Chapter 203: The Voice of Death
National Route 7 stretched across the landscape like a gray scar, cutting through hills and valleys, bypassing towns and villages that had grown accustomed to the rumble of government vehicles passing in the night.
It was an airport highway, designed for emergencies, for the transport of dignitaries, for the kind of travel that ordinary citizens were not permitted to experience.
Security was tight, cameras monitored every inch of the road, checkpoints dotted the route at irregular intervals, and patrol cars swept the asphalt with mechanical precision.
But Fiona’s vehicle was recognized. The black military-grade bulletproof car bore markings that signaled to every scanner, every camera, every guard that the occupants were not to be delayed. They were World Savers, a designation that carried weight, that opened doors, that silenced questions before they could be asked.
Fiona drove with both hands on the wheel, her eyes fixed on the road ahead, her mind racing faster than the car.
She was calculating, entrances, exits, security protocols, the likelihood of encountering other captains before she could get Erza safely inside. Erika might ignore them, she decided. The White Wolf captain was sharp, perceptive, but she was also practical. She would not start a fight without reason.
Elga was another matter.
Elga was a battle machine, pure and simple. She loved combat the way others loved music or art or the quiet pleasure of a good meal. She sought it out, craved it, needed it the way addicts needed their poison. If she saw Erza, if she sensed the power radiating from the dragon queen, she would not be able to resist. She would challenge. She would attack. She would force a confrontation that could destroy the base and everyone in it.
Fiona’s grip tightened on the wheel.
Beside her, Erza sat in perfect stillness.
Her silver hair caught the morning light streaming through the window, turning it into a cascade of molten metal. Her violet eyes were fixed on the clouds drifting past the glass, but she was not seeing them. She was seeing something else, someone else, somewhere far away, somewhere Fiona could not follow.
She was thinking of Yuuta.
What is he doing now? she wondered. Has he given up on aura? Has he gone back to his cooking, his daughter, his ordinary life? She hoped so.
She hoped he had abandoned the foolish quest that could only end in pain. She had made the theory deliberately incomprehensible, layered with concepts that no human could hope to understand.
He would never learn. He would never unlock the power that slept within him.
And yet.
A strange unease had settled in her chest, a restlessness that would not fade. Her heart beat faster than it should, an irregular rhythm that she could not control. Her fingers twitched against the armrest, tapping a pattern she did not recognize.
Something was wrong. Something was happening, somewhere she could not see, and her body knew it even if her mind could not name it.
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the feeling. It is nothing. I am imagining things.
But she was not.
She forced herself to look away from the clouds, to focus on the road, on the mission, on the war that was coming. She could not act like Yuuta’s protector all day. She had duties, obligations, a world to reshape. She had to end the demonic era, destroy the threats that lurked in the shadows, carve a path to a future where he would be safe.
She had to do it quickly.
Before she had to leave him forever.
The thought came unbidden, unwelcome, achingly painful. It lodged in her chest like a splinter, too small to see but impossible to ignore. Before I have to leave Yuuta.
She pushed it away.
The car sped on, cutting through the air at 121 kilometers per hour, the wind screaming past the windows, the engine humming with barely contained power.
Fiona drove in silence, her mind still racing, her eyes still fixed on the road.
Erza sat beside her, her gaze drifting back to the clouds, her unease still churning beneath her cold exterior.
Then she turned her head.
Her eyes caught something unexpected, a photograph tucked into the dashboard, wedged between the sun visor and the roof. It was small, worn at the edges, faded by sunlight and age. The colors had softened, the contrast had dimmed, but the image was still clear enough to read.
Fiona, younger by several years, her hair shorter, her face softer, laughing at something outside the frame. Beside her stood a boy, tall, golden brown-haired, with a smile that seemed to take up half his face.
They were holding hands.
Their fingers were intertwined, their bodies leaning toward each other, their postures easy and familiar. There was no awkwardness between them, no hesitation. They looked like two people who had known each other for a very long time and were comfortable in ways that strangers never could be.
Erza’s eyes narrowed. Her voice, when she spoke, was cold and carefully neutral. "Who is he?"
Fiona glanced at the photograph without taking her eyes off the road. Her expression softened, not the careful softness she wore around the Agency, not the mask she used to hide her true feelings. Something genuine. Something vulnerable.
"He is Loid," she said. "My friend."
"Friend." Erza’s voice was flat, disbelieving. "He looks close to you."
