HPV 84

A total darkness descended without warning. Riarun opened his mouth and shouted loudly, but even his voice was swallowed up by the darkness.

A strange, dreamlike silence flowed around him.

It felt as if he had been trapped in a world where he was completely alone.

‘…It’s an illusion. I saw it in the game.’

In reality, all his companions were still right where they had been.

And of course, so were other things.

There was no way the hatchlings would just stay still.

The sky had been teeming with a considerable number of the small monsters.

‘Even if they come to tear me apart, would I even be able to feel it?’

Maybe his neck had already been torn open, and he just couldn’t sense it because his nerves were numb.

Belatedly, Riarun wrapped both hands around the back of his neck and crouched down.

Curling his body up as tightly as possible, he struggled desperately to regain his senses. Even though he was clearly hugging himself, he couldn’t feel anything against his skin—and the fear only grew stronger.

‘Maybe if I cast a shield, I’ll be safer…’

But what if it was a companion? What if he mistakenly hurt them, deceived by the darkness?

That fear outweighed the fear of being attacked. Just then, Riarun finally managed to sense something: his body was rising into the air.

His feet were dangling helplessly off the ground.

Riarun’s face turned deathly pale. Maybe a hatchling had grabbed him. He was about to die… soon, any second now…

No—That wasn’t it.

‘Banwes is lifting me up.’

Because he couldn’t feel, he realized it instead. Sometimes faith and a kind of mental certainty could surpass even dulled physical senses.

Without any tangible proof, Riarun flung his arms around the air—and hugged tight.

At the same time, the man holding him was astonished. How…? Though his mind had been shaken by the sudden darkness, he could still declare with certainty that he had instinctively suppressed all presence.

Rather than defending against the hatchlings, he had fumbled through the darkness to find Riarun.

Yet he recognized him immediately. The mage’s light magic was finally cast—small orbs of light rose one after another, pushing away the clumps of darkness and illuminating the surroundings.

In their wake, the High Priest’s divine power surged and rippled throughout the area.

The black dragon’s dominion weakened.

At last, all sensation returned.

Yet even so, the sky remained black—utterly without a single moon.

Floating in that black sky was the black dragon. The dragon hatchlings circled nearby, hissing and whispering.

The six humans looked pathetically small beneath the vast being.

“…We’ll have to bring it down,”

the mage muttered, lifting his chin to gaze up at the sky, as if speaking casually about plucking a fruit from a tree.

Dragons were the supreme creatures of this world. They were venerable, wise.

The only thing that restricted them was their refusal to interfere in worldly matters. If the dragon race had stepped forward, the Demon War would have ended long ago, and the Orc King would never have risen to power.

“Dragon Slayer” was nothing but the stuff of blasphemous legend. Humans could not defeat dragons.

…That’s how it was. Penzey curled his lips in a smirk.

But that dragon up there—it was possessed by a demon now.

The most venerable creature of this land had fallen lower than the filthiest monsters from hell.

“Bagging a single lizard shouldn’t be too hard.”

Among them, only the mage was capable of attacking the black dragon at that distance.

Penzey stared straight at the dragon, his lips moving rapidly.

The words of the ancient language came so fast and intricate, it sounded like multiple people whispering at once.

A magic circle, taller than himself, began forming, its inside filled with meticulous calculations.

The perfectly calculated magic circle devoured the mage’s mana like a leech.

The mage, who instantly completed a formula that would normally require a dozen people, layered ancient spells atop it, accelerating the incantation even further.

“…It’s dangerous!”

The black dragon, peering down at them, spewed a breath as murky and deep as the abyss.

A black, swift mist stretched downward like a catastrophe. If it touched your body, it would either damage your soul, or make parts of your mind or body fall away—even if you appeared fine at first.

Moreover, because its nature was like an intangible flame, it was nearly impossible to block perfectly, and extremely easy to get grazed by.

Running away would be too slow. Riarun’s eyes widened and focused on the black dragon’s attack.

In a game, you could predict a boss’s pattern with analysis. There were set motions and reactions.

But this was reality. Dragons would never repeat consistent attacks.

…There’s no way to predict it. While thinking blankly, Riarun realized something—he was the only one cowering.

