Chapter 547: The Dragon of Mind


"???"


Amon and Steph both turned their heads in puzzlement.


"Oh, so this place only reads the shallow, surface layer of thoughts? That makes things simple…Ring-a-ring o' roses, a pocket full of posies..."


Amon drawled, "If I were that old dragon, I'd have woken up right now just to beat you senseless."


With the nursery rhyme echoing in the background, Edward looked at Amon and asked,


"Amon, what exactly are you planning?"


Amon grinned. "Why, of course I'm—"


Before he could finish, his voice reverberated across the hall, "Of course I'm planning to first check out what's going on here, then parasitise you to see what you really are."


"...Ah, oops. How did that slip out?"


"My mistake, let me rephrase that."


Edward turned to Steph. "And you, sir?"


"Leave this place first. Then kill you."


Steph hadn't the slightest inclination to hide his intent.


Great, what a blessing it is to 'cooperate' with these two bastards…


Edward spat inwardly, and the hall's "background music" shifted into:


One, two, buckle my shoe…Three, four, knock at the door…


As for Amon and Steph, the two naturally devised their own means of shielding their thoughts from the Hall of Truth's probing.


"You know a witch named Lilith, don't you?"


The instant the question landed, Steph's formerly placid expression rippled ever so slightly. "I do."


"Did you know Lilith was killed through Amon and Cheek's collusion?"


Steph replied coldly, "I know."


Amon immediately raised his hand. "Oi, don't pin that on me! That was my main body. Besides, aren't you forgetting the real culprit—that paranoid Zealot? He was the one who plotted everything. I was just the assistant."


Pausing, he added with interest, "By the way, who exactly are you? Why are you so obsessed with Lilith?"


Hearing this, Steph also gave Edward a few long, searching looks, his eyes faint with thought.


Edward did not answer. Instead, he pressed on, "Why did Adam want Lilith dead? Was there some grudge between them?"


"Does a Zealot need a specific reason to kill?" Amon sneered. "No, He hides behind His favourite line—that it was simply 'the trend of times.'"


"And why didn't Lilith's godhood ascension match His so-called trend of times?"


Amon chuckled. "He claimed that both the Primordial Demoness and the Red Priest are extremely special pathways, tied to matters of great importance. For either of them, gender transformation during ascension is absolutely required."


"Lilith was female from start to finish. Naturally, she didn't qualify as the Primordial Demoness."


"Gender transformation? And why would that be necessary?"


"How should I know?"


Edward fell into deep thought. So that's why Lilith turned to gathering Conqueror's Beyonder characteristics? She really was trying to leap toward the Red Priest?


But something still didn't add up.


If that's the case, then Adam tricking Medici could make sense. But why help Tudor? He was male too, so advancing him to Red Priest would still match the so-called trend—except he'd be a mad, forcibly converted Red Priest!


Wait…Could it be precisely because Tudor was mad, unstable, that Adam helped him? Adam must have known Tudor could never truly hold the Red Priest seat. His end was bound to be annihilation. Then the related Beyonder characteristics would spill out, left for future claimants.


And in the end, that was exactly how events unfolded.


At that moment, Steph suddenly spoke, his tone flat but in surprisingly decent Chinese, "Little Red Flower."


Edward froze in shock, turning toward him. "Lilith taught you that?"


"…"


Steph gave no reply, but faint ripples stirred in his gaze.


"Hey!"


Amon cut in irritably. "Weren't you two just trying to kill each other a moment ago? Why are you suddenly exchanging secret codes? And what language was that anyway? What did it mean?"


Neither Edward nor Steph answered him.


Amon felt…left out.


Damn it! You two are insufferable. I'll parasitise you both sooner or later, then you'll be part of the great Amon family too!


As they pressed forward, the frescoes along the grand hall told the sweep of history: the building of cities, plains buried under snow, wars and migrations, the rise and fall of nations and city-states.


Suddenly, amid the murals, a familiar figure emerged.


A colossal dragon with glacial blue eyes and scales of ice crystal.


The King of the North—Ulyssan!


The instant Edward laid eyes on it, the dragon's pair of ghostly blue pupils suddenly "came alive." Accompanied by a shrill whistle laced with icy wind, the massive beast flapped its leathery wings and actually flew out of the mural.


At first it was ethereal, but it swiftly solidified into flesh and scale, then charged straight toward the enormous stone pillar at the far end of the hall—the throne that had once belonged to the King of Dragons.


Boom!


The frost dragon crashed down onto the throne-pillar, its frigid gaze bearing down coldly on the three of them.


"Heh, so this frost dragon harbours ambition. Does it wish to become the new Dragon King?"


Amon adjusted his monocle with a smile, then immediately cast a flurry of abilities at the beast—stealing, deceiving, parasitising.


