Chapter 46: Sacrifice
When Veles was still a child, the most terrifying thing in the world for him was the cautious, scrutinizing gaze of his mother.
As the curse within him gradually began to show signs of its malice, the thing Veles feared most became the dark, icy dungeon beneath the Alfied Palace.
As the young prince grew older, he briefly feared death—after all, by that time, many people, their minds clouded by fear, had tried to persuade Her Majesty the Queen that it would be best to kill him before Veles caused irreparable damage.
Later, what Veles began to fear was no longer death itself, but the possibility that he would fall into becoming a demon dragon before dying…
…
In the end, Veles thought he had completely overcome fear. Those fleeting days in Green River Village gave him the most precious thing in the world, and that made him content, fearless, and at peace.
Until this day.
Until this moment.
The instant he saw Alan fall, Veles’s fear effortlessly tore his soul to shreds.
Veles once nibbled on apple slices taken from the mage’s pocket, hiding quietly in the bushes as he watched the young mage wade lightly through the clear stream, rolling up his trousers like a graceful fawn.
He remembered clearly that the mage had healthy, fair-skinned calves, slender ankles, and skin as delicate as fine ivory.
Veles also remembered how soft and warm Alan’s body was. He had felt that sensation with the tip of his most sensitive tail. When a drunken Alan grabbed his tail, Veles almost panicked and tried to flee up into the treetops like a startled cat—but in the end, he was uncontrollably drawn to that body, which smelled faintly of apple cider, and stayed by Alan’s side.
He was familiar with Alan’s scent—sometimes it smelled of honey, sometimes of cream, sometimes of peaches… And every time he drew near Alan, Veles had to carefully suppress his instincts, restraining himself from truly lunging forward to lick or suckle him.
When the Blood Moon rose, and he was trapped beneath the palace in the magical array, enduring the torturous extraction of his magic, his greatest joy came from recalling everything that belonged to Alan in his mind.
If Alan understood dragons, he would know that they were creatures with remarkably good memories.
Before their corruption, before leaving this plane, dragons could even remember, with crystal clarity after a thousand years, the fleeting fragrance of a small flower they had idly held at their lips during a walk.
…But now, to Veles, Alan was terrifyingly unfamiliar.
He clutched Alan’s body tightly, staring in horror as the other’s fair skin rapidly darkened to a ghastly gray-blue.
The gray spread swiftly from Alan’s ankles up his legs, across his abdomen, chest… and finally, his cheeks.
That soft, fragrant body stiffened in Veles’s arms, and the eyes, which had always sparkled with tiny fragments of light, began to dim and hollow, visibly fading like all those who were near death.
Antara scrambled over to Alan’s side, pouring the high-level life magic of the elven mage like a torrential downpour onto the black-haired mage.
Yet Antara could feel the brilliance of the magic flowing into a broken cup… and in an instant, it drained away from Alan’s body.
Then came Lelian and her fellow paladins, unleashing their divine arts imbued with the radiance of the Three Goddesses—but just like the life magic, their efforts had no effect on Alan.
…All of their desperate attempts only succeeded in prolonging Alan’s fragile life for a brief, agonizing moment.
Everyone could see that the black-haired mage’s life flame had thinned to a mere thread.
Even though he knew it rationally, Veles felt an indescribable, overwhelming panic.
“You’ll find a way, Antara. You’re an elf—you’re an unprecedented elven mage. Life magic is your specialty. You can save him, I know you can—”
The desperate prince tilted his head back, speaking incoherently as he pleaded with Antara, whose face was ashen.
“Alan… he’s still breathing…”
Veles carefully raised his arm, trembling as he presented Alan’s dying body before Antara.
“Look… he’s still alive.”
For some unknown reason, droplets of rain suddenly appeared on Alan’s face.
Noticing this, Veles clumsily pulled Alan back into his arms. He carefully wiped the mage’s cheeks with his sleeve, but no matter how much he wiped, the droplets only seemed to multiply.
And under his fingertips, Alan’s face grew colder and colder.
Veles suspected it was his own hands that were too cold, causing Alan’s chill. He tried to warm his body, but an uncontrollable, terrifying cold radiated from deep within him.
Veles shivered violently.
“How could Alan possibly die? He said his honey wine was almost ready. He said… when the honey wine is ready… he would—”
His voice broke apart.
Antara looked helplessly at the prince, futilely trying to explain the situation.
“I—I’m so sorry, Your Highness, but this is the toxin of a demon. As is well-known, in this world there is no person, god, potion, or spell that can remove a demon’s poison… unless—”
The elven mage’s words suddenly caught.
