86-90

*Chapter 86: The Shadowbinder*

Rhaegar refused his embrace, explaining, “There was a bit of trouble on the road, but it didn’t delay our journey.”

“What happened to you? This flower... it looks like the crest of our family,” Sam asked while his eyes couldn’t stop darting back and forth at the Marsh Marigold.

Rhaegar didn’t hide anything.

He recounted deciphering the Forest Witch’s notes, the search for the Marsh Marigold, and every other detail of the journey.

Everyone listened with furrowed brows.

Who could have imagined that in just over a dozen hours, so much could happen?

Solor stared at the Marsh Marigold skeptically. “Your Highness, magic has disappeared for many years. Are you certain the spell left by the Forest Witch will work?”

“Let’s try it. We don’t have any better options, do we?” Rhaegar replied, heading up the stairs to the attic. His voice carried a hint of hope. “The steps for the Whisper of the Dead spell aren’t complicated. As long as we have the right materials, the rest depends on talent.”

“If I can’t do it, you’ll all try one by one.”

The key to triggering the spell lay in pure intention.

Deep down, Rhaegar rejected the Whisper of the Dead spell. He didn’t hold much hope that he could successfully cast it.

“You’re right, Your Highness,” Solor said, speechless, gesturing for Babart to follow him upstairs.

Naturally, Sam followed too, his eyes still glued to the Marsh Marigold.

---

*Inside the Attic*

The head of the Shadowbinder was still placed in the center of a circle of candlelight.

Rhaegar stepped over the candles and carefully set the Marsh Marigold atop the head.

He ordered the servants to bring fresh white dove’s blood, then followed the process described in the Forest Witch’s notes, painting it onto the head.

Afterward, he pulled out a piece of paper with the translated spell, a trace of disdain flickering in his eyes.

Thinking of the shadow creatures they needed to eliminate, he still chanted the spell aloud.

“Adala... Gujino...”

The strange incantation flowed from his lips. Rhaegar’s expression remained calm, as if he were reading an ordinary book.

However...

The head at his feet showed no reaction.

“Not working?” Rhaegar tilted his head, glanced back at Sam and the others, then tried again.

This time, Rhaegar narrowed his eyes, focused his mind, and chanted the spell with sincere devotion.

Buzz—  

The Marsh Marigold began to emit a faint glow.

At the same time, Rhaegar’s chanting came to an abrupt stop.

A sudden heat surged through his body, spreading to every corner of his limbs. His temperature skyrocketed.

His pale skin turned red in an instant, and wisps of white steam rose from his body, as if he had just stepped out of a steaming cauldron.

Whoosh!  

A sudden flash of fire consumed the paper in Rhaegar’s hand, reducing it to ashes that drifted to the floor.

Rhaegar’s half-squinted eyes widened as he stumbled back two steps.

“My body feels so hot, like my blood is boiling!”

He hadn’t yet realized what was happening, but the high temperature in his body confirmed his suspicion.

At that moment, Sam hesitated before saying, “Your Highness, I once heard my grandmother say that magic is a creation that chooses its wielder.”

“You are of true dragon blood, made of fire and blood. It’s only natural that your body rejects magic meant to awaken the dead.”

Rhaegar cast him a doubtful look, his voice serious. “You understand the rules of magic?”

“No! I’ve never come into contact with magic. It’s just that the legends of the Forest Witch have been passed down through generations,” Sam denied with a shake of his head. “The magic of the Forest Witch is dark and forbidden. Even we, her descendants, cannot practice it.”

“Would you like to try, Lord Sam?” Rhaegar asked, his gaze fixed intently on Sam’s face as he stepped out of the circle of candles.

Magic was an erratic and chaotic force, long vanished from the world.

Rhaegar had anticipated his failure and wasn’t particularly disappointed. However, Sam’s words made him notice a glimmer of hope in the lord’s expression.

Sam opened his mouth but hesitated, his face torn with uncertainty.

“Come on, old Sam. Give it a shot! You’ve got the Forest Witch’s blood in you. Maybe it’ll work!”

Solor gave him a push and said in an icy tone,

"Anyone here can see how eager and excited Sam is."

