Chapter 95: Dragonsoul Dragonkin

Following the golden marker on the map, Phield arrived at the edge of a vast lake.

"This is where it’s pointing. No mistake."

He scanned the surroundings and circled the area several times before finally turning his gaze to the lake’s surface.

"Could it be a mermaid? Or maybe a Divine Chosen bathing? Should I hide first?" His thoughts began to wander wildly, yet his eyes remained fixed on the water. The possibility that it was underwater was extremely high.

Why hasn’t it come out yet? Don’t tell me it drowned.

Phield directly activated his divine artifact: The Eye That Pierces the Veil.

A complex magic array bloomed within his black pupil. Instantly, the lake’s interior was laid bare before him. His vision pierced through countless swimming fish, stretching ever downward. The dark water resembled an abyss, bottomless and impenetrable.

"So dark." Phield frowned. "There’s nothing at all. Guess I’m looking in the wrong direction."

Before he could withdraw his sight, the darkness at the bottom of the lake suddenly split apart—

—and a massive dragon eye snapped open.

"A chromatic dragon. A black dragon!"

Weren’t black dragons supposed to dwell in tropical swamps? Why was there one here? Phield was stunned.

The earth trembled. The lake boiled violently. Fish leapt frantically from the water.

A colossal figure burst from the surface, as though a mountain had been wrenched into the sky. Silver-white water surged upward before crashing down like a waterfall.

"Run."

Rosalia’s anxious voice rang out. The chains of the Greatsword of Gluttony were already preparing to unfurl.

Phield had just begun to channel the greatsword’s power to escape when a swift figure yanked him off his horse.

"If you don’t want to die, don’t move."

Dizziness overwhelmed him. He was dragged down and pinned to the ground. In his blurred vision, he saw only snow-white, supple skin. A sensation like silk brocade brushed against him from every direction.

A woman had saved him.

"First-tier magic: Invisibility."

"First-tier Dragon Roar: Become Ethereal."

After she uttered those strange words in a low voice, Phield realized in astonishment that he had turned invisible.

The black dragon that burst from the water was gaunt, like a skeletal shadow-dragon. It circled twice in the air before landing, nostrils flaring as it sniffed repeatedly, clearly puzzled about where the human had gone.

This was a real dragon. An epic creature. In any knightly adventure novel, this would be the final boss. By all logic, aside from the Nibelungen family’s blue dragon, Morning Breeze Province shouldn’t have any other dragons.

The oppressive presence of the dragon was suffocating.

Phield’s hand unconsciously slid down along his savior’s shoulder. Her curves tightened abruptly—her waist slender as a willow branch.

Soft, lush flesh pressed against him like cotton. His "rod" could barely breathe.

"This is not the time for strange reactions. If the dragon notices us, we’re dead!" Cold sweat streamed down Phield’s back as he silently begged his lower half not to cause trouble.

Her smooth skin was slightly damp with sweat, warm and fragrant like a freshly baked cake.

Is she even more affected than I am?

The black dragon did not seem intent on hunting humans. After glancing around lazily, it opened its jaws and swallowed Phield’s warhorse in a single bite as if eating dessert. Then it flapped its wings and flew off, apparently still unsatisfied.

You owe me a horse!

Phield felt as if his heart had been clenched in a fist. The warhorse that had traveled south and north with him hadn’t fallen in battle or died of old age in a stable—it had been eaten alive by a black dragon. It was unbearable.

"Whew... That was close. Good thing for Ethereal Dragon Roar." The woman waved her hand, dispersing the power.

Dragon Roar’s strength came from dragons themselves. They could not perceive it.

"That scared me to death."

Phield wiped away his cold sweat and finally saw his savior clearly.

She stood barefoot on the ground, heels and slender ankles exposed. Pale golden hair framed star-violet dragon eyes. Her beauty and figure rivaled Flony’s entirely, radiating a poppy-like allure—stunning beyond compare.

"Another Divine Chosen of the God of Love?"

Phield was stunned. But seeing the icy expression on her face, he immediately dismissed the idea.

She stood up, biting her lip, and said coldly, "Leave quickly. The black dragon may return at any moment. We won’t be this lucky again."

The golden marker on the minimap hadn’t moved. The Divine Chosen had to be her. And with beauty like that, she had to be one.

"Damn it. My warhorse."

Phield clenched his teeth, both relieved and grief-stricken, silently mourning his fallen companion.

"I’m sorry about that. And thank you for acting as bait."

The woman glanced at him, puffed her cheeks, and stomped her foot in frustration. A faint blush surfaced on her face before being masked by cold composure. She rubbed vigorously at her skin.

