When I swung the katana in my hand, it was deflected by the great scythe Novem spun between both hands.
The whirling scythe came at me, its blade aimed straight for my throat. That razor-sharp edge made it impossible to simply close the distance.
Novem approached. I blocked with my blade, and the golden dragon soared into the sky, heading toward the place where the Successive Heads were gathered.
Novem deliberately forced a contest, bringing her face close to mine.
“Now, hurry up and defeat me. With your hands, Laiel—”
Being called by name, without any honorific, felt strangely fresh. But there was no time for that now.
Behind me, Aria was screaming.
“Novem, enough is enough—”
Novem’s eyes narrowed, and from beneath Aria’s feet, a Monster emerged. A Land Dragon appeared, though its scales looked metallic.
Aria’s vision blurred with static. Something resembling a Land Dragon rose from the ground and stood before her.
“What did you summon this time?!”
Forcing herself away, Novem deliberately leaped back. It felt like I was being toyed with.
“It’s a sub-species of Land Dragon. Having ordinary Monsters in a place where a Floor Lord resides would be dull, wouldn’t it? Since there didn’t seem to be an opening, I went and fetched one. It’s quite strong. Aria might lose and be killed.”
Aria leveled her spear and faced the Land Dragon. Eva, Clara, Monica, and the Valkyries moved in to support her.
Monica, scanning the overall situation, also lent a hand in supporting me. Beams of light shot toward Novem, and she took them head-on with a calm expression. Where the light hit, a red glow emanated.
She was generating partial magic shields.
“Tch! You sly fox!”
Novem looked up at Monica, flying overhead.
“…Don’t you have your hands full over here? I don’t think Aria and the others can win against that one alone.”
Just as Novem had said. For Aria, who was primarily not a magic user, this was a bad matchup against a land dragon subspecies with metallic skin.
She was swinging her spear, but the blade couldn't reach. Eva was providing support, but it looked unfavorable. On top of that, Clara was great at support roles but struggled with offensive magic.
Monica narrowed her eyes, then headed straight toward Aria and the others.
Novem smiled.
"Now then, the nuisances are gone. It's just the two of us."
"Save lines like that for somewhere with more atmosphere."
That was the best response I could manage. I lunged at her, and Novem dodged by a hair's breadth. I prepared a spell in my left hand and fired it at close range as we passed each other, but Novem swatted the magic away barehanded.
The great scythe came sweeping toward me, and I caught it with my katana—only to feel a strange dissonance. And then a creaking sound.
"Tch!"
Novem clicked her tongue in disappointment.
"I should have prepared a stronger weapon for Rael. Well, be more careful from now on."
Novem deftly knocked my katana upward with her great scythe. As the blade flew from my hands, I prepared magic with both.
"Fire Bullet!"
I launched the low-tier fire magic from both hands, and Novem cleaved through it with her great scythe. Seizing that instant, I closed the distance and wrapped my arms around Novem's body. I was thinking of transitioning into a joint lock, or maybe forcing her to submit through a chokehold.
But Novem didn't budge even with my full weight pressing on her.
"If you don't have a weapon, use magic. If that doesn't work, use your fists. Wonderful."
Novem lifted me with her left hand and hurled me away. I landed in a roll and sprang back to my feet, but Novem was nowhere in front of me.
Then, from behind—
"That unyielding will that refuses to break so easily—impressive, as expected."
Her voice came right next to my ear. A chill ran up my spine, and I leaped away. Novem was standing there, watching me with a giggle. Just like someone whose prank had gone perfectly.
"I'm already about to lose the will to fight, and you're telling me there's no move left?"
As I said that, cold sweat trickling down my face, Novem smiled warmly.
"If you give up, everyone dies. Now — kill me, Lail."
As Novem rushed toward me, I drew the pistol from the holster at the small of my back. I fired, but Novem dodged at a speed that left afterimages, then closed the distance on me in an instant.
I blocked the scythe's blow with the pistol. It was a fine weapon indeed — the one Vera had given me. It held up against Novem's strike.
However.
"That won't be enough for me to let you kill me. And besides — you missed the vitals, didn't you?"
Novem, who had been smiling moments ago, went blank-faced. I'd unconsciously avoided aiming for her vitals, and she clearly didn't appreciate that.
"What exactly are you telling me to do?"
Could I even save Novem? Save her — free her from the bonds of goddess and evil god — that was a path I didn't want to choose.
The Successive Heads had stopped arguing and were gazing up at the sky.
"You've gotta be kidding me."
The Walt family members had fallen so completely silent that the Second Generation's mutter carried clearly through the stillness. In the sky above, golden scales gleamed — and a dragon with enormous red horns was looking down upon the Successive Heads.
Everyone had gone mute, but Lail and the others' conversation could still be heard, faintly, through the noise of blood pounding in ears.
The Fifth Generation tightened her grip on the handle of her collapsible sword.
