Dawn approached, and all preparations were at hand.
Some chose to escape with the Knights, while others chose to abandon them, and remain in town.
Most of the ones headed out were Knights or mercenaries, and few blacksmiths and merchants.
For the Knights, victorious in the past, head forth, and the timid them would risk their lives.
Yet nobody would blame them. For it was personal freedom for one to live, and most importantly, nobody knew the outcome if they chose to remain in town. Perhaps they would be bound to a pitiful fate.
“…Leave me alone, and I will smash your hands in with a poker.”
Irine kept swinging the hammer until the very end, and once she said those words, she lost consciousness.
With that outstanding skill of a blacksmith, she surely would be able to live on in this town, yet given how she repaired the dragon bodies with much enthusiasm, it would be arduous for her to remain. It was likely Irine never had the intention to obey Kusla’s commands.
For she knew the world within the world would never satisfy her curious.
“Good, we’re always busy~”
Weyland shoved a weary Irine into the carriage, muttering.
“This is what we call a thrilling life.”
“Well this is thrilling~.”
As Weyland answered, three dragon flamethrowers could be seen next to him. They were all moved upon a modified carriage, each one of them led by four horses. The repaired, polished dragon statues of distilled bronze were eagerly eyeing the moment to charge through the battlefield.
Kusla sat on one of the carriages, where a dragon was on, and there was a throne atop it.
He looked up at the one seated on the throne.
“Aren’t you afraid of heights?”
Kusla teased a peeved Fenesis, who was dressed like a war goddess, in helmet and armor, to prevent injury from arrows. She probably wanted to maintain a façade, for there were soldiers guarding her.
Also, one could see her close her eyes, muttering something, probably a recital. Her anxiety was clear for all to see, but even Kusla was no exception.
For the other side of the town doors were the enemies, knowing that the Knights intended to escape, eagerly rubbing their palms, awaiting. Surely this would be a fierce battle. No one would be calm enough to face whatever came next. If there was one so reckless, he would have died elsewhere.
Kusla scanned his eyes, and spotted the Herald Alzen and the Archduke Kratol. Both of them were scowling, awaiting the crucial moment.
Kusla then smiled to himself. If, as lead could turn to gold, so seeking an unpredictable development were a form of alchemy, no situation would be more befitting.
Once the town doors opened, awaiting them would be life and death. Stability, the word, shall remain in a foreign land at the end of the world. Nobody could predict whatever awaited them once they barged through the siege.
Yet Kusla remained optimistic.
Alzen’s voice rang. With a clang, the soldiers wielded their weapons in response.
At the bottom and mouth of the dragon, the blacksmiths lit a flame. The asphalt prepared beforehand rumbled like the bellowing of Hell.
And to think there were such things on this world.
In this case, surely there would not be nothing awaiting them once they charged forth.
Kysla called out to a still rattling Fenesis.
“The present’s after this. Do this well.”
Weyland and Irine, crouched on the dragon behind him, “?” tilted their heads in unison, yet Fenesis merely smiled sarcastically.
She looked displeased, yet elated.
“I do not believe you.”
“I guess so.”
“So, I shall obtain it with my own strength.”
Kusla was taken off guard, and Fenesis bared her teeth at him, just as Irine would.
“Open the doors!”
The doors opened.
Kusla recovered, and placed his hands on the wings.
Ahhh, so this is alchemy. Lead can be turned into gold, so he thought.
He could hear Fenesis inhaling loudly.
And so, he exerted more strength into his hands.
At that moment, the path to Magdala was lit with a blazing rainbow.