Chapter 78: Chapter 68: Dragon Eater Association

At Ben Mountain, beneath the colossal Dragon Bones, a dense crowd prostrated on the ground, resembling a field of wheat flattened by the wind.

"I sing your name, Emperor of Dragons and all races, Lord of the Immortal and of Madness, oh, Pulansantos!"

The red-robed Priest raised his hands high. "I offer blood and bone, reason and worship, as my tribute."

"Grant us scales, claws, and flying wings." He spread his arms wide, like a human Cross.

"And Fire and a Dragon Eye," he said in a low voice, tossing the Dragon Bone cup filled with Dragon Blood into the Array Pattern carved on the altar.

The stone-carved Array Pattern was covered in blood, and the Blood Pool made of bone, held aloft by a pair of Dragon Claws, slowly descended.

The praying Cultists raised their heads and, like the Priest, opened their arms, yearning to be bathed in Dragon Blood to wash away their impurities and obtain pure power.

The Priest surveyed his surroundings coldly from the altar. One of his eyes was a normal gray, the other a brilliant Golden Eye.

Every Cultist who met the gaze of his Golden Eye erupted in an excited cheer, as if being watched by a Dragon Eye was an extraordinary honor, even though they once believed Dragons were creatures of destruction.

So, would the Dragon God vent his anger on them?

No. All the Cultists, including the Priest, had been taught the doctrine by the previous generation of believers when they first joined the Dragon Eater Association and became Dragon Eaters:

The Dragon God knows everything, and the Dragon God does not care.

"But if God doesn’t care, doesn’t that mean he doesn’t care about the Cultists’ prayers either?"

That is why we must kill more Dragons, offer their blood and bone as sacrifices, and make the Dragon God care.

"Those bathed in Dragon Blood will suffer a hundred days of scorching heat and bitter cold, but that is the prelude to your transformation into a Dragon! As long as you endure for a hundred days and then consume a Dragon Heart, you will all obtain the power of a Dragon!"

The Priest raised his arm and shouted, "No longer will the high-and-mighty Law Enforcers call you vile Bloodless!

No more of those mist-clearing fees paid to the various Old Blood Clans and the Law Enforcement Organization! Those exorbitant protection fees!

The expensive tickets to travel between the Outer and Inner Sides! The Law of Oblivion that only targets the Bloodless! All of that—to hell with it all!"

"I just want to transform into a Dragon," he prayed.

"And to be Immortal..." The last part was a whisper, audible only to himself.

All the Cultists below the altar prayed in unison, "Transform into a Dragon!"

And so, the Dragon Bones behind him collapsed with a ROAR. The Blood Pool made of bone, held by the Dragon Claws, plummeted and engulfed the Priest’s figure.

The atmosphere, the ritual, and the chanting all reached a crescendo.

The moment the Blood Pool fell, the Cultists raised their hands high, opening their mouths and eyes, waiting for the Dragon Blood to wash over their bodies.

The Blood Pool shattered on the ground into blue-iron colored, red-cross-sectioned chunks of bone. The dust, mixed with the unified chant to Transform into a Dragon, became a hymn, like a grand ode to joy, soaring a hundred meters high, lingering in the air before dissipating like mist.

But the most important part of the ritual was missing—the blood.

Where was the blood?

All the Cultists looked toward the altar. The falling dust felt like a misty veil.

They pushed aside the mist. The altar was empty. The giant Dragon Bones were piled up like a trash heap, and beneath them huddled hundreds of eggs with completely black patterns—unhatched eggs they had stolen after hunting Dragon Descendants of Flying Dragons.

For a moment, the entire altar in the valley fell silent, leaving only the lingering echoes of "Transform into a Dragon" from the unknowing Cultists.

The Priest who crawled out from under the Dragon Bones reacted quickly. He spread his arms again. "God has taken the blood and bone! This means he... has heard our prayers!"

"Praise the Dragon!" he said.

The Cultists praised the Dragon in unison.

"Praise God!" he said again.

The Cultists praised God in unison again.

"Class dismissed... I mean, meeting adjourned!"

Hearing this, the Cultists exchanged glances, but still made a claw with their left hands and "tore" from their right shoulder to their left. This was the Dragon Eater Association’s unique "Dragon Hunting Ceremony," symbolizing the use of a Dragon Claw to tear away one’s human fragility.

But the Cultists stopped mid-gesture, because they realized the Priest on the altar seemed to have done it backward.

However, no one questioned him. They just imitated the Priest and changed their motion from left to right.

’The Priest must have his reasons for doing it this way.’

’So it wasn’t me who did it wrong, they were the ones doing it backward.’

Under the Priest’s robes, Baron broke out in a cold sweat. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

The Dragon Hunting Ceremony ended. Baron casually recited a few more words of comfort and then left the stage amidst a sky full of the cultish prayer: "Blood and bone for God, my heart transforms into a Dragon."