"The ruler of a Dungeon that humanity cannot reach, is it. This one is —"
The First Generation was trembling from head to toe. That dragon's majesty was truly that of an overlord who ruled the earth even while dwelling in the heavens. A creature that possessed something close to divinity itself.
It was not a name humanity had given, but Novem had called it the Legend Dragon. A creature of legend-class, without question.
The Sixth Generation silently readied his halberd.
The Third Generation, too, gazed in silence upon the legend suspended in the sky.
In a place like that.
"That dragon is mine!!"
The Seventh Generation, mounted on horseback, charged forward and drew a silver pistol, firing at the dragon. But from the opposite side, something had already launched an attack before he could.
"Too bad. I'm the first one here."
Pushing his glasses up, driving short swords one after another into what he judged to be the dragon's weak points — that was the Fourth Generation.
The First Generation shouted.
"You lot! I was the first one to find it! That thing is mine! Hey, you bastards!"
The First Generation's soldiers raised war cries, and the Second Generation's soldiers urged their master on as well.
The Second Generation, though exasperated, fixed his sharp gaze upon the dragon.
"If I take this thing down... I become a legend. In other words, the strongest of all generations."
At those words, the Sixth Generation let out a hearty laugh, then leaped into the air and struck at the dragon. The powerful blow of his halberd carved a gash into the dragon's scales.
"The strongest is me!!"
The Seventh Generation then roared at the Sixth Generation.
"Father! I intend to make a taxidermy mount out of it, so please try not to damage the surface! I'll blow it apart from the inside with this bomb and turn it into a splendid specimen!"
It was Zell who handed the bomb to the gleefully preparing Seventh Generation. Then, the Fifth Generation extended his hinged sword, coiled it around the dragon's neck, and leaped directly onto the creature.
"You! That's dirty!"
When the First Generation shouted at the Fifth Generation to come down, the Fifth Generation simply rode on the dragon's back and retracted his hinged sword back into a normal blade.
"First come, first served. I wonder if poison would work?"
The Sixth Generation shouted at the Fifth Generation, who was about to pour poison into the wound.
"Dad! You're always like this! You finish everything off way too quick!"
The Fourth Generation used the floating short swords as footholds to approach the dragon. The dragon, with the Fifth Generation riding on its back, had gone wild and was gathering magic power in its mouth, ready to blow away everything in the vicinity.
"I was waiting for that very moment!"
The Fourth Generation channeled magic power into the short swords and hurled them in rapid succession. The gathered magic power interfered with the dragon's own, and an explosion erupted from the dragon's maw.
The Fifth Generation was blown away along with it.
"Daaaad!!"
A beautiful woman rushed toward the Fifth Generation as he was sent flying. She had horns, and scales covered her limbs—where her right arm had once been.
May caught the Fifth Generation in her arms and touched down on the ground. Unlike before, she had grown up. When the Fifth Generation saw May looking like this—
"M-May! Your arm, it's like that—"
He was on the verge of tears. Eyes glistening. When the Sixth Generation saw the Fifth Generation like this—
"That Kirin? She used to be more... childlike, if I recall."
The Fifth Generation glared at the Sixth Generation. Being held princess-style by a tall woman, the Sixth Generation had no dignity whatsoever when glared at like that.
"What?! She's got all sorts of distinctive features, doesn't she! Besides, who else but May could it be?! Are your eyes even working?!"
May set the Fifth Generation back down on the ground.
"They took my arm. But it'll grow back in a few years."
"A few years like that! What the hell did Rael do to you?!"
Seeing the Fifth Generation fly into a rage, his wives whispered among themselves:
"Even though he's mistaken our son for our daughter before..."
"Why does he always get worked up over anything animal-related..."
"If only this one thing weren't the case..."
Seeing the wives unable to speak up strongly against the Fifth Generation, the Sixth Generation's wife was smiling.
"Hah! This is exactly why you never speak up firmly enough! Because of that, even I had to suffer!"
When she confessed her feelings and they married, he casually brought along a concubine. The Sixth Generation's wife was furious at his attitude. In the end, he ended up with two concubines, and her anger was directed at the mothers-in-law who did nothing to scold him.
The Sixth Generation silently lunged at the dragon. His form was brave, but it looked like nothing more than a frantic escape.
The soldiers of the Fifth and Sixth Generations, as well as the Sixth Generation's younger brothers and sisters, all grew excited upon seeing the dragon.
"I'm joining in too!"
"We're going dragon hunting!"
"Shall I participate as well?"
The soldiers prepared ropes, wrapped them around nearby rubble, and hurled them at the dragon to capture it. Just as the dragon tried to take flight into the sky—
"Don't let it get away!"
The Second Generation fired arrows of light, showering the dragon in a downpour of light. The numerous arrows that struck caused explosions, preventing the dragon from fleeing into the sky.
The Seventh Generation also aimed his gun at the dragon, blasting holes through its wings.
