Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

Chapter 546 The Dragon's Fantasy

That was a month after Sheriu unleashed a bloodbath in the City of Wanderers, sinking the mobile city.

The dark, secluded chamber was lit with scented candles made from sperm whale oil, and a refreshing fragrance lingered on the ancient stone steps whose age was indiscernible. Runes resembling sharp claws and fangs emitted a faint light in the corners, and several agave plants encased in ice poured flames at the green humanoid figures outside the transparent barrier that were teasing them, though to no avail.

"Hahaha, what a little fool." Irason smiled proudly. Her mossy coat shed some pale green powder as her owner trembled; it was fine pollen, and inhaling too much of it could cause hallucinations. But the people present were clearly outside the Hallucinogenic Seeds' range.

Priscilla, her face cold, took out some books with mithril-inlaid covers from the embedded bookshelf. This one looked interesting, especially when taken from a pile of academic papers. Lady Frost glanced at her sister, then turned to the first page. A gust of cold wind blew out of the book, dispersing the green dust to the other side.

Tiny specks of light fell onto his thick, deep breath, and entered the large nose hidden among his beard.

Freheimer sneezed, flames shooting from his mouth, igniting his fiery red beard in the leaked magic of the red dragon priest, burning the green, sticky substance to ashes. The sparks vanished in an instant, and the dwarf habitually patted his perfectly intact beard, unconcerned about the green pollen and cold wind that had caused the sneeze. He tended to his newly built small stove, handing the brewed tea to the person on the other side.

"The tea is ready, brother."

The hunched, thin black dragon priest was only two-thirds the height of a dwarf. His withered hands accepted the red-hot teacup. "Thank you."

Ferrheimer patted his robes; the once-fitting dragon priest's robes looked like a thin jacket compared to his current stocky physique. But the red dragon priest didn't care; he had long since used this robe as a craftsman's apron. He had more important things to consider now.

“Brother Omhead.”

The old man raised his head, revealing a pair of deep eyes beneath his black hood.

“I don’t understand. Since the evil god larvae cultivated by Morokui can already reshape our flesh and blood, why do you still want to stay in this thin and frail state?”

"Too fragile. This flesh and blood is just a toy for pleasure, though its potential is amazing."

"Oh."

“You’ve all been slacking off lately.”

The black dragon priest's soft voice silenced the entire space.

The next second, the sound of the agave's flames was particularly piercing.

"Shh~" Irason, who was originally pretending to be a gopher, could only press his face against the ice to give a hint to his irritable little friend.

The Black Dragon Priest covered his face.

"Only Moroki still harbors ambition; his ambition and madness have grown wildly together. And you..."

“Embers are still just embers. Breathing desperately will only make you cool down faster.” Princip’s clear voice froze the atmosphere.

Irason sensed something was amiss, and the green dragon priest, aware of his mission, began to ease the tension.

"It's okay if we don't care, right? There's still the Holy Light, isn't there?"

"..."

Irason successfully eased the tension, and now the other three dragon priests all turned their attention to her, their gazes filled with pity.

Unable to bear their gazes, the giant female elf hid behind a fire-breathing bonsai.

“What I mean is… Brother Morokui will surely find a way to revitalize the Dragon Priests, so it’s alright for us to rest for a bit now!… right?”

The timing was perfect. A portal appeared on one side of the room, and the person who stepped out was none other than the Blue Dragon Priest Morokui, the scholar, who had come to the rescue of the Green Dragon Priest.

"Brother!"

The scholar, who had just passed through the portal, only saw a sprawling green figure rushing towards him. He instinctively used spatial teleportation to dodge the female elf's pounce through the folded space.

Just as Irason was about to fall headfirst into the portal, a large hand in a rough leather costume grabbed the bewildered Irason, lifting her up by the head. The tall figure passed through the portal, stormed into the Dragon Priest Council, and stood behind the scholar.

The dragon stared at the innocent eye between its fingers, and Irason exploded into a pile of pollen, while its true form appeared beside Principes, who had already gathered a storm.

"Dragon!!! You've asked for it this time!!!"

"Time-space exile." The scholar stretched out his silvery-white palm and slapped it onto the dragon's body. The surface of the towering dragon's body began to undulate like tin foil that had been struck. Its body became a blurry shadow in place, and the bursting ice crystals exploded on the spot.

The Black Dragon Priest grabbed Priscilla's ankle as she floated in the storm. The Frost Lady stopped casting her spell, though she still glared angrily at the afterimage in the space.

“Your explanation, Morokui.”

The scholar seemed to have been prepared; he stepped forward, displaying the arrogance of a human king.

“The followers of the evil god Triton, represented by Sheriu, have emerged. I will not allow my city and my people to be corrupted again. There are too few dragon priests. We need to expand our ranks to cope with the impending disaster.”