"Alright, I'll give it a try," Sam replied.

Having his intentions exposed, Sam showed no embarrassment. He patted his large belly and agreed cheerfully.

Rhaegar rewrote the incantation translation and handed it to him, saying, "Give it a shot, my lord."

Sam took the translation and examined it carefully.

As a semi-wild nobleman from Crabclaw Peninsula, Sam's literacy skills were poor.

Rhaegar had to teach him for quite a while before Sam could memorize the short incantation.

The attempt began.

Sam stepped into the circle of candles, holding the skull and the swamp marigold in one hand and the translation in the other.

With cracked lips, he recited the incantation,

"Ah-da-la... Gu-ji-no..."

His voice was deep and muffled, carrying a sense of excitement and anticipation. His body trembled uncontrollably.

Soon, the incantation was finished.

Nothing happened.

Sam stood there in a daze, looking utterly disappointed.

Placing the skull back on the ground, he sighed, "Prince, it seems I've failed too."

"It’s alright. Magic has been dormant for many years. It's normal for ordinary people to struggle with it," Rhaegar consoled him with a smile, then turned to Solor with a wry grin. "We'll need to think of another solution."

"Yes, Prince," Solor nodded, though his expression was grim.

"The Land of Shadows… The tides of magic… Those unreliable semi-wild nobles…"

Just then, a hoarse and piercing voice abruptly sounded, sending chills down everyone’s spine.

Rhaegar turned around quickly and saw the shadowbinder's skull begin to move.

The once pale skin of the skull turned rosy, its tightly shut eyes now wide open, and it muttered through gritted teeth.

The swamp marigold lost its vibrant color, its petals withered and fell, leaving only the stem stuck to the skull's crown, sustaining its vitality.

Sam, standing closest, turned pale as a sheet. He staggered back in fright, nearly falling to the ground.

Babart, the most timid among them, trembled and couldn't even speak.

"My lord Sam, you did it!"

Rhaegar quietly took a step back and hid behind Solor.

Who knows what a talking skull might be capable of? He had enough of such bizarre occurrences and wanted nothing to do with it.

Sam stared at the now-living shadowbinder's skull and slapped himself hard on both cheeks, as if trying to confirm it was real.

Then, cautiously moving away from the skull, he asked nervously, "Prince, is it really me who brought this skull back to life?"

Even he found it hard to believe.

Reciting a few lines of an incantation had brought back a long-lost magic?

"Who knows? Maybe you have a natural talent for magic," Rhaegar replied evasively, avoiding his gaze. He then directed, "The shadowbinder’s skull retains the memories of its life. Ask it how to deal with the shadow creatures."

Trembling, Sam nodded and approached the edge of the candle circle. Stumbling over his words, he asked, "Tell us who you are, and why your corpse became a killing curse."

The skull’s mouth twitched, and its blank eyes stared at the ceiling, as if lost in thought.

After a long pause, it murmured faintly, "The tides of magic are surging… ebbing or flourishing…"

"How was the curse created, and how can it be removed?" Sam stepped closer and pressed for answers.

"I was a servant of the Lord of Light. The priests foresaw the tides of magic surging and sent their finest shadow-child to sail across the seas, observing the world’s changes…"

"Focus! Tell me how to unleash the curse and how to get rid of it!" Sam grew impatient and kicked the skull.

Watching this scene, Rhaegar and the others felt a chill run down their spines.

A talking skull was already creepy enough.

Interrogating the skull made it all the more horrifying.

---

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 87: The Red Mask*

"The person who created this magic, along with the forest witch, is truly terrifying. To think they could conceive and learn such an evil method," Babat muttered, his voice trembling.

Unfortunately, no one paid him any attention.

The Shadowbinder's severed head continued its grim proclamation:

"The flesh of the Child of Shadows is inscribed with curses. Upon his death, his corpse is offered to the Cold God, to judge the sinners of this world..."

"He is the Hound of Death, tracking the living by their scent, devouring the shadows of the living..."

"Only by finding the token of the King of Light and returning it to his fallen servant can his wrath be quelled."

Sam's face lit up with hope, and he hurriedly asked, "What is this token?"

