Orlando stood at the base of the stone pillar, looking up at the stone eye carved into it.
‘Blood. The God of Love said the ruin might need blood.’
He looked down at his hands—
Knobby knuckles, rough skin, traces of mud from this morning’s potato peeling still wedged under his nails.
Then he looked at the massive stone pillar in front of him, jutting diagonally out of the ground, so tall it disappeared into the canopy.
Then he looked at the rest of the ruins beyond the pillar, all carved with the same eye patterns, broken walls stretching through the woods as far as he could see.
‘He couldn’t just smash his head open and paint the whole ruin with his blood, could he?’
‘Not to mention that scene wouldn’t pass review—him squeezing his head against the pillar like an opened tube of paint, smearing silver blood everywhere. He didn’t have that much blood either.’
‘Then the Red Sun Group would write him a death report: Cause of death: excessive blood loss from painting an unknown ancient ruin. The tombstone would read: This person died of home renovation.’
He pulled the shortsword from his belt.
The blade glinted in the afternoon light.
‘Maybe just cut a small wound and let a couple drops fall.
Try it, and if it doesn’t work, we’ll figure something else out.’
He extended his left index finger and pressed the tip of the sword against the pad.
The cold of the iron seeped through his skin.
From behind him came the sound of dry branches snapping.
Not one snap.
A whole volley of them.
As if many people had stepped on many dry branches at the same time.
Orlando’s hand stopped.
The sword tip still pressed against his finger pad, cold and sharp.
He didn’t turn around.
The Silver Dragon’s perception spread behind him—
Heartbeats.
A dozen human heartbeats mingled together, some fast, some slow.
Horse pulses, slower than humans, thudding heavily against the ground one after another.
The sound of metal clashing, scabbards hitting armor, armor hitting stirrups.
“Yo.”
The voice came from behind.
“Long time no see, Brother Orlando.”
Von Brunswick sat on his horse, emerging from the shadows of the trees.
High-collared dress coat, gold-thread embroidery on the cuffs glinting in the dappled light.
Behind him followed the Urske diplomat—
Dark gray uniform, hat brim pulled low—
Two Urske soldiers, and seven or eight private soldiers he’d brought from the Empire.
Their swords were already drawn, blades shining in the afternoon light.
Orlando switched the shortsword from his left hand to his right.
“I remember we just saw each other a few days ago.”
He turned around, his back against the pillar.
The carved eye pattern pressed against his shoulder blades.
“How about paying for that meal?”
He raised the shortsword, pointing the tip at Von.
“And leave your life behind while you’re at it.”
Von smiled.
The corners of his mouth lifted, but there was no mirth in his eyes.
“You traitor. Tell me, what did you confess to the Silver Dragon Queen?”
He paused, twirling his riding crop in his hand.
“Spill it early, and I’ll give you a quick death.”
Orlando looked at him.
Von Brunswick’s face, well-maintained, beard trimmed neatly.
Two years ago in Skyreach City, when the teleportation array activated, Orlando had been too far away to see the expression on that face clearly.
Now he could see it clearly.
It was a look of relief.
“Two years ago.”
He spoke.
His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried clearly through the empty ruins.
“Skyreach City, the Silver Dragon Queen’s cavern. You activated the teleportation array and left with Elenora. I was still inside.”
Von’s smile froze for a moment.
“You abandoned your teammate. That’s the first charge.”
Orlando raised one finger.
“You fed false information to the Imperial Gendarmerie, framing me for treason and colluding with the enemy. That’s the second charge.”
Another finger.
“You privately allowed armed Urske personnel to enter Eldron territory. That’s treason. That’s the third charge.”
He held up three fingers in front of his chest.
Von’s face turned from well-maintained white to an angry purple.
The Urske diplomat’s hand rested on his sword hilt, gray eyes behind the goggles moving back and forth between Orlando and Von.
The Urske soldiers still had their swords raised, but the tips had drooped slightly.
The private soldiers’ swords were still up, but their grips were less steady.
“Mr. Diplomat.”
Orlando’s gaze passed over Von and landed on that low-pulled hat brim.
“This is your enemy?”
The Urske diplomat didn’t answer.
His hand remained on the sword hilt, but he didn’t draw.
The gray eyes behind the goggles shifted from Orlando to Von, then back to Orlando.
“We need formal diplomatic documents.”
His voice came from under the hat brim, a tone lower than before.
“Lord Brunswick. You say Orlando Dellfort is an Imperial fugitive. But you have provided no written documentation. No wanted poster, no trial records, no extradition request approved by the Imperial Council. Nothing.”
Von’s lips twitched.
“You didn’t need it just now, so why—”
He stopped.
The diplomat’s hand on the sword hilt didn’t loosen, but the blade slid out an inch.
Not pointing at Orlando—
Pointing at him.
“Enough. I don’t care anymore!”
Von cracked his riding crop through the air.
His horse stamped restlessly, snorting.
He turned to his private soldiers.