Fiona hesitated.
Her fingers tightened on the wheel. The car swerved slightly before she corrected it.
"We grew up together. He was my childhood friend." She paused, her eyes flickering to the photograph, then back to the road. "He still is."
Erza studied the woman beside her.
She watched the way Fiona’s lips curved slightly at the memory, the way her eyes softened, the way her voice warmed when she spoke his name.
She had seen that look before, on the faces of women who were in love, who had found someone who made the world feel less cold. It was the look of someone who had built a home in another person’s heart and was not afraid to live there.
Something twisted in Erza’s chest. It was not jealousy, she had no claim on Fiona’s heart, no desire for one. It was something else. Something colder. Something that sounded like danger.
Or betrayal.
"Where is he now?" she asked, her voice carefully controlled.
Fiona’s smile brightened.
"He is in my squad. He is one of my best soldiers."
The excitement in her voice was unmistakable. Pride. Admiration. Warmth. Emotions she was not even attempting to hide. Every word carried a familiarity that immediately caught Erza’s attention.
Fiona continued speaking, unaware of the danger sitting beside her.
"He works harder than anyone else. The others complain when things get difficult, but he never does. Even when he’s exhausted, he keeps moving. Sometimes I honestly wonder how he manages it."
A small laugh escaped her lips.
"He can be incredibly stubborn, though."
The warmth in her expression deepened.
The kind of warmth that made Erza’s instincts stir.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
Erza remained silent as she listened.
To anyone else, Fiona’s words would have sounded harmless. The praise of a commander toward a trusted subordinate. Nothing more.
But Erza was not anyone else.
She was a dragon.
And dragons understood emotions better than most mortals realized.
Especially when those emotions involved someone they considered theirs.
A faint pressure spread through the car.
This woman loved someone.
Her aura rose slightly higher as she examined the feeling more carefully.
The warmth was genuine.
The affection was genuine.
The longing was genuine.
There was no mistaking it.
A cold certainty entered Erza’s heart.
Fiona was in love.
An ugly thought immediately appeared.
Would she betray Yuuta?
The thought struck so suddenly that even Erza was surprised by it.
My poor Yuuta.
The fool was hopeless when it came to matters of the heart. He could barely understand his own feelings, let alone the feelings of others. If someone wished to deceive him, he would probably thank them for it.
The thought irritated her.
No.
Absolutely not.
A faint chill spread through the vehicle.
Erza let her aura rise.
It began as a whisper, a faint pressure at the edges of perception, easy to ignore, easy to dismiss. Then it grew, spreading through the car like water seeping through cracks in a dam. The pressure became weight, the weight became crushing, and the air grew thick and cold and difficult to breathe.
Fiona’s hands began to tremble on the wheel. Her knuckles turned white. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, each one harder than the last. The temperature inside the car dropped so quickly that her breath fogged in front of her face.
She slammed on the brakes.
The car screeched to a halt, tires smoking, the smell of burnt rubber filling the air. The seat belts locked, pressing against their chests, holding them in place as the vehicle rocked forward and back.
Erza did not move.
She sat perfectly still, her aura still pressing, her eyes still fixed on Fiona’s face.
"Listen to me, human."
Her voice was quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that made people nervous.
"I know that look."
Fiona frowned.
"What look?"
"The look of a woman in love."
The words struck Fiona like a physical blow.
"Love...? what Love.."
Before she could respond, Erza continued.
"I have seen it countless times. I saw it in noble courts. I saw it among dragon clans. I saw it in the eyes of women who believed they had found someone worth following."
A dangerous calm entered her voice.
"And I see it in you."
Fiona try to justify.
But Erza cut her off, her cold voice leaving no room for argument. "Listen carefully, You nasty human. Do not forget that you are the future bride of my husband." She paused, allowing the weight of her words to sink in. "And do not forget what that means."
Fiona’s mouth opened. "He is just my."
"I do not care who he was to you." Erza’s voice sharpened, cutting through Fiona’s protest like a blade through silk. "I do not care how close you were. I do not care what history you share."
She leaned closer, her violet eyes boring into Fiona’s, her aura pressing harder.
"The moment you chose my Yuuta, every other man became dead to you." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Do you understand?"
Fiona’s hands were shaking. Her heart pounded against her ribs, loud enough that she was certain Erza could hear it. She had faced demons. She had stared down death. She had walked into battles that should have killed her and walked out alive through sheer stubbornness and luck.
