Chapter 162 - Festival’s Eve (Part II) (Patreon)

“This Lord commands you to leave,” Lucian's younger self said in the memory. He was wearing black armor saturated with Blood Essence, shining crimson like the mountain range below.

He was floating high in the sky, his surroundings filled with crimson energy as the Rune of Lust spread its intent throughout the region.

Nonetheless, while every other lifeform beneath him either fled or died from fear, the Evil Dragon didn’t awaken. The creature beneath him snored, offering no other reaction.

To be more precise, the dragon didn’t even change its breathing pattern, as if Lucian’s pressure didn’t disturb its sleep in the slightest.

Controlling the memory, Lucian felt a mixture of embarrassment and anger as he recalled the events.

I had no idea what I was messing with, he thought, and the scene changed.

An enormous magic array, a circle filled with blue and yellow runes, appeared above him and the Evil Dragon, powered by enough mana to sustain a city for a year.

When his younger self glanced at the runes, the rotating array slowed for a moment before flickering and shrinking until it was only the size of a bedroom. Then, after his younger self nodded, the array shone, and three figures appeared, sighing in relief that the Vampire Ancestor had accepted their teleportation.

“We made a deal,” Lucian said in the memory. “This artificial domain belongs to me now. This magical beast shouldn’t be here.”

The three newcomers wore magical robes and floated through spells, their mana cores pulsing with power. Their badges and mana showed they were Archmages, each more than a thousand years old.

In other words, they possessed strength comparable to Core Formation cultivators.

“Your Excellency,” the only woman among them said, her face hidden beneath a hood as she pointed downward with wrinkled gray hands. “This is the last remnant of the true draconic race, the Black Devourer, the Evil Dragon Du'vahryxs.”

The memory paused as Lucian shook his head. Arthur used to call this lazy lizard Dudu.

Lucian was beginning to miss hearing about the Human Sage’s shenanigans. Back then, his information network constantly brought him news from the world, making it impossible to spend a waking day without hearing something about the blond mage.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Lucian refocused on the memory, allowing it to continue.

After hearing the woman's explanation, his younger self scoffed.

“Dragons don’t look like that. That creature is long like a serpent. A dragon should have wings, the body of a scaled tiger, breathe fire, and all the rest.”

The three Archmages exchanged nervous glances. Then the bearded one scratched his beard, his yellow eyes glowing faintly, and said, “Your Excellency, that is the Evil Dragon’s neck.”

Silence descended.

Then, the past Lucian unleashed his senses, a tide of blood spreading throughout the region and piercing the earth like molten rain. Each droplet transformed into a small creature resembling a black rat, each one strong enough to burrow through solid rock.

Seconds passed as Lucian's younger self frowned and released another wave of blood into the earth, controlling it with Blood Essence as it tunneled deeper. When minutes almost turned into an hour, the three patiently waiting Archmages suddenly felt an overwhelming wave of killing intent descend upon them.

“This creature occupies a quarter of this domain. Most of its body is buried, wrapped around a sea of lava. You knew that and didn't inform me,” Lucian’s young self said, his armor pulsing crimson as if alive.

Hearing those words, the bearded mage hurried closer with an apologetic expression.

“No, no, Your Excellency! We only discovered it ourselves a few days ago! We certainly didn't know this domain was home to the Evil Dragon when we transferred it to you.”

Remembering the event, Lucian inwardly sneered.

These bastards and their magical contracts. I suffered more than a few losses because of them. At least this time, they were the ones who miscalculated.

The memory continued, and after hearing their excuses, Lucian's younger self stared at the three Archmages with cold eyes.

Next, he smiled gently, closing his eyes for a single blink.

As soon as he did so, the old woman screamed as a translucent clock appeared behind her, visions of the future invading her mind. Before the scream left her mouth, the bearded mage erupted in yellow mana, conjuring dozens of shields, his body growing and taking a bronze hue.

And simultaneously, the last Archmage tore apart a scroll, a teleportation circle shimmering beneath their feet.

It was all for nothing.

When Lucian opened his eyes again, the three Archmages were already dead. Three spheres of blood floated silently through the air as their withered corpses fell toward the ground. Then, the Rune of Greed manifested as a crimson eyeball for less than a second, siphoning every drop of blood from their bodies before dissipating.

Lucian's younger self made a pulling motion, drawing the crimson intent back into himself.

The Archmages had never realized that Lucian had spread his power throughout the region, tainting their bodies with his runes the moment they arrived. They had mistaken the crimson glow of his Rune of Lust for the Evil Dragon's shimmering scales.

Having dealt with the envoys, Lucian's younger self lowered his gaze to the mountain range below, his expression cold.

