Chapter 86: Chapter 72: Praise the Dragon God

A dreamscape. A sea of ethereal blue flowers.

Above the sea of flowers was an ethereal blue meadow; below it, a solitary cottage. Beside the cottage grew a fig tree of the same ethereal blue hue. Its delicate branches were transparent, revealing a clear and tranquil starry sky beyond.

Baron sat with the doll-like girl on the grass under the tree, holding a cup of floral tea as ethereally blue as the starry sky.

He took a sip. The fragrance was rich, the aftertaste sweet. Each swallow was like the first pull from an ice-cold bottle of liquor he’d buy on his way home from a late summer shift in his past life.

Delicious.

The Shepherdess said that it was a summer evening in the dreamscape, the time when the ethereal dream flowers were in full bloom. Many people would be dreaming of the moon tonight, so the dreamscape’s moon was also a bit larger than usual.

Baron gazed at the meadow above the sea of flowers. A great, luminous white wheel rested against it. Moonlight cascaded like a waterfall, pouring over the grass. From a distance, the scene resembled an ocean where blue and white bled together.

Baron said, "Shepherdess, thank you for healing my injuries. I want to go back to Britain now, to finish the mission I’m supposed to."

The Shepherdess sipped her black tea. "My lord," she said, "it is as you say. Your mission is not yet complete. The remains of the Dream Master have not been fully collected..."

Baron said sheepishly, "Actually, what I meant was, can the Dream Master business wait a bit? I promise I’ll help you collect them later. It’s just... I have some personal matters to attend to right now..."

The Shepherdess turned her head to look at Baron. Her eyelashes were long and curved, her eyes deep, dark, and clear.

Baron felt a pang of guilt under her scrutinizing gaze, but after a moment, the Shepherdess simply said:

"My lord, the remains will guide you to more remains. Please be careful..."

The black tea in his hand spilled onto the grass as a wave of drowsiness washed over Baron again. He wanted to say no, but could only fall sideways onto the grass.

’She keeps calling me ’my lord’, but I guess I don’t get a choice in the matter, do I?’ he thought... Yet his eyelids were irresistibly heavy, and they slammed shut.

"Please do not reveal the existence of the dreamscape or the Dream Seekers."

The Shepherdess’s final warning was the last thing he heard.

When he opened his eyes, he saw shattered, burning flames on an altar. The crimson afterglow of the setting sun flooded in from the west. A crowd in black robes, cups held aloft, surrounded him on the cross.

Like an ant colony surrounding its prey.

...

Baron closed his eyes, then opened them again.

’Yep, that description was accurate. It’s definitely me on the cross.’

He was tied to a cross.

’Starting in a tough spot, as usual.’

His wrists throbbed with a faint, stinging pain. He tilted his head slightly. Small cuts had been made on both wrists, and blood was trickling down from them.

Below, the lined-up Cultists each used a cup to catch a few drops of his blood before moving on to the next cross.

He took a closer look. A circle of crosses extended out from his own. People were tied to each one, their wrists slit in the same manner. He could see they were still alive, though their breathing was as faint as a silken thread.

Including Baron, there were a total of twenty-four "sacrifices" bound to crosses,

The crosses formed a massive circle.

At the center of the circle stood a high altar. A Priest in grey robes stood upon it. Behind him was a "cross-pillar"—a structure far wider and more imposing than Baron’s own cross.

Tied to the pillar was the mummified corpse of a hideous monster, looking as if it had been weathered for ages. Yet Baron recognized the monstrous corpse in a single glance.

It was the Divine Punishment Monster that Baron Camberra had turned into. The very same one Baron had only managed to kill by risking mutual destruction.

From the looks of things, these people were planning to resurrect the monster. In front of the great cross, besides the Priest, there was also a long table laden with offerings.

’Even though I can’t identify the items on that table,’ Baron thought, ’judging by my own newly-activated bloodthirsty instincts, the fact that I want to devour them means they’re definitely high-quality offerings.’

This made their identities obvious—they were Cultists of the Blue Blood Sect.

’I’m being sacrificed by the Blue Blood Sect... to the very Demon Fiend I killed?’

Baron found it all a bit ridiculous. He decided not to let this farce continue. His Golden Eye flared... and died.

His Golden Eye flared... and died again.

It flared, then died. Flared, then died...

He switched to his Blood Eye. The same thing happened.

Baron’s heart sank. It seemed the ropes binding him were imbued with some kind of Forbidden Magic.

’Correction,’ he thought. ’This isn’t a tough spot. This is a goddamn deathtrap!’

No one noticed the foul mood of the Demon Hunter and Dragon Knight on the cross. Or rather, no one cared.

The last Cultist completed his circuit of the crosses, confirming that his cup was filled with a sufficient mixture of blood.

The Priest on the altar nodded, then picked up a cup of blood from the long table before him and raised it high:

"Praise the Blood God!"

"Praise the Blood God!" the Cultists echoed, raising their cups.

"Praise the Marquis!"

"Praise the Marquis!" the Cultists chanted in unison.

"Praise their followers!"

"Praise their followers!"

Following the Priest on the altar, the Cultists drained the blood from their cups in a single gulp and smashed them on the ground.

The Priest nodded in satisfaction and began the incantation...

"O devout and renowned Master of Blood..."

An inexplicable anxiety grew in Baron as he listened to the prayer. The sound of his own blood dripping onto the ground only heightened his sense of urgency.

’Come on, kid, use that brain of yours and think...’

he told himself.

’If you die here like this, won’t you be eating all those brave words you told her?’

’Find a way out of this. Spiritual Power is sealed. Dragon Flame and blood abilities are useless...’

"...God Aisley, who stands shoulder to shoulder with the great master..."

’My body’s getting weak from the blood loss... If only I were a Silver Mage. They draw on external power, and all you have to do is shout a few words...’

Baron’s eyes lit up.

"...Please forgive me for offering you the blood of these fools..."

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

The sudden chant not only cut off the Priest’s prayer, but also drew the attention of everyone present.

Dragon God Pulansantos? Wasn’t this a ritual for the Blood God Aisley?

All eyes turned to the source. They saw the black-haired young man on the cross facing the altar. Not only had he not fainted or died from blood loss, but he was now beginning a new invocation with a voice full of power:

"I offer my blood and bone, my reason and my worship, as tribute!"

"He’s hijacking the ritual! He’s trying to take it over! You damn... blasphemer!"

The Priest snapped out of his shock and roared at the Cultists, "Stop him! Stop him now! He’s stealing my lines!"

The Cultists reacted instantly, dropping their Silver Cups and drawing Silver Swords.

A gleam of silver blades rushed toward Baron’s cross.

"Grant us scales and claws, and wings to fly!"

Baron’s arms were spread wide, forming a human cross.

No, he was already *on* a cross.

Before the Cultists could reach Baron and swing their blades, they heard the Demon Hunter cry out another line of the prayer:

"And Fire and Dragon Eyes!"

The words had barely left his lips when the Cultists stared in horror. On the central cross at the altar, the corpse of Baron Camberra had begun to burn!

Fire had truly appeared!

But what about the Dragon Eyes?

Their gazes snapped back just in time to see the cross binding Baron collapse with a ROAR. It was shrouded in smoke. A moment later, a dark figure burst from the fog, a pair of Golden Dragon Eyes burning like embers in a furnace.

And with him came the sound of unending gunfire!