Exusiai knew this wasn't a moment where she could hang around and eavesdrop. Chen Mo's background was terrifyingly big, and there was only so much she could do—so she grudgingly helped Texas over to a corner not far away to rest.
As for leaving? That never even crossed her mind. She still hadn't thanked Chen Mo.
And besides—
After gently lowering Texas to the floor, Exusiai turned her bright eyes toward Chen Mo and stared without blinking.
Sure, he was someone with an outrageous pedigree… but Exusiai wasn't the kind of woman who backed off just because someone's status was high.
Right. The difficulty just went up—and that only made her more excited.
Only after Exusiai and Texas had moved farther away did Chen Mo turn back, frowning at Taran, who was still kneeling on one knee with her head bowed.
"I'm not the Victoria monarch you're talking about. And I'm not the Red Dragon you're waiting for."
"My name is Chen Mo. I'm a special operations officer with the Lungmen Guard Department. That's all."
This was terrifying. She actually wanted him to go wrestle with Theresis?
Was she trying to get him killed?
Sure, he looked like he had a cheat engine running right now—man in his way dies, god in his way dies—but the moment he ran into the truly top-tier monsters of this land—someone like Theresis—
All the racial advantages he'd been leaning on would buy him nothing.
Taran's tearful smile froze the instant she heard his explanation.
"Chen Mo… Chen Mo? No—no, no!"
"How can you call yourself by a Yan surname? That's blasphemy against your own blood—an insult to Victoria!"
As if he cared about any of that.
Chen Mo clicked his tongue and raised the blazing, scorching Ashen. Its sharp edge burned with fierce flame as he slowly leveled it above Taran's head.
He had no intention of ending up like that old lynx—taking a clean slash from "Professor Theresis."
Clang—!
Steel struck steel; sparks burst.
Taran's exquisitely crafted sword was clearly no ordinary weapon. She took Chen Mo's strike head-on—and still had the strength to rise slowly.
The flames at point-blank range evaporated the tears streaking across her face.
"I won't blame you for wanting to flee, Your Highness," Taran said softly. "The burden of saving Victoria and driving out the demons is far too heavy for a man like you."
"If you wish to continue living here in Lungmen, then I will help you block every trouble that comes your way. I can also stand at your side and assist you—until the day you ascend the throne."
"But on one condition…"
Boom—!
Knowing she was no match for him, Taran broke the deadlock herself. With a sharp push off the ground, she sprang backward, exiting Chen Mo's range.
She glanced at her own blade—nearly softened from the heat—and instead of fear, her face brightened with exhilaration.
She had felt it.
The Draco's power—truly, unmistakably.
A force that could burn everything to cinders… worthy of the name Red Dragon.
And it only hardened her resolve.
Dodging another wave of raging flame, Taran landed steadily, released her Originium Arts without sound, and spoke her intentions with absolute candor.
"You must carry Victoria's lineage forward—and I, the last descendant of House Goldas, unquestionably have the right."
"Therefore… you must give me a child, Your Highness. This is a responsibility you cannot shirk."
Chen Mo's face went stiff. He couldn't even hold it in—he nearly tripped on the spot.
He already understood how this world worked: men were expected to undergo a draining reproductive act, surrendering the essence of their life so women could bear children without pain.
That was "common sense" here.
But Taran's arrogant, matter-of-fact attitude—speaking as if it were owed to her—still made Chen Mo's blood boil. He immediately raised his sword again, ready to go in—
"Do you even hear yourself?! There's a limit to how far you can run your mouth!"
Bang!
A gunshot rang out—deafening.
Mid-complaint, Chen Mo blinked in surprise and looked back.
Exusiai stood behind him, deadly serious.
"I've got you covered, Chen Mo! Don't let her get away!"
"…Huh? Oh. Thanks."
It was strange—why did Exusiai look so fired up?
But Chen Mo didn't think too hard about it. He lifted Ashen and charged straight at Taran, who had already retreated deeper into the warehouse.
The Red Dragon came wreathed in flames, terrifying enough to crush the will of most people.
Yet Taran didn't show a trace of fear. Instead, she offered Chen Mo an ancient Victoria-style salute.
"What a pity. The rats around us interrupted our discussion of future plans."
"We will meet again, Your Highness. When I return to your side, I hope you'll have prepared yourself."
"Save your daydreams for daytime!"
With bullets screaming past and fire surging up behind him, Chen Mo closed the distance in an instant and slashed.
A brilliant arc of flame cut through Taran's body.
Hit?
No.
It didn't hit.
The figure before him dissolved like a reflection in water—like moonlight shattering on a lake.
Chen Mo's expression changed immediately. He swept his gaze across the surroundings.
Nothing.
He couldn't find Taran anywhere.
He looked up—at a hole in the ceiling, just large enough for a person to pass through—and a sinking feeling tightened in his stomach.
Don't tell me she actually got away.
"Telepathic perception-type Originium Arts," Texas said.
She had recovered enough to move, and now she dragged her wounded body over to Chen Mo's side, following his gaze to the same ceiling opening.
"She probably left only a false projection here from the very first moment she 'stood' in front of you—just to stall for time."
"Using Arts that smoothly even after her weapon was damaged…" Texas frowned slightly. "Could she be…?"
She shook her head, forcing the stray thought away. Whoever Taran really was no longer mattered to her.
Then Texas turned to Chen Mo and bowed her head.
"Sorry. This is my responsibility. I'll report the full details to the LGD afterward."
"Right, right!" Exusiai jogged over, grinning sheepishly as she scratched the back of her head. "We definitely won't run off like criminals this time."
Chen Mo smiled, temporarily pressing down his unease.
"Good. I'm just an ordinary officer, after all. Having you help share the pressure is only for the better."
"Let's go. We'll head back to the LGD and talk. And this time, Texas—don't dodge me again."
Texas's expression didn't change, but her face twitched—just slightly. She looked away, visibly uncomfortable, and gave a small nod.
"…Okay."
Late night, 12:48 a.m.
"Hah… hah…"
Pain.
Stabbing pain filled every inch of her body.
Taran sprinted through the wilderness. Behind her, the massive mobile city of Lungmen stretched out endlessly, its silhouette impossible to see in full.
She didn't slow down for even a second.
"I didn't expect… that Your Highness would be connected to Lungmen's Governor," she rasped, coughing. "Then again… if the ties weren't deep, how could that old dragon have allowed Your Highness to live here?"
The Black Coats—Wei Yenwu's private troops.
The moment she fled the warehouse, several Black Coats blocked her path. Their terrifying strength was enough to make her wonder whether Victoria's Steam Knights were at a similar level.
That crushing power left her no options.
She could only squeeze her body dry—forcing her Originium Arts again and again, struggling desperately to escape.
And if not for help from certain figures in the Upper City—if not for the countless hidden passages she had planned long ago, and the Gries Gang's thugs buying time—
She would have died in a foreign land, never returning to the Londinium she longed for.
Taran rubbed the black stone-like protrusions beneath the skin of her arm, clenched her teeth, and ran north.
North—into Ursus territory.
Wei Yenwu would never dare provoke those war-madmen who were constantly looking for an excuse to start a conflict.
At this point, she had only one choice:
In Ursus—a land that despised the Infected—she would have to find an organization that could take her in.
And survive.
-------
My : pat*eon*com/RuneA
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