Wandering Knight-Chapter 386: Aid From Another Plane

In the desolate stillness of the undead plane, a sudden rift tore open. Through it tumbled a silver dragon, battered and spent, crashing into the barren earth and sending up a plume of dust.

A suffocating weakness coiled about Aurelian's body and soul. That silver power, an alien energy somehow wrested from Milos, had been overdrawn, checked, and bound. The backlash left her grievously drained.

"Damn it..."

She clenched her teeth, tasting both bitterness and defeat. The heretic dragons, mighty beyond reckoning, had all perished. Looking back, their extraordinary strength seemed inextricably entwined with Milos himself.

"What else can I do? Sieg, Noelle, where are you? Curse it all..."

The plane itself repelled her presence. With effort, Aurelian shed her dragon form and staggered to a nearby boulder, collapsing against it. Her unfocused eyes lifted toward the sky, where a dim, ring-shaped sun hung over the deathly expanse.

For once, the sharp-witted, decisive Aurelian found herself at a loss. Despair had not broken her; the flames of vengeance still smoldered in her chest. Sieg and Noelle's disappearance meant that she couldn't, wouldn't surrender.

Yet she had no choice but to face the inescapable truth before her: in the face of Milos, all dragons were as feeble as insects. Even the silver energy she wielded had lost its bite.

As long as Milos guarded against Aurelian, the rest of dragonkind posed no threat. As he himself had claimed, every dragon's veins carried the blood of Wendel Myx, the Dragon King—blood forged from the strengths of all breeds, a near-perfect lineage.

And even that pinnacle of being, that sovereign of life, had succumbed to the corruption of the abyss. Alone once more, Aurelian held not even the slightest sliver of hope.

"Seeking aid on the continent? News of the abyss reborn would surely unite them... No. Impossible. The world has not changed. This is not the age it once was. And the Church of Dragonkind—no, it cannot be done."

The threat was no longer confined to her kin. Whatever Milos sought, to allow an abyssal creature to thrive unchecked was unthinkable. Fully grown, he could imperil the continent itself. Worse, unlike most abyssal spawn, Milos retained a lucid mind.

She considered spreading word of the Abyss's resurgence, but that was fruitless. Mortals never changed: they only saw the blade poised at their throats.

Once, they had united against the Abyss—but that was a miracle, born when annihilation loomed over all. Such unity could not be conjured twice.

Now, after long years of peace, the Abyss was but a relic of history. A mere rumor could never rally races already leaning toward strife.

And Milos had not appeared on the continent. Who would believe her tale of a phantom threat?

Worse still, she did not know how deep the Church of Dragonkind's roots were burrowed. Any channel she used might betray her, and Milos's hunt could snuff out what fragile hope remained.

There was no way to end things swiftly. Bereft of power and denied any allies, she could only watch Milos grow. Perhaps, in the end, she would stake her life on one final strike. The odds were laughable, but that was what she would do if she had no other choice.

"Lady Aurelian, is that you? I sense your presence. You carry the marks of many fallen dragons upon you. May I ask... what has happened?"

The ground trembled. A voice, ancient and sonorous, rumbled upward from below. Aurelian instinctively roused her strength, ready for battle, then froze. She recognized the speaker, the skeletal elder she had once met: the one who called himself "Old Bones."

The barren earth split as a colossal draconic skeleton tore free from underground, green soulfire burning in its hollow sockets. "Old Bones" heaved himself up and lumbered toward her.

"Will you tell me what has come to pass? I pray it is not dire. These bones of mine... they cannot withstand too much strain."

He lowered his skull toward her. His tone was gentle, but the aura that radiated from him was overwhelming. Gone was the half-farcical figure who once buried himself to escape the Church of Dragonkind's lackeys. Now his words were grave, his soulfire searing bright.

"I..."

Aurelian faltered. Their first meeting, when he had been hounded by three abominations, had left her blind to his true nature. Now, seeing him in his true, terrible majesty, she understood that Old Bones was no weakling. He was strong—immensely so.

In truth, he was the only undead dragon in this entire plane. The rest lingered in the mortal realm. This plane was suitable for the undead, yes—but only if it teemed with souls for them to devour, with soulfire to feed upon.

