Chapter 65: Dragon

Mirabella took a deep breath, focusing her senses as she stared at the fifteen or so cultists. They were all equipped with rifles much the same as the others she had encountered, but these few were guarding an entrance to a cave. There was probably a reason for that, but for now, she just wanted to focus on kicking all of their asses.

As she tried to focus her mana, a single bolt of lightning arced from her palm, sizzling through the frigid air like a streak of neon. The cultists, in coordination, scattered quickly.

The bolt, however, streaked towards five of the cultists in the center of their formation. With a deafening crack, the lightning struck, engulfing them in a blinding flash of blue-white light. The ground around them erupted in a wave of snow and ice, flinging cultists through the air like ragdolls. The surviving cultists, their faces hidden, began to retreat, only to find themselves stunned by a massive, glowing glyph that materialized behind Mirabella.

The air grew thick with the unmistakable scent of burning ozone, and the snow beneath their feet began to steam as the black mana within the glyph coalesced into a single, immense beam of energy. It shot forth like a spear, tearing through the air with the force of a hurricane, obliterating anything in its path. The cultists, unable to escape the onslaught, were incinerated where they stood, their screams of agony echoing through the frozen wasteland.

"Fuck! This always happens!" Mirabella shouted out in anger, no trace of her usual annoyance. She heard the crunching of snow behind her as someone approached.

"I see, you're not even trying to be destructive," Mikoto noted as he looked upon the destruction just two measly spells of hers had caused. "It seems like a passive thing."

"This is why I didn't want to fight," she heaved a deep sigh. "I can't hold back, see I just ended up killing them," she finished, with guilt in her tone. Her lips were curled into a deep frown. She did not exactly seem new to the concept of killing, yet even so, it bothered her.

"They were scum, they kill men, women, and children. These ain't the type of people that deserve any mercy," Mikoto stated.

"I know that," Mirabella spoke, her acceptance of that fact did not seem to ease her in the least. "Doesn't mean I have to like killing," she stated as she threw him a weary glance. "You don't seem that bothered by it," she noted. He shrugged.

"I'm used to gore."

"You're a weird little freak," she deadpanned.

"Harsh, but true," he admitted before changing the subject. "Anyway, your magic is pretty destructive, but I can see that changing if you put in enough work."

"You place too much trust in my abilities, even someone like that hag Guinevere gave up," she frowned. "You're a good lecturer, but what makes you think you can help with my magic?"

"Cause I'm me," Mikoto confidently stated as he jabbed a thumb at himself. She deadpanned once again. "But you should have more confidence in your abilities, and at the end of the day, it all comes down to mana control. But that lesson is for later, for now, let's see what this cave leads to." Mirabella nodded her head in agreement as the two entered.

As Mikoto and Mirabella ventured deeper into the cave, the air grew heavy with the scent of damp earth, and the sound of their footsteps echoed against the walls. The cave was enormous, its ceiling disappearing into darkness high above them, stalactites hanging like jagged teeth ready to pierce them. Shafts of dim light filtered in from small crevices, casting eerie shadows.

"You know," Mirabella spoke up, her voice echoing through the cave. "What do you make of this cult we're chasing? Worshipping dragons? Sounded like a load of nonsense to me the first time I heard it. And now they're working with Vel'ryr." Mikoto glanced at her, a bit surprised she even started a conversation. But who was he to not oblige?

Mikoto shrugged, his gaze still fixed on the path ahead. "I suppose it sounded far-fetched, but there are stranger things in this world."

"Yeah, but worshipping dragons?" Mirabella snorted derisively. "Those things aren't even among us anymore. And they went extinct to boot, why worship such things?"

"Haven't a clue," Mikoto conceded, but he quickly continued. "If I had to hazard a guess, it all comes down to the dragon's power."

"Power?" Mirabella questioned.

"Yeah, maybe the cultists are more interested in the dragon's power than the dragons themselves," Mikoto started. "Power is everything after all, to most anyway. With enough of it, you could do anything."

"You sound like some storybook villain," she dryly commented. "You look like one too."

