Azure Scepter

Page 18

Trier stopped and peered through the rain at the collapsed courtyard wall—the winding, jagged cracks clung wildly to the ruins like tree branches. Looking down along the cracks, he saw they originated from a fissure in the ground.

"It wasn't caused by an undead attack—it was the aftershock of Corpse Explosion that caused the collapse," the paladin thought, letting out a sigh of relief. "But why weren't there any guards patrolling?"

"This is not normal; we must remain vigilant."

His fingers slowly crept up the hilt of the sword, and he gently drew the longsword.

“Hammer above, we’re still too late.” Trier heard the dwarf mutter quietly. “I was the one who built the inn’s walls back then. If even that’s collapsed, I’m afraid the people inside are already…”

Fythia immediately corrected, "This wall was collapsed by the aftershocks of the explosion, not by the undead forcibly demolishing it—look, the cracks in the ground on the street are connected to the cracks in the wall—but we'd better be careful."

Having said that, the ranger walked past Trier and slowly made his way along the shadows to the crack in the courtyard wall.

"Cough cough cough cough..."

As the group approached the courtyard wall, their coughs grew more rapid, interspersed with heavy, labored breathing that sounded like a broken bellows with a hole in it. Trier could faintly smell blood.

At that moment, Trier caught a glimpse of a milky white light out of the corner of his eye.

The emblem suddenly started glowing!

“There is evil around,” he thought. “Judging from the distance of the cough, the evil is very likely the person coughing.”

“There’s a tripwire with a bell attached.” Fythia’s voice carried a hint of confusion. “Wait, I see someone—is it that strange tailor?”

Almost at the same time the elf spoke, a familiar, weak voice came from inside the courtyard: "Watch out! Someone's coming!"

The next moment, a fully armed, elderly soldier suddenly rushed to the crack in the wall. He used the wall on his left as cover, while his long gun in his right hand firmly blocked the entrance—it was the garrison captain.

Behind the garrison captain was a gaunt man wearing a deerstalker hat and carrying a light crossbow. He was standing close to the wall, aiming his crossbow at them.

"A copper dragon?" Trier's pupils contracted slightly. "What's it doing at the inn?"

Upon discovering it was a friend, the garrison captain visibly relaxed. He took a half-step back to clear the entrance, but he did not lower his spear.

Trier noticed that the garrison captain's face was as pale as an ancient ghost. He looked extremely tired, and cold rain mixed with large beads of sweat slid down his face and fell to the ground with a pattering sound.

The garrison captain seemed to struggle as he rolled his eyes: "You're finally back—where's the rest?"

"Old Hart, what happened to you all of a sudden?" The dwarf's voice was filled with panic. "You were perfectly healthy this morning!"

“I’ve contracted the plague—the fog is poisonous, and now everyone’s sick! If it weren’t for the method Lord Trier left behind yesterday, we would all be dead by now.” Halfway through his sentence, the garrison captain coughed violently. “That terrible explosion caused by the cultist mage…cough cough cough…collapsed the inn’s courtyard wall, and we had to retreat to the main building of the inn.”

"Is there poison in the fog?" The dwarf's face turned deathly pale, and he instinctively covered his mouth and nose with his hand.

The next moment, he seemed to suddenly remember something, and thus spoke up: "Uh, old Hart, don't worry, this..."

The dwarf glanced furtively at Trier, and seeing that the latter had no reaction, he continued with relief, "This holy warrior who received divine revelation has a way to completely cure the blood plague, and also—he caused that explosion."

The old soldier suddenly stopped coughing, and his labored breathing also briefly ceased. His eyes widened, and the heavy brown wooden rifle in his hand fell to the ground with a "bang," splashing water into the puddle.

After a long pause, he muttered to himself as if in a trance, "Radiance above..."

Trier calmly observed the bronze dragon. At this moment, the bronze dragon, which should have been extremely talkative, was unusually silent, its deep-set brown eyes fixed on him.

