"..."
The Dragon of Albion lay idly on the ground, bored.
In this place where there was neither day nor night, no sun nor moon, only a faint aurora illuminating the sky, time drifted meaninglessly.
It had been, by human reckoning, one hundred and forty-seven days and twenty hours since the last time the dragon had strained its soul helping those weak, frail humans—
And ever since, it had been unable to speak.
Specifically, it couldn't communicate with that human through the Spear, and now, the mightiest dragon could only use the Spear to observe him.
The Dragon of Albion felt that, during this period of speechlessness, it had been watching that frail little human constantly—
Either leaning against a chair bathed in golden sunlight, lost in thought,
Or flipping through some incomprehensible book as autumn leaves drifted in the gentle wind.
Admittedly, this had a certain peculiar charm. It wasn't unpleasant.
But every time the dragon closed its eyes, a terrible feeling crept in—
If it fell asleep now, by the time it awoke, that fragile human might be gone.
Dragons, after all, were slow to perceive the passage of time.
Humans were so pitifully weak. They died so easily.
Such was the way of the world, until the illusions faded completely.
Thus, the dragon kept its eyes open, staring.
But every time it saw that human's disciple approaching, the dragon grew uncomfortable—
Like something that belonged to it was quietly being taken away.
It puzzled over the feeling for a long while. Finally, it understood—
That human… in the end… called me 'you'… instead of 'sir'…
So… was this… rejection?
Was it disliked by the weak little human?
Hmph, no matter. There were plenty of weak humans.
It didn't need the affection of the fragile.
Yet, deep down, the Dragon of Albion was certain:
If it truly was hated, truly rejected… it would cry.
Conflicting emotions churned within the dragon's heart.
To unravel this incomprehensible turmoil, it kept its eyes wide open.
At last, the mightiest dragon reached a simple conclusion—
It would thoroughly punish this shameless human.
The one who had once gazed at it with reverence,
But discarded it the moment it was no longer useful.
All that talk of "unique brilliance"... "the one and only radiance"... "the most exalted starlight"... was all lies!
Once it had properly punished him—
If the human sincerely repented—
Then, and only then, would it begrudgingly bestow upon him a shred of the dragon's mercy.
That was the extent of its feelings.
But for now, it couldn't speak.
Nor could it leave this place.
So, what could it do?
The mightiest—and most cunning—dragon devised an ingenious plan:
Why not simply take human form?
It remembered how, before the disappearance of illusions, the gods loved doing precisely that—
Cavorting among the weak little humans.
The Dragon of Albion had once scorned such behavior.
But now, given the special circumstances…
Just this once.
Just this once, it reasoned.
Quickly, the dragon began molding its soul into a human shape.
In the end, it was merely an avatar—
It could always revert back.
But once the shape was chosen, it would be fixed.
No matter.
It didn't believe it would ever again need to appear as one of those frail creatures.
The Dragon of Albion began to interact with the faintly visible space through which it could observe the human.
Just as it expected, it worked—
With some effort, and a proper link to the Spear, it could emerge in this form.
As for height, weight, and appearance…
It hadn't given it much thought.
But after one hundred and forty-seven days and twenty hours apart, this form would suffice.
Appearance… the dragon lifted its head toward the faint aurora illuminating the sky.
It remembered the human's words:
"You are my one and only brilliance."
"The most exalted starlight."
"The unique radiance…"
Hmph.
Then, to take the form of the light that upheld the world within this sanctuary for fading illusions—
That suited the mightiest dragon perfectly.
Everything settled, the Dragon of Albion began its final preparations.
Waves of dazzling magical energy surged around it.
Like a carousel spinning endlessly, the power coiled about its form.
From the tide of magic, a human silhouette emerged.
And within the sea of magic… appeared the image of the Spear.
The dragon, now human-shaped, reached out and grasped it.
"Novia, human—your contracted dragon, the mightiest of all, is I—Albion!"
This human was utterly ordinary—
Possessing no remarkable talents,
And when it came to flaws…
One could count them well past ten fingers.
Thus, the dragon was confident—
This human must realize how fortunate he was to have encountered it.
With its arrival, he would surely recover that reverent attitude.
After all—
It was the strongest.
And it absolutely submitted to strength.
As for the weak… their duty was to obey!
---
Meanwhile, Novia, still occupied with the aftermath of eradicating Judaism, had much to attend to.
Between daily administrative tasks for Emperor Claudius and managing the rapidly spreading Christianity—
Which, thanks to divine miracles, grew at an unprecedented pace—
There remained countless complications.
For no matter how miraculous the signs,
In the end, the doctrine had to truly take root in people's hearts.
To that end, Novia had invited the remaining Eleven Apostles, along with Paul, Martha, and others to Rome for discussions.
He'd also sent Cowbeck, the Twenty-Seventh Ancestor, to invite the current head of the Burial Agency for negotiations.
Though…
If that so-called head couldn't even defeat Cowbeck—
Novia wouldn't hesitate to establish a new Burial Agency altogether.
Suddenly, Novia sensed a massive concentration of magical energy gathering within his chambers.
Prepared for battle, he followed the source—
And saw that it came from the hanging Spear.
Realizing it was Albion, his guard lowered slightly.
After all, Albion had gone to considerable trouble assisting him in dealing with Doro,
Who had attempted to exploit Solomon's corpse.
That debt could not be ignored.
At that moment, a searing light erupted—
Not physical, but pure magical radiance, intense enough to scorch the soul.
The magic coalesced, weaving itself into a humanoid form.
Slowly, from within the Spear, a new figure emerged.
Her eyes opened, as if to take in the entire world.
"…You're Albion?"
Novia quickly recovered, smiling as he greeted her.
"Hmph… human, I—"
What was… this?
An overwhelming craving surged within the transformed dragon.
I want to eat him.
I really want to eat him.
I want to devour him, entirely.
Consume him… all of him.
In an instant, all reason fled the dragon-turned-girl's mind.
Only primal, bestial desire remained.
She opened her mouth wide, revealing sharp fangs—
And sank them savagely into Novia's shoulder.