"I should really get a new mask if that's the case," he spoke with a sigh.

"Seems you're not as stupid as I thought," Mirabella snorted. "Maybe you should take my advice a whole lot more."

"Gee, if this bullying continues, I might lose motivation to continue teaching you," Mikoto spoke in a singsong tone.

"I'll shut up."

Their conversation carried them deeper into the cave, the darkness pressing in around them. Then, as they rounded a corner, they entered a vast space, the ceiling soaring high above them like the vaulted roof of a cathedral.

Cultists were all around, numbering at least into the hundreds. Though neither Mikoto nor Mirabella paid them mind. They were focused on something much more absurd than mere numbers.

In the center of the chamber lay the reason for their journey—a colossal corpse, black scales gleaming dully in the faint light. The dragon's wings were spread wide, the membrane between each fingered bone torn and shredded. Its long tail stretched out behind it, tipped with a wickedly barbed stinger that seemed to gleam with residual venom. The creature's head was massive, its jaws agape in a silent roar, rows of razor-sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light. Despite its lifeless state, there was a palpable sense of power emanating from the dragon's form, a reminder of the raw strength that had once coursed through its veins.

Mikoto and Mirabella stood in surprise, barely registering that some of the cultists had taken note of them. For all their skepticism, there was no denying the reality of the dragon's presence.

"Holy... holy shit," Mirabella blurted out. "This ain't an illusion, right?" She wanted to make sure.

"It ain't," Mikoto confirmed, his eyes all but latched onto the form of the dragon. Surprise was present within him too, but there was something else as well. Hate, unexplainable hate at the enormous creature before him. He did not know why he felt that way, but his pondering would have to wait, the cultists were approaching them. Mirabella tensed for action, but he raised his hand to stop her. "I'll handle this, I'll show you what precise magic is." He stepped forward. Some of the cultists leveled their rifles on him.

As they unleashed a barrage of searing plasma bolts, Mikoto raised his hands, weaving an intricate sigil in the air. A shimmering barrier materialized around him and Mirabella, crackling with mana, deflecting the onslaught with ease. "A charm that nullifies damage," he explained.

The bolts of energy struck the barrier, dissipating harmlessly into sparks of light.

Undeterred, the cultists continued their assault, their numbers seemingly endless as they pressed forward with fervent zeal. But Mikoto remained bored, though he gauged the ebb and flow of their attacks.

With a deft flick of his wrist, Mikoto began to create intricate glyphs in the air. The glyphs coalesced into existence around the cavern, their arcane symbols pulsating with latent power.

Suddenly, streaks of brilliant light erupted from the glyphs, lancing out like celestial javelins to pierce the ranks of the cultists. The air was filled with the thunderous cacophony of explosions as the blasts struck their targets with devastating force, sending bodies flying in all directions.

Mikoto barely moved as the destruction was unleashed wave after wave of attacks. With each gesture, he dispatched multiple cultists in quick succession, his power carving a swath of devastation through their ranks. With each passing moment, the cavern became a battleground of light, the earth trembling beneath the onslaught of his power.

But even as the cultists fell in droves, their numbers seemed to replenish endlessly, their fervor undiminished by the carnage unfolding before them. Yet Mikoto showed no signs of faltering; he was still more bored than anything.

"Let's finish up."

And then, in a final crescendo of power, Mikoto unleashed his gambit. With a grin, he summoned forth a torrent of pure energy, a maelstrom of light and magic that consumed everything in its path.

The cave shook with the force of the explosion, the walls trembling as if caught in the throes of some cataclysm. When the dust finally settled, silence descended upon the cavern, broken only by the soft crackle of fading energy.

"Whoa," Mirabella was in slight awe. ("So fast, and precise. The only other person I've seen use magic this way was Guinevere and Lucinda.")

"We should let the professor know about our findings here," Mikoto stated.

"Yeah, seems his theory on why these cultists were gathering civilians was true," she spoke as she gazed at the unscathed dragon corpse. "They really wanted to resurrect a damn dragon."