branches…

The dragon gazed upon her true body, her voice hollow.

“Humans could never fully wield fae power. The seal must have broken once. My memory says those items were flung by the wind midair when I fell asleep.”

If time had stopped, even falling would have frozen.

“But the seal returned. Someone must have tried to use my power… and failed. Yet the child of Elandria survived here.”

“Great dragon,” Nerys said, unable to hold back.

“Can you tell when the seal last weakened?”

“Recently. Winter came and went perhaps eight times. If Bistor’s descendant gains both Pheros’ and Elandria’s powers, the force would be great enough to shake the world’s time-axis. Your survival is a miracle.”

❖ ❖ ❖

A magic circle carved into the wall emitted a pitch-black light.

The plastered chamber had only one decoration: a massive wildcat banner. Deep black fabric embroidered with golden thread—the wildcat looked like a solitary sovereign blazing in the dark.

Camille looked up at the banner with a faint smile.

She had discovered this room long ago. Before Abelus was born, when it was certain she would be Crown Princess.

Her father had fallen ill, and in anticipation of succession, he had passed down several imperial secrets.

So he brought her into this sealed chamber.

Here, she learned why at least one Jeweled-Eyed child appeared every generation in the imperial bloodline.

Jeweled Eyes—the divine blessing that should have appeared rarely.

Her foolish younger brother must have learned later that the three heroes had not truly defeated the dragon together. But unlike her, he never bothered to learn ‘more’.

He did not scour the imperial archives, hire mages, or pour funds into discovering how to bring greater glory to the empire.

“Probably because he already had everything,” Camille thought.

At first, she obsessed over this chamber to regain her father’s favor. To show she was the one who could bring endless power to the Bistor Empire. To reclaim the title of heir.

But now?

“I don’t need to be emperor.”

There were more important things to attain. Even the emperor did not understand these ancient secrets as well as she did.

Vrrrrm. Camille brushed her fingers along the beam of light—Pheros’ Jeweled Eye, or rather, the sealed power it symbolized.

The chamber formed a triangle of symbols. But—

“One vertex can be holier than the others.”

Elandria and Pheros—the traitors to humanity—had their power confiscated. Naturally, the noble Bistor line would wield it.

Bistor on the wall.

Pheros, sealed, offering power to the emperor’s descendants.

And soon, Elandria—filling the final altar to bring the world’s loyalty.

A perfect balance. Except—

“I must wait a little longer.”

Her mage, Ulrich—whom she had taken in as a child—was exceptional, cunning in ways that suited her perfectly.

Under her patronage, he researched ancient magic extensively. Eventually, he succeeded in analyzing the sealing spell that wielded Pheros’ control over ‘time.’

But the situations in which that magic could be used were limited. Modern mages were far inferior to those of old; they could barely understand the spell, much less modify it.

A seal required a target—a being with other-race power.

And a sacrifice.

If anything would work, she would have thrown endless cheap lives into it. But that wouldn’t do.

Magic required a meaningful sacrifice. Something significant to the sealed target. Something “long-associated,” “beloved,” “similar.”

The sacrifice she used to cast the illusion curse on the Grand Duchess—yes, it had been lacking. She had thought it would be enough to trap the couple. If she put the Grand Duchess to sleep even briefly, the Duke would lose his mind.

But Pheros’ sealed eye reacted violently. And the Grand Duchess awakened.

Ulrich nearly died that day. She spared him only because mages were too rare to waste.

He analyzed his error. And suspected the seal on the gray Jeweled Eye had loosened. So he corrected his spell.

“I will not allow failure again.”

If she obtained Elandria’s power, the empire could conquer the entire continent. And the one controlling the source of that power—Camille—would wield eternal dominion.

Records of the Jeweled Eyes’ powers were lost. The navy Jeweled Eyes’ brute strength needed no record; the gray Jeweled Eye was in imperial hands; the violet Jeweled Eye had not appeared in too long.

So she could only guess at the Grand Duchess’s power through old tales of the real Elandria.

“The foxlike Elandria family must know something.”

But so what? Once everything was in imperial hands, no one—truly no one—could touch her.

Camille’s eyes glittered with triumph at the thought of reversing her past defeats. (T/N: So Camille is the final villain not Abelus. Also we are almost 80 or so chapters away before the ending!)

❖ ❖ ❖

‘From the beginning.’

Nerys felt her breath catch.

‘From the beginning, the ones who willingly bought me… were the imperial family.’

She had believed the Elandria family shoved her at the imperial court for their own use, and that the imperial family accepted the engagement simply to hold a hostage.

But the truth?

Would they have considered an adopted, mistreated girl—whose only worth was her Jeweled Eyes—valuable enough as a hostage to grant the position of Crown Princess?

Or rather…

Had they simply celebrated at obtaining the final sacrifice for the altar?

‘Nellusion…’

How delighted they must have been. Using her to their heart’s content. Even selling her off for a high price while doing so.

She wasn’t even sad. Only—

Astonished.

“You okay?”

Cledwyn pulled her into his solid embrace.

He didn’t understand any of it, not yet. Nerys looked at him and gave a faint smile.

“I’m fine. Let’s keep listening.”

The dragon resumed:

“In a true dragon’s lair, monsters dwell together. Palaces spanning sky and earth housed thousands. But when I was sealed, all magically sustained functions stopped, and the monsters slept with me.”

“Then why have they awakened now?”

“You two carry traces of Pheros’ magic. Thanks to that, the weakest of those children could open their eyes briefly.”

“They’ll fall asleep again, then?”

“Yes. There must be few monsters left on the surface now. Bistor would not have allowed them to remain.”

“There are none. Everyone believes monsters vanished long ago—like elves.”

The dragon gave a bitter smile.

“Elves were already nearly extinct six hundred years ago. But erasing monsters entirely… even I could not have done that easily. Bistor was impressive in his own way.”

“What we saw when we touched the barrier—what was that? An illusion?”

“No. A memory. The nightmare I dream eternally… of my friends betrayed and slain, and of my own failure to protect them.”

“Then were you the one who called me here earlier?”

Nerys recalled the voice that had called her ‘Truydd’. The dragon shook her head.

“No. I was awake before you arrived, and I remember no such thing. Why—who called you?”

“Yes.”

“How strange. No one else can summon another into this lair except me—this me, or my true self. If it wasn’t me, then for my true body to call you… yet my true body shouldn’t know you. Are you certain?”

Then… who?

Nerys’s confusion deepened. But the dragon’s bewilderment was genuine.

RUMBLE. The ceiling shook.