The paladin had a strange premonition—the heavily wounded dragon seemed to be making some kind of decision, it was making up its mind.

After a moment, the Copper Dragon spoke in a hoarse voice, as if it were weathered rock: "So, the explosion wasn't caused by the Silent Whisperers, is that right?"

As the tailor spoke, a palpitation that almost solidified inexplicably spread through Trier's heart. He felt his heart pounding rapidly, and a sharp ringing in his ears suddenly exploded in his forehead.

The opposing garrison captain suddenly began to tremble, as if he had been electrocuted; the dwarf fared even worse, collapsing to the ground and staring at the sky in utter terror.

Only the elf remained calm. She suddenly drew her weapon and stared intently at the tailor who was suddenly emanating an indescribable aura of terror.

"It's the Dragon's Might," the paladin thought.

He took a deep breath, suppressing these insignificant physiological reactions, and then quickly scanned his surroundings.

In the surrounding buildings, some soldiers acting as sentries began to scream in fear, their piercing cries soaring into the sky.

“It’s trying to put pressure on me to take control of the conversation,” the paladin thought calmly. “Its purpose is simply to first confirm whether the blacksmith is talking nonsense. If it confirms that the blacksmith is not talking nonsense, then it will try to persuade me to help it.”

“According to the game’s history, this dragon did not die in Beaver Town, but…” Trier glanced at the elf blocking his way, “people with high job levels like Fythia did not appear in the later historical events—which means she most likely died.”

P.S.: Everything's done. Thanks to everyone for your support.

Please forgive me for not replying to comments promptly lately.

Chapter 30 Division and Determination

At this moment, Trier inexplicably recalled the assessment of the Scourge in the third volume of "The History of the Decline and Fall of the Human Kingdoms" by the famous elven historian and legendary evocation mage, "Lyna the Scholar": "The lich's attempt caused extremely tragic casualties, and less than one in ten survived."

When Trier read the book before, he didn't really grasp the meaning of the phrase "extremely tragic casualties." He only felt that the elven scholar used concise language and summarized the situation accurately.

But at this moment, he suddenly realized something emotionally: if he didn't intervene, the seemingly innocuous phrase "extremely tragic casualties" would mean that everyone he had known since he crossed over two days would die.

This includes an incredibly stubborn elf, a morally upright knight, a brave hurdler, a remarkably efficient sergeant, and a sycophantic dwarf blacksmith...

Logically speaking, leaving this doomed town as soon as possible was obviously the best option—and that's what he had always done; while trying to change history and confront the Silent Society head-on was undoubtedly a fool's madness.

However, at this moment, a series of uncontrollable, burning thoughts mixed with the cold rain rushed in, and the transmigrator suddenly recalled the broken scenes he had experienced in the past two days.

He recalled the misty, deep blue eyes of Futia yesterday afternoon, almost overflowing with sorrow, as she held her sister's belongings; he recalled the genuine smile of the infected woman named Hannah last night, after the ritual delayed her illness; he recalled the helpless and forlorn look on Knight Harlan's face when he failed to mobilize the town's guards; he also inexplicably recalled Sister Noy's citrus-rosemary scent and the white sparks that danced like sparks at her fingertips.

Scenes struck the transmigrator's forehead like heavy hammer blows, and he suddenly felt dizzy.

The jumbled memories finally settled on the scene before my eyes—the elf was silently confronting the bronze dragon opposite him.

"If I don't intervene, in the original history, this kind dragon will most likely trick the survivors into a full-scale confrontation with the Silent Whisperers, and then take the opportunity to run away during the final battle."

"This hypothesis perfectly explains why the dragon escaped while the others died."

Looking at Olius's confident smile, the paladin suddenly felt extremely irritated.

