Chapter 24: A Piece of the Missing Truth

“Do you have something you wish to ask me, Raki?” Rion’s voice cut through the room like steel, calm yet carrying a weight that demanded attention.

Lily poured his cup of herbal tea, the faint steam curling upward as if reluctant to rise in his presence.

“High Priestess Selena told me that demons are beings who shoulder burdens beyond what they can ever endure,” I said carefully, the words tasting heavier as they left my mouth.

“Then… What exactly are Death Knights?”

Rion’s eyes narrowed, glinting with the chill of a man who had seen too much.

“If you had to describe demons with a single word, what would it be, Raki?”

“Selfish,” I answered without hesitation.

A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Correct. Demons are selfish to their core, clawing at the world only to satisfy their own desires.

No matter the cost, they live and act for themselves.”

His voice dropped lower, sharpened like a blade against stone.

“But Death Knights… what word do you think defines them?”

He didn’t wait for my answer. The coldness in his tone made the room still.

“Indifference.”

He set his cup down with deliberate calm, the sound of porcelain meeting wood echoing in the silence.

“Death Knights were once powerful men and women, heroes, kings, champions who abandoned everything.

Their lives.

Their hopes.

Their dreams.

Their loved ones.

Their faith.

Their world.” Each word struck like a hammer, a litany of all they had forsaken.

“They renounced it all, until nothing remained but the desire to drag everything else into the void they embraced.

Their purpose is not to rule or conquer, but to unmake, to reduce the world itself to nothingness.”

A bitter edge entered his voice as he leaned forward, his gaze cutting into me like frost.

“That is why their luck festers in the negative, why everything they touch becomes tainted.

Any life weaker than their abyssal fortune is stripped of its worth, tainted, and doomed to rise again… as the undead.”

“Are you saying they’re creatures beyond reason?” I asked, my voice low, almost unwilling to believe it.

Rion’s gaze was unflinching, his tone colder than steel.

“Reason has no place with them.

Logic, persuasion, none of it matters.

Undead were never meant to exist in this world.

They are outsiders, distortions that wear the shape of men,”Rion explained.

“Then… Do you believe another Death Knight is lurking in Flogas?” I pressed.

“If the one you struck down was Morgan, then his partner is bound to be near,” Rion answered without hesitation.

My chest tightened as the words left me. “A Death Knight… and a Death Dragon.”

“Together, they are formidable,” Rion admitted, his voice carrying the weight of certainty.

“But alone? A Death Knight is nothing I cannot cut down,” he added with confidence and certainty.

He shifted his gaze toward me, eyes sharp as if testing whether I truly understood.

“Did that answer what you sought, Raki?”, Rion asked in a cold voice.

“It did,” I murmured, though more questions churned inside me.

“Then tell me this, how can Death Knights exist at all, if the undead don’t belong to this world?” I asked, unable to let it go.

Rion’s voice lowered, each word striking like a tolling bell.

“They are not born. They are made. Death Knights are the flesh-and-blood embodiment of humanity’s agony, born from the scars left by the Great Devastation.”

He leaned forward, shadows deepening around his figure.

“When luck was shattered, reduced to fragments, the world began to unravel.

Misfortune took shape.

Countless catastrophes started occurring more often.

Famine.

Plagues.

Desolation.

Chaos.

Ruin.

Devastation.

Cataclysm.

One after another, curses descended upon Mazal.”

I swallowed hard.

The invocation of ruin sounded less like history and more like a curse etched into the marrow of the world.

“And all of them lead to a single truth,” Rion finished.

“Death,” I whispered, the word heavy in my chest.

“Correct.” His eyes gleamed like ice.

“Morgan, the one you faced, is the incarnation of Ruin itself.

His partner, Althea on the other hand is the embodiment of Plagues.”

His tone grew sharper, colder, like a blade sliding from its sheath.

“She was the one who bent Urzuz to her will, long before it became a Death Dragon.”

My breath caught. “You mean…”

“Althea Dragonblood,” Rion said, the name like poison on his tongue.

“The first Dragon Tamer in Mazal’s history.”