"The mask... My mask... Where is my mask..."

Unexpectedly, the Shadowbinder's head became agitated, rolling back and forth on the wooden planks. It babbled incoherently about masks and covering its face.

In a low voice, Solor explained, "Shadowbinders usually wear lacquered wooden masks, rarely showing their true faces."

"So, where is the mask?" Rhaegar asked, nodding in understanding.

Babat raised his hand hesitantly. "It's in my brother's bedroom. When the soldier brought the head as a trophy, the mask was still on it. My brother personally removed it and locked it away in the secret chamber."

"Hmph, he really does love flaunting his spoils," Solor sneered coldly, urging Babat to retrieve the mask immediately.

Eager to escape the oppressive atmosphere of the attic, Babat quickly slipped away.

Rhaegar, however, had no time to focus on Babat. His gaze shifted to Sam, who was awkwardly circling the rolling Shadowbinder's head. Sam’s bulky frame made him look especially clumsy as he chased it around, repeatedly asking how to destroy the shadow monsters.

The head, however, shrieked bizarrely, alternating between cries of "King of Light" and rants about "magic tides."

"Enough. At least we’ve gotten some clues," Rhaegar sighed, calling out, "Lord Sam, there’s no need to keep asking."

But Sam seemed not to hear him. His eyes were fixed on the spinning head, growing increasingly fervent.

"Something’s not right, Sir Solor!" Rhaegar’s expression darkened, and he urgently called for the only reliable man beside him.

Solor, a true knight with swift reflexes, leapt into the circle of candlelight in a single bound. He stomped on the rolling head and slapped the dazed Sam hard enough to knock him over.

With a loud thud, Sam spun once before collapsing to the ground, unconscious.

Ignoring him, Solor undid his leather belt and tightly secured the head. He then fixed it to the wooden planks with a dagger to ensure it couldn’t move.

After dealing with the aftermath, Solor hoisted the unconscious Sam onto his shoulder. He turned to exchange a glance with Rhaegar, and both sighed deeply.

In each other’s eyes, they saw a profound sense of helplessness.

Rhaegar voiced his concern. "Will Lord Sam be all right?"

"Don’t worry, Prince. Old Sam’s just had his head scrambled by the magic. One slap to knock him out, two to wake him up," Solor replied nonchalantly, raising his hand as if to demonstrate.

"Wait! Let him sleep for a bit," Rhaegar quickly intervened.

The Brune and Kleiber families had always been at odds. Letting Solor rough up Sam felt like betraying the respect Sam had shown Rhaegar over the years.

"Let’s head out first. We’ll leave Lord Sam to his guards for now," Rhaegar said.

His peripheral vision caught the Shadowbinder’s head still twitching slightly. A chill ran down his spine, and he hurried away.

...

*The Next Day*

Outside the walls of Dread Hollow Fortress, a large force had gathered.

The Brune family had mobilized 800 soldiers, the Kleiber family 300, and the Wildling army over 2,000 freefolk.

The three groups remained in their respective areas.

Above them, perched on the castle walls, a massive black dragon spread its wings, casting a shadow that enveloped half the fortress.

This dragon’s presence alone kept everyone obedient.

Standing beneath the chest of the ravenous beast, Rhaegar, gloved, held up a red lacquered mask.

The mask’s design was simple but eerie, with narrow slits for the eyes that lent it a sinister air.

After examining it briefly, he turned to Babat, who stood bowing nearby, and said, "Let’s move out."

Babat hesitated. "Prince, are we really abandoning the castle’s defenses to confront the curse in the wilderness?"

"Did the castle protect your brother from the shadow creatures?" Rhaegar countered.

Babat immediately fell silent.

After a night of deliberation, Rhaegar had decided to take the initiative.

The more the shadow creatures killed, the stronger they became.

There was no time to waste.

They had the Shadowbinder’s head and the red lacquered mask as the token.

Relying on the mighty dragon flame of the Devourer, it was a breeze to eliminate the shadow monster as soon as it appeared.

Solor agreed with Rhaegar's approach.

In his view, dragons were invincible, capable of burning all evil to ash.

Sam, who had Rhaegarined consciousness, also Rhaegarined his composure.