He didn’t finish the sentence—but in the next instant, he saw Veles’s eyes narrow sharply.
“You know what to do, don’t you.”
Antara heard Veles speak, each word deliberate.
It wasn’t a question—it was a statement.
Desperately, Antara gripped his staff tighter.
“…Yes.”
He murmured in a voice as thin as a mosquito’s whisper.
—The Queen’s judgment was not wrong.
Not at all.
The demons had indeed come to sow chaos. Yet with the rules suppressing them, and the watchful eyes of the goddesses, they could not create true disorder on their own.
And what could bring greater chaos and death than a single demon dragon?
Only dragon blood could purge the toxin of a demon.
But it had to be true, pure dragon blood.
Not a trace of human blood could mix with it…
This meant that if Veles wanted to save Alan’s life, he would have to transform completely into a demon dragon.
“Prince Veles, you must remember—you still bear the Forbidden Curse! If you truly transform into a demon dragon, the curse will utterly annihilate you. You—you—”
“I will die.”
In the face of Antara’s feeble protests, Veles remained extraordinarily calm.
No—this was more than calm. At this moment, the young prince even seemed… delighted.
“Everything is just as it should be, isn’t it?”
Veles suddenly smiled.
Antara stared at the man before him, struggling with all his strength not to flee in terror, clutching his staff.
As Veles’s overseer, Antara never dreamed he would one day witness such a near-pure, soft… smile on the face of this man called Veles.
Of course, what chilled him the most was what Veles said next.
“I’m happy, Antara. I’ve never been so grateful for this curse—I can become a dragon.”
Veles murmured, his voice gentle and sweet.
“So I can save Alan.”
“The problem isn’t that—”
“As long as he can live, that’s enough. As for me—doesn’t the existence of the Forbidden Curse work out perfectly? If I were to become a demon dragon without any restraints, I would lose consciousness and turn into a creature that knows only destruction and slaughter… and that could hurt Alan, or even put his life in danger again. But I still have the forbidden spell my mother placed upon me.”
As he spoke, Veles smiled, lifting a hand to his neck, where the sigil of the curse was spinning faster and faster, its color deepening—turning red, then gradually darkening toward black.
“So after saving Alan, I can die. That way, Alan will never be in danger again.”
“You’re insane!”
That was Lelian’s scream.
“What the hell are you saying? You’re going to turn into a demon dragon to save Alan and then go die yourself? Her Majesty set that forbidden curse back then so you wouldn’t commit s**cide—”
Before the red-haired knight could finish, a silver-blue arc of magic slammed into her, hurling her violently away.
The other paladins were flung back as well.
Cursing loudly, Lelian tried to scramble back to her feet to stop the prince’s absurd plan—but they quickly realized just how cruel the difference between humans and dragons truly was.
As long as Veles wished it, they could only remain nailed in place, utterly immobile—nothing more than “tin cans” of white steel.
“And what do you think, Antara?”
After dealing with Lelian and the other paladins, Veles abruptly withdrew that spine-chilling smile.
He turned back, staring at Antara with a blank expression.
In just a few breaths, scales had already crept over his cheeks.
The pupils set within his eyes now looked like those of a true reptile—sinister and terrifying—and, just like the dragons described in ancient texts, they held an extremity of madness within them.
“Prince Veles,” Antara whispered, making one final attempt to stop the Veles who had clearly gone mad, “…Mage Alan would be heartbroken.”
Veles’s body shuddered violently—but even after he magically flung Antara far away, not a single word came from Veles in his direction.
All he could see was Veles’s body rapidly expanding.
Dense scales covered the last patches of smooth skin. He suddenly spread his dragon wings, then lifted his head. A fierce black wind swirled around him as his neck elongated sharply. Along his spine, countless deadly spikes shot up symmetrically.
…
His shadow grew impossibly dark, impossibly vast.
Alan saw the dragon.
It was the most magnificent, most elegant, most beautiful dragon he had ever laid eyes on in his life.
Even in the meticulously crafted movies of his original world, some of which cost billions, Alan had never seen a dragon as breathtaking as the one before him.
He even wondered if he was dreaming.
Because only in dreams had he ever seen a dragon like this…
Wait—he thought, maybe he had seen this dragon in a dream.
Alan blinked, trying to clear the fog clouding his mind.
But no matter what, his vision remained hazy, and his body felt as if he had climbed mountains for three days straight and run a marathon—muscles slack, refusing to obey him.
