Chapter 353: Chapter 352 - Argon’s out to meet Raven.
While the colossus and the group were moving away, the ground trembled again, a slow, grinding quake that crawled up through Raven’s scaled legs and into his chest.
Ash skittered across the broken earth like startled insects.
Far ahead, the crater seethed—a smoking wound in the world—each breath of black flame louder than the last.
Raven stood unmoving, a crimson silhouette of scale and shadow. His humanoid body stretched to nearly two and a half meters, red-black scales glinting faintly beneath the dying sky.
His dragon head angled slightly forward, crimson eyes narrowed, smoke curling from the edges of his fanged jaw.
Omni, still in its three-meter form, rested lazily on his shoulder, humming with a faint metallic purr that vibrated against the air like a heartbeat.
Graye stepped up beside him, armor gleaming despite the ash.
Another tremor rippled through the ground, and she laughed softly—an almost childlike sound against the looming roar of death.
"You know," she said, tilting her helmet back just enough for her bright eyes to catch the dying light, "waiting for a god-slaying dragon to crawl out of a hell crater is... weirdly boring."
Raven’s crimson gaze flicked her way. "Boring wasn’t the word I’d pick.
"Fine," she said with a grin, her curvy frame shifting as she stretched. "Terrifying, but boring. And since we might die in the next few minutes..." She hesitated, biting her lip. "I was thinking about that time we hugged."
Raven’s scaled brow rose. "That’s what’s on your mind while we wait for death?"
"Exactly," she shot back, eyes sparkling even as the ground rumbled beneath them. "When else am I supposed to bring it up?"
A faint huff of smoke escaped Raven’s snout—a dragon’s version of a sigh—before he finally answered her question. "Yes, I remember."
Graye’s playful smile wavered, softening into something almost shy. "The problem is... I don’t remember. Not really. Last time was the first time, and I was too shocked to feel anything."
With her helmet disappearing, she fidgeted in her spot, glancing up at Raven. "So... I was wondering if I could have another one. A real one. Tight. I want to feel it this time."
Raven stared at her for a long beat.
Then he lowered Omni from his shoulder and drove the great blade into the cracked earth.
The sword vibrated with a low, mock-offended hum.
"Yo," Omni muttered, his voice like a gangster whisper. "You’re really gonna stick me in the dirt for cuddle time? Fine, fine—don’t mind me. I’ll... count trees. Maybe find myself a fine lady sword later."
Raven ignored him as his body shifted.
His scaled form turned back to his human form, half-naked, as his shirt was always torn apart when he transformed into the half-dragon form.
Then, with a smile, he spread his arms wide.
"Come here," he said, and Graye didn’t hesitate.
She surged forward as her armor, which could always change forms, turned into normal clothing.
The next second, she threw herself into him with the force of a charging beast.
Her curvaceous body pressed against his soft yet hard chest, the warmth of his human body radiating through her thin clothes.
Raven wrapped his arms around her, arms careful as they slid across the clothes, holding her as tightly as she asked.
"Tighter," she whispered against his neck.
He obliged, the pressure firm enough to make her breath hitch.
Soon, the world dulled for them.
The distant rumble of the crater faded, leaving only the slow rhythm of their breathing.
Her heartbeat thudded against his chest; his own pulse, steady and deep, matched it beat for beat.
For a moment, death, dragons, and gods all ceased to matter.
There was only warmth, steel, and the quiet realization of being alive.
Omni muttered somewhere behind them, counting half-heartedly. "One tree... two trees... man, I need a sword girlfriend."
Graye gave a soft, almost trembling laugh, her face buried against Raven’s scaled shoulder. "Now I remember," she murmured. "This... this is what it feels like."
It was then that, suddenly, another quake ripped through the wasteland.
The ground bucked beneath their feet, the sky itself seeming to tighten.
A thunderclap followed—then the crater erupted.
This time, the explosion swallowed everything.
A column of black steam and flame tore upward, so vast it blotted out the sun.
The shockwave struck like a hammer, driving dust and shadow across the land.
Raven tightened his embrace for a heartbeat longer, then slowly released her.
Their eyes met—hers wide with awe, and his crimson gaze steady and burning.
The moment was over, but its warmth lingered like a defiant heartbeat against the roar of the awakening god.
Without a word, both of them returned to their battle forms. Graye’s clothes turned into a full-body armor like the one she wore when she first fought Raven, while Raven’s body shifted back to his half-dragon form.