Now riding on horseback, he held the Shadow Binder’s severed head in his hand, avoiding even a single glance at it.

Rhaegar planned to use the Shadow Binder’s head as part of a baiting strategy.

"Move out!"

Rhaegar mounted the dragon’s back and soared over the wildling army, shouting commands from above.

The Crab Claws led their respective wildling factions, brandishing various weapons and cheering loudly as they followed close behind.

To fight alongside a dragon was their greatest honor.

Solor and Sam, in turn, issued orders to advance, riding their horses forward.

The destination was neither too far nor too close—an open battlefield between the warring families.

The terrain there was expansive, allowing the Devourer’s dragon flame to be used to its full effect.

...

Upon reaching the open area, they found faint traces of blood and the stench of death left behind from a recent battle.

Sam scanned the surroundings and angrily glared at Solor’s faction.

The bloodstains bore witness to the lives lost from soldiers of the Cliburn family.

Solor, however, remained indifferent.

What did the war between the Brunn and Cliburn families have to do with his branch of the Brunns?

If not for the fact that people in his fiefdom had been cursed and killed—

And his distant relative, Babette, had pleaded for his help—he would never have come.

The Devourer circled the open area, descending slowly.

Rhaegar issued instructions: “Pour the oil around the perimeter of the clearing.”

“Yes, my prince.”

Soldiers of the Brunn family drove wagons laden with barrels of oil.

Shadow monsters feared fire.

Solor suggested setting the clearing ablaze in a circle, while soldiers fired flaming arrows from the sides to provide support.

Sam was not idle either.

He brought forth a group of prisoners, their heads covered with sacks.

He shoved the severed head into the arms of one prisoner, speaking in a grim tone: “If you survive, I will pardon your crimes.”

“My mask... Where’s my mask...”

The severed head, still murmuring about its missing mask, squirmed in the prisoner’s arms.

The prisoners, unable to see the outside world, could still feel what they were holding.

Terrified, one collapsed to the ground, losing control of their bowels.

The head rolled onto the ground, unfazed by pain, continuing to mutter incessantly.

Sam took one last glance at it, torn between reluctance and fear.

Rhaegar turned his face away, refusing to look at the screaming prisoners.

The severed head had claimed that the shadow monster would track living humans.

In other words, the more people gathered in one place, the more likely they were to draw the shadow monster’s attention.

With nearly three thousand people present, the shadow monster was sure to take notice.

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t just the prisoners—everyone there was bait.

The prisoners were simply in greater danger.

Rhaegar did not object.

For a group of criminals, this method of atonement at least offered a slim chance of survival compared to being executed.

Once everything was ready, Rhaegar patted the Devourer’s back and gave the command: “Fly!”

Based on prior encounters, the shadow monster feared dragon flames and avoided confronting dragons.

The sudden attack by the shadow monster yesterday must have been triggered by something unusual, leading it to act out of character.

Whatever the reason,

Rhaegar and the Devourer left the clearing, as this made it easier to lure out the shadow monster.

The man and dragon did not go far, waiting in the nearby mountain ridge beside the clearing.

If anything changed below, Rhaegar could quickly return to support the group.

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 88: The Shadow Half-Dragon*

The plan was in motion, and time ticked by, moment by moment.

Soon, night fell.

In the clearing, the three groups of troops munched on dry rations, setting up camps as if they weren’t there for battle.

Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle...

As night descended, bonfires were lit one after another. The wildling army grew rowdy, cheering and dancing together.

Since they were acting as bait, they had to make it convincing.

Amid this chaotic scene, the interplay of firelight and shadows created an earthy, primitive atmosphere, accompanied by rustic wildling songs.

Suddenly, beneath a group of dancing wildlings, the shadows began to distort and twist in the flickering firelight.

The twisting rhythm of the shadows didn’t match the dancers’ movements.

One particularly vigilant wildling immediately sensed something was wrong. His face filled with alarm as he shoved the companion next to him.

Everyone knew exactly what kind of monster they were dealing with.

They snapped out of their singing and dancing at once, stopping in either fear or shock.

“Send the signal! Quickly!”

