Chapter 251

82. Mythical Front Page

    Fit or not fit?

That was also true.

No matter who it was, or where they went, reasoning was always required. That was correct—if one did not stand on reason, then no matter how one argued, there would be no confidence.

But if the matter to be judged already involved one’s own family—

Then many times, there was no reasoning to speak of.

In short, one could simply abandon shame.

“The intelligence department of the Thunder Dragon Clan has indeed conducted a meticulous investigation. If I remember correctly, this matter is considered classified even within the Fire Dragon Clan?”

“Ha! Look at that, look! You admitted it yourself! I say, Prince, you know this is classified, don’t you? Something that can’t be brought into the light, right? And yet you still dare to say it out loud!”

Before Karre could finish laughing, Doromo’s response caused his expression to freeze.

“It is classified, but there is nothing shameful about it. Since Father King chose to act this way, he must have had his reasoning and considerations. What the ‘Dragon God’ does does not require explanation to every dragonkind. If you wish to seize on this matter to fabricate rumors, feel free—but you will bear the consequences of doing so.”

“Ha?! What did you say? You’re saying I’m spreading rumors?!”

Karre’s expression shifted from smug satisfaction to something twisted and awkward; his face no longer looked pleasant.

But soon after, a triumphant grin once again spread across his sharp features, accompanied by a low, grating laugh.

Yet within that laughter, there was also a subtle hint of admiration.

“Heh… I see. What you mean is, words are useless—everything should be settled in ‘Dragon Refinement,’ and whoever loses is the one spreading rumors? Interesting, interesting. Prince, you’re right! The victor decides everything, the loser accepts everything. Doromo, you didn’t spend all that time in the Dragon God’s family for nothing—your temperament is quite straightforward!”

“I merely believe that the dragon race requires order.”

From beginning to end, Doromo did not draw his sword in anger.

Even though Karre had done everything he could to provoke him.

Because Doromo knew—if it were Father King, he would not act on impulse like this.

Ruling over the four great dragon clans for six hundred years relied on far more than mere force. The ability to command genuine respect and the presence of a true leader were far more crucial.

However… regarding the matter Karre brought up, Doromo himself had always harbored some doubts.

Father King had always been decisive and ruthless, advocating that all must strictly abide by the laws of the dragon race, with absolutely no exceptions beyond the law. Yet such a person had actually chosen to release a mixed-blood girl who, according to the Dragon Code, was clearly destined for execution…?

Doromo knew two pieces of information.

First, the girl was a hybrid of the Fire Dragon Clan and the Elf Tribe. Her father had once been a priest of the Dragon Domain’s Temple. On the day he attempted to break into the execution ground to rescue her, he and her mother were killed by the guards sent by the Dragon God after ignoring their warnings.

Second, when Doromo later brought up this matter, Father King’s stance had been very clear—strict confidentiality. The code was merciless, but the clan had sentiment. The deceased priest had once been his friend; he felt deep sorrow and could not bear to completely exterminate the line. Granting a path to live was not impossible.

Perhaps… even Father King, deep within his heart, had a side capable of showing mercy beyond the law.

Doromo would not question it. He would support Father King’s decision.

As a subject, he only needed to obey. As a son, he did not dislike this rare instance where his father was not cold-blooded.

Doromo slowly loosened his grip on the sword hilt. Beneath his crimson, fragmented hair, there was already a faint resemblance to the regal bearing the old Dragon God had in his youth.

“Karre, we were at least close friends in childhood. Even though our stances later differed and things became somewhat unpleasant, before you make a judgment, can you listen to something sincere from me?”

“Tch, don’t act all fake with me. If you’ve got something to say, spit it out!”

“You and I both grew up witnessing just how powerful Father truly is. Strength is not just about force. Though the code is merciless, if one is strong enough—like Father—then he has the ability to change what is ‘inevitable.’”

“So what?”

“As you can see, even after letting that mixed-blood go, we haven’t received the slightest contempt from the world. For the Thunder Dragon Clan’s intelligence department to obtain this information, they must have put in considerable effort.”

“Stop talking.”

“Since Father King was able to arrange everything so properly, then he is worthy of the title of Dragon God. And I—”

“Shut up!”

“……”

The explosive volume—like a world-ending dragon’s roar—shattered the hope Doromo had tried to awaken, the belief they once shared in their hearts.

Karre glared furiously, his clenched fists tightening as if every bone in his body were vibrating, his eyes wide as if they were about to split.

“A guy who has everything… just stop going on and on about happiness, will you… It’s exactly because of this that I find you disgusting. You clearly know what I’ve been through, yet you still say such detached things? Huh?!”

“Sigh… about Qianhe’er… I also feel it’s a great pity, truly… But no matter how much we regret it, there’s no way to undo it now. And you should know, that wasn’t Father’s fault—it was the law—”

“Don’t mention that name! Damn it, why don’t you talk about mercy beyond the law now?! You’re his son, so of course you speak for him! You…! Heh, how unsightly, how unsightly. What’s the point of me telling you all this? You, who have everything—damn it.”