"Uh, I didn’t do anything."

To Phield’s surprise, she said nothing further. Instead, she turned toward the lake and conjured two iron swords out of thin air.

"As expected of a Divine Chosen. Hello, I’m Phield, Baron of Nightfall Domain."

"My name is Arlya. A free citizen of Morning Breeze Province." Arlya kept glancing at the sky, gesturing impatiently. "Leave. Now."

"What are you doing?" Phield had no intention of giving up on a Divine Chosen so easily.

"Slaying dragons. Obtaining dragon souls."

"...What?"

Phield was stunned. This was the first time he had encountered a Divine Chosen with such overwhelming presence—a literal dragon slayer.

"I am a Divine Chosen of the Dragon God. I must kill dragons to advance, absorb their souls, and inherit their knowledge and legacy."

"A Dragon God’s Chosen... who advances by killing dragons?" Phield’s pupils shook.

There was almost no reliable literature on how Divine Chosen advanced. The few records available only mentioned that urban prosperity and the faith of residents could enhance their power.

Advancing by killing dragons was unheard of.

"Yes. I am Dragonkin. Though my body is human, my soul is that of a dragon. And my mission is to slay every dragon I encounter—to prevent them from multiplying excessively, growing too powerful, and destroying this world."

Phield grew solemn. He had indeed heard rumors of Dragonkin from traveling bards.

Supposedly there were two kinds: Dragonblood Dragonkin and Dragonsoul Dragonkin. Dragonblood Dragonkin possessed lineage and guarded the Abyssal Gate against demon incursions. Dragonsoul Dragonkin were born with a mission, immensely powerful from birth, yet considered "traitors to dragonkind." They hunted dragons, absorbing dragon souls to prevent the species from overrunning the world.

The exact reasons were unclear. The prevailing theory was that dragons were overwhelmingly powerful, highly fertile, long-lived, capable of gathering vassals, and prone to destruction. If their numbers grew too large, ordinary species would have no chance of survival.

And once ordinary species perished, dragons themselves would eventually face extinction.

Dragonsoul Dragonkin were, perhaps, the dragons’ own method of regulating their population.

Of course, the truth was unknown. Dragon logic was beyond human comprehension.

Phield stroked his chin. "You can’t possibly be a match for that black dragon. Otherwise you’d have attacked already. So... there are hatchlings here?"

"Yes. They are my targets."

"I’ll help you. I need revenge for my horse. Taking a loss and walking away isn’t my style."

Phield was furious. Dragon or not—if you provoke me and think you can leave unscathed, think again. If there’s a chance, I’ll strike.

A flicker of approval passed through Arlya’s eyes, but she still shook her head. "You’re too weak. Even a young dragon is far stronger than ordinary magical beasts. Leave."

"You can’t call a man weak. My current strength is about the same as yours."

Phield folded his arms, clothes fluttering in the breeze. He emphasized current—Rosalia was behind him, after all.

Arlya was only a first-tier Divine Chosen. With Rosalia added in, that made one-point-zero-one Divine Chosen.

A clear advantage.

Her gaze was deep and cold, like an ancient glacier. "Heh. Liar. I hate people who boast. Get out of my sight."

"That tone is seriously irritating."

Oh, you’re looking down on me?

Then I’ll have to punish you properly.

"I don’t boast," Phield insisted.

"Tch. Leave."

Phield frowned. "You’ll know if we try. I truly want to help."

"Pfft." Arlya suddenly smiled faintly, sticking out her tongue. "Fine. Beat me, and we’ll go together."

"No problem."

Phield drew his greatsword and delivered a plain, unadorned strike. The air exploded, carrying unstoppable force.

Arlya hadn’t taken a mere first-tier knight seriously. Besides, she had just saved his life—she never expected him to attack so decisively. Completely unprepared, she found the greatsword pressed against her neck.

"Divine power fluctuation?"

Even as Dragonkin, she couldn’t perceive another Divine Chosen. She had no idea Rosalia existed.

Arlya was furious, but she didn’t unleash divine power. She could sense that the weapon before her had the capacity to kill her.

"Release me. You’re despicable."

"Who told you to mock me? One thing at a time."

Phield grinned wickedly, his gaze wandering.

Arlya laughed in exasperation. "Are you done? If you push me too far, I’ll tear you to pieces."

"So who’s the liar now? Apologize, and I’ll still help you slay dragons. Heh heh heh."

Even her iceberg expression couldn’t stop the blush rising to her cheeks.

Damn it. This bastard has no shame at all.

Is he really a noble?