The God of Jesters
Chapter 565 - 9.04.1 The secret of Dragon.

Chapter 565: 9.04.1 The secret of Dragon.

The moment Rosso got through into the coffin, he really felt it was his end.

A certain end that he won’t be coming back from, considering what he has done to Cynark. Death would be a mercy to him, and in case his captors were able to extract all the information that had been hidden in his head. Things won’t turn for the better, as Rosso was aware of how the current world operated to some extent.

He would end up turning into research fodder or in the worst case, an enslaved death Knight for Cynark.

Though considered rumors or urban legends, among the world of commoners and most of the nobles, for certain people at the higher rung of society, the existence of Death Knights was not such a secret.

Mostly made up of Criminal Knights, they were forced to work for their Masters with their lives on the line. And there was no will behind their actions, they were barely capable of thought, and with the thought of their master, these Knights could easily die as well.

In a way, once you are turned into a Death knight, there is no escape from a harsh and humiliating fate than death itself, hence the name.

But Rosso knew little about Death Knights—at least he was not aware that he had met one not too long ago.

’What is this?’ And while he was having a random thought about his horrific future, where he had failed his creator, something touched his leg. "??"

The spikes inside the coffin were alive, any movement or sound from him would be met by a stab into his flesh with the worst part of it all being that this coffin seemed alive, capable of swallowing the blood that flowed out of the wound, further weakening Rosso the longer he remained here.

Which is why he had gone completely still, saving his blood. But it would seem the coffin was annoyed and it had to tickle at his feet for some reason. ’No, it’s something else." With further focus and his bloodied eyes, Rosso could feel someone climbing up his feet, filling the coffin in the process.

’What is this?’ And he didn’t know if this was a natural part of the coffin or not, with no eyes at the moment and incapable of movement, it was much harder for Rosso to read into the origin of this substance. So treating it as a natural part of the sealing process, Rosso let go and closed his eyes while the weird Goo covered his body in its entirety.

And then, before he can notice any oddity, his flesh starts to dissolve at a fast rate.

"Huh?" But there was no pain, was it because his pain receptors were already dissolved at this point? No, it was something else. Something that Rosso can feel in his bones.’Is it a bizarre curse?"

By the time had such thoughts, Rosso felt the spikes that dug deep into his body disappear while he floated in a viscous liquid of heavy density. But not enough to hold him back in any sense. So even without any eyes, he dragged his body forward, swimming out of this mucus-like liquid before surfacing out of a small pool in the very shape of a coffin itself.

"Success?" Spoke a voice not too far from him. It was the figure of a small girl who kept her face hooded as she asked. "Are you good?" She asked from a distance, while Rosso started to wonder just what he had experienced just now.

"That voice, too young for an adult... Girl, where am I?" Rosso was confused. The experience he had before was too wild to imagine, but at least he was not in that coffin.

No, the situation can be far worse if one were to think about the current situation deeply. Did he lose track of time in that place through another one of those Exorcist tricks and currently he was in the enemy cell?

Blindness was really harsh on him, the poison, nails, and seals that suppressed his body still had a lingering effect, making it far harder for Rosso to regenerate his eyes and the rest of the injuries, so the most he could do was depend on his instincts as well as ears to assess the room and the situation. ’Small room, no bars? No nothing besides an odd magic circle.’ For someone of his rank, Rosso could see far more than possible.

It’s why he could see the small girl that stayed at a distance, not showing any intention of approaching him, nor any sign of her being an enemy.

"Don’t panic, we are Team One... the rest will be coming here soon." Spoke Mini in a small voice that sounded too young for some reason. And Rosso after finding out her identity also went silent.

"Was I rescued?" Team one, the primary team directly under his creator. They can also be termed as his creator’s closest followers, even though none of them had even an inkling of his creator’s blood flowing in them.

But should he believe them? Well, he was saved or so he thought at the moment, the rest can only be confirmed after his injuries are healed.

"Yes... others, they will be arriving soon?

"My rescuers aren’t even here? How did I get here before them?" Rosso asked, before turning his head and looking at the weird coffin-shaped pool. "How long was I out for?"

"Not for long, we rescued you in under an of your capture." The girl said before throwing Rosso some towels and pointing to the corner with some potions and bandages on the table. "Help yourself." She said, leaving the scene before Rosso could ask any more questions.

******

Not so far from him. For the first time in centuries, the sky above Vercano islands was clear of any cloud, though what remained in that sky was some odd figure.

With one of them suffering from the very fate that Rosso had feared for himself.

"You really are not a human." Defeated and floating on top of the sea with harrowing wounds all over his body.

Which was odd considering that there were barely any scratches on his arms or legs. Which might be mistaken for their high quality, but the opponent, who happened to be Dragon had long eyed them as his own precious loot. Wouldn’t it be stupid to break such precious tools?

"Human, I have thoroughly enjoyed this exercise, now present your arms as an offering to me and I will forget your prior insults." Spoke a voice that sounded far too inhumane.

And why wouldn’t it be?

The figure in front of Dearma that floated high in the air had long abandoned his humanoid form, appearing around fifty meters long, floated an ugly snake with feathers on its back while a total of three small human-sized hands hanged from his body life thick hair. And only with some focus would someone notice such an oddity.

During the fight as Dragon started to show his true form more and more, Dearma wondered if this thing was truly someone with Dragon blood considering the feathers and the ugly snake head with countless flaking skins and scales falling from its side.

"Insults? Sir Dragon, if you had any desire to spare me, I would have taken you up on that offer." Dearma was a sadistic monster who was forced into serving as a Death Knight for a reason. No one in this group was pure of heart. They were a sinful bunch who would never be able to atone for their sins in death, so they were forced to atone for it in life.

But even then, Dearma considered himself a good enough man to keep his word. He might be cruel, but he was not honorless. That part of his has never died since he was imparted with such fate.

Which is unlike that of a Dragon, or so it called itself, because Dearma can’t say how this thing resembles a Dragon in any way. ’A mutant failure.’ He thought in his head, looking toward the lanky arms that had no strength in them anymore. But he suppressed such thoughts in his heart.

Dearma previously misunderstood that Dragon was just acting so childish due to some problem with his memories or understanding. This would explain why he battled so inefficiently early on and this could also explain his brash personality that didn’t see anything in its eye

But Dearma was wrong, intelligence had nothing to do with his personality being weird, this monster’s been delusional since the start.

"Hahaha! You just lost your only chance at survival." Spoke Dragon with some greed in his eyes.

Dearma was a good opponent, but at the end of the day, he was still a human, incapable of fully grasping against the force he was dealing with. If not for those precious limbs, specifically those arms that hold the means to completely negate any Aura, Dragon knew he needed to acquire them.

Such a precious thing can only be made for someone as worthy as him.

No, in his delusion, Dragon even believed that Dearma was nothing more than an errand boy to send him this precious gift.

And now that Dearma has denied the only little goodwill Dragon had toward this Legendary being. He rushed through the air, causing lightning to rise from the sea and then boil the very ocean below it.

There was no aura, no bloodline talent, no magic involved. It was a natural phenomenon born from the Dragon’s very own existence.

Wherever he moved, clouds would rise while thunder would fall. ’Flood dragon... an inverse of a flood dragon.’ The scene in front of Dearma was right out of legend.

It is said that the Flood Dragons are the creator of storms and rain, darlings of heaven.

While this beast, matches the description partially, no is entirely inverse considering the natural phenomena are entirely inverse of what is in the legends. ’I never thought they were real.’ As death approached, there was a smile of relief on Dearma’s face.

"I hope you never become a real Dragon... you Damn IMOOGI!!"