"Calm down, don't let inexplicable emotional impulses control your reason. You need to look at the problem objectively." He admonished himself in his heart, "Yesterday, you acted out of compassion, which led to your serious injury and forced you to stay in town. This was undoubtedly a serious mistake—you must not repeat the same mistake today!"

"Your primary goal is to preserve yourself and get out of the eye of the storm, not to get inexplicably involved in the conflict between the Copper Dragons and the Silent Whisperers, nor in the war between the Liches and the Kingdom of Orko. The benefits and risks of doing so are completely disproportionate; it's insane, it's irrational."

"You just need to go to the Southern Swamp according to the plan, conduct your research methodically, and upgrade your skills. In a few years at most, you can advance to Legendary status. Then, by leveraging your immense advantage of foresight, you can seek unclaimed divinity and quickly ascend to godhood—develop first, then cause trouble; plan first, then execute; develop first, then cause trouble; plan first, then..."

Trier tried to awaken his reason by repeatedly reciting the methodology, and then use the power of reason to suppress this emotional agitation, but the omnipresent dragon's might made his attempt completely fail.

Realizing this loss of control over his thoughts, the time traveler felt a sense of frustration, realizing that this loss of control stemmed from his own dishonesty.

Whether before or after his time travel, Trier had always considered himself a person of unwavering will and steadfast resolve. But at this moment, he deeply felt the fragmentation and confusion in his own thoughts.

He had always believed that people who acted without thinking and solely on instinct were mentally weak and powerless, but at this moment, he sadly discovered that he seemed to be no exception.

He wanted to change some things!

—Although from a rational perspective, and from the perspective of opportunity cost, the expected outcome of such an attempt is clearly negative.

"Do you trust your intuition?" Suddenly, Trier remembered the question that Faudia had asked him when they set off that morning.

“Intuition is reason that has not been grasped,” the paladin thought.

In a daze, he recalled the vow of the paladin's oath of vengeance—to seek out a powerful enemy and remain single-minded.

“That makes some sense,” the former senior necromancer muttered to himself. “The oath is nothing more than a matter of finding peace of mind and not deceiving oneself.”

He made up his mind.

“Triel, be careful... This is dragon's might. This tailor could very well be a dragon in disguise,” Futia whispered.

"Was that incredibly powerful explosion really caused by you?" The bronze dragon asked again, seemingly having overheard the paladin's mutterings.

This time, the oppressive force emanating from the dragon's might was even more intense.

A chilling resolve shattered all hesitation. Trier had never felt so clear-headed. The pressure from the dragon's might was now almost negligible to him.

Trier slowly raised his head and calmly looked at Olius.

"Eliminating the Silent Whisperers in Beaver Town wouldn't be possible without the help of this bronze dragon." He thought quickly. "However, there's a high probability that this dragon will run away when things go wrong, so at least in this encounter, I can't lose the initiative. I need to convince it that our chances of victory are high."

“No, that’s not right. There’s another way to deal with this cunning dragon.” Gazing at the copper dragon’s smug smile, Trier suddenly had an idea.

He said softly, "That's right, I caused the explosion."

"Then can you make a few more..." the tailor said with a smile.

"Shut up," the paladin suddenly interrupted coldly.

The sudden rebuke struck the bronze dragon's face like a hammer blow.

Olius didn't react for a moment, and after a moment of confusion, it blinked in bewilderment.

It could hardly believe what it was hearing—first, it couldn't understand why the other person's attitude had suddenly changed 180 degrees; second, where did the other person get the courage?

"I just wanted to ask him to come a few more times to weaken the cultists... Why did it suddenly turn out like this?" The bronze dragon couldn't help but feel annoyed.

It was about to launch an attack, but the words spoken by the other party the next moment made it feel as if it had fallen into an ice cellar.

“Aolius, I know exactly what you’re thinking,” the paladin said in a deep voice.

P.S.: Goodnight, going to sleep now. Looks like I broke my promise...

