A man coated in gray stone dust stood upright.
His once-neat suit was torn and burned, its shape barely recognizable.
Half his face was crushed, as if he’d fallen from a great height.
What little remained had been melted away by burns—a grisly sight.
“…Vlad Chepesh.”
Hamel murmured the name softly.
Was he alive?
Even so, the man smoothed the tatters of his lapel.
Then his lips—burned away to gums—clicked together.
“….”
No sound came; nothing intelligible.
Hamel watched with a blank expression.
For a moment he opened his mouth again and again, as if to speak.
—Snap
Chepesh suddenly shoved his hand into his mouth and grabbed his tongue.
He pulled hard.
—Crack
With a bark-like tearing, the tongue was ripped free.
He flicked the blood-dripping tongue away.
And then.
“Aah.”
An alien sound escaped him.
No — it could not be called a voice.
A void-like darkness peered from a mouth that had neither vocal cords nor tongue.
The darkness spoke.
“Human.”
A rusty, unpleasant squeal emanated.
The moment Hamel heard it, he understood.
This was not Chepesh.
—Twitch
An eye, barely hanging in a cracked skull, rolled.
The man withdrew a handkerchief and scrubbed the eyeball briskly.
Then he set it back like a glass bead.
In that instant the pupil twitched and turned toward Hamel.
Hamel realized the gaze was oddly familiar.
It was a huge eye, dripping maggots and yellow pus.
It was the being he had encountered in the Rengbaster domain when rescuing Eirin.
And it was certainly…
“My name is Marvas. Lord of Plague, God of gluttony and beasts. Tyrant of the black mane.”
“….”
An evil god.
Hamel’s expression hardened.
Strangely, the overwhelming presence from earlier had faded.
But the opponent was a god.
Hamel had met many divine beings.
Even the ancient, bodhisattva-like old gods—hardly gods in the mundane sense—were beings beyond common comprehension.
All the more so an evil god. There was no doubt this being’s strength and danger were incalculable.
Was it seeking vengeance for what had happened to its apostle?
If so, there was no hope.
Hamel asked, tense.
“What do you want?”
Marvas regarded him for a moment, then spat out the words.
“Will you make a contract?”
“…?”
Hamel had to chew on the meaning for a moment.
However he strained for another meaning, Marvas’ words signified only one thing.
“Are you saying I should become your apostle?”
Marvas perched on the castle’s ruins and nodded, visibly pleased.
“Will you make a contract?”
“….”
Hamel was at a loss for words.
He never expected to be offered an apostle’s seat at a moment like this.
Despite his surprise, his answer was clear.
“That’s impossible.”
“….”
Marvas propped his chin and considered.
He toyed with the ring on his finger and asked again.
“Why?”
Hamel met his gaze and answered calmly.
“Because I already serve a god.”
“It doesn’t matter. Serve me from now on.”
It was an arrogant demand.
There was a reason for such arrogance.
Marvas had just offered Hamel the apostle’s position.
Whether god or demon, an apostle may have only one disciple.
And an apostle wields power on par with the god they serve, becoming something beyond human station.
As Chepesh had been.
Marvas stared at Hamel as if asking whether there was any need to think it over.
Hamel shook his head once more.
“I cannot.”
“….”
Marvas fell silent, displeased.
“…!”
Marvas sprang to his feet.
He approached Hamel, stared him down, and spat the words as if chewing them.
“When, exactly?”
“….”
Hamel chose silence.
And he recalled what had just happened.
“Ehuurshika.”
“….”
“People call me Ehuurshika.”
Hamel could not speak; he simply stared at that being.
Ehuurshika… the primordial god of death and cycle—the very god Hamel served.
Why would such a being be here?
More than that, hadn’t it just called him both human and dragon?
‘Then could that boy from the story possibly be…’
Hamel’s eyes widened.
As if to confirm every question, Ehuurshika nodded slowly.
“All are correct. But at the same time, they are wrong.”
“…?”
“I am you.”
Faced with the ambiguous answer, Hamel tilted his head.
He thought a moment, then asked.
“Am I you, or are you me?”
“….”
Ehuurshika said nothing; he only smiled—an apologetic smile.
Then the inner world trembled, the vibration building.
He felt it instinctively.
It was time to wake.
He had to contain the madness that raged in the dragon’s form and return to being human.
Hamel asked urgently.
“What should I do now?”
“Shouldn’t you already know that?”