But this was different. This was the cold, absolute certainty of someone who believed the world revolved around her, and perhaps, Fiona thought, it did.
"I understand," she whispered.
Erza held her gaze for a moment longer, searching for something, doubt, defiance, deception. She found nothing. She leaned back in her seat, her aura receding, the pressure lifting, the temperature returning to normal.
"Drive," she said.
Fiona put the car back in gear and pressed the accelerator.
The highway stretched ahead, empty and endless, a gray ribbon cutting through a world that did not know what was coming.
____________
(Meanwhile in Apartment Yard).
Yuuta stared directly into the animal’s eyes. Blood continued dripping from his torn arm, staining the grass beneath his feet, yet he barely seemed aware of the pain anymore. Something inside him had changed.
The strange pressure leaking from his body continued to grow, spreading across the apartment yard like an invisible tide. It was not loud. It did not shake the ground or split the sky. Instead, it carried something far more terrifying, a presence so overwhelming that it smothered everything around it.
The laughter of the three boys died instantly.
The screams of the crowd vanished.
The distant sounds of traffic beyond the apartment complex seemed to disappear.
Even the wind itself appeared to hesitate.
An unnatural silence descended upon the world.
It was the kind of silence that existed moments before death.
Yuuta slowly raised his head. His crimson eyes locked onto the pitbull. The beast that had moments ago been tearing into his flesh now stood frozen. Its instincts screamed at it to run. Every fiber of its being recognized the presence standing before it as something it should never have challenged.
Then Yuuta spoke.
His voice was calm.
Cold.
Absolute.
"Die."
The word echoed across the yard.
The pitbull froze.
Its body stiffened as if an invisible force had seized control of every muscle. Fear filled its eyes. Then, without warning, life left them entirely. The beast collapsed onto the grass with a heavy thud, dead before it even touched the ground.
The pressure vanished.
Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the terrifying aura receded back into Yuuta’s body. The suffocating weight disappeared from the air, allowing everyone present to breathe again.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
The people gathered around the scene could only stare at the lifeless dog. Their minds struggled to understand what they had just witnessed. One moment the animal had been tearing into Yuuta’s arm, and the next it had simply died.
No wound.
No weapon.
No explanation.
Only a single word.
High above, hidden among the branches of the oak tree, Isvarn stood frozen.
His ancient eyes were fixed entirely on Yuuta.
That aura.
He knew that aura.
A forgotten memory surfaced from the depths of his mind. A battlefield drowned in blood. Mountains reduced to ash. Countless warriors kneeling beneath an overwhelming pressure. And standing at the center of it all was a figure whose presence alone challenged the heavens.
The Son of Disaster.
The Forgotten Warrior of Zareth.
The being who had helped shape the Silent War.
When Isvarn had been little more than a child, he had witnessed that terrifying existence from afar. Even now, after centuries had passed, the memory remained carved into his soul.
And moments ago...
He had felt a fragment of that same power.
For the first time, genuine excitement surged through the old dragon’s veins.
As head instructor of the Royal Dragon Warrior Academy, Isvarn had spent centuries training young dragons. He had watched countless prodigies rise and fall. He had seen talents praised as geniuses only to become mediocre adults.
But every so often, a true diamond appeared.
A talent so rare that instinct alone recognized its value.
At this moment, Isvarn felt that instinct screaming.
His gaze remained fixed on Yuuta.
The young man was bleeding.
Exhausted.
Confused.
Completely unaware of what he had just done.
Yet for the first time since meeting him, Isvarn saw something different.
Potential.
Not the potential of a Warrior.
Not the potential of a scholar.
But the potential to defy fate itself.
A smile slowly spread across the old dragon’s face.
He stroked his beard thoughtfully.
Perhaps he had judged the boy too quickly.
Perhaps the husband of the Dragon Queen was not entirely hopeless after all.
Perhaps...
He deserved a chance.
A genuine chance.
"I’ve made my decision," Isvarn murmured quietly.
His Voliet eyes gleamed.
"I will teach him."
The old dragon looked down at Yuuta once more, and for the first time, there was not a trace of mockery in his gaze.
Only interest.
Only anticipation.
Only the curiosity of a master who had finally found a student worth watching.
And far beneath the apartment yard, buried deep within Yuuta’s shadow, something ancient stirred.
Something that had slept for centuries.
Something that had just heard its his voice.
To be continued...