Baolan, a wildling who had joined the patrol, noticed the abnormality. She grabbed an arrow from her quiver, dipped its tip in the fire, and lit it.

She pulled back her bowstring and shot the flaming arrow into the night sky above.

At her shout, the other wildlings reacted.

Archers fired flaming arrows into the air, while the warriors unsheathed their weapons.

Meanwhile, the shadow seemed enraged by their movements and began stretching and distorting wildly.

Swish, swish, swish—

Shadowy tendrils, like inky vines, emerged and stabbed into the throats of nearby wildlings, snuffing out their lives.

“Scatter! The curse is here!”

With people dropping dead, the remaining wildlings fell into panic, retreating in disarray.

But the shadow monster had no intention of letting them escape.

Its ink-black, fluid-like form writhed out of the ground, taking the shape of a grotesque, tentacled abomination that launched an attack on everyone.

“Light the oil! Use torches to fight back!”

In the chaos, Baolan continuously lit flaming arrows and shot them at the shadow monster, trying to direct the counterattack.

She was a brave girl, but her efforts weren’t enough to inspire confidence.

In the end, it was Trangol, the "Crab Claw," who stepped up. He swung a solid wooden club, scattering a pile of burning firewood and forcing the rampaging monster to retreat.

He roared in fury, “Everyone, stand your ground! If anyone dares run, I’ll twist their head off and shove it up their ass!”

At the savage bellow of the towering, two-meter-tall brute, the nearby wildlings reluctantly steadied themselves and stopped their panicked fleeing and screaming.

Meanwhile...

Rhaegar sat atop his gluttonous dragon, patiently waiting as he nibbled on a sour wild fruit to stay alert.

Suddenly, a faint streak of light shot across the night sky.

Rhaegar quickly looked up, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Moments later, clusters of firelight flared to life.

“It’s time! Gluttonous One, let’s go!”

Rhaegar’s spirits lifted as he urged his massive dragon forward.

Screeech!

The Gluttonous One, already restless from waiting, let out an irritated shriek. It spread its wings and dove down the mountainside, heading straight for the fire-lit clearing.

The two sides were only a few kilometers apart.

The Gluttonous One reached its destination in an instant.

“Light the oil! The curse fears fire! Dip your weapons in the oil!”

From the chaotic clearing below came frantic shouting as more firelight appeared.

Rhaegar gazed down, spotting the increasingly massive shadow monster.

“Gluttonous One, ignite the perimeter.”

Rhaegar wasn’t in a hurry to attack. He followed the plan.

The Gluttonous One soared to the edge of the clearing and breathed a jet of dragon fire onto an unoccupied patch of ground below.

Boom!

The green flames ignited the oil-soaked ground instantly.

Within moments, the fire spread in both directions, forming a blazing ring around the entire clearing. The fiery circle was so bright it illuminated the night sky.

The raging inferno startled all three factions.

They looked up and saw the massive black dragon circling overhead. A surge of confidence rose in their hearts.

In this battle, they had a dragon on their side.

Screeech!

Sensing countless eyes on it, the Gluttonous One’s green, vertical pupils flashed with arrogance. It raised its head and let out a triumphant roar.

“Gluttonous One, dragon fire!”

The dragon-rider directed his beast toward the shadow monster below, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he gave the command.

Boom!

A stream of green dragon fire skimmed the ground, leaving a trail of scorched earth before crashing into the writhing shadow monster.

In the next instant, the shadow monster was split in two by the dragon fire.

The change happened too quickly for anyone to process. An indescribable thrill surged through everyone who witnessed it.

The sight of the powerful dragon inspired wild cheers among the troops.

The Bren family and the Kleiber family, who had set up camp separately from the wildlings, sent over a thousand soldiers rushing to the scene. Led by a few torch-wielding cavalrymen, they charged toward the “remains” of the shadow monster.

Just as everyone thought the curse had been defeated, a sudden change occurred.

The shadow monster, split in two, began to writhe and twist.

Each half moved on its own, forming two smaller, grotesque creatures.

The surface of the body stretched for a moment, unleashing a burst of shadowy black smoke that engulfed the charging cavalry head-on.

