Chapter 35: (The Most Civilized Episode)

The dust hadn’t settled yet.

Olivia stood up from the rubble.

Her silver-white hair slipped from her shoulders.

Barefoot on the crushed stone, her toes curled slightly, uncomfortable from the sharp edges.

She raised a hand and brushed the silver hair plastered to her face back, revealing a pair of silver pupils—an oversized shirt, bare legs, bare feet, and her chest straining the fabric to its limit.

“Alright.”

She looked up at the black mass opposite her.

Fully enclosed black heavy armor, with only a thin horizontal slit on the helmet.

A metal conduit extended from the spine area on the back, its surface etched with runes glowing dull red.

Black mist seeped from under the figure, spreading slowly across the stone floor.

Where it touched the rubble, the stones began to blacken.

“What kind of monster is this?”

The Devourer’s helmet turned toward her.

Behind the narrow slit, the black mist ceased its churning, as if a pair of eyes were refocusing.

“Dragonkind.”

“You’d best stay out of this.”

Olivia tilted her head, silver hair sliding over her shoulder.

She looked down at her bare feet, then up at the Devourer.

The corner of her mouth lifted—into an expression she’d learned almost perfectly from Wei.

“Who do you think you’re talking to, huh?”

The Devourer’s armor emitted a low hum.

The runes on the restraint device on its back shifted from dull red to deep crimson, doubling their flashing frequency.

The black mist at its feet suddenly expanded, like an angered living thing.

“How dare you!”

Its voice rose half a pitch.

For a Devourer that never spoke, this was probably the equivalent of a normal person jumping onto a table and bellowing.

Olivia planted her hands on her hips.

The oversized shirt’s collar slipped another inch down, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Do you have any Eldron curse idea who I am?!”

Her voice echoed several times through the empty nave of the church. The Devourer fell silent.

“…Impertinent.”

“Impertinent your ass! You tin can too scared to show your face, come to Eldron to raise hell—didn’t your Eldron curse mother teach you to knock before entering?!”

A wisp of black mist spurted from the gaps in the Devourer’s armor.

Not an attack—it was fuming.

“Rude wretch!”

“Rude? You Eldron curse break into someone else’s church, bury me under bricks, and you want to talk about manners? Is your head filled with vodka or permafrost?!”

“You—”

“Don’t Urske people have any sense? Don’t you know to take off your shoes when entering? Look at the floor—all black footprints! When the priest gets back, you’re Eldron curse cleaning it yourself!”

“Silver Dragon.”

The voice dropped low, like the rumble before a blizzard.

“The Silver Dragon Queen has no dealings with Urske. Why are you here?”

Olivia rolled her eyes.

“Can’t I visit family?”

“Absurd. The Silver Dragon Clan has no—”

“I just adopted some, alright? What’s it to you?”

“Glib tongue.”

“Still better than your mouthful of black mist. Do you even brush? You smell like tundra rot—I can smell it from three pews away.”

The restraint device on the Devourer’s back let out a piercing shriek.

The runes jumped from deep red to dark purple, flashing so fast they almost blurred into a solid line.

The black mist pouring from the armor gaps was more than twice as thick as before.

The temperature in the entire nave plummeted.

“—Contemptible lizard.”

Olivia’s eyes narrowed.

Her silver pupils glinted briefly in the dim light, like two stars freshly plucked from frost.

“Fine. If I don’t tear that scrap metal off you today, I’ll write my name backwards.”

The Devourer raised a hand.

Black mist surged from the palm, condensing into a formless mist blade, its edges constantly writhing and shifting.

It lifted the blade, aiming it at the small silver-white figure.

Olivia didn’t stop.

Her bare feet stepped over rubble, over the stone slabs eroded by black mist, over the bomb Wei had dropped on the ground—its fuse already extinguished.

Her silver hair streamed behind her like a streak of light.

The Devourer’s mist blade came down.

She sidestepped.

The mist blade grazed her silver hair, severing a few strands.

The strands were caught by the black mist, withering and curling in the air, turning gray-white before drifting down.

She didn’t look at the falling hairs.

She ducked under the mist blade, closing to a single step in front of the Devourer.

Her right hand clenched into a fist—a small fist, knuckles glowing faintly silver.

She punched the armor joint at the side of the Devourer’s knee.

Her knuckles precisely wedged into the gap between the two plates.

The Silver Dragon’s frost power surged from her knuckles.

A layer of white frost formed at the armor joint, spreading and seeping deep into the gap.

The Devourer’s knee gave a faint crack—not the armor breaking, but something within the joint freezing solid.

The Devourer looked down at the frost on its knee.

Then it raised its head, the narrow slit focusing on Olivia.

“…Ant.”

“Ant my ass!” Olivia jumped back, creating distance, hands on her hips.

“Leg frozen? How’s that feel? Aren’t you Urske supposed to be from the tundra? Can’t even handle a little cold? How embarrassing!”

The Devourer was silent for a moment.

“…Ignorant reptile.”

“Is your armor empty? If you took it off, would you just be a puff of smoke? A fart would blow you apart!”

The white frost on the Devourer’s knee began to crack.

“Sharp tongue.”

“Better than you can’t even string a sentence together. You Urske people, been in the tundra so long your tongues froze stiff? Can only spit out single words when cursing? Your vocabulary is worse than the vegetable auntie on Wuling Street!”

“Vulgar.”

