Chapter 337

Thud. Thud.

Heavy footsteps echoed loudly through the corridor. There was no attempt to conceal them; rather, they seemed meant to flaunt the weight of their presence. As the figure reached the end of the dim, narrow passage, the tightly shut door before them swung open with a bright creak.

“Come in.”

Inside sat an old man, sipping wine leisurely. His demeanor was striking—calm, strong, and exuding an air of overwhelming confidence that seemed out of place for someone of his age.

“It’s our first meeting. But that appearance of yours—what’s the meaning of it?”

Bang!

The door slammed shut as a hulking man entered, snorting in disdain. He regarded the old man’s act with utter derision, as if it were a cheap stage play.

The old man’s expression shifted, growing cold as he observed the man’s insolence.

“You have a reckless tongue. However, I’ll forgive you. Your presence here means you’ve accepted our proposal, hasn’t it? Ragnar’s Mad Dragon.”

The Mad Dragon responded not with words but with a wide grin. He moved directly to sit across from the figure who bore the Emperor’s likeness—the Second Apostle.

“It’s quite the joke, isn’t it? To think I’d end up working with the same damn bastards I’ve spent my life slaughtering.”

With a self-mocking laugh, the Mad Dragon poured wine into an empty glass. Though ambition now clouded his judgment, he had once taken pride in being one of Ragnar’s Nine Dragons. His life was defined by endless battles against the strong.

That pride had given him an unshakable sense of belonging within Ragnar, where formidable challengers emerged constantly, ensuring there was never a dull moment. But something Theo had said to him had sparked doubt for the first time in his life.

“Do not forget your place. You are nothing but Ragnar’s dog.”

That phrase had lingered in the Mad Dragon’s mind, plunging him into a long period of reflection—a rarity for him.

It was one of those days, while returning to his mansion in the capital after incinerating yet another Sacred Demon Cult branch, that his resolve began to waver.

“Are you content living as Ragnar’s dog?”

Those words came from a dark elf who appeared against the backdrop of a blood-red crescent moon.

“Hmm, you’re leagues beyond a mere bishop… Don’t tell me—you’re one of those Apostles they talk about?”

The overwhelming presence and magic emanating from the dark elf made it easy to guess his identity. The sheer force of it prickled the Mad Dragon’s skin.

“I’ll make you regret calling me a dog to my face.”

The Apostle’s deliberate use of the term "dog," a term of contempt the Mad Dragon hadn’t heard in years, stirred his fighting spirit. He prepared for battle.

“I know your situation. You want to become the king of humans, don’t you?”

The Apostle’s words froze the Mad Dragon, his eyes widening.

“We can make it happen. We can even give you the power befitting a king.”

The Second Apostle’s offer was more than enticing—it was intoxicating. His crimson eyes glimmered faintly, their light piercing deeply into the Mad Dragon’s heart.

“Give me time to think.”

At that moment, the pride of Ragnar compelled the Mad Dragon to delay his answer. But after seeing Theo again, his decision became clear.

‘With this power, I can crush that smug face. Theo’s face, so like Kyle’s…’

Memories of his defeat at Theo’s hands resurfaced, along with his frustration toward Kyle Ragnar, the man who had always been his ultimate goal. Though Kyle was long gone, his blood lived on in Theo—a fact that ignited the Mad Dragon’s competitive spirit once more.

He had already tasted defeat. That alone was enough to make his blood boil with renewed vigor.

“When do we seal the contract?”

“Not yet. You’ve slaughtered so many of our cultists that replacing them will take time.”

“Those small fry are worthless anyway.”

The Mad Dragon’s anticipation was already growing. He’d heard rumors of numerous Sacred Demon Cult members gathering in the capital recently, but his impatience was palpable.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

“Preparations will soon be complete. When the time comes, your contract will be sealed. We even have a suitable Outer God ready for you.”

“I look forward to it.”

The two exchanged sinister smiles before clinking their glasses together. The sound of their toast echoed through the room as they savored the wine.

“So, why did you bother meeting with him?” the Second Apostle asked.

The Mad Dragon gazed into the distance for a moment before replying.

“I was curious.”

He had hoped that meeting Theo would provide answers to the questions haunting him.

“Did you find your answer?”

The Mad Dragon didn’t respond verbally, only offering a faint smile. Deep down, he had wanted to confirm if any trace of Ragnar’s pride still lingered in his heart. But upon facing Theo, his answer had come more easily than expected.

Instead of pride, all he felt was an overwhelming desire to crush Theo’s smug face—a face that reminded him too much of Kyle. The humiliation and rage from that day surged anew, morphing into a murderous intent aimed squarely at Theo.

The Second Apostle watched as the Mad Dragon’s eyes filled with madness, a subtle smile playing on his lips.

“I’ll take that as your answer.”

The Second Apostle rose from his seat, moving to the window to gaze out at the capital below.

‘Do you really think you can surpass him, you fool?’

His mocking thoughts lingered as his eyes drifted toward the separate palace where Theo resided.

“Well, I have matters to attend to.”

As the Mad Dragon departed, his eyes gleamed with a fiery determination. Whatever lay ahead, it no longer concerned the Second Apostle.