"Don't even think about it! I won't become an ally of this bastard!" Principes couldn't contain her anger and directly rejected the scholar's suggestion.

The Dragon Priest Council has already vetoed the proposal; it seems like a bad start.

“A new dragon priest?” Omhead began to consider the possibility. The black dragon priest was also aware of the current situation. “A rather tempting offer, Morokui. But as a member of the dragon priests, you should know the difficulty as well as we do. We cannot conjure a new dragon priest. The dragon race is dead. There are no living dragons, and therefore no dragon souls.”

“Even if you find a way, he is not the right person; he will affect the unity of our Dragon Priest Council.”

The scholar looked at the others, all of whom stood firmly by Principality's side. The long years of mutual support and assistance, and the mutual support after the fall of hope, were what had sustained the current Dragon Priest Council. The scholar knew very well that he was one of them.

"Scholar, let me handle this." The rough costume had been torn apart by brute force, and the ferocious bone claws tore open a rift in space and time, as the sinister lich stepped into the room.

The dragon first bowed slightly, saying, "First of all, I apologize for my unauthorized visit."

"I will not stop my passion for dragons, so..."

"If you need me to yield to mediate the conflict with this crazy woman and join you..."

"Don't even think about it! Unless I'm dead, oh, I'm already dead, but even if I'm dead, don't think about it!"

“I will not become your true comrade-in-arms, so why not try another path?”

Eerie flames of the soul burned within the dragon's skull.

“I am the chief professor of Andrew’s spiritualism. We have a saying: death is never the end.”

"If the dragons are dead... then why not let them rise again?"

Freheimer let out a cold snort.

"I thought you were so capable, but you're just using the same old necromancer tricks to resurrect corpses. Naive. You'll find that mythical creatures are far more complex than you think. Even if you obtain the dragon bones, the dragon's soul is no longer within them. What you resurrect is merely a fake with a similar shell. Moreover, under the current holy light, you probably can't even find the dragon bones."

Mr. Dragon responded to the Dragon Priest's taunt with a sinister laugh typical of Andrea. He tilted his head and spread his hands.

“We have Lyle.”

Chapter 547 Current Status of the Families

Lyle Bühler, the host of the nascent evil god, was a mystic born almost entirely under the guidance of scholars. The Dragon Priest Council initially harbored reservations about his existence, but after a series of encounters with Lyle, they tacitly approved of Morokui's reckless actions. And this cultivation indeed yielded gratifying results. When the Black Omen saved the City of Wandering, the Dragon Priests acknowledged his potential and power.

If you ask whether the power of an evil god can create dragons, dragons are indeed noble, but the origin of the world is even more noble.

Although it sounds absurd that dragons can be reshaped by the Chosen Ones, the evil god is the one who twists fantasy into miracles.

"You want to create new dragons? Using the bones of dead dragons." Omhead was tempted. In fact, the dragon priests also had an impulse to resurrect dragons; they had lost them before, and those past emotions had turned into torment. Reminded by this mad lich, the other dragon priests felt themselves being infected by madness.

"No, I will become a new dragon." The dragon spread its arms, as if unfurling its imagined wings. "I love these beautiful creatures so much, I want to become one of them! No, I want to make them my people."

The dragon posed an idea that horrified even the dragon priests, so much so that they felt no anger at this blasphemous thought. They must have realized the difference between the dragon and themselves, the dragon priests. They merely worshipped, while the dragon… the dragon possessed far deeper emotions.

Omhead listened to the plan unfolding in a bizarre direction, rubbing his forehead. It must be the effect of the flesh-and-blood camouflage; he was actually feeling dizzy and lightheaded. The black dragon priest glanced instinctively at his brother, Moroki, who stood behind the dragon, his expression indifferent. His lack of surprise indicated that he was already aware of the plan and had tacitly approved of the dragon presenting his ideas. This meant that, in the eyes of the blue dragon priest, an academy spellcaster, this outrageous plan was indeed a possibility.

The dragon priest, regaining his composure, began to consider the possibilities. It had to be said, this method was actually easier to succeed at than resurrecting a dragon. Creating a complete dragon from nothing was clearly simpler than sacrificing a powerful soul and twisting it into a complete dragon. Although the process would be extremely difficult—completely distorting a soul's self-awareness and transforming its mental state into a dragon—was practically a fantasy.

But it's not impossible; after all, there are five beings in this room possessing the soul of a dragon. It's just...

“I find this plan very interesting…” Priscilla, who had always been an enemy of dragons, was the first to agree. Everyone present knew the agony of a twisted soul, and Priscilla had found the perfect way to retaliate. Under the dragon’s suspicious gaze, Priscilla spoke frankly, “I’ll be frank, I will thoroughly enjoy tormenting you. But I will also do my best to help you shape your dragon soul; it is my duty as a dragon priestess, even though this process will be long and painful.”

