“Grandfather?” Al said in shock.
The last lord of the Iron Country, Lord Aurvangr, was there. He wordlessly stroked Al’s hair as if to say ‘well done.’ Al’s face crumpled, and tears brimmed in his eyes.
Then, Lord Aurvangr turned his gaze to me. Still saying nothing, he held the blade of his golden sword in his gloved hand and presented me the hilt.
“Huh?”
Um. To me? Shouldn’t you be giving that to Al? Those thoughts and doubts did pass through my mind, but his strong gaze won out. I gripped the hilt and received the sword.
It was Calldawn, the famous sword that had claimed one of Valacirca’s eyes.
It was an enchanted sword that had been handed down through generations of dwarves and had probably existed since the time of the gods.
“Hero of the flame. Please… look after my grandson… and… this mountain…”
His voice came out hoarse and raw. Then, the armor being worn by Lord Aurvangr’s ghost, and his flesh too, slowly started to break down.
“Grandfather? Oh no… Grandfather?!”
Of course. I’d been told. Valacirca’s flame could incinerate even souls. Lord Aurvangr’s soul had most likely been roasted by the dragon. Its shape had probably become unstable a long time ago. It was probably reaching its limits just holding together for this long.
Tragically, heartlessly, the specter slowly melted and broke down, until…
“Not yet.”
A soft voice and a power as gentle as the breeze stopped the collapse.
“Not yet.”
It was my god. The Herald-flame of Gracefeel, goddess of the flame, had spoken.
“Hearken, ye that cannot retain your souls.”
My god’s words were not only directed at Lord Aurvangr. I looked and saw that several hundred of the dwarves in that army were in a similar condition. As they roasted, melted, and their spectral bodies started to break down, the warriors still kept their will to fight; yet even that seemed more than they could hope for.
“All ye that are burned by the breath of the dragon and can no more return to samsara.”
She seemed to speak calmly, but there was a certain sorrowful quality to her voice. And then—
“O ye that are born in this world and lived well! O ye that endured!”
My god, who had always spoken with few words and a level tone, shouted loud for the first time. Her words were filled with unmistakable praise for the lives they had led. They were words of gentle appreciation, praise, celebration, and direct justification.
Though they were ghosts, some of the dwarves trembled or broke down crying. To have one’s way of life validated by a god — could there be any greater honor, as a person or a warrior?
“I shall bestow upon you a final blessing! If even in death, after your souls have perished, you yet desire to bring forth good and righteousness—”
The flame danced in the air. It was beautiful and yet frail, like a firefly dancing through the night sky.
“I shall guide you! Gather unto the heroes that live in this time!”
The divine flame danced. It was the souls’ guiding lantern, preserving them before they came apart and beckoning soul after soul to our side. One after another, they came flying towards me and the others. I braced, but there was no impact or pain. However, their feelings came through to me. I felt their regrets, their lamentations, their unfinished business; and I understood their fervent desire for the victory they had been unable to achieve.
Come with us, they said. Please, let us go together. Fight alongside us.
As their words echoed inside my heart, mysteriously, power seemed to well up within me. The exhaustion weighing down my entire body like a lead weight began to vanish. My hazy mind became refreshingly clear. I felt as if I could immediately sprint into action.
Everything looked so clear to me now. These warriors’ souls, left to roam around the mountains that had been brought to ruin by the dragon, had almost been lost. But now, they were giving me power. I could tell without being told that their souls had been passed on to us.
Menel, Reystov, and Ghelreis also accepted those souls with somber expressions. And once he had confirmed that all of the burned souls had gathered with us, the soul of Lord Aurvangr, which was close to breaking apart, extended a hand towards Al. Al took it.
“Grandfather…”
“I will not say I’m sorry. My grandson, please, bring life back to this country and its people.”
“I know. Please leave it to me!”
The two of them looked at one another. Then, the soul of Lord Aurvangr scattered into golden particles and disappeared into Al’s chest. The god of undeath’s Herald muttered:
“What a pity. It seems I must share the fun.”
Then the foul-dragon gave a pensive growl and spoke sedately.
“It looks like you’re ready, Faraway Paladin.”
Even as the situation unfolded like this, Valacirca still didn’t start attacking us in haste. He waited calmly for us to completely finish.
“I… guess you didn’t do that out of kindness.”
“Khahaha. Of course not.”
The injured dragon spread his wings and drew himself tall.
“It is much like aging alcohol. Before I crush the heroes, I wait for them
finish all their preparations, get everything in order, fill themselves to the brim with hope, and march towards me. The moment when their faces warp
in despair…”
He bared his fangs.
“…is my greatest pleasure.”
There was no hint of a lie in Valacirca’s words. He probably had seen off more heroes than he could count that way, and incinerated them down to their souls.
“Now challenge me if you dare, Faraway Paladin. Either I will bury you
here, and another page will be added to my chronicle of terror, or you will
slay me here, and I will be spoken of in tales of valor across the four corners of the world.”
The dragon’s whole body brimmed over with miasma.
“Now is the moment of truth.”
I couldn’t answer him straight away. I looked at my god.
“Here I go.”
“Yes. I command thee again.”
The Herald-flame of the goddess flared up with an unmissable flash of brilliant light. And she, Gracefeel, goddess of flux, gave me my order in a solemn voice.
“Go, my knight. Slay the dragon, and pay that which you have vowed.”
I looked about at my allies and the ranks of dwarven ghosts.
“I swear on this sword, on the flame, on all the souls of warriors that dwell within me!”
I lifted the golden sword high, raised my voice, and shouted at the top of my lungs.
“The evil dragon shall be slain!!”
In response, a battle cry of hundreds shook the mountain.
“Roar, fire of courage!”
“Our enemy, this is the end of your evil!”
“The time for retribution has come! The hour of justice is at hand!”
“Bellator! Bellator! ”
“Fortis Fortuna adiuvat! ”
As if in reply to the countless shouts shaking the earth, the foul-dragon howled. The final battle began.
“RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAA!!”