――Heinkel Astrea is not even a ‘Star Reader.’

As you know, he isn’t a ‘Sword Saint,’ nor has he earned the sword name ‘Van,’ which is granted to those who achieve merit through their swordsmanship. His position as Vice Commander of the Royal Guard of the Lugnica Kingdom is merely ornamental.

He is a man who hasn’t been chosen for anything that one could only attain through selection, and that hasn’t changed even when he came to the Volakia Empire.

Participating in battles as a mere driftwood, his heart broke at the surreal scenes before him, and he fled to a place where he salvaged his life, only to be swept back to a location where he clings weakly to hope.

That hope is merely a false beacon of escape, presented by those who expect Heinkel to be a stepping stone for their own plans, showcasing the dullness that arises from his abandonment of thought.

―Therefore, unlike Rauan Segmunt, who opposed the war policy for insane reasons, Heinkel pulls the short straw by attempting to fulfill his role legitimately.

“Damn it…”

Standing at the five points of the castle walls that are key to the defense of the Imperial Capital, Heinkel was supposed to share the responsibility for the southern and southeastern points with Rauan. Instead, he ended up alone in charge of both, heading south to conquer the first pinnacle, where there was a city gate for entering and exiting the capital.

In simpler terms, it was a sound judgment and a reasonable choice devoid of flamboyance.

And it was through this reasonable choice that Heinkel encountered—

‘――I am Mezoleia. To the voice of my beloved child, I shall become the winds from the sky.’

The imposing figure of the white dragon spreading its wings, guarding that first pinnacle—.

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In that room, extravagant treasures piled up haphazardly.

Crafts made with abundant gold and silver, garments and hair ornaments adorned with precious gems—various exquisite items cluttered the space, rolling about and creating a dazzling spectacle.

In the center of that radiant room, Madelin Eshault awoke.

“――――”

Dazed, her sweet golden eyes blinked several times in confusion, shaking the two black horns extending from her sky-blue hair as her petite form rose. As a result, the jewels and treasures around her clashed and scattered roughly across the floor, but Madelin paid it no mind.

She had a fondness for shiny things like jewels and golden treasures.

Humans, though weak and frail, are annoyingly boisterous, but there is an unmatched charm in the crafts they create with their gems and gold.

Fulfilling the tasks ordered by humans and receiving those items as rewards wasn’t bad at all.

Stacking them up in her nest, cramming them in, and sleeping surrounded by them contributed to Madelin’s peaceful slumber—yet neither jewels nor gold could fill the void in her heart.

“――――”

With a slight sway, she turned her head and pushed open the door to her nest.

This was different from the nest Madelin occupied after becoming one of the Nine Divine Generals; it was a hastily made new nest after the recent events.

Lacking her own scent and gathered from the treasures found inside the castle, it was far from satisfying, but better than nothing.

More than anything, there was a reason for her to abandon her comfortable nest and move here.

And that reason was—

“――Karyon.”

Upon stepping out of her nest and crossing the corridor to a balcony where a warm breeze blew, she found a flying dragon resting its wings.

‘――――’

Called by name, the flying dragon turned its head toward her—its body marred by painful cracks in its scales, and its dark eyes glowed with golden pupils, clearly showing the state of a vessel devoid of life.

Like the rising undead humans, many flying dragons had also been drawn back from beyond.

However, unlike the wild ones that once roamed free, direct communication was possible with limited beings like the dragon before her—Karyon, who bowed its head quietly in response to Madelin’s call.

Other deceased flying dragons—undead dragons—would ruthlessly attack anyone they deemed a living being, even if that being was Madelin.

Of course, there was no hesitation in crushing those ignorant enough to challenge her.

“Dragons, don’t get broken by me.”

As she gently stroked Karyon’s lowered head, Madelin’s mouth turned serious at its coldness.

The dragon’s body, originally devoid of excess flesh for flying, had a low body temperature. Still, the heat that transmitted through her fingertips was the coldness of previously adorned jewels.

Unlike jewels, there was neither brightness nor beauty to be felt there.