"Ah!..."

The charging cavalry, unable to stop, plunged straight into the black smoke.

The smoke infiltrated their ears, noses, eyes, and mouths, instantly claiming their lives.

"Screeeech..."

A dragon's roar echoed through the battlefield, and a spray of green dragon flames shot out, once again slicing through a shadowy creature.

This time, Rhaegar noticed the peculiar behavior of the shadowy creature.

Its splitting wasn’t caused by the dragon flames.

Instead, it was a survival tactic—sacrificing parts of itself to escape.

Any surface that came into contact with the dragon flames would be annihilated, with some portions melting into viscous liquid that dripped to the ground.

By tearing itself apart, the shadowy creature abandoned the parts engulfed in dragon flames, preserving a larger portion of its form.

"What a cunning fiend! Glutton, intensify the dragon flames!"

Rhaegar tightened his grip on the scales on the dragon’s back, issuing the command for an all-out attack.

Glutton lowered its posture, its throat brewing dragon flames.

When the distance was right, a torrent of green dragon flames, like a waterfall, surged forth, drenching an entire shadowy creature as if flooding it.

Sizzle...

Amidst the billowing black smoke, the shadowy creature twisted and writhed as viscous droplets fell to the ground, only to burn away completely before landing.

And so...

Under the relentless assault of the dragon flames, the shadowy creature had nowhere to hide. Its body rapidly shrank and was on the verge of being obliterated.

"Roar..."

At that moment, a low, eerie growl suddenly echoed, stirring a whirlwind across the clearing.

Rhaegar glanced toward the sound, his expression freezing.

Unbeknownst to him, the fragmented pieces of the shadowy creature had merged into one.

Its irregular shape twisted and morphed like a lump of foul sludge.

It formed into a dragon-like monstrosity with two legs and two wings.

The creature’s body was covered in writhing tentacles, and its wing membranes, like black mist, displayed countless terrified human faces.

Its head was not that of a dragon.

Instead, it was a grotesque visage of a one-eyed goat.

The shadowy half-dragon, once formed, immediately swept aside the surrounding humans with its tail and wings, roaring as it lunged toward Glutton.

Sensing a foul stench from the approaching shadowy half-dragon, Glutton’s slit pupils filled with rage, locking onto the opponent charging at it.

The shadowy half-dragon appeared to be a mockery of Glutton.

Its deformed legs pounded the ground for a running start, and its wings flapped desperately as it struggled to ascend into the night sky.

Glutton abandoned the nearly-vanquished shadowy creature, unleashing a blast of dragon flames at the crude impostor before him.

Boom!

The dragon flames struck the shadowy half-dragon with precision.

The powerful impact shattered its head, causing viscous liquid to splatter and drip, leaving the creature staggering, barely able to keep its balance.

---

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 89: The Headless Shadow*

The shadow half-dragon finally steadied itself.

The tendrils on its body flailed wildly, writhing toward its neck and fusing together into a new, single-eyed ram's head.

“Hisssss—grrr…”

This grotesque transformation further enraged the Glutton. Beating its wings to ascend higher, it unleashed bursts of chaotic dragonfire.

The shadow half-dragon darted left and right, but no matter how much it dodged, it could not fully avoid the green flames.

Its body was repeatedly destroyed and reformed.

Gradually, Rhaegar realized something was amiss.

The more the shadow half-dragon was attacked, the more agile its movements became.

From clumsy flying at first, it had now learned to occasionally evade the dragonfire altogether.

“Glutton, keep your wits about you! It’s mimicking your movements!”

Rhaegar slapped the dragon's scales, shouting a warning.

But the Glutton paid no heed, continuing its relentless assault and spewing flames from all angles, determined to kill its opponent.

---

*On the ground, the situation was deteriorating.*

The last remaining malformed monster had not yet been destroyed. It lashed out with shadowy tendrils, attacking any living being within reach.

From the night sky, viscous fluid dripped down—remnants of the dissolving shadow half-dragon.

Upon hitting the ground, these thick droplets coalesced into human-like figures.

As soon as these shadow figures took form, they crawled up from the ground and lunged at the nearest living targets.