Meanwhile, Lucian could feel the frustration building within him in real life, not only in the memory. Whatever happened until now wasn't even the worst part of him!

In the memory, his younger self waved a hand, invoking the Rune of Pride. Then, three drops of blood rose high into the sky, consuming the blood of every living being nearby. The rune also attempted to disrupt the Evil Dragon's vital force, but the beast didn't react.

Its breathing pattern didn't change in the slightest.

Afterward, Lucian in the memory manipulated the blood through the Runes of Greed, Gluttony, and Sloth, combining their effects and consuming Blood Essence to alter the crimson liquid's properties.

Soon, thousands of crimson blades appeared, gleaming beneath the moonlight like the mountain range itself, their cold edges pointing toward the earth.

More and more magical beasts died as Lucian expanded the Rune of Pride’s domain. Although he had not been able to absorb their blood, the Rune of Pride allowed him to command it freely, while the other three Runes shaped it into weapons.

The blades grew larger and larger, first the size of houses, then castles. Compared to them, Lucian himself was nothing more than a tiny speck in the sky.

When their number reached the tens of thousands, and no more blood could be found nearby, Lucian drew more blood from his own body.

A crimson sea formed around him as the countless blades aligned themselves along the Evil Dragon's neck.

“To leave your neck exposed like this," he smirked. "How arrogant."

Next, after expending more than half of his Blood Essence, Lucian lowered his hand, and the first wave of castle-sized swords plunged downward.

His goal was simple. He wanted to sever a single section of the neck and detach the creature's head from the rest of its body.

The instant the blood swords struck the hardened scales, a thunderous roar echoed across the land, and the entire region shook with a massive earthquake.

Without hesitation, he sent another wave crashing down after the first, only to discover through his enhanced senses that not even a scratch had appeared on the beast's scales.

As he relived those events, present-day Lucian felt his frustration steadily mounting. The worst part wasn't that the first attack had failed, but that the creature hadn't reacted at all!

Even after Lucian had reduced the surrounding land to a sea of blood and countless craters, the Evil Dragon continued sleeping peacefully. The creature didn't care that Lucian had spent half his Blood Essence trying to injure it.

Scowling in the present, Lucian instinctively wanted to rush through the memory. However, he felt the seventh meridian slowly opening, and understood he had to relive every ounce of that frustration.

So he endured it.

Lucian remembered attack after attack, night after night. In his memories, weeks passed as his goals changed. At first, he sought to sever the Evil Dragon's neck. In the second week, he sought to injure it. By the third week, he sought to wake it.

As time passed, Lucian's goal had become to make the beast acknowledge his existence.

He wanted a reaction, nothing more. Be it a change in its breathing, a slight movement, a groan, a small roar.

Anything.

In the memory, Lucian eventually found the Evil Dragon's head and attacked its eyes, nostrils, and mouth. Every opening, however, was sealed beneath hardened scales, and the creature breathed through tiny crevices scattered across its body.

Nothing changed.

Panting heavily, his eyes bloodshot and his face twisted with fury, Lucian's younger self clenched his fists so tightly that blood seeped from his palms. More than being angered by the sleeping dragon, he was frustrated with his own weakness.

How many people had he killed? Didn’t he have lost just as many to his curses?

How could he feel pride in everything he had achieved and valued his sacrifices when there were creatures in this world capable of surpassing him during their sleep?

Forget killing Du'vahryxs to build a new home. At that moment, Lucian wanted nothing more than to prove to himself that he wasn't merely a larger ant. That he wasn't the frail scholar, nor the blinded general, nor the ruler who had failed to recognize the betrayal of his dearest ones.

He wanted, with all his heart, to believe that his power, the very curse that had caused his own children's death, had been worth possessing.

Because if it wasn’t, what had been the meaning of his suffering?

As he relived that frustration, that pain, and all the anger he had buried, Lucian felt the seventh meridian, the Lesser Yang Descending Meridian, opening.

Just in time, he thought, his mood remaining dark despite breaking through to the high stage of the Qi Gathering Realm. Let's now see if the meridians are truly connected!

As that thought crossed his mind, the memory continued.

Overwhelmed by despair at his own insignificance and consumed by frustration toward his power, Lucian’s younger self conjured a blood sword and drew it across his neck.

This attack didn't drag him into his dark Sea of Consciousness for attempting to take his own life. Neither his own mind nor the Seven Curses recognized that as his true intention.

The instant the blade cut halfway through his neck, it dissipated, and the light faded from his eyes. Then, before Lucian's younger self died, six black marks appeared across his back.

In a tired voice, he muttered, “Feel my wrath, lazy lizard.”

This was the memory of Lucian having willingly activated the Curse of Wrath for the first time.