Yet, the undeniable value of Karyon being alive and present before her outweighed everything else.

――To Madelin, Karyon was the first flying dragon she ever tamed, guided by a human.

As the last of the dragonfolk, Madelin had lived entirely disconnected from the exterior world of the cloud sea, partly due to her nature as the dragon Marzelia.

Except for Marzelia, her only encounters had been with wild flying dragons that made their homes around the cloud sea, and even they were beings that merely followed the dragonfolk.

The fundamental gap in existence between herself, a dragonfolk, and flying dragons.

It stemmed from instinct, with no room for pondering ‘why’ or ‘for what.’ The divide was a natural fact, leaving no space for pessimism or doubt.

Those who had never seen the beauty of gold do not desire a golden crown.

However, her filled days, in which Madelin knew nothing of the outside of the cloud sea, came to an abrupt end.

That end was brought about by none other than Karyon and the stray who was soothed from the presence of the cloud dragon, Marzelia, and dove into the cloud sea――.

“――Where is my dragon husband, Balroi?”

While tracing along Karyon’s neck with her fingers, Madelin inquired.

The name she uttered was familiar to Karyon as well, and the sound lingered in her heart like a slow-acting poison.

This pain of poison seeping into her soul was also the very reason Madelin made her way out of the cloud sea to touch down on the land of the humans.

However, now that this pain had transformed into something different.

‘――――’

Feeling the internal ache of poison, Karyon, stroked gently, slowly lifted its head and made a small sound.

Realizing that action and sound indicated something approaching from behind, Madelin turned to look back.

There, from the corridor connecting to the balcony, a figure appeared, waving a hand casually, treating the dragonfolk with an air of friendliness.

“…If it weren’t for you, that rudeness would earn you a dragon’s fangs.”

“Well, if it weren’t for me, I wouldn’t act like this toward a revered dragonfolk. One would think, however, there are many rude folks among ‘Generals’ too.”

“Exactly. I’m really fed up with you humans.”

“Ha ha, you have no comeback for me.”

Madelin exhaled through her nose, seeming exasperated by the character’s shrugging gesture.

However, she felt a hint of emotion hidden in that breath and chastised her unsettled heart, shaking her hand to hide her colored exhale.

That indelible emotion—was a surging passion towards the figure before her.

Even if their facial expressions and the way their eyes formed had drastically changed, emotions do not lie.

Madelin felt even more intensely the reverence she held for Karyon, who had become an undead dragon.

“Where have you been, Balroi?”

Taking a half-step closer to him, Madelin pressed.

He had been by her side when she fell asleep in the nest piled with treasures. Ideally, she wanted him to remain beside her until she awoke.

Guessed to have understood the unsaid sentiments, Balroi placed a hand on his head, saying, “My bad.”

“Looks like a rat has been zipping through the Imperial Capital. Paladio-sama got all riled up about it, so I went to do some surveillance and report back.”

“A rat… Did you kill it properly?”

“Ah, this one, it’s a stubborn rat. When I said I couldn’t catch it, Paladio-sama went absolutely crazy and I almost got crushed there.”

Balroi shook his head slowly, causing Madelin’s pupils to narrow at his words.

Paladio was indeed one of the revived Volakia royalty. He was the man of the magical-eye clan who emerged victorious in a bloody contest among siblings in Volakia, ultimately becoming Emperor Vincent.

“If my dragon husband is troubled, I could tear them apart with my own hands.”

“Don’t say such scary things. Though it might’ve once died, being a royal of Volakia… there are those who follow unconditionally amidst the revivals. Those folks could become our enemies.”

“――What, the dragons lose to Balroi and the undead?!”

If that were the case, it would be a significant misunderstanding.

Before Madelin and Balroi working together, the undead should have no means to win. If they obstructed them, those would be mercilessly crushed.

Madelin’s breath quickened, but Balroi gently pressed her thin shoulder.

“No, that’s not it. It’s not just about whether we win or lose.”

“What do you mean…?”