He picked up Omni and placed it on his shoulders, and the sword finally stopped counting.
"Now we are talking. This is what the atmosphere should be like."
.............................
Meanwhile, below the Vaise main estate, which was still under construction, in a seclusion chamber that only the patriarchs of the family could know about, there was no light.
Then, without warning, a sharp shhhhkkk
sliced through the dark.Letters—burning strokes of pure white mana—peeled into existence one by one, each character glowing with a frantic urgency.
"Come help me in the capital, you bastard!"
The words floated weightless, their brilliance the only light in the chamber.
A heartbeat later, a pair of red eyes opened within the black. Cold. Commanding. Ancient.
The darkness bent around their gaze as if the void itself feared to move.
The glowing letters brightened, washing the chamber in a pale glow, and finally revealed the man behind the eyes.
Argon Von Vaise.
He floated a meter above the ground, cross-legged as if the laws of gravity existed only for others.
His long coat stirred in a wind that wasn’t there, black hair hanging loosely over a face carved from stone.
Beside him, a greatsword of seamless silver-black hovered in perfect stillness, humming faintly like a beast holding its breath.
Argon studied the message for a long, silent moment. The faintest sigh escaped his lips.
"...That old man."
His voice was quiet, but the chamber trembled like the earth itself had heard a command.
There was only one person who could weave mana into letters so effortlessly. Crisaius.
Even that was only possible if the old man had broken past the tenth level.
"So, he reached it, huh..." He muttered before waving his hand, turning those letters into motes of light.
However, he didn’t rush to the capital.
If Crisaius had reached that level, then he could survive against anyone for a while longer, especially because of his annoying time ability.
For now, he wanted to see his son. Raven.
He wanted to know how the boy handled the weight of the patriarch’s seat.
With a flick of two fingers, space itself bent.
The chamber rippled—
—And Argon simply wasn’t there anymore.
.............................
The patriarch’s chamber flickered into view.
Stacks of documents towered like unstable mountains. Ink bottles lay scattered like fallen soldiers.
At the center of the storm sat Randolf Von Vaise, the head butler of the house and Argon’s younger brother.
He was buried halfway beneath papers, dark circles sinking his eyes, a pen trembling in one tired hand.
Argon materialized in the air beside the patriarch’s chair, already halfway into a grin.
"I leave for a short retreat," he began dryly, "and my house turns into a stationary shop—"
His words stopped.
The seat of the patriarch was occupied.
Not by Raven.
By Randolf.
The brothers locked eyes. The silence between them stretched like a drawn blade.
Argon tilted his head slightly. "...Looks like a lot happened while I was away."
Randolf gave a long, exhausted exhale and shook his head. "More than you can ever imagine."
Another beat of silence. Then Randolf stiffened.
His senses flared—and failed.
Argon’s presence was... gone. Or rather, it was everywhere. His mana no longer pressed against the world; it was the world. Like air. Like gravity.
Randolf’s eyes widened. His voice cracked.
"...Patriarch. Did you—did you break past the Tenth Level?"
For the first time in decades, Argon smiled—a slow, dangerous, almost playful curve of the lips.
"What do you think?"
The answer was obvious. Randolf dropped to one knee, bowing his head.
"Congratulations, Patriarch."
"Enough of that," Argon said with a dismissive wave. "Although I’d love to hear a full report, I’m in a hurry. For now—Raven. Where is he? Is he in the capital?"
Randolf straightened slightly, still kneeling. "The last report places him there. Yes."
"Good."
Argon flicked his wrist. Space folded like a curtain.
In the blink of an eye, he was gone—leaving only the whisper of displaced air and a faint shimmer of crimson light.
Randolf exhaled, dragging a weary hand down his face. "He feels like a child waiting to show off his new toy."
He turned back toward the mountain of documents, resigning himself to another endless round of paperwork.
That was when the chamber doors slammed open.
A Vaise agent stumbled inside, face pale, voice frantic.
"Urgent report! The capital is under attack by a high-ranking demon! Lord Crisaius has engaged the enemy, and—" the agent swallowed hard, "—Lord Raven and his group were last seen heading toward the Ashen Expanse!"
Randolf froze, the words hanging heavy in the air.
"...More than I could ever imagine," he muttered again, staring at the mountain of papers.
Then, with a weary sigh, he reached for his pen. "Of course."
He, Argon, or Crisaius had yet to know about the kind of challenge Raven was about to face.
The question was whether they would realize it in time or whether it would be too late by the time they knew.