Almost simultaneously, the dragon threw back its head and unleashed a deafening roar. The cry was steeped in overwhelming might, and in an instant the three of them fell into confusion, their consciousnesses thrown into disarray, their bodies scattering uncontrollably in all directions.


This was a Mind Dragon…or rather, awe and frenzy from the Spectator pathway?!


But hadn't it been a frost dragon just now?


As if to answer their doubts, the frost dragon on the throne suddenly closed its eyes. Its enormous body convulsed violently. Those dreamlike crystalline scales, like plates of frozen diamond, cascaded off one after another, clattering onto the floor. Yet what was revealed beneath was not flesh and sinew—but a layer of ashen-grey scales.


Swish!


When the dragon's massive eyes opened again, they had become a pair of pale-gold vertical pupils. It lifted its head, the molting accelerating until the frost-like armour shed entirely.


Moments later, before them stood a colossal dragon whose entire body gleamed a pallid grey—


It had transformed from a frost dragon into a Mind Dragon!


And crucially, Edward recognised this dragon. It was none other than the supposed final contingency left behind by the Dragon King for His resurrection—the ancient mind dragon Ariehogg!


In that instant, Edward felt as though a bucket of ice water had been poured over him, his whole body chilled to the marrow.


Why had the frost dragon suddenly become Ariehogg? Was this its false body within Grosselle's Travels' City of Miracles, Liveseyd—or had it truly infiltrated this book-world without a trace?


Amon's eyes lit up with dawning realisation, his lips curling.


"So it was you behind all this?"


Boom!


Ariehogg beat its titanic, rune-etched wings, whipping up a storm that raged through the hall.


It rose into the air, hovering loftily as its pale-golden pupils swept swiftly over them, finally locking onto Edward.


"Thank you…for bringing me here."


"…"


F*ck!


Edward instantly understood.


This had to be the handiwork of the future Ariehogg!


Back when they'd encountered it in that dragon-worshipping village, Ariehogg had offered him the Spectator pathway formulas in a verbal bargain—yet hadn't shown the slightest concern whether Edward would keep his word.


Later, Bernadette had discovered traces of psychological cues on him. Edward had assumed that was Ariehogg's safeguard, and once dispelled, he had never thought more of it.


But now it was clear—that had been a red herring! The real preparation had been this—lying in wait for him here all along!


So, back then, Ariehogg already knew Edward would return to the past. It had planted some mark upon him, allowing its past self to follow the trail into Grosselle's Travels—a perfect closed loop.


Wait.


According to the original accounts, Ariehogg was the Dragon King's final measure for resurrection, and its rebirth was tied intimately to Liveseyd, the City of Miracles.


Now that it had entered the book world and even ascended the Dragon King's throne, did this mean the Dragon King had already completed resurrection in the past?


Was the Liveseyd they'd seen in the future already under the dominion of "Dragon of Imagination" Ankewelt?!


…What a "pleasant surprise"!


Indeed, in the world of mysticism, everyone was a cunning bastard.


Suddenly, Edward's heart jolted—


He finally understood why he had felt that sense of discord upon entering. In the midst of being hunted by both Amon and the Angel of the Holy Words, Steph, he had devised countless ingenious escapes, yet from beginning to end had neglected his simplest life-saving trump card: [Hearth].


—The ability to instantly transport to several special anchor points.


Instead, he had teleported first to the battlefield ruins, drawing Steph's pursuit. Then, confronted by Amon, he'd chosen to enter Grosselle's Travels. Step by step, he had been herded into this very moment.


This wasn't just a psychological cue—it felt orchestrated.


So had the "Dragon King" Ankewelt truly been resurrected in the future? Was he capable of arranging matters across one hundred and ninety years, shaping even the past?


This was absurd beyond belief!


Adam, you son of a—!


Aren't you going to show yourself yet?


If Ankewelt has resurrected, won't that spell disaster for you too?!


Edward immediately withdrew a step, hiding behind the illusory door, ready at any moment to retreat to the Sefirah Castle or invoke [Heath].


Amon, smiling faintly, flicked a glance at Edward before addressing the dragon—whether Ariehogg or Ankewelt—floating before them.


"Oi, you didn't bring us here just to flaunt your marvellous transformation, did you?"


"If so, congratulations—you've succeeded. Quite spectacular, very impressive. Now then, how about letting us leave?"


Boom!


Ariehogg folded its massive, rune-scribed wings and landed heavily upon the throne. Its pale-golden eyes betrayed no emotion as its voice reverberated like a droning bell:


"I need you to do me a favour."


Its words filled the entire hall with an unceasing buzz.


Amon tilted his head, smiling. "And what favour might that be?"


"Kill me."


———


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