Crazy dragon Monastrell.
With an obsessive fixation that bordered on the unnatural, she followed me wherever I went, keeping watch, and in the end even trailed me all the way to my family territory.
Venizelos’s Hound, and now Monastrell too.
Why is it that lately I keep attracting so many stalkers?
What’s worse, none of those stalkers even liked me.
Both of them came looking to kill me.
[Notification]
[A death flag has been raised by this character.]
“You’ve crossed the line, Winter Winslet.”
That was the first thing Monastrell said the moment she came face-to-face with me.
I frowned and asked,
“What are you talking about?”
“I thought this incarnation of Winslet was living surprisingly long, but today’s the end of the line. Watching you walk that tightrope, always just barely not crossing it, was driving me crazy with anticipation.”
“So what exactly is this tightrope you’re talking about?”
“Well. Can’t you feel it? Don’t tell me you’re so far gone you haven’t even noticed yourself?”
You’re not supposed to try to understand the words of a madwoman.
She didn’t seem inclined to explain herself properly anyway, so instead of her words, I chose to take the killing intent spreading from her as her true meaning.
She must think I’m weakened after fighting Venizelos’s Hound, but she’s mistaken.
It’s true that the pain in my heart is making it hard to focus, but as a mage, I’m stronger than usual right now.
No, not just stronger. Overwhelmingly so.
The mysterious surge of mana that awakened when I confronted the lava explosion was still lingering.
Cold mana that had crushed a lava-explosion spell on par with grand magic head-on.
In this state, I could win even if my opponent was Monastrell.
Maybe the strain on my heart is simply because a human body can’t endure mana of this magnitude.
Monastrell bared her fangs at me.
“Hah. So you’re not even trying to hide it anymore. Right in front of me, no less.”
“……?”
“You’re reeking of it. That filthy, vile stench. The smell of a demon.”
The smell of a demon.
Could it be that this cold mana aiding me has something to do with demonic power?
It wasn’t an impossible notion.
It’s not uncommon for a mage who has hit their limits to form a contract with a demon in order to gain greater power.
On top of that, in the main story of Judgment of Candela, there’s even a hidden route where Winter Winslet awakens demonic power and appears as the final boss.
And it’s in that very hidden route that Monastrell’s true identity as a dragon is revealed.
If my guess is correct, then it makes sense why Monastrell has been hostile toward Winter Winslet all this time.
According to Judgment of Candela’s lore, during the mythic age before humans ruled the world, the two races that fought over dominion of this land were demons and dragons.
Because of that, demons and dragons are sworn enemies.
I subtly drew up my mana and watched Monastrell’s reaction.
Veins began to bulge on her face.
“Are you deliberately provoking me right now?”
“And if I am?”
“I’d call that a stupid move. You really don’t value your own life, do you?”
“What did you say?”
“If you keep using mana in that state, you’re going to die.”
As if her words were a prophecy, a violent pain slammed into my heart.
My waist buckled before I could stop myself.
When I came to my senses, I was staring at the ground.
Monastrell laughed in disbelief.
“I told you. If you keep that up, you’ll die.”
“……”
I should have realized it sooner.
If this cold power aiding me is connected to demonic power, then the cold accumulating around my heart must be connected to demonic power as well.
I withdrew my mana field and tried to calm the rising cold.
But it didn’t go the way I wanted.
“It’s useless to try now. I told you from the start, didn’t I? You already crossed the line.”
“Tell me. What exactly is happening to my body?”
“And what would you do with that information? You’re going to die soon anyway.”
“If you don’t answer, I’ll attack.”
Monastrell let out a deep sigh.
“You Winslets are always the same. If you’re going to die anyway, why do you insist on prying into every little detail? Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to explain the same thing over and over again every time?”
Her words and attitude gave me a clue.
My thoughts began to race.
The hereditary disease passed down in the Winslet family, where cold builds up around the heart.
The cold mana that awakens in moments of crisis and suddenly grants greater power.
And Monastrell, reacting violently and claiming it reeks of a demon.
Come to think of it, the very first time Monastrell met me, when I was possessing Winter Winslet’s body, she attacked me while suspecting that the soul itself had been swapped out.
“Don’t tell me… there’s demon blood running through the Winslet lineage?”
The smile vanished from Monastrell’s face, as if I’d hit the mark.
“Hah. It happens sometimes. Idiots like you, with no fear at all, who blurt out the truth.”
“……”
“But that’s only half right. If demon blood were flowing in you, your family would’ve been wiped out long ago. By us.”