“You know. Our freedom as the undead is held in the grasp of that ‘Witch.’”

“――ッ”

At Balroi’s admonishing words, Madelin bit down hard on her molars and fell silent.

‘The Witch’ was the one who turned the Imperial Capital into a place filled with undead, and the reason Balroi and Karyon stood before Madelin now.

The ‘Witch’ had an unnatural body structure, reminiscent of the dragon shell resembling Marzelia, and she was touching the mysteries of Odo Laguna that even a dragonfolk like Madelin does not know.

That was why she could call back so many souls and recreate them in their previous states.

However, on the other hand, if the ‘Witch’ whimsically interrupted that miracle—

“As Madelin says, if we were to engage in battle, we would most certainly win against most foes. But you have those who can control hundreds or thousands, like Paladio-sama, versus just us three: one dragon and two undead. Who the ‘Witch’ favors is unpredictable.”

“You’d choose humans over dragons?”

“I can’t say. Who knows what grand designs the ‘Witch’ has?”

Though it was frustrating, Balroi’s reasoning held merit.

The ‘Witch,’ whose intentions remained a mystery, had kept Madelin at the Crystal Palace should she choose to assist her. Though it was infuriating to be used as a pawn, she had swallowed that humiliation since she descended to the surface and accepted Belstez’s suggestion.

What she found hardest to swallow was the sheer lack of understanding of her opponent’s ulterior motives.

“――――”

As Balroi said, until she discovered the ‘Witch’s’ purpose, Madelin would remain in a state akin to having a blade’s tip embedded in her reverse scale.

If that wasn’t the case, Balroi would not have to endure this situation and could escape alongside Madelin beyond the cloud sea, vowing for their pledged marriage.

Indeed, the promises left unfulfilled――.

“Finally, we can meet like this again.”

“Madelin…”

Unable to suppress her deep yearning, Madelin wrapped her arms around Balroi’s body right before her.

She was much shorter than Balroi, who towered over her, and as she leaned into him, her black horns almost pierced into his neck. With a deft dodge, Balroi began to gently pat her back.

Remembering how her earlier hug had driven her horns into him, causing a disastrous amount of blood loss, her eyes watered with emotion.

The body she clung to felt cold, without any warmth in the flesh she touched.

His blue pupils, the same color as her hair, no longer exuded warmth. Instead, they sparkled with a glint of gold, masking his true emotions from her view.

Yet, they shared memories together. And furthermore, he understood her wishes.

Having perished and parted ways, now reconnecting in bodies devoid of blood or warmth. So what?

“Having Balroi here… that’s all a dragon could wish for.”

Life or death is irrelevant.

The dead do not always have to lie beneath the ground. If by some mischance, the dead were to overflow above the earth and one of the precious things resided among them, who has the right to deny this grotesque miracle or deem it an error?

Before Madelin Eshault, a dragonfolk, what being could dare to speak such words?

“――It’s coming.”

Buried in the chest of her beloved, enjoying their cold reunion, Madelin let out a low growl.

Sensing where that sound indicated, Balroi, who had gently been patting her back, halted his hand and turned his gaze toward the balcony—outward, far towards the south of the Imperial Capital.

She had sensed it. Madelin’s instincts—nay, the instincts of the dragon shell Marzelia.

No matter what approaches, Madelin was commanded to protect that place.

Let me reiterate. It was exceedingly vexing. But Madelin had no hesitation. What she desired was right there.

“I’ll go. Balroi, this time—”

“I know. As long as the call hasn’t come, I’ll be right here.”

“—That’s just what a dragon husband should say.”

She wouldn’t declare she would never part or stay forever. Balroi, knowing well the limits within his reach, allowed Madelin to love him without excessive expectations or disappointment.

Affirming that once again—she suddenly released all the strength from her body.

“――――”

Slumping, her limbs went limp as she crumpled to the spot. Balroi swiftly drew her in, holding her weight, unexpectedly heavy for her petite form.

Thus, he lifted Madelin, who had lost consciousness—no, regained her consciousness.

