Game’s Dogma

Drako Yau stayed silent and stared at him calmly. Fatty looked around before taking in a deep breath, then said, ‘When trading blows with that person, you activated both forces within you. The fire you ignited before the final blow, quite the blaze wasn’t it?’

Drako Yau nodded. Fatty smiled, but it looked bitter, likely out of nervousness.

‘Of course it was, even your spear melted into liquid metal. Now to the point: compared to your spear, how tempered do you think your body is?’ said Fatty, his face turning pale as he grunted.

‘Kiddo, go.’ Fatty seemed to be in pain. ‘Quickly.’

Drako Yau scanned his surroundings and nodded sternly. He knew there were things he shouldn’t interfere with at his current strength.

The moment Drako Yau closed the doors, Fatty coughed up a mouthful of blood. Crimson rained down upon his table, adding a tint of bloody beautiness to the elegant European table.

Fatty shook his head. What am I doing? I actually dared to commit such borderline forbidden deeds behind the Dominator’s back. Thankfully, he won his bet; his friendly reminder was still within the Dominator’s tolerance, or else he’d be dead instead of injured.

Fatty smiled at the tightly shut doors. He trusted that the kiddo could comprehend the piece of advice.

Kiddo, don’t disappoint me. I’m placing my bet on you!

In a similar room where a similar table was present, situated also in the Castellan’s residence, sat two completely different persons. A bald, robust elderly sat at the head seat, but bitterness was overflowing on his aged face.

Five thousand… Years of savings… Gone in a moment…

A golden-haired young man sat across the table. He had white skin and a tall nose while his hair reached his shoulders. With a pair of charming glacial blue eyes, he was obviously a human of the Western ancestry.

For a long time, people of the Western ancestry had more pronounced facial features and a wider variety of hair and pupil colour. Their appearances tended to be unique and striking compared to their Eastern counterparts, who usually had ordinary faces, black hair, and yellowish skin. Those of the Eastern ancestry sometimes had an unspoken charm which some people couldn’t get enough of though.

The golden-haired young man had a lot going in his mind. Shock, doubt, confusion, and… excitement—a massive blend of various emotions.

Seeing the young man’s expression, Gramps furrowed his brows a little and said, ‘Don’t worry about it too much. That kid has strange powers. Ice and fire are polar opposites, but that’s also why they grant immense power when these two forces clash. Didn’t I tell you just now? After he killed you, he’d die from the backlash of his own powers.

‘But you’re different. You practice Heavenly Mystics, a dual elemental cultivation style of wind and thunder. Both forces complement one another, so the other force will also become stronger whenever a force gains power. You’ll soon overtake him so much that you won’t remember who he is.

‘Moreover…’ Gramps grinned, clearly pleased by the thought. ‘That kid is meeting his end soon. His body is reaching its limit and will soon be overloaded by his forces. Perhaps before you two cross spears again, he’d already…’

Hmph, it’s not that easy to take advantage of me.

‘He won’t.’ Zeus suddenly lifted his head, revealing a genuine smile on his almost perfect face. ‘That person will overcome all difficulties and fight me again.’

Although they hadn’t seen each other’s faces nor had they conversed during the fight, clashing weapons was the best way to convey their minds. Both of them knew at that moment they were archrivals ever since.

Lightning crackled at his fingertips. Such a powerful enemy, how exciting… I can’t wait to fight him again!

Drako Yau was at a bit of a loss after leaving the Castellan’s residence. While he got his hands on the recipe for crafting Holy Blessing Scrolls, he was only Level 3 at Scrollcraft because he had been busy lately. It also took more experience to level up from Level 3 to Level 4 than reaching Level 3 from Level 1; just how far beyond his reach was Level 7?

He decided to return to his home in Yoda. Apart from giving players a place to rest and placing furniture which gave buffs, players could also access their warehouse and other commonly used functions such as the trade centre at home.

He tossed the crafting recipe into the warehouse. Tattered Armour had eaten the Holy Blessing Scroll the moment he received it, but it didn’t change in the slightest. That fella was becoming more of a glutton lately.

After settling down, he lay down on his bed, unable to fall asleep. Many thoughts were fumbling in his head after the battle. His fight with Ichor Hon triggered his pure survival instincts as he was up against an insurmountable enemy. This time, however, was his first time encountering an enemy of his calibre. Refreshing, curious, exciting—a good fight made his heart pound and his blood boil.

Drako Yau admitted that he loved the excitement of treading the fine line between life and death. Still, he had to think about his body.

The Castellan wouldn’t lie to him, and that meant his ‘deadline’ was coming soon. What the Castellan said at the end bothered him and he gave it a lot of thought, but he couldn’t decipher the hidden message. The polarity of ice and fire were absolute; there was no way around it, like how the sun and moon rose and descended, like the flow of time. They were absolute facts.

It’d be a lot easier if he only had a single elemental force within him. However, as the host of two opposite forces, he’d be the first to suffer when they clashed. He knew he had to solve this issue quickly, or else…

He tightened his hands into fists and recalled the golden-haired young man. Someone once told him that two men didn’t need words to communicate, for the act of battle itself was also a conversation.

Their battle was an unfinished one.

Zeus, at a distant place, also held up his fists and murmured, as if the two of them were making a vow at their archrival.

‘Wait for me.’

That day, Drako Yau slept soundly.

Despite being healed up by Fatty the Castellan, it didn’t heal his worn-out mind. It was already afternoon the next day when he woke up. The mask which he forgot to take off before sleeping was lying next to him on the pillow; the fiery red mask had already become one of his most loyal companions.

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