He looked around at his companions in a daze. Penzey, even while facing the dragon’s breath head-on, did not stop his calculations.

Banwes raised a shield, larger than himself, and lifted it overhead.

The shield was said to have been crafted by dwarves. It had been procured from the earth spirit wielders in Gerenique Castle where Tilly resided.

Forged with meteoric iron, it was not only the sturdiest shield available but also imbued with spells capable of purging evil spirits and lingering malevolent thoughts.

Since Banwes could not use any weapon consecrated by Gaioh, this shield had been chosen as the best alternative.

“…!”

The dragon’s breath swept over them like smoke in a wildfire. Banwes thrust the shield forward, aiming to block the breath head-on.

Yurichen drew upon his holy power to purify the breath’s demonic energy.

And then—a round, blue barrier enveloped them.

Only by the combined efforts of the three were they able to fully block the dragon’s breath.

Riarun gasped, unable to hide his tension. His own loud breathing grated on his ears.

Did I help a little too…? At that moment, Penzey completed his calculations, and six magic circles floated into the air.

The black dragon’s eyes locked directly onto the tiny human.

A strange gleam sparked in the crimson pupils of the monster.

{You would dare challenge me?}

The mage held his breath. Until now, even death had seemed laughable to him. No monster had ever been more than insignificant in his eyes.

But now, he realized he was nothing more than a mayfly before a storm. He was overwhelmed by a force greater than anything he had ever known.

His breathing shuddered uncontrollably. It was a weight no human could possibly endure.

Sensing the danger, Yurichen’s piercing golden eyes, which had been fully revealed, flared brightly with holy power.

His gaze became like a second sun, searing warnings across the blackened sky.

How dare a fallen creature, beyond salvation, dare to borrow the powers of a dragon?

“Do you dare posture before the messenger of God?”

His rebuke thundered like a power of its own.

Yurichen’s silver hair glowed, strand by strand, wrapped in divine energy.

Penzey, whose focus had wavered, violently shook his head, tearing his gaze away from the High Priest.

The magic circles, which had been on the verge of blurring, sharpened once again.

A pure, radiant violet light flared to life. The magic circles trembled, and tremendous flames erupted forth.

BOOM!

The sound of fire magic striking the black dragon directly shook the heavens and the earth. From then on, countless exchanges followed.

Banwes blocked the dragon’s breath dozens of times with his shield.

If a dragon gets tired enough, it’ll eventually descend to the ground.

Sure enough, the mage’s mana was overpowering the dragon’s breath. The black dragon, once distant, was gradually drawing closer.

Losing strength—falling?

It would have been easy to feel hope. But instead of simply crashing, the black dragon accelerated and charged furiously toward them.

This was not what anyone had expected. Riarun raised his terrified, hollow eyes to the sky.

Banwes didn’t even blink. He lowered his stance, planted his legs firmly, and raised his arms to block the dragon’s massive body with only his shield.

It was a decision—that he would take the impact for the small figure behind him, who could never dodge in time.

Standing beside him, Paronai lifted his sword high. Even standing still, the approaching dragon grew ever more terrifying as it neared.

That Banwes didn’t back down was one thing, but for a mere nineteen-year-old swordsman not to waver was beyond belief.

The black dragon crashed into the earth.

Screeeeech—!

A shrill, piercing noise threatened to burst their eardrums. Riarun, eyes shut tight, couldn’t even open them as he was flung backward by the shockwave.

“…Riarun! Get up!”

The ringing persisted, pounding through his skull. Yurichen placed a hand on riarun’s chest, forcing holy power into him to make him breathe again.

Everyone—except for Banwes and the swordsman wielding the holy sword, who had taken the direct impact—was sent flying and slammed into the ground.

Amazingly, Penzey had not lost hold of his ongoing spell calculations.

He spat out blood-mixed saliva, having bitten the inside of his mouth, his eyes hard and ruthless.

Riarun hurriedly healed his battered and scraped body in the briefest instant.

As he lifted his head from the dirt, his gaze met Banwes’s, who had turned to check on him.

In that moment, a sharp gust from the dragon’s wings slashed across Riarun’s cheek, leaving a long, bloody cut.

Banwes didn’t seem to think of it as a mistake or a loss. He simply turned back and focused once again on the black dragon.