Even Priscilla, whom they loathed the most, had expressed her will, and the other dragon priests expressed almost the same idea.

"We will do everything in our power to adapt your soul to a dragon's body, but as someone well-versed in spirit possession, you know how painful this process will be. If you fail, you will become a madman, a monster, or something less than either of those, and the chances of your failure are almost certain. Even so, do you still want to abandon everything you have and become a dragon?"

“You still have a chance to leave here, Mr. Dragon.”

The dragon came before the black dragon priest, looking down at the little old man.

"I am your hope, I will be your future, and now you want to shut that hope out?"

“You are about to sacrifice yourself. Even if you succeed, Mr. Andrei’s Dragon will become a thing of the past. Your current existence will be replaced, and you will become a dragon bearing our shared destiny. We will give the highest respect to those who sacrifice themselves, and this is what you deserve.”

"So that was just polite talk, right?" The dragon stretched out its pale, bony hand. "You're something else, Black Dragon Priest."

"You can no longer escape. Even if you back down later, we will force you to complete this great and insane plan. Our reserve, leader." The black dragon's face was indifferent as he grasped the dragon's skeletal hand.

With a few snapping sounds, the hand that was tightly gripping the black dragon was crushed into bone fragments by the old hand.

The dragon stared at the black dragon priest.

"I'm sorry, the disguise of flesh and blood made me lose control of my strength."

"I don't believe you." The dragon retracted its perfectly intact hand bone, put on a new mascot costume, and left through the portal behind the scholar.

"I will seek out experts to decipher the dragon bones. Scholar, you just said you already have information about the origin of the dragon bones?"

The scholar nodded.

"My companions and I need to discuss the details of the plan. You go find an expert first, and I'll come find you later."

The dragon departed through the portal.

The scholar looked at his fellow dragon priests and lowered his head.

“I apologize for bringing a dragon into our council without authorization. Princess, I disregarded your feelings, and I am willing to pay any price for it.”

“You won’t change it anyway, will you, Brother Morokui?” Principes sneered.

The scholar bowed his head again to express his apology, but as Princess said, his expression showed only apology, not remorse.

“I am very satisfied with today’s result, brother. Whether it’s tormenting that masochist or knowing our future,” Priscilla said with a genuine smile that melted away her icy demeanor. “Thank you for your hard work, brother.”

"Very well, then let's leave aside the matter of my transgressions. So, my brothers and sisters, how have you done with the task I entrusted to you? We dragon priests can no longer remain aloof from our people and power; we must guide our people once more to face our enemies. You must have done an excellent job, haven't you?" The scholar's face suddenly turned cold, his somber gaze fixed on the trembling Irason.

"The mermaid clan is fine. Our clan lives in the deep sea, and our social structure hasn't changed much in recent years. There are no external enemies or hidden dangers. The mermaids still live in a matriarchal society. After I left, they lived like fish in their coral reefs. When I returned, they automatically united with the daughters of the sea, and I am still the queen of the mermaids," Priscilla said calmly.

“The Molten Dwarves still live in the Earth’s core, and our social structure hasn’t changed much. The current Dwarf King is my nephew, and I have never left the Dwarven power structure. I have always been a Master Blacksmith in the Council of Craftsmen.” Freheimer stroked his beard.

The terrifying gaze made the green dragon priest's eyes water, and the scholar's whispers rang out right in front of her.

“I believe that our lively and beautiful Irason has completed my mission. Even though she has lived in my Wandering City for many years, she has not forgotten the way back to the Dream Forest. My Dream Elf Queen must have also regained her power, right?”

"Um... well, the current Queen of the Dream Elves is my daughter, and I listen to her a lot, so you could say I'm involved in governing, right? Okay! Actually, before, because of the dragons' demise, some of our druids were corrupted by nightmares and became Wither Druids. My conciliatory policies caused the Dream Elves to completely split into two factions: the Queen's faction, which supports my actions, and the Senate faction, which believes the future of the elven race cannot be handed over to me. The Senate is jointly managed by several high-ranking druid elders, essentially acting as the Queen's overseers. Actually, I'm also an experienced druid elder. So, I've been involved in both factions. Have I fulfilled my brother's mission?"

"Were you just kicked around like a football?" The scholar's face turned extremely grim and terrifying. "I... my dear... Irason, tell me, what have your reliable diplomatic skills gotten you? Hmm?"

"Little Tiffany gave me a tree hollow to rest in."

The scholars were shocked. The former Queen of the Elves, the ruler of the Dream Elves who commanded countless followers, had actually... actually obtained a tree hollow for sleeping? The King of Magic was so astonished that he didn't react for a moment.