‘――――’

“I know. I’ll carry you gently.”

The little dragon let out a low growl, worried for the limp Madelin.

Nodding to Karyon’s chirp, Balroi once again turned his gaze to the Imperial Capital.

“Even if dead, we can meet again. That’s all I wish for. I feel the same, Madelin. —As long as we can meet again.”

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——The battle started unilaterally and ended unilaterally.

In essence, battle refers to the clash of spirits between those with will to fight, as long as their intent holds.

By that definition, if one side’s will falters in an instant, it is no longer a ‘battle.’

‘――――’

It was no more than something too weak to be called a threat.

Yet, in reflecting the malice or intention that approached, it’s hard to find a suitable term; thus, ‘a trivial threat’ is the most appropriate expression.

Indeed, the trivial threat was effortlessly swept away like leaves with a flick of the tail—it flew away into the dust, along with the surrounding debris.

The result was anticlimactic. However, it was not something to mourn or pity.

This illustrates the vast divide between the dragon and the human as beings not meant for comparison.

Literally, when faced with a creature of a disparate existence such as a dragon, a human easily turns to dust.

Although one must admit, there are exceedingly rare exceptions, it cannot be denied that those are mere mutations that have appeared among humans, they are something other than humans, to be frank.

No matter what that something may be, ultimately dragons, as living beings, surpass them far and wide.

A certain truth must be proven in observable form; should a trivial threat be brushed aside, it would reevaluate itself strongly, reinforcing the notion of how it should fundamentally be.

In that sense, this trivial threat also held its own value.

It highlighted the power of the Cloud Dragon, Mezoleia, once again to the ‘Witch’ and gave dragons the chance to reflect on their own existence.

“…Damn it.”

Suddenly, such a voice that seemed to curse the world resonated, causing the movements of the Cloud Dragon to halt.

The dragon flapped its wings and was turning back toward the castle walls, intending to present results that showed no harm could penetrate.

But that movement came to a stop. A voice that should not have been heard rang out.

‘――――’

Slowly, the dragon turned back to the direction it had originally faced, and with a rumble, the mountain of debris tumbled down.

A filthy human crawled out from beneath the rubble in tatters, sporting red hair and blue eyes.

Having been deemed a trivial threat, and having become one.

According to the definition of ‘battle,’ if that crawling creature were to draw its sword once more and point it back, it could be said that the ‘battle’ thought to have concluded was still unfolding.

However, the human emerging covered in dust bore no spirit or vigor whatsoever.

“Always like this…”

Coughing from the dust in his lungs, the human muttered softly.

It was once again a voice that cursed. This time it was a curse not towards the dragon, but the world itself. His footing, the air enveloping him, everything around him, and above all, himself.

“I’ve been abandoned by luck at the crucial moment—”

Listening to that grievance was genuinely irksome, and this time, I slammed my tail down vertically.

Previously, my tail had just swept across and flung everything away, but this time, a swing was aimed directly at the staggering weak figure.

The tail hit with a spin and sent the human’s body soaring like a kicked pebble, bursting through walls and buildings, and crashing through three or four streets.

From an aerial view, the perfectly arranged streets of the Imperial Capital would take your breath away.

Yet it was the flawed existence of a single human indiscriminately demolishing that beauty with its very being, and to the dragon, this sight pinched at its nerves.

It was unbearable to think that such a being was damaging something beautiful.

And then—

“—Ugh.”

Distantly, a groan was heard echoing after the impact had sent him through numerous streets.

No matter how heinous the damage inflicted, even if it were the last gasps of a half-dead being, it should never have been permissible to hear.

There could not exist an entity that was not obliterated by the force of a dragon’s tail.

“…I cannot allow this.”

There should not be such a presence.

‘All of you should vanish—!!’

Bubbling over, unable to contain the rising emotions, the white cataclysm erupted from the mouth of Madelin Eshault, clad in the dragon shell that was the Cloud Dragon.

This was not a ‘battle.’

It was, by all means, the beginning of a one-sided massacre.