Chapter 31 Panic Disorder

“Aolius, I understand your thoughts perfectly well.”

The paladin's calm words struck the bronze dragon's heart like a heavy object hitting a piano. In an instant, it felt as if it had been caught stealing, a chill creeping up from the soles of its feet. Cold, heavy black raindrops fell on its face, stinging it.

It was too tired to laugh anymore.

The cold, grayish light cast a long shadow of the paladin opposite him, and the shadow slowly surged toward him like a tide. At this moment, the paladin standing opposite him looked like an unfathomable ghostly giant.

The other party maintained a terrifying silence.

"Who is he?!" The bronze dragon was utterly shocked. "How does he know my identity?"

Suspicion acted like the most potent catalyst, and in an instant, an indescribable sense of dread exploded within its heart, just like the violent explosion that had just occurred.

A familiar feeling of powerlessness and nausea surged into its heart, and the suffocating feeling of lack of oxygen mixed with visual illusion invaded its eyes. It felt as if everything in front of it was caught in a vortex and began to twist and convulse. It wanted to scream, it wanted to vomit!

"Clack clack..." The sound of teeth chattering rang in my ears.

—Aulius knew he was having a panic attack.

Ever since it was struck in the face by Lorsevie's "Sacrifice" axe and nearly beheaded by the legendary paladin, it has suffered from severe psychological trauma.

It becomes extremely easily startled, and is often awakened by nightmares even in the quietest dormancy.

The indescribable fear solidified into a terrifying phantom haunting the mind. The occasional attacks of terror were like an iron whip soaked in salty seawater, constantly lashing the unhealed wounds on the body in the realm of the mind. The barbs that were constantly dragging in the imagination kept writhing in the real wounds. The double tearing of mind and body was almost unbearable for it.

Torment!

The torment never ends!

"I'm such a joke!" thought the bronze dragon.

This is ridiculous—a once proud and agile, extremely powerful, middle-aged dragon has developed a mental illness! Nothing could be more laughable!

There were no dragons, and no one understood it.

Its former mates left it, and even its offspring began to joke about the "dragon with panic attacks."

—None of them understand the horror of death.

The terror of having half your body submerged in the River Styx...

Olius shuddered violently.

The next moment, a gentle power rose from his heart, and then a warm current flowed through his blood vessels and spread throughout his body. He was awakened from the various chaotic and terrifying illusions.

The bronze dragon breathed a sigh of relief. It felt as if it had come back to life, and everything that had been twisting and shrieking before its eyes slowly returned to normal.

After teetering on the brink of death, Aulis developed many quirks that no normal dragon would ever have, including recurring panic attacks and a strong penchant for magic—it longed to control its own destiny.

Every day when it wakes up, it uses "Spell Sequence" to prepare three "High Heroic Spirits" in advance. Once it falls into fear, Spell Sequence will automatically activate and immediately use spells to dispel its fear.

Although the spell worked, it still felt uneasy.

“I tried to put pressure on the other party, but I ended up being intimidated instead. How ridiculous of me. If this were written as a poem, it would definitely be very popular.” A bitter smile appeared on Olius’s lips.

At that moment, it noticed that the others in the inn had taken notice. The skilled knight and the high-ranking priest of the Radiant Church, who could unleash many divine spells, had approached.

The bronze dragon took a deep breath: "I need to get out of here quickly, no matter what. First, I'll use Chain Laughter..."

At that moment, the paladin opposite suddenly spoke up: "There's no point in running away. Losevie will find you eventually."

The jarring name "Lossway" seemed like a sharp siege crossbow bolt piercing straight into its brain, and an indescribable sense of fear rose up once again.

—The second High Heroic Spirit stored in the spell order was activated, but it had no effect.

Suddenly, an invisible courage rose within me.

Aulis's blurry vision refocused, and it was astonished to find that the "paladin" who had been deliberately intimidating it had somehow produced a holy emblem and was now standing in front of it.