Hamel flinched at Ehuurshika’s tone.
Shame washed over him—because he did know what he had to do.
Collect the half-dragons’ Dragon Hearts to bring his mother back.
And defeat the rampaging evil gods and their followers.
Still, Hamel asked Ehuurshika for confirmation, seeking reassurance.
He wavered, uncertain his path was right.
He had grown stronger after surviving death countless times, but that meant facing ever-stronger enemies.
So he grew anxious, afraid his efforts might amount to nothing.
Reading him, Ehuurshika spoke calmly.
“Trust the path you have chosen and follow it. If on that path you meet a god, kill the god.”
“…Kill a god?”
“It means do not let anything shake your conviction. Not a demon’s whisper, nor a teacher’s teaching, nor even a passage of scripture.”
Hamel remained silent because he sensed something.
“Even if that is your command?”
Ehuurshika smiled faintly.
At once the world flipped.
Hamel’s consciousness, long settled deep down, was pulled swiftly to the surface.
A faint voice reached him.
“Believe in yourself. Everything is within you.”
“You are already an apostle. I can feel divinity.”
Marvas noticed the faint divinity around Hamel.
So faint it would be invisible to most, but it was divine.
“Yes.”
Hamel nodded calmly.
He didn’t mention any contract.
He had simply become an apostle by recalling Ehuurshika’s teachings.
“Tch.”
Marvas turned his head in annoyance.
In that case, Hamel was no longer someone to covet.
By Marvas’s standards he was ‘tainted.’
Marvas, openly disappointed as if a thrill had gone out of him, glanced around.
Then, resigned, he looked at Ono and asked.
“I will grant the contract.”
“….”
Hamel stared, dazed.
Was he offering an apostle seat like appointing a village headman?
Was it only his imagination that the terrifying Marvas now resembled a hawking merchant?
Ono, offered the contract, froze briefly, then scowled.
“Huh? Who said I wanted that?”
“I will grant the contract.”
“No, but why me after that fellow…!”
“Your aptitude is less than his. But I am generous. I will grant the contract.”
“Who asked for that…!! Besides, he says he isn’t interested!”
Hamel, listening to their exchange, stepped forward.
“Stand back, Ono.”
Marvas’s gaze snapped back to Hamel.
But now it held none of the earlier favor.
The inorganic, cold stare was like looking at a bug’s corpse.
“You are no longer of interest.”
“The same for me. Send me and my comrades away.”
“I need a new apostle now.”
“This has nothing to do with us.”
Marvas flinched at Hamel’s words.
He turned to face Hamel.
The rolling eyeballs fixed on him.
“You.”
“….”
“You don’t know your place.”
Marvas’ demeanor shifted.
A heavy evil aura settled over them.
It carried the same overwhelming hopelessness Apophis had shown.
A power beyond that pressed down on Hamel’s shoulders.
“….”
With every breath he felt as if he’d swallowed a handful of thorns.
Veins burst in his eyes and every joint in his body creaked.
Yet…
“Is that all?”
Hamel clenched and unclenched his fist.
Blue flames flared in his hand.
Marvas watched and continued speaking.
“If you trust only that paltry power, you’ll regret it.”
“Paltry…” Hamel muttered, echoing Marvas.
“It may seem that way.”
Hamel had once believed that too.
He didn’t know why he had nothing but this flame to wield.
He didn’t know what to do with it.
But Reteil, called a super-class, had perished by that very flame.
Now he understood the power the flame possessed and where the Azure Flame’s power came from.
According to scripture, dragons devour demons.
Therefore it was said that the dragon’s power contains the energy of Pasa.
The dragon’s power—the demons’ natural enemy—should be a force of annihilation that spares nothing.
Hamel’s flame was different: a flame of order that healed human wounds and burned demons.
The source of the Azure Flame was Ehuurshika—the first Dragonian that dwelt within him and a power that had risen to godhood.
The color of the flame blossoming in Hamel’s hand gradually changed.
“That is…!”
Marvas’ voice shifted, urgency and bewilderment threading his words.
He knew that blue flame.
No, to be precise, it now resembled its former form, only faintly.
The blue flame feared by all evil gods and aberrations.
The decisive power that allowed the primordial gods to triumph in the Age of Gods.
The flame that once dyed the world blue was now held in a single human’s hand.
For the first time, Hamel could grasp it, awkwardly but truly.
The true Azure Flame.
