In essence, Ravi, the Dragon King skilled in spatial magic, had never truly trusted the Empire. But for various compelling reasons, he had been forced into cooperation. In the end, he met his demise due to his own uncontrollable spatial powers.
Tonight, after witnessing the Empire's callous attitude and Constantine's tragic fate, Fael felt more resolved than ever to withdraw from this alliance at the first possible opportunity. But… he would have to wait for the perfect moment. Otherwise, with the Empire's methods, making Fael a common enemy of both humans and dragons would be all too easy.
"I had only heard tales of the Ironwing Dragon King's incredible speed. I didn't expect to experience it firsthand," the human man on his back remarked leisurely.
"Mr. Scott, your highly-anticipated, resurrected Constantine has once again fallen to Leon Cosmodeous," Fael stated, his voice a low rumble. "Lord Valerius will surely care about this outcome, will he not?"
The implication was clear: You'd better think carefully about how you'll explain this failure to your master.
"Care? Hmm… of course he will care, but it's not a catastrophic loss," Scott replied, trying to project a calm he didn't feel. "The resurrected Constantine was merely a test subject for our fusion techniques. If it's destroyed, so be it. The Empire has ample resources; we can create more ultimate creatures like him."
Fael knew exactly what Scott meant by "resources." Beyond the organs of various dangerous species, there was the crucial component—Dragon Heart Scales. Those scales were the key material that had allowed Constantine's dragon head to be perfectly integrated with the other monstrous parts, unifying the disparate powers and eliminating organic rejection.
To be honest, Fael hadn't even known his fellow dragons' scales possessed such a function until now. One could only say that these humans were, in some ways, even more fanatical than dragons. Their thirst for power, viewed from another angle, was no less intense.
Cooperating with such a species… sooner or later, I'll be used as mere fuel for their ambitions, Fael thought. He was a smart dragon. The risks involved in this process far outweighed any potential rewards. His decision was final: he would withdraw!
On his back, Scott continued to boast about the Empire's grand plans—how fusion techniques would be refined, how the next resurrected Constantine would surely be the one to kill Leon, and so on. Fael found it increasingly irritating to listen to.
But suddenly, he felt a faint fluctuation of power. He glanced down, and his dragon pupils widened in disbelief. The energy was emanating from the decapitated head he carried in his claws.
"Constantine…" Fael murmured inwardly. "Could you still… be alive in some way?"
Unexpectedly, the silent head seemed to offer a response. Fael listened carefully to the whispers from the undead. As a fellow dragon, even without feeling sympathy, granting this small effort cost him nothing.
"I understand now, Constantine," Fael whispered, so low that Scott could not hear. "I hope you complete your revenge."
The iron-blue figure streaked across the night sky, altering its course slightly as it headed straight for the human Empire.
.
.
.
In the Empire's capital, within the Fusion Technique Laboratory, Scott arrived in a hurry. A knot of nervousness and unease tightened in his stomach.
When he had been dispatched with Constantine to the Red Dragon Temple, Lord Valerius hadn't explicitly pressured him, stating that the primary goal was a field test, not necessarily Leon's elimination. But Scott knew better than to take a superior's words at face value; you only believed half, or you'd find yourself in trouble later. So, he had gone with the mindset that he must kill Cosmodeous.
But now, Leon was perfectly fine, and he had reduced their ultimate creature to little more than a severed head. That wasn't even mentioning the loss of all those high-grade dangerous species organs and the precious Dragon Heart Scales. The losses were significant. Given Lord Valerius's notorious temper, a severe reprimand was almost guaranteed.
Then again, Valerius had said it was just a test. Wasn't some loss expected in an experiment?
Steeling himself, Scott decided his report would lead with any positive news from the Red Dragon Temple incident before delivering the bad news. Though, he struggled to find much that was positive. After a fierce internal struggle, he finally stood before the laboratory door.
He bit his lip, raised a trembling hand, and was about to knock when Lord Valerius's voice, roaring like a rampaging bull, erupted from within.
"Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?!"
"If I don't get a satisfactory answer tonight, you can all await the gallows tomorrow morning!"
Scott's legs began to shake uncontrollably. He could vividly imagine the furious expression on Lord Valerius's face as he berated the royal sorcerers. But what could have happened? Was it serious enough to warrant the gallows?
Regardless of the reason, Scott felt a primal urge to flee, to return home and come back to report on Constantine's failure in a few days' time.
Just as he turned to leave, the laboratory door was wrenched open from within.
"Scott?"
The voice was like a chill whisper from the grave, freezing him in place. He swallowed hard, his body trembling as he slowly turned around. "L-Lord Valerius."
"When did you return?"
"Ah, I was just—"
"How did the mission go?"
Scott's eyes darted around nervously, his words becoming a stammering mess as he struggled to form a coherent response.
Observing his evasiveness, Lord Valerius let out a cold snort. "Useless. Where is Constantine? Did you bring him back?"
"Constantine… we brought him back," Scott managed, his voice quivering. "But the rest of him… we couldn't recover."