Uncle Hekken’s eyes widened, his voice rough.

“Master Rion,are you telling us that Urzuz… is an Ancient Dragon?”Uncle Hekken asked.

“An Ancient Red Dragon,” Rion finished, his tone heavy with finality.

“That is why it so easily fused with the corpse of your fallen Red Dragon, Hekken,” he continued, his cold eyes cutting across the table.

Uncle Hekken clenched his fists. “Master Rion… why? Why did you never tell us this?” His voice trembled between anger and sorrow.

Rion’s reply was as sharp as winter steel.

“What would have been the point? Knowing changes nothing.

Death Knights exist outside the laws of this world, proof enough lies in the graves of my best students.” His voice faltered for just a breath, sorrow cloaked in ice.

Then his gaze shifted to me, piercing and deliberate.

“But you, Raki, you are different. That is why I share this truth now,”Rion added.

I swallowed, then asked, “Rion… if they are the embodiment of catastrophe, does that mean they’ll eventually return?”

“Of course.” His answer was immediate, merciless.

“As long as this world’s luck remains broken, they will always claw their way back. It may take centuries, but their resurrection is inevitable.”

A grim light flickered in his eyes.

“I defeated them once, two hundred years ago, with different names, different faces, but the same corruption beneath.

They return like an infection festering in a wound that refuses to heal.”

The thought settled in my chest like a stone.

No matter how many victories, the shadow would always linger until Mazal itself was healed.

Rion rose, his presence filling the room like an unspoken command.

“Raki, return to your quarters. Rest until the afternoon.So that tomorrow your body will be fully ready”

“These are your rewards for the Dragon’s Graveyard. Use them well,” Rion stated as he placed a small stack of leather-bound tomes into my hands.

Breakfast had left me warm, but the conversation left me heavy.

I carried the books back to my room, Janbo padding at my side, and collapsed onto my bed.

“Phone,” I muttered, and the familiar glow lit the room. Two free pulls now waited for me.

“I need to make this count,” I whispered. Another weapon, another set of armor, that would be ideal.

Without hesitation, I opened the weapon gacha and drew.

A silver light burst across the screen.

Celestial Warbow (SR).

I quickly skimmed the flavor text of the newly acquired weapon.

Celestial Warbow.

A bow blessed by the gods themselves, forged to pierce even the sky. Only those of a soul untainted may draw its string.

I stared at the words for a moment, unease flickering at the back of my mind. Pure soul, huh? I can only hope I’m pure enough to wield it when the time comes.

Without lingering, I shifted to the armor gacha. Something to ward against plague, that’s what I need most.

A pulse of silver light erupted.

Silver Light Armor Set (SR).

Armor wrought of pure silver. So long as its gleam remains unsullied by shadow, the wearer shall be untouched by sickness or blight.

A sharp breath escaped me.

That could definitely save me at the right moment, I thought

Satisfied, I closed the phone and turned my attention to the stack of books Rion had handed me.

Their leather covers were cracked and worn, the weight of centuries etched into their pages.

I flipped through the table of contents, fingers pausing when I found the entry I needed.

Death Dragon.

I turned eagerly to the section, eyes locking onto the faded ink.

The Death Dragon, also known as the Harbinger of Death.

My chest tightened as I read on.

This monstrous creature exhales a breath of black flame, fire that does not merely burn but corrupts all it touches.

Those struck are scarred in both body and soul.

My mind instantly flashed back to Father Damian’s injuries.

So that’s what burned him…

The beast possesses overwhelming resistance to fire, its scales impervious to ordinary flame.

More dire still, its very presence spreads decay: its breath is poison to all living things, and even corpses stir from their graves when it draws near.

The words weighed heavy, each line more dreadful than the last.

A nightmare given flesh. Just how are we supposed to stop something like that?

I scanned further, desperate for a sliver of hope.

Its sole weakness lies in the power of holy magic, but only spells of the Seventh Rank or higher bear any chance of defeating it.

My stomach sank. Seventh rank. A threshold so few in this world could ever reach.