“Vulgar? I can get a lot more vulgar, believe me. You Eldron curse crossed an entire continent to come south and bully a barefoot girl in a shirt, and you call me vulgar? Have you no shame?!”

“Raised by dragons.”

The voice dropped very low.

“This is the level.”

Olivia stopped moving.

“What did you just say?” Her voice was very soft.

The Devourer halted.

Olivia took a step forward.

“Say that again.”

The Devourer didn’t speak.

It raised its mist blade, holding it horizontally in front of itself.

Olivia lowered her head, silver hair falling to cover her face.

Her shoulders trembled slightly.

Not from cold.

“…You can say whatever you want about me.”

She looked up.

“But her—”

Olivia moved.

Her silver hair trailed in a straight streak behind her.

Her bare feet stepped across the ice, each step shattering the frost she herself had formed.

She charged at the Devourer, leaped into the air, right fist clenched.

On her knuckles condensed a layer of silver-white frost—not ordinary ice, but something from the deepest part of the Silver Dragon bloodline.

That punch landed square in the center of the Devourer’s chest armor.

Ice exploded from the point of impact, spreading in all directions like a frost flower blooming on the armor’s surface.

The petals of the ice flower layered one over another, expanding outward and penetrating inward.

The Devourer’s body was knocked back slightly—just slightly, its boots sliding half a step on the ground, ice cracking underfoot with a sharp crunch.

“…Interesting.”

For the first time, its voice held inflection.

Not anger—something closer to “finally found a worthy opponent.”

It raised its left hand and gripped the ice flower on its chest.

Its five fingers tightened.

The ice layer shattered in its palm like crushed glass, shards falling between its fingers.

The chest armor was revealed, with a fist-sized dent in the center.

Deep within the dent, several fine cracks appeared on the armor’s surface.

Black mist seeped from the cracks, like blood leaking from a wound.

The leaking mist was thinner than the surrounding fog, tinged gray, and dissipated quickly in the air.

The Devourer looked down at the dent on its chest, at the cracks, at the gray mist seeping out.

Then it looked up.

Behind the narrow slit on its helmet, the black mist was no longer slowly churning—it was violently contracting, like a pupil constricting in extreme rage.

“—You.”

Olivia landed, knees bending to absorb the impact.

Her silver hair spread out across the ice.

She looked up, her silver vertical pupils meeting the violently contracting black mist behind the narrow slit.

A grin on her face, she panted heavily.

“Want to go again?”

Her voice came between gasps, but the tone was pure provocation.

The Devourer took a step forward.

Another wisp of gray mist leaked from the cracks on its chest, dissipating in the air.

Then it stopped.

The flash rate of the runes on the restraint device behind it began to slow, shifting from dark red back to deep red, then from deep red back to dull red.

The black mist pouring from the armor gaps also began to recede, like a tide slowly retreating back inside the armor.

“…Enough for today.”

“Huh?”

Olivia’s hands on her hips, she tilted her head, silver hair sliding over her shoulder.

“Leaving already? Done cursing? I’m not done yet! Is this all you Urske have? Run away when you can’t win? What about the honor of tundra warriors? Did your mom call you home for dinner?”

The Devourer’s outline began to blur.

Not from movement—black mist surged from inside the armor, enveloping its entire form.

The mist grew thicker and denser, like a rising black wall.

Deep within the mist, the figure in black heavy armor grew fainter and fainter.

“Silver Dragon. Until we meet again.”

“Meet again my ass! Don’t run if you’ve got guts!”

The black mist contracted sharply, then dissipated.

Nothing remained.

Only a large area of dark stains on the stone floor where the black mist had corroded it, and in the center, a fist-sized dent covered in cracks.

Deep in the dent, a small patch of silver-white frost had not yet fully melted.

The church fell silent again.

Olivia stood on the ice, silver hair hanging at her sides.

She kept her hands on her hips, kept the smirk on her face.

Then she looked down at herself.

Bare feet on the ice.

Her toes were red from the cold, and the soles were covered in tiny imprints from the rubble.

The oversized shirt was soaked through—whether from sweat or melted frost—clinging to her body, outlining the Silver Dragon princess’s figure.

Her chest heaved as she gasped for breath.

That last punch had used up the last of her strength.

The six radishes she’d gnawed on last night had long since been consumed.

“Ha.”

She exhaled, the breath forming a white mist in the air.

“…He really ran.”

Olivia looked away.

In her silver pupils, the vertical slits were slowly returning to round, like a tide receding from narrow to normal.

She could feel it—the dragon bloodline was withdrawing from its full activation.

After the power receded, overwhelming fatigue and hunger surged in.

Her stomach growled, loud and clear in the quiet church.

“…Stop that.”

Her stomach growled again, louder than before.

Olivia sighed.

Then she saw Wei’s fingers twitch.

Her white eyelashes fluttered.

She was about to wake up.

‘—By morning at the latest, the entire Red Sun Brigade would know the Silver Dragon princess was in Rantesti City.

Then Prunier would find out.

Then she’d show up at her room door hugging a pillow.’

“…Damn.”

She looked down at her bare legs.

“Always like this after transforming.”

Wei’s fingers twitched again.

She let out a soft groan, as if surfacing from deep unconsciousness.

Her eyelids fluttered.

Orlando quickly crouched down and stripped a pair of pants from the corpse of the Urske soldier on the ground.

‘Good thing she hadn’t woken up…’