By “us” she must mean the dragon race.
Monastrell continued,
“It’s not blood. That demon is parasitizing your family’s fate. That’s why, even as different blood mixes into the Winslet line over the ages, it can keep scheming and aiming for revival like this. Struggling this hard just to avoid death. Clever, but disgusting.”
Throb.
The pain in my heart intensified even further.
“If this continues, what will happen to me?”
“You’ll die.”
It was a blunt answer.
And it was the truth.
In Judgment of Candela, Winter Winslet is a villain with a 100 percent death rate.
But beneath that truth, I could feel something else, as if groping for it in the dark.
“There’s a contradiction in what you’re saying.”
“A contradiction?”
“If the demon is to be revived, its vessel has to stay alive, doesn’t it?”
“Well, sure. Blood will circulate; it’ll eat, and it’ll breathe. But as the demon dwelling inside you erodes your soul, you’ll be influenced by it and turn into a different personality. In the end, you’ll become a puppet that mistakes the demon’s will for its own and acts accordingly. Can that really be called ‘alive’?”
I shook my head.
“That’s not what I’m talking about. For the past several hundred years, the firstborn sons of the Winslet family, cursed with that fate, all died young of heart failure before reaching the age of twenty-one. If the demon had been revived, they wouldn’t have been recorded as having died young. In other words… because they died, the demon failed to revive.”
That was the conclusion I reached.
“There is something that hunts down the humans of the Winslet family to prevent the demon’s revival. …Am I right?”
A flicker of surprise crossed Monastrell’s face.
“Sometimes you really give me chills. Is being sharp-witted something that gets inherited too?”
I asked,
“Was it you? Are you the serial killer who’s been hunting the Winslet family for centuries?”
“Shut up.”
Monastrell growled.
“Most Winslets don’t even require my intervention. The geas kills them on its own.”
“A geas?”
“A restriction that destroys the heart once it judges that the target has been overtaken by a demon.”
I recalled what Venizelos’s Hound had said.
That there was a geas placed on me that even I wasn’t aware of.
I had thought it was just a ploy to scare me into joining the Knowledge Liberation Front.
But was it actually true?
Monastrell continued,
“Those chosen as vessels for revival develop distortions in their souls under the demon’s influence. And those distortions manifest as talent for magic.”
Magic circuits are a morphological alteration of the soul.
That’s why anyone born under a demon’s influence is guaranteed to grow into a great mage.
Just like Winter Winslet.
“And the more the vessel uses mana, the more the demon erodes their soul through those magic circuits. It helps their magical ability grow rapidly or lends its own power in moments of crisis.”
The cold mana that possessed me at the moment of the lava explosion.
That was the demon’s assistance.
“A vessel that rises to greatness as a mage will think it’s all their own power and gleefully pour out mana. And that’s how they hand their soul over to the demon. And in the end…”
Monastrell who had been holding her fingers spread wide suddenly clenched them into a fist.
As if crushing something the size of a piece of fruit in her grip.
“The geas destroys the heart of one who has been consumed by a demon.”
My questions still weren’t resolved.
“Then why am I still alive?”
Winter Winslet had already been a 7th-class mage before I possessed him.
And now he had reached the realm of the 8th class.
The amount of mana I had used up to now could hardly be called small.
Monastrell let out a sigh.
“Every few hundred years, people like you show up. Bastards who stubbornly survive even with a geas attached. You could call them so-called geniuses. Those who generally have enough talent to reach such heights even without a demon’s power tend to end up like that.”
“Then……”
“That’s why I exist….to deal with people like that. I am Monastrell, a dragon watcher appointed to prevent the revival of Verdantus, the Demon of Bitter Cold.”
Monastrell declared it with pride.
Then, after a brief pause, she glared at me and said,
“You’re not surprised?”
“I’d already figured out you were a dragon.”
Part of it was because I had been a player of Judgment of Candela, but honestly, I think other people must have noticed to some extent too. At least that Monastrell wasn’t human.
Smashing through walls with her bare body, grabbing meat with her hands and tearing into it, indulging daily in deafening noise, gluttony, and even illegal drugs.
She drew attention with that many bizarre antics and made it that obvious. How could anyone not think something was off?
People just pretended not to notice because they didn’t want to deal with a crazy person.
Monastrell seemed displeased that my reaction wasn’t what she had expected and shot me an annoyed look, but as if she couldn’t find anything proper to argue back with, she replied,
“Well, as long as you know.”
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