In an instant, the humans, once confident in their numbers, saw their morale plummet.

The malformed monster and shadow figures rampaged across the clearing.

The wildling horde, though large in number, was nothing more than a disorganized rabble. Faced with the shadowy attackers, they scattered almost immediately.

Many were overcome with fear and fled toward the perimeter of the fire circle.

At the very center of the clearing, several prisoners lay paralyzed with terror. The sounds of battle and cries for help echoed in their ears, shaking them to their cores.

The head of the Shadow Binder rolled across the ground, muttering incessantly.

“The Child of Shadows is here… kill the living… harvest the shadows…”

A tall figure arrived on horseback, pulling the reins to halt.

Dismounting, he picked up the rolling head and stuffed its mouth with a prepared cloth.

“Shut up!”

The newcomer was Sam. Separated from his guards, he had returned to retrieve the head out of concern.

Just as he straightened up, a shadow figure appeared behind him, claws outstretched, lunging ferociously.

Sensing the rush of wind at his back, Sam sidestepped and swung his sword, slicing off the shadow figure’s head.

The decapitated shadow dissolved into a pool of viscous fluid and retreated back into the ground, writhing.

Sam hurriedly mounted his horse and put more distance between himself and the danger.

---

*Not far away.*

Soldiers of the Bruen family followed Soroll into the fray, battling fiercely with the shadow figures.

Only two guards remained to protect the terrified Barbett, who huddled beside a campfire.

A shadow figure emerged from the ground, bypassing the guards, and tackled him.

Barbett screamed in terror, flailing his arms and legs to fend off the attacker.

In his panic, he caught a glimpse of the shadow figure’s indistinct face.

The features bore a haunting resemblance to his deceased brother, Wills.

Barbett was so frightened that he wet himself.

As the shadow clawed at him, he shut his eyes tightly and wailed, “Brother! It wasn’t me who killed you! I swear, nothing happened between me and your wife! Please, don’t come for me!”

---

*In the sky.*

The Glutton stubbornly continued its assault on the shadow half-dragon.

No matter how loudly Rhaegar shouted, it was futile.

Boom!

Once again, the green dragonfire obliterated the shadow half-dragon’s head.

This time, the shadow half-dragon didn’t foolishly wait for its head to regenerate. Instead, it beat its wings and charged at the Glutton.

Behind its oozing, headless neck, a swirl of black mist began to gather, forming into a humanoid shape.

Rhaegar was startled.

The figure was the same headless shadow that had attacked him and the Glutton before.

At this moment, the headless shadow mirrored his movements. It gripped the shadowy tendrils on the dragon’s back and assumed a crouching position.

Seeing this, Rhaegar felt a surge of blood rush to his head, his heart pounding wildly.

“Dragonfire!”

A surge of unexplainable anger rose from within. Rhaegar's face turned icy as he issued the command to attack.

At that moment, he understood why the Devourer was enraged.

This crude mimicry—this shadowy imitation—unwittingly provoked the nerves of the one being imitated.

Rhaegar felt an unusual fury and wanted nothing more than to obliterate the headless shadow from existence entirely.

At the same time, the shadowy half-dragon’s head regenerated.

The two dragons faced each other—one above, one below.

The Devourer unleashed green dragonfire.

The shadowy half-dragon spat out a cloud of shadowy black smoke.

For the first time, the two clashed in the night sky.

Boom!  

With a deafening roar, the green dragonfire incinerated the shadowy haze, tearing through it relentlessly and slamming into the shadowy half-dragon.

The impact obliterated the shadowy half-dragon’s head and neck, leaving not even a trace of its viscous remains.

The headless shadow riding its neck also vanished without a trace.

“Keep attacking! Dragonfire!”

Rhaegar seized the opportunity to press the advantage. The Devourer finally responded, letting out a low growl as it circled its prey and unleashed a continuous pillar of dragonfire.

The flames reduced the shadowy half-dragon to a charred wreck.

Just as Rhaegar thought victory was within reach, the unexpected happened.

The headless shadow reappeared on the shadowy half-dragon’s back, its bloated body squirming unnervingly, as if filled with something.