***

“Then, I’ll go into hiding to investigate Yoon’s whereabouts and confirm His Majesty’s condition.”

Felix pulled his hood over his head. The moment he did, it was as though he’d become invisible—his presence vanished entirely, likely due to some transparency magic.

As Felix disappeared, Lodbrok, still cloaked in invisibility, chuckled beside Theo.

“You’ve gotten better at lying, haven’t you? Claiming to have taken care of a child, no less.”

“Well, the essence is the same, isn’t it? She’s indeed a descendant of the Dragon’s Vein. Whether I’ve taken her in or she’s been entrusted to me is merely a matter of phrasing.”

Though the child in question was a distant relative of the late Emperor, even a diluted Dragon’s Vein was still significant.

“Hah! Brazen as always. Well, it doesn’t matter as long as the results are satisfactory.”

Lodbrok had a point—despite the technicalities, as long as the outcome was favorable, the details hardly mattered.

“It seems things will get busy,” Lodbrok remarked.

“No helping it,” Theo replied.

From now on, the situation would depend heavily on how Theo used his time—a fate he accepted. He quickly returned to his quarters in the auxiliary palace and sent official missives through falcon couriers to Winterer and the Naga Forest.

‘Cassandra should arrive at the Naga Forest soon. Preparations need to be completed by then.’

It would take about a week for Cassandra to travel from the relay station to the capital. Felix might still harbor doubts, but once he learned the truth, he’d willingly open the gates of Vico to support Theo’s cause.

And at that time—

‘It’ll be time to reclaim the Wheel of Death.’

The moment to recover the first card of preparation was drawing near.

Felix, still cloaked, made his way back to his chambers, where his deputy was stationed. Despite the creak of the door opening, the deputy remained engrossed in his work, obliviously processing documents Felix needed to address.

“Gaphel.”

At the sound of his name, the deputy flinched, startled, and turned toward the voice. Felix pulled back his hood, meeting Gaphel’s gaze.

“Still no word from Yoon?”

The deputy’s late-night presence was a testament to how dire the situation had become.

“No, sir… there’s still no contact from Sir Yoon.”

“I see.”

Felix’s response was brief as he replaced his hood and vanished once more.

Thud!

With a powerful leap, Felix launched himself forward, a gust of wind whipping in his wake. There was no more time to wait for word from Yoon. He needed to confirm the situation with his own eyes, no matter the risk.

‘First, the Emperor.’

Navigating through the secret passageway he’d used before, Felix darted through the corridors, his senses fully attuned to his surroundings. He reached the door to the Emperor’s chambers, extending his aura to detect any presence inside. Only the sound of Diana’s soft breathing reached him—she was deeply asleep.

Carefully, Felix opened the door and slipped inside the concubine’s quarters. Silently and methodically, he scoured the entire area, but no trace of the Emperor’s presence could be found. Felix turned his attention toward the main palace.

‘From this point forward, it’s an anti-magic zone.’

The transparency hood was useless here. Felix moved to the ceiling, crawling on all fours toward the Emperor’s room. Despite the detection spells in place, his expertise rendered them trivial obstacles. Finally, he reached the ceiling above Horik’s chambers, pressing his ear close to listen.

For a moment, Felix doubted his senses.

‘He’s... alive?’

A wave of relief washed over him. The voice he heard unmistakably belonged to Emperor Horik. However—

‘Who is he speaking to?’

A second voice, deep and commanding, reached Felix’s ears. It was unfamiliar—an oddity in itself. After the Court Duke had risen to power, no one should have been permitted to meet with the Emperor privately. The dissonance was striking.

‘I need to listen.’

Despite his growing unease, Felix focused all his attention on the conversation. While he couldn’t make out every word, certain terms stood out:

“Mad Dragon,” “contract,” “cultists.”

‘The Mad Dragon? That’s one of Ragnar’s Nine Dragons!’

The Mad Dragon was a notorious figure whose name had once appeared on high-priority security lists. Felix couldn’t mistake it. However, the words “contract” and “cultists” were more cryptic, their meanings eluding him. What unsettled him the most was the realization that—

‘This isn’t the Emperor… Who is it?’

The voice was identical to Horik’s, but the tone and aura were completely different. Felix’s emotions churned, but he suppressed them. If Theo was right and the Emperor was already dead, the person impersonating him was undoubtedly an enemy.

‘I need to leave.’

Felix turned away carefully, retreating with utmost caution. Every step felt heavier, as though a great weight bore down on him. His mind was clouded with grief and guilt.

‘I am the sword sworn to protect His Majesty… and yet, I’ve failed.’

The thought gnawed at him. He was a knight who couldn’t protect his lord, a guardian who had failed his sacred duty.

‘Once this is over… I’ll join him.’

There was no need to use the secret passage he’d taken earlier—another hidden exit was nearby. As Felix prepared to descend from the ceiling, he scanned his surroundings one last time. Just as he reached the exit—

“!?”

An overwhelming surge of killing intent shot toward him from behind.

“And who are you, skulking around and eavesdropping on our conversation?”

The sound of knuckles cracking echoed as the Mad Dragon stepped into view, his massive frame towering in the dim light. His fists clenched tightly as he advanced on Felix.