Renji looked down at Bal, who had returned to his “High Priest” appearance, and after placing him on the ground, Bal coughed violently. His body, corroded by the black mire, seemed like a last flicker of vitality as he slowly opened his eyes.
He could have continued to resurrect himself using the black mire within his body, just like he did during his fight with Nova but this time, Bal chose not to. He chose to give up.
For Nova, Bal harbored only endless jealousy, which he could vent through repeated battles.
But with his Master Ashen, Bal couldn’t do it. He couldn’t fight Renji over and over again as an enemy. Or perhaps, his original intention was to be defeated by Ashen’s own hands. That, for him, would be the best ending…
‘After all, at least during the recent battle, Lord Ashen belonged only to me. Lord Ashen’s entire attention was on me, watching me closely, even though I was disfigured and ugly…’
‘This time…’
‘It should be considered that I had won the “affection” from That woman, right?’
Thinking this, Bal couldn’t help but use his last bit of strength to ask Renji, “So. Lord Ashen, did you come to the Southern Territory with Nova for… for me?”
Bal believed that, according to the Old Alliance’s plan, if Ashen truly returned, the most straightforward and effective method to reform the Dragon Nation would involve leveraging Nova’s “Empress” status. This strategy would aim to overhaul the corrupt higher ranks of the Dragon Nation and implement a range of new policies.
Instead of using the “Empress” power and having her disguised as a common guard in the Southern Territory of the demi-humans, seemingly starting from the grassroots revolutionary army.
The only reason Bal could think of for his master’s actions was that Ashen wanted to bring Nova to see him, that his master had come to persuade him.
Unfortunately, the answer Renji gave next left Bal a bit stunned.
Because it was the most unbelievable answer.
The young man sighed, shrugged helplessly, and after being comforted by Miyuki, Renji, who was less burdened by his “idol baggage,” spoke the truth:
“No, actually, it’s because I don’t have the political ability, nor do I have any experience in governing a country. Even if you let me reform the Dragon Nation drastically, it would probably only become more chaotic.”
Bal widened his eyes, trying to see a hint of jokes on Renji’s face, but to his disappointment, Renji was very serious. When Bal realized that his master was not mocking him, he was first shocked because, in his impression, Emperor Ashen was omnipotent, and nothing could stump him.
But soon, his shocked expression turned into a smile. It was not mockery – he had no right to mock. It was more like a sense of relief.
Bal gazed at the sky.
‘So, Master Ashen wasn’t perfect after all, there were things even he couldn’t do…’
‘Haha I understand now…’
‘That’s why Master Ashen needed them, right?’
Thinking this, when Bal’s gaze returned to the Crimson Wings behind Renji, his jealousy was gone, replaced by a pure longing.
Looking at those powerful wings, carrying the dignity and domineering presence of the dragon bloodline, and the rolling waves of intense flame, everything was so flawlessly perfect.
‘Weren’t these the Crimson Wings that many dreamt of?’
‘Even in her “materialized” form, she was still so beautiful….’
As life rapidly drained from Bal, a curiosity emerged in his heart, growing stronger and turning into a longing, even invigorating his spirit at death’s door.
Because
Bal wanted to know before he left, what about himself?
What would he be “materialized” into by Ashen’s hands?
Although Bal could guess the outcome.
For someone as deeply sinful and lost as him, the end result would probably be something ugly and detestable.
But still, there was a sliver of hope in Bal’s heart.
‘What if?’
It was this “what if” that turned into a strong emotion, leading Bal to grab the hem of Renji’s clothes, looking at him with longing eyes. If he could transform into an object for his master just before dying, to always accompany him, wouldn’t that be his final redemption?
Understanding the meaning in Bal’s eyes, Renji did not refuse.
He placed his hand on Bal’s chest, activating the power of “Miasma Touch” once again, linking himself to Bal, allowing him to enter the deepest part of Bal’s heart.
But unlike the previous times,
Renji saw a pitch-black void inside, a heart filled with nothing but filth and black mire.
This meant that Bal had actually died long ago. The reason he lived until now was that his entire body had been transformed into a Miasma monster. Beneath his human appearance, his body was entirely black mire, with no organs left, maintained only by the black mire.
And the prerequisite for “materialization” by Miasma Touch is that the other party must be an Eclipse, a being that can coexist with Miasma, not a complete Miasma monster disguised as a living being like now.
In simpler terms,
Bal didn’t even qualify to be “materialized” by Miasma Touch.
No matter how much Renji tried to activate the Miasma Touch, there was no response. Bal, sensing something amiss, showed a progression of emotions on his face. Initially, there was excitement when Renji placed his hand on him, which turned into great anticipation. But as seconds passed with no change, his hopeful expression gradually faded into confused puzzlement.
‘Why?’
‘Why it is so slow?’
He had seen Renji use the Miasma Touch on Nova before. In just a few seconds, the Dragoness transformed into the beautiful Crimson Wings behind Renji.
‘But why is there no reaction for me?’
‘Is it because the object of my “materialization” is too ugly, so Master Ashen was reluctant to bring it forth?’
‘No, that couldn’t be it…’
‘Master is not that kind of person.’
‘Then… am I the problem,,,’
‘Could it be that I am not powerful enough…’
Just as Bal was about to grasp a truth that seemed both despairing and unacceptable, a sudden bright light emerged from Renji’s previously dim palm, engulfing Bal’s entire field of vision. When Bal regained his senses,
He saw a small flower in Renji’s hand, as if it had just been extracted from him.
The flower was unremarkable, like a wildflower one might see by the roadside.
“This… what is this?”
“It seems you are very special, Bal.”
“So this is… my heart?”
“Yes.”
“It, is it beautiful?”
“Very beautiful.”
“I see.”
Actually, Bal’s consciousness was already fading, or else he might have noticed the simplest flaw. If this flower truly was his “materialization,” his body should have already disappeared.
But because he didn’t realize this ‘lie’, Bal used the last bit of his strength to focus intently on the flower in Renji’s hand. Even as his body began to collapse, turning into black mire and evaporating into the air, Bal’s blurry vision never left the flower – the flower that even his master admired.
Because it undoubtedly proved that, even though he might have been led astray and appeared ugly on the outside, at least at his core, his heart was still beautiful. .
Just like this flower.
“Thank you,”
“Master…”
With these final words, Bal closed his eyes. His decayed body, which had been surviving on the Miasma for centuries, finally found peace at this moment, dissipating into dust with the wind.
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