Probably because of the Priest’s robes he wore, one Dragon Eater Cultist after another greeted him respectfully as "My Lord" along the way.

It was also during this time that he inquired around and learned that the Dragon Eater Association’s organizational structure was very simple. Aside from a President and Vice President, the highest-ranking officials were the High Priests.

Each High Priest commanded a small Dragon Eater division of about a hundred people, like the current one. Under the High Priest were two Priests, responsible for leading the Cultists in the weekly "Blood Washing" and "Bone Eating" respectively.

Finally, the "Heart Taking" and the "Dragon Feast," held once every hundred days, were personally presided over by the High Priest.

Baron was the Priest who presided over the "Blood Washing," known as the head of the Blood Department.

As for the Priest of "Bone Eating," he was the head of the Bone Department.

Through his investigation, Baron also found out that the Dragon Eater Association had a total of twelve High Priests. Their strength, roughly inferred from the color of their pupils as seen by the Cultists, was either Gold or Bronze.

But Baron knew that Gold was impossible, so it could only be Bronze.

’A Bronze Tier High Priest. I wonder what kind of Law Enforcer he is. Anyway, if I can’t beat him, I’ll just run...’

’Too bad the price for this [Illusory Cocoon] is so short-lived. Otherwise, I could use it a couple of times for fun. When the price comes due, I bet even Isaac Newton himself wouldn’t be able to find me.’

While complaining internally, Baron summoned a subordinate to ask if the association was recruiting recently.

The Cultist paused, then said very respectfully, "My Lord, although the Dragon Feast has not yet begun, there are currently no extra positions in the association to share the ’Dragon Power’."

Baron didn’t care about Dragon Power. He decided to put it more simply. "Have any suspicious people appeared around the Church recently? Things are tense lately. I’m worried about spies from the Law Enforcement Organization."

"Yes."

Baron felt a flicker of joy but kept a straight face and asked, "Who?"

"In the dungeon. A Dwarf who calls himself an Alchemist from the Constantine Family. Because he’s too noisy, the High Priest plans to use him as bait to attract Wax Dragon Bad after the Dragon Feast begins."

"Wax Dragon Bad..."

"A silver Flying Dragon. It’s said that a thousand years ago, during a great war with a Red Dragon, his wing membranes were melted by Dragon Flame. But Flying Dragons are a part of the Dragon Race that gets depressed if they don’t fly."

The Cultist said with downcast eyes, "So, to keep from losing the sensation of flight, Bad has spent his entire life using fierce winds to hold up his tattered wings and soar through the sky. If he ever stops, he will never be able to fly again."

"Like Icarus from Greek myth, who flew toward the sun on wings of wax, even if the end result was to fall."

The Cultist said, "The Vice President says Bad will pass over this valley soon. He’s so old he can barely fly anymore. The High Priest will use a large amount of Flying Dragon blood to draw his anger..."

"And then use that anger to destroy him." Baron finished the Cultist’s sentence coldly. "I understand. I now suspect you’re a spy for the Law Enforcers. Come with me to the dungeon."

He knocked the Cultist out with one punch and summoned another to lead the way.

He said he wanted to personally interrogate "this traitor to the organization with a weak will" in the dungeon and requested to be led there.

Thanks.

—

「The top floor of the London Tower.」

Isaac Newton sat in an armchair, flipping through "Basic Applications of Runes" on his lap. He pinched his fingers together, making a calculation.

"A rift in the William Mountains of the Scottish Highlands... the Dragon Eater Association? The Dragon Knight’s Destiny is powerful indeed. It looks like he’s about to break through the Bronze Knight tier..."

With a wave of his hand, the pen and paper on the desk began to move on their own.

He spoke in a commanding tone:

"Reply to the Prole Court that the London Tower does not wish to participate in any operational plans concerning Baron Constantin.

Yes, write it just like that... and no swearing. Can you please maintain a bit of the elegance I had back at Oxford?"

"Oh, right. Spread the news that Baron Constantin is still alive. Say the apprentice of the London Tower Master has divined his location. Anyone who wants to buy this information must pay one kilogram of Gold. The offer is valid for one hour only, and we won’t wait."

The envelope sealed itself, split into two, and flew off in different directions.

"Master, didn’t you say you wouldn’t get involved in Baron Constantin’s affairs?" his young apprentice said.

Isaac Newton stroked his white beard and said meaningfully, "The fog is about to roll in. This money will be just enough for the London Tower’s expenses."

"Master, you didn’t go study at Westminster Cathedral, did you? Why do you sound like a crafty old fox from a fairy tale?" the young apprentice complained.

Isaac turned the page of his book and said lightly, "The Book of the Dead. One hundred times."

The young apprentice was first shocked, then burst into tears.