"Hmm. The wings can be restored later. If we slay this dragon and taxidermy it, then make it the symbol of the Laiel Empire... I shall become a legend!"
Zell led his squad forward.
"Support Lord Broad! Anyone who wants the title of Dragon Slayer, don't be afraid to risk your life!"
Soldiers attacked one after another.
Just then, the Fourth Generation's wife, bringing Ludmilla along, joined the fray.
"Hey! Don't turn it into a taxidermy! Preserve it properly, and you can use it as collateral when borrowing money later! Its materials and Magic Stones will surely make excellent collateral!"
The Fourth Generation seemed to agree with his wife. Therefore, towards the Second and Seventh Generations—
"Disassemble it cleanly! Don't think you can just repair it later! Aim to finish it in a single blow if possible!"
The Fifth Generation shouted at the Fourth Generation.
"Remember what you just did! And besides, this one isn't exactly soft. Even if you pound them into a pulp—"
"FREDERICKSWUU!!"
The Fourth Generation's wife pounced on the Fifth Generation. With her nuzzling him cheek to cheek, the Fifth Generation grew embarrassed, especially in front of everyone.
"Mom, stop!"
Sure enough, the previous King of Fonbeau arrived, trailing behind the Seventh Generation. And the moment he spotted the Sixth Generation—
"You damn old bastard from Feinz!! Today's the day I send you to your grave!"
As the former Fonbeau king charged in with spear in hand, the Sixth Generation simply smiled and raised his hand in greeting.
"So it's that little brat from back then! Feels like old times."
From his opponent's perspective, the Sixth Generation was someone impossible to forget, no matter how hard he tried. The old king leapt down from horseback and swung his spear downward.
"Let's settle our grudge here and now—"
But the Sixth Generation, clashing weapons with him, just laughed.
"We're both dead already, you know. And besides... your granddaughter is a candidate to become the concubine of my great-grandchild. Why don't we let bygones be bygones?"
The former Fonbeau king's jaw dropped open for a brief moment... then his face turned bright red.
"LIKE HELL I'D ACCEPT THAT!!"
He was enraged.
The Sixth Generation looked troubled.
"Wait! Hold on for now! The other Successive Heads will go and take that thing down before we know it! Just wait a little!"
The Sixth Generation was at a complete loss with the former Fonbeau king.
Ludmilla stood frozen on the spot, watching the scene unfold. She was completely dumbfounded seeing the members of House Walt cheerfully charging forward against a dragon that was clearly radiating majesty. After all, they had no way of knowing what kind of attack capabilities the opponent possessed.
And yet, one after another they were clamoring to strike first — "Me! Me!" The only one watching calmly was the Third Generation.
The Third Generation's wife spoke to him.
"Won't you be joining in?"
The Third Generation smiled.
"Me? I might join in when it's time to finish it off. After all, in times like this, it's more efficient to swoop in at the end."
Dewey looked up at the Third Generation as he spoke.
"Sley, I really don't think that's a good idea."
Being told that by his older brother Dewey, the Third Generation flustered.
And then.
"My, how exciting. A golden dragon — now that is quite lovely."
The Seventh Generation, who had been gleefully aiming his gun at the Legend Dragon, reacted to that voice.
"Xenoa!"
As the Seventh Generation came running over, Xenoa rapped him on the head with her red fan.
"You're late to pick me up! I had to make my way here on my own. Still, that dragon is quite nice. It'll make a wonderful gift for Laiel."
"Y-Yes, it will."
"—Now then, you will defeat that thing before the others do, won't you? For the sake of your adorable grandchild, you can manage that much, surely?"
The Seventh Generation started to protest, but the moment Xenoa glared at him, his shoulders drooped.
"V-Very well. I'll do my best. Zell! We're taking that thing down no matter what!"
"Yes, Lord Brode!"
Xenoa looked upon the golden dragon — the Legend Dragon — and puffed out her chest. She burst into delighted laughter.
"Ohohoho, how lovely. Truly lovely! What a splendid gift it will make!"
Watching that back were Gracia and Eliza, who had been dragged along against their will. The two of them wore expressions suggesting they believed Ceres's personality was actually inherited from this man.
"Eliza, I was thinking—"
"I don't need you to tell me. Besides, there's no room for us to intervene."
The Legend Dragon was being slashed at from every direction, endlessly bombarded with magic. Black magical snakes coiled around the dragon, then erupted into black flames.
Caught by magic that materialized from above and below, the Legend Dragon was pummeled by iron balls that sent it flying.
The First Generation watched the Legend Dragon regenerate over and over again.
"You guys are hopeless! Let me take over!"
He swung his greatsword and hacked into the beast. As though infuriated at being told he was no good—
"Out of my way, barbarian! I have a reason I won't back down! Don't you dare steal my prey!"
The Seventh Generation continued riddling the fallen Legend Dragon with bullets.
Ludmilla, watching the scene unfold, offered a single remark.
"How ironic — it's the dragon that's pitiful."
She murmured, and that was that—.