“Take him down! Dead or alive!”
The private soldiers charged.
Seven or eight swords raised above heads, blades shining in the afternoon light.
The Urske soldiers stood still—
The diplomat’s hand still on the sword hilt, gray eyes behind the goggles watching everything like a play that had nothing to do with them.
Orlando gripped the shortsword.
Silver light began to seep from the depths of his eyes.
He couldn’t hold it back anymore.
He’d walked from the Red Sun Group Stronghold to the forest outside the city, nearly two hours, suppressing it the whole way.
In the ruins, shouting at Victoria while facing the pillar until his voice cracked—
Couldn’t suppress it anymore.
And now seven or eight swords were coming at his head—
‘Screw suppressing it.’
He closed his eyes.
Silver light radiated from his skin.
The entire ruin blazed white for an instant.
The eye patterns on the pillar were illuminated by the silver light, lines spiraling up from the base lighting up one by one, like something that had slept too long was opening its eyes.
The private soldier in the lead faltered.
He saw Orlando’s body shrinking—
Shoulders narrowing, arms thinning, dark brown hair retreating into the scalp, silver-white strands surging from the roots like melted moonlight.
The private soldier’s sword hung in midair, forgotten.
Olivia opened her eyes.
Silver pupils, glowing in the afternoon light like two moons just drawn from a deep well.
The bright yellow shirt hung on her like a dress, collar slipping off her shoulders, hem barely reaching midthigh.
Sleeves so long they covered her fingertips, with only a few nails faintly shimmering with silver light peeking out.
She stood barefoot on the stone floor of the ruin, curling her toes.
The iron shortsword slipped from her right hand—
The hilt was too large for Olivia’s hand to hold—
And clattered onto the stone with a sharp ring.
She looked down at her hand.
Then looked up at the private soldier in front of her, sword still raised, mouth open wide enough to fit an egg.
“What are you staring at?”
“Haven’t you ever seen a magical girl transform before?”
Olivia sidestepped.
The blade grazed past her silver hair, shearing off a few strands.
Silver hair floated in the air for a moment before falling onto the stone floor.
She raised her right hand, five slender fingers spread, and pressed them against the wrist of the hand holding the soldier’s sword.
The strength of a Silver Dragon, even in Olivia’s form, was not something an ordinary human soldier could withstand.
The soldier’s wrist gave a slight crack—
Not broken, just numbed from the pressure.
The sword fell from his hand.
Olivia caught the hilt and slapped the flat of the blade against the side of his helmet.
The soldier staggered sideways, crashing into another charging comrade, and the two tumbled together.
The remaining private soldiers all stopped in their tracks.
Swords raised, staring at the girl in the oversized shirt, barefoot, silver hair falling to her waist, and the sword in her hand that was longer than her arm.
“She—she’s a dragon!”
Someone shouted.
Von Brunswick sat on his horse, his face turning from purple to ashen gray.
He had seen that face before.
Two years ago, Skyreach City, the Silver Dragon Queen’s cavern.
The last image he saw before the teleportation array whisked him away—
The Silver Dragon Queen, Astrid, silver hair and silver eyes, standing in front of a collapsing rock formation, looking down at Orlando lying on the ground.
The girl standing in the middle of the ruins now had the same face as the Silver Dragon Queen.
Younger, much smaller, but the same face.
“You—”
His voice stuck in his throat.
Olivia looked up, her silver pupils locking onto Von’s gaze.
“You what?”
She hoisted the sword—
Longer than her arm—
onto her shoulder, nearly catching the collar of the bright yellow shirt, and hastily tilted her head aside.
“Two years ago you left me in Skyreach City. Now I’m back to settle the bill. The meal money, plus compensation for two years of mental anguish. Installment payments are fine, but the down payment is one leg.”
She took a step forward.
Her bare foot pressed against the stone, sole gathering dust and debris.
The private soldiers took a step back.
Von’s horse skittered backward two steps.
“Mr. Diplomat!”
His voice cracked.
“This is the traitor! He—she—she’s Orlando Dellfort! You want to capture the murderer, don’t you? This is her!”
The Urske diplomat stood still.
Gray eyes behind the goggles studied Olivia—
Silver hair, silver pupils, bright yellow shirt, bare feet.
The sword in her hand was even more absurdly large than her entire body.
“Lord Brunswick.”
His voice came from under the hat brim, eerily calm.
“You say Orlando Dellfort is an Imperial fugitive. But this individual is a dragon. A Silver Dragon.”
“She is Orlando! She just transformed! You all saw it!”
“I saw it.”
The diplomat took his hand off the sword hilt.
“A Silver Dragon, inside an Angelic ruin, surrounded and attacked by Eldron nobility and Urske soldiers.”
He paused.
“The Urske Empire needs to reassess this matter.”
He took a step back.
The two Urske soldiers followed him, retreating.
The three figures disappeared into the shadows of the forest, the glint of the goggles flashing one last time before vanishing.