All he could do was stare directly at the dragon.
The dragon was immense, as vast and dark as a mountain ridge at night. But when it bent its elegant neck toward someone as small as Alan, its muzzle came close to Alan’s cheek—so close that it seemed he could reach out and touch the dragon’s snow-white, razor-sharp teeth, or feel the fine, rigid scales that made a soft metallic rustling sound when rubbed together.
“Alan… my Alan.”
Alan heard the dragon calling him.
For some reason, just hearing that voice made his eyes sting, and tears nearly welled up immediately.
“Drip—tick—”
In fact, the next moment, Alan did feel something wet fall, quickly soaking him through.
“Drip—tick—”
“Drip—tick—”
One drop, then another.
The warm liquid, tinged with the metallic-sweet scent of blood, quickly drenched Alan.
It wasn’t just any liquid—it was the dragon’s own blood, endlessly flowing from the black dragon’s body.
That warm blood rapidly drove away the lingering cold that had plagued Alan’s body.
“You… you’re hurt? Are you okay?”
Alan muttered instinctively.
He struggled to move his eyes, following the source of the black dragon’s bleeding—and then he saw it with sheer terror… a heart.
A heart so enormous that it could almost swallow him whole.
Black dragon hide, deep crimson muscle, ripped open by its own master with a huge gaping wound. The snow-white ribs spread outward like the petals of a flower, soaked in flowing blood. Deep within this shredded chest hung the dragon’s heart—dark red and still beating vigorously even at this moment.
The dragon pumped that blood through its gaping wound, letting it pour over the pale-faced black-haired mage below.
“Veles… Mr…”
Seeing this, Alan’s first words weren’t a scream—they were a single name.
“Veles?!”
The next second, his chaotic mind was yanked back into clarity by sheer terror. His memories began rushing back, flooding into his consciousness.
He finally remembered everything—his battle against the demon duke Hieronymusa, Veles descending before him like a hero, and the moment he had been bitten by the venomous snake.
He also remembered the half-dream, half-waking conversations he had heard while under the demon’s poison.
Tears suddenly welled in Alan’s eyes. He stared at Veles in disbelief, desperately trying to force words out of his throat. But the overwhelming emotion made him only gasp for air, shedding tears without being able to utter even a single sound.
Once fully awake, he could no longer ignore the ominous crimson runes etched across the black dragon’s body.
They were like instruments of torture, embedded deep within the dragon. Decades of accumulated magic now surged into demon-dragon Veles through those characters—Alan could even see the terrifying red glow faintly seeping through the gaps between Veles’s scales.
Perhaps only a heartbeat, or a few breaths, were enough for the curse to completely tear apart this dragon named Veles.
“It hurts… Mr. Veles… your wounds look so painful, so painful. You shouldn’t do this to yourself. You should take better care of yourself… You’re the most beautiful dragon in this world…”
Alan finally managed to speak.
Yet the whisper spilling from his throat was fragmented, just like his tears—utterly incoherent.
The black-haired mage felt as if his heart itself were shattering.
Summoning all his strength, he lifted a hand, striving to get closer to Veles.
“Don’t cry, Mr. Alan.”
Veles saw Alan’s face, curled into a weeping, tear-streaked mess.
Instinctively, he wanted to lift a hand and wipe away Alan’s tears. But as he tried, he realized he could no longer move. Just as Alan had guessed, the forbidden curse placed by Her Majesty the Queen was about to tear him apart.
And indeed…
It did hurt.
But Veles was grateful for this pain, so deep it reached his very soul. This pain pinned his human reason firmly within the body of the demon dragon, giving him the time to cut open his own heart, letting the blood that could purge the poison flow into the body of the one he loved.
Veles watched Alan’s breathing shift from weak to steady, his color changing from ashen blue to a healthy flush.
He felt indescribable happiness.
Yet at the same time, he felt profound sadness.
He knew Alan would be heartbroken—perhaps this was what he secretly desired. After all, a demon dragon is a greedy and selfish creature. Even if he willingly gave his life for Alan, he still wanted to leave an indelible mark upon the black-haired mage’s soul.
Veles wanted Alan to remember him forever.
But when Alan lifted his face and met Veles’s eyes, regret struck him anew.
‘I shouldn’t have made him so sad.’ Veles thought, his chest aching.
This wasn’t a dream.
It was reality.
When Alan was truly pressed against Veles, face to face, Veles realized that Alan truly, truly cared for him.
Whether as a human, or as a demon dragon.
Veles felt happiness.
But he was about to die.