Without soulfire, they might even wither faster here than in the material plane.

And yet, Old Bones had claimed he had not consumed a single soul in thousands of years, and still he endured. Combined with a lifespan stretching far beyond millennia, his existence itself begged questions.

"You... who are you really? Do the dragons have records of your name?"

Before she could recount her tale, Aurelian asked a question. She needed to know precisely what manner of being stood before her.

"There is little to tell. I am but a foe that another has defeated. I owe him a promise, and though I have no real wish to die so soon, what I sense from you suggests that I should sacrifice myself for the sake of ending this calamity.

"If you must know my name, it is Bodhan. As for who I truly am, that tale may wait. First, tell me what has transpired."

Old Bones spoke with calm gravity, yet the aura spilling from his skeletal frame sent the entire region into turmoil. Undead of every rank fled in terror before his pressure.

Aurelian searched her memory for any dragon bearing the name Bodhan, but could recall nothing. That only deepened the mystery of his identity. Still, she didn't have time to waste. If he were willing to aid her in slaying Milos, she would gladly take his assistance.

She recounted the story of her life, from beginning to end, to the skeletal dragon before her.

When her tale was done, Bodhan dipped his fearsome skull in acknowledgment. And then Aurelian noticed something she had overlooked: he did not revere Wendel Myx, the Dragon King. In that sense, Bodhan was himself a heretic, yet one fundamentally different even from Aurelian and her kin.

"I see," he said at last. "So matters are dire beyond measure. I shall help as best I can. As for allies... Miss Aurelian, have you considered summoning aid from other planes? The infernal plane, for instance."

His words struck her like a spark in the dark. She had been too rushed to think things through, but now the thought unfurled in her mind.

Yes—this world was not confined to the continent and the Endless Sea. Countless planes were tethered to the material plane, some vast beyond imagining, their strength rivaling or even surpassing that of the main plane.

Most planes had remained aloof in the war against the Abyss. Only the undead plane and a few others closely entwined with the mortal world had joined the struggle. In fact, one path of survival for certain races had been escape to other planes beyond the Abyss's reach.

The infernal plane that Bodhan spoke of was one of incessant war. Infernal flames burned for eternity; its denizens forever strove to breach other planes. Its armies were unmatched, its hunger insatiable. Whether beings of still greater power than infernal lords existed was unknown, but the power of the infernals was beyond dispute.

If the creatures of the infernal plane could be turned against Milos, that might truly be a workable strategy. But if Milos were to win out in the end, would abyssal spawn glean new horrors from their infernal foes? Such variables could hardly be predicted in advance.

There was little choice. She had no room for doubt.

"The fiends of the infernal plane would make formidable allies," Aurelian admitted. "But lesser devils could not stand against Milos. An infernal lord would have to act. What price could we pay to compel such beings?

"These lords, who clawed their way up from lowly fiends, have no appetite for endless war. They will only accept trades in kind—and they would be costly allies. What could I possibly offer?"

Before her eyes, Bodhan tore open his own ribcage, exposing the essence within.

"Myself," he said simply.

Meanwhile, beneath the endless sea, submerged in the void, Wang Yu and Avia at last stirred from their stunned silence, shaken by the sight of a colossal octopus whose body sprawled across the void itself.

"It should work," Avia said, voice quick and assured. "I studied this with the Lady of the Night. I remember her method of drawing upon her own power. If you channel the power of the Chariot to drive this god's vessel, you should be able to achieve something similar."

Her mind raced, calling up the lessons she had exchanged with the Lady of the Night. She guided Wang Yu, showing him how to direct the power of the Chariot into the dream-god's husk, allowing them to wield divinity even here in the void. The void rejected Avia—but not the god's vessel.

"I thought you'd tell me I was being reckless," Wang Yu muttered, scratching his head as he strained to wield the power of the Chariot.

"What else can I do?" Avia sighed wryly. "I'll trust you. And don't you trust me all the same? You've always been reckless, but it's not like you don't stop to think. You've never let me down... but this time, be careful."

For all her exasperation, their trust in each other was absolute. Wang Yu always spared a thought for her feelings, even when he plunged headlong into madness. That said, this time, he was far madder than usual.

Wang Yu meant to dive down and touch that monstrous octopus.