On Karre’s unruly face, his teeth bit through his lip.

As he turned away, there was even a faint, almost imperceptible trace of a tear.

He slipped one hand into his pocket and coldly raised the other.

Waving it as he walked farther and farther away, his back turned to Doromo.

“I’ll call him ‘uncle’ one last time. Tell him to take care of himself—and to wait for death.”

“At the Tower of Radiance, that six-winged female demon was right about one thing.”

“This generation is indeed no longer the same trash as the one from six hundred years ago.”

“Even if it’s a god—”

“I’ll kill it for you to see.”

“And besides, wake up, Doromo. Your father… is not truly a god.”

By the time his voice faded, Doromo could no longer see his figure.

The path of hatred had already dragged him too far away.

There were no words left to persuade him—like a raging thunderstorm, no voice could reach what once was.

The laughter of chasing each other three hundred years ago had long become the past. At some unknown point, he had already become the 【World-Ending Thunder Dragon】 that struck fear into the hearts of all.

“Time… passes so quickly.”

Doromo let out a soft sigh as he looked up.

At last, he drew his sword and thrust it into the ground where Karre had just been standing.

Standing before the throne, the prince slowly opened his eyes—like surging flames—seeming ready to burn away anything that threatened the throne.

And to completely incinerate every fragment of the past.

If you can no longer turn back—

Then I cannot remain here, standing still.

From the moment you spoke of killing Father King—

A close friend had become a fated mortal enemy.

………………………………..

Blood Domain, 【Dark Moon Clear Domain】.

The second largest territory in the entire Blood Domain, where the nights were always longer than the days.

Some said this was due to the influence of the neighboring dragon race’s cycle of day and night. Others said it was a preferential arrangement of the world’s creation laws for the blood race’s habits.

The night of the blood race was not, as the world often claimed, shrouded in a fog of blood.

The moon was still clear.

The clouds were still light.

Outside the window, there was even a small flower garden.

A languid young girl had a blood-colored butterfly resting on her fingertip, its wings gently fluttering. The cherry-haired girl swayed her head as she watched the butterfly rest, and on her doll-like pale face, a faint smile gradually appeared.

There was no one behind her. When the lacquer-red door of the spacious Gothic-style room was knocked upon, the butterfly was startled and flew toward the twin moons hanging in the sky.

The girl hurriedly tried to catch it, but the butterfly was nimble, slipping past the gaps between her fingers.

“Eh…? Bu… butterfly…!”

“Lady Flo, it’s time for dinner. Today… are you still not planning to prepare blood?”

The voice of the blood race maid outside the door carried a note of concern.

But Flo seemed not to hear it at all. She blinked as she watched the butterfly circle farther away, a trace of confusion and regret appearing in her gaze.

After a slight delay, Flo reached out beyond the windowsill, plucked a dreamy, deep-blue flower, and gently stirred its stem. The petals fluttered like dancing butterflies.

Looking at the flower, as if in a dream, the girl with dark circles under her eyes finally let a faint smile slowly return to her face.

Listlessly, she let out a soft, drowsy yawn before responding to the question outside. Her speech was slow, and very lazy.

“Mmm… thank you…? Today, just use tomato sauce as a substitute again… blood… I still don’t want to drink it…”

“Yes, Lady Flo.”

The maid’s footsteps first retreated a few steps.

But soon, they returned.

It could be heard that when the doorframe was knocked on again, the maid’s worried inquiry now carried a hint of caution.

“Lady Flo, we are all very worried about your condition. You’ve been walking more and more unsteadily lately… if you still don’t drink blood… how about this! We, the maid group, can offer some of our blood. You can try drinking it—maybe this time you’ll be able to—!”

“Oh my, my… if you want to kill me, then go ahead and do that, alright…?”

“My deepest apologies…!!”

Clearly, Flo was trying to imitate someone from her memories, attempting to say something playful.

Yet the maid outside panicked, collapsing to her knees in apology, as if her own life had just been threatened.

After that, Flo said nothing more.

At some point, the maid quietly withdrew.

And the blood-colored butterfly that had circled the night sky for a long time returned, landing upon the blue petals in Flo’s hand.

It continued to flutter its wings.

Flo carefully placed both the flower and the butterfly outside on the windowsill, as if she had lost interest.

Her blood-red eyes, slightly dazed with sleepiness, turned toward the bright moon, where a halo of gentle radiance seemed to gather.

With a smile, her sharp fangs were revealed at the corners of her lips.

Her smile was dazzlingly innocent.

The Progenitor of Blood stood up, swaying slightly. One hand rested on her chest, while the other was raised toward the sky.

It was like an invitation.

Like a recollection.

And also like a longing.

“Big sister Sheffy… you’re welcome to come play with Flo…? Flo really misses you…”

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