“I… I don’t want to let you go, Mr. Alan.”
Countless emotions collided in Veles’s chest. On one hand, he was so happy that he could die without regret; on the other, he was so unwilling to part that he wished he could become a wandering spirit, haunting the world forever, lingering beside his innocent and pure lover.
His time with Alan had been so short—so short that even Veles felt tears welling in his own eyes.
“And… there’s something I want to tell you…”
Veles tilted his head slightly. The reality of his imminent death stripped away all hesitation.
He extended his tongue and licked away the bitterness of Alan’s tears.
“Veles?”
Alan’s eyes widened.
At this moment, even Veles could see it—Alan’s tear-filled pupils reflected the flowing red light of the forbidden curse.
The last time, in a dream, Veles had regretted not finishing the words before Alan had kissed him.
Now, he had to seize the moment.
“I love you, Alan. I love you so much, and I will love you forever.”
“I love you too.”
In the final second before the red light of death exploded, Veles heard Alan’s voice.
In a blur, it seemed as if the mage he loved most lifted his head and kissed him—ugly, monstrous as he now was as a demon dragon.
A blinding light enveloped the entire world.
The spell, specially designed to annihilate a demon dragon, struck like lightning, devouring the perception and sight of everyone in that brief instant.
Everything twisted. Everything seemed to burn. Every tiniest magical particle in the air melted from the overload.
At the moment the curse activated, both Antara and Lelian were thrown into a pure white void, their senses overwhelmed. Long afterward, the remnants of that indescribable, soul-stealing brilliance still lingered on their retinas.
—
“Bang—”
At the same moment, accompanied by the crisp sound of something breaking,
Queen Alfied, busy with her heavy duties, suddenly stood up, staring intently at the staff beside her—which had been snapped in two.
Moments later, her body wavered, and she collapsed uncontrollably to the ground.
For years, the woman had been flawless, concealing all emotions beneath the mask of “Queen.” Yet in this moment, she could no longer hold back. Staring at the fragments of her staff, tears streamed down her face.
—
In Green River Village, once he could finally manage to open his eyes, Antara silently rose to his feet.
The dragon-curse magic imposed on him had already shattered with the disappearance of its master. Both Antara and Lelian were once again free.
Yet neither felt any joy from this newfound freedom.
“Prince Veles… was utterly foolish.”
Lelian moved sluggishly, hardly resembling a great swordmaster.
As she picked up her sword from the ground, her face remained stern, and she didn’t even glance in the direction where the demon dragon had appeared.
Antara drew a deep breath, forcing himself to calm his emotions.
“At least he fulfilled his own wish. I’ll go check on Mage Alan—I imagine he’ll need our help…”
As he spoke, the elven mage’s expression was grim as he gazed toward the place where the light had erupted. After a long moment, he began moving forward slowly.
Yet as he pushed aside the suddenly overgrown vines and underbrush, what entered his vision was a figure that shouldn’t even exist.
It was a dragon.
A dragon that held the frail young mage firmly in its claws, its entire body radiating brilliant silver light.
Not a dragon crushed or torn apart by a forbidden curse. Not a corpse.
A dragon. A dreamlike silver dragon.
And as a mage most attuned to life itself, Antara strained every sense in terror…
Yet no matter how he probed, he could detect not even the faintest trace of a curse on this unfamiliar silver dragon.
Of course… that seemed only natural.
It was well known that demon dragons were the product of curses. As fallen, corrupted creatures, they had only one form: the pitch-black, terrifying black dragon.
So it made perfect sense that there was no trace of a curse on the silver dragon—ha ha ha—what the heck?!
Another well-known “fun fact”: all uncorrupted dragons had already left this plane of existence.
The only dragons left behind were demon dragons.
So… then who on earth was this silver dragon, the kind that should only exist in the realms of the gods?
It couldn’t possibly be…
“Hmm?”
At that moment, Antara heard a weak groan from Mage Alan.
The black-haired mage, being carefully cradled in the silver dragon’s claws like a treasured artifact, still looked a little dazed.
He steadied himself against the dragon’s translucent, burnished silver claws and staggered upright.
The first thing he did upon opening his eyes was lift his gaze toward the silver dragon.
Tears still streaked Alan’s face from moments before, his nose red from crying—but when he saw the silver dragon, he paused for only a brief second before bursting out with sheer joy, calling the name he’d longed to speak:
“Mr. Veles!”
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Author’s Note:
Of course, saving the prince involved a true love’s kiss! Hee hee hee…
……
Lart: Ribbit?
