"Magnus!!!"
"You dare!?"
Stephens and Lucas Saint's faces twisted in shock and rage.
From the moment Rona ignited the riots until now, so little time had passed. They had evacuated many of the Celestial Dragons, yes—but in Mary Geoise there were simply too many. Inevitably, some had slipped through.
Magnus could gamble.
Could they?
One had served Celestial Dragons all his life; the other was a Celestial Dragon himself. How could they not know what kind of creatures Celestial Dragons truly were?
At least ninety-nine out of a hundred—utter trash.
In just a few hours, it was impossible to evacuate them all.
Even told to take shelter, Celestial Dragons would create trouble.
They couldn't fathom danger reaching Mary Geoise.
So if Magnus stormed into the heart of the Holy Land, they dared not let him through.
Would they gamble on the slaves' importance to Magnus?
Or strike down Harald first?
Even a heartbeat of hesitation meant Magnus might slaughter hundreds, thousands of Celestial Dragons.
"That damned pirate!"
Chasing Magnus's back, Lucas Saint was breaking down.
He'd ordered Stephens to butcher slaves, never imagining Magnus would repay him in kind.
How dare he!?
He'd only killed slaves—but Magnus would be killing Celestial Dragons!
And yet… Magnus just might.
He had already slain one Celestial Dragon. Did he expect forgiveness from the World Government?
If not—what difference did a few more make?
If Magnus had found a way to kill the Holy Knights outright, he'd already have slaughtered them. Even making Holy Knight candidates from among Celestial Dragons had been a long, difficult process.
Lucas Saint seethed with fury, blind to the flash of killing intent in Magnus's eyes.
Whoever dared threaten him—would pay.
Magnus looked ahead.
Mary Geoise had been built around Pangaea Castle. At its center, the castle itself. Surrounding it, the mansions of Celestial Dragons.
Further out—artificial forests and canals.
Once a paradise, now a hellscape—Rona had detonated the mansions of several families, and flames engulfed the Holy Land.
As Magnus crashed into the mansion district, he saw slaves, Marines, CP operatives, and guards scrambling to fight the fires.
Yes—
Even though Rona had freed countless slaves, many still bowed their heads. Even knowing the guards were sending them to their deaths at the blaze, they'd rather perish as slaves than risk death on the road to freedom.
Just as Magnus said.
He'd given them a choice. Some chose freedom. Some chose to kneel.
And in the crowd—Magnus saw Celestial Dragons under guard.
"Why is it burning?"
"I heard the slaves set the fires!"
"Wasn't it a Marine Admiral?"
…
Their chatter pressed heavily on the Marines.
"Did Admiral Crimson Serpent really betray us?"
"Why would she turn traitor?"
"Was it the Celestial Dragons—"
Some Marines whispered doubts—cut off quickly by higher ranks.
"Shut your mouth! Even if a Celestial Dragon claimed Admiral Crimson Serpent, it would be her honor!"
For many Marines who knew the Celestial Dragons' true nature, guarding them was worse than death. They would not attack them, but neither would they rush to save them.
During the Reverie, only a limited number of Marines stayed at Mary Geoise.
After all—
Who ever thought Mary Geoise could be in danger?
So those Rona trusted were either part of the strike, or sent away by her authority as Admiral.
The Navy was rotten—
but even in rot, idealists existed, who joined to protect the innocent.
Now? Those left in Mary Geoise—aside from a few unlucky souls—were mostly opportunists who volunteered to guard the Celestial Dragons.
And Magnus saw them—Celestial Dragons nestled in protection.
"What's that?"
A Celestial Dragon gawked upward. Magnus streaked across the sky like a pale shooting star.
"A shooting star!"
A snot-nosed Celestial Dragon looked up at his father in delight.
"Father, I want that star!"
Though grown, his words were those of a child.
"Of course!"
The elder Dragon, who should have been wiser, turned solemnly to his guards, as if he didn't grasp what catching a star meant.
"You, you, you—go fetch me that star!"
"Huh?"
"Me?"
Two guards blinked. One stammered, "Lord Timothy Saint, no one can catch a falling star…"
Bang!
The golden pistol barked. Timothy Saint sneered, "Trash. If you can't even catch a star, why do I keep you?"
Just then, his son tugged his sleeve.
"Father! Father, the star looks like it's falling!"
"Hm?"
Timothy Saint lifted his gaze—just in time to see a white star plummet from the heavens.
Around him, guards finally reacted.
"Enemy attack!"
"Protect Lord Timothy Saint!"
"There are two more 'stars' behind it!"
…
Some sharp-eyed guards recognized those trailing stars—they were Stephens and Lucas Saint, desperately trying to warn those in Magnus's path.
But their shouts couldn't outpace him.
"Get out of there!"
"Protect your master!"
Stephens and Lucas cried out—too late.
The star crashed down.
In an instant, guards and master alike froze into ice.
Then shattered to fragments.
As the mist cleared, the pale wolf form of Magnus stood revealed, turning calmly back toward Stephens and Lucas.
At his feet lay shards of ice. His face was calm.
"Your speed," Magnus said evenly, "is a bit too slow."
…
(End of Chapter)
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