Upon contact, shadowy tendrils sprouted from the half-dragon, piercing into the headless shadow’s body.

In an instant, the shadowy half-dragon’s mangled body regenerated completely.

The cost, however, was that most of the shadows on the ground were consumed, easing the struggle below.

“Damn it—it devoured the other shadows,” Rhaegar muttered with a grim expression. He quickly instructed the Devourer to control the intensity of its dragonfire, ensuring no viscous remnants would form.

“Roooar…”

With its body restored, the shadowy half-dragon let out a bizarre howl and charged at the Devourer with increased speed, aiming for close combat.

The Devourer roared in response, unleashing continuous dragonfire without fear as it awaited the assault.

In the blink of an eye, the battered shadowy half-dragon pushed through the flames. Only one wing and half a tail remained as it wrapped itself around the Devourer from below.

The shadowy half-dragon’s body was covered in shadowy tendrils, clawing at the Devourer’s scales.

However, the Devourer’s jet-black scales were as hard as iron, impenetrable to the shadow’s attacks.

The Devourer clamped its jaws onto the shadowy half-dragon’s headless neck, tearing a massive gash.

The shadowy half-dragon twisted and writhed but was unable to mount an effective resistance.

The Devourer seized the moment, sinking its claws deep into its opponent’s body while unleashing ferocious dragonfire.

However, the shadowy half-dragon was merely a decoy.

The true threat was the headless shadow, nowhere to be seen.

As Rhaegar focused on the Devourer growing more ferocious in battle, the headless shadow crept silently onto the dragon’s back.

In its hand was a steel spike stained with dragon’s blood.

Rhaegar suddenly shuddered. His body temperature spiked, and his skin began to flush red.

Sensing danger, Rhaegar instinctively turned his head.

In that instant, he saw the headless shadow advancing step by step.

His expression shifted dramatically, but his panic quickly subsided.

Rhaegar suppressed his fear. His blood boiled hotter, a flush spreading across his youthful face as an unnatural excitement flickered in his eyes.

“I won’t go down without a fight!” he declared.

As he spoke, Rhaegar swiftly stood up, brushing his hand over his bracelet.

He retrieved a fire oil bottle, igniting the wick before hurling it forcefully against the jet-black dragon scales.

The bottle shattered, and a roaring blaze erupted instantly.

(End of chapter)  

Chapter 90: The Mask of Demon Suppression  

With the abilities of [Blood and Fire Shared Origins] and [True Dragon’s Blood], he was unafraid of the searing heat caused by the burning oil.  

Instead, the flames effectively forced the shadows to retreat.  

Shadows, after all, are merely shadows. When confronted with fire, they twist and dissipate, incapable of harming Rhaegar in the slightest.  

“Screeech…”  

In the blink of an eye, the Glutton sensed its rider's unease. Looking back, it spotted a headless shadow climbing onto its body, causing it to erupt in a furious roar.  

It flung the half-dragon shadow, already nearly incinerated, aside and opened its dragon-like maw, spewing a massive blast of dragon flames.  

With a powerful beat of its wings, the Glutton surged forward, flying straight through the green flames.  

Faced with the dragon fire, Rhaegar quickly removed the crimson lacquered mask, covering his face with one hand and ducking down.  

The dragon fire swept past, igniting his clothes and scorching his skin.  

In the dazzling green blaze, all shadows were utterly annihilated.  

Breaking free from the reach of the dragon fire, Rhaegar immediately got up, scanning his surroundings cautiously.  

Once he confirmed the headless shadow had disappeared, he sighed with slight regret.  

From his bracelet, he retrieved a loose set of clothes and quickly put them on.  

“Screeech…”  

The Glutton let out another sound, reminding him to steady himself as it dove downward.  

The remnants of the half-dragon shadow scattered to the ground.  

Meanwhile, distorted creatures and shadowy figures continued to assault the living—this battle was far from over.  

Rhaegar once again donned the crimson lacquered mask and fell deep into thought.  

“The mask is a token. But what does it mean to return it?”  

His mind drifted back to the headless shadow.  

Unlike the other shadowy creatures, this one had a clear sense of purpose, almost as if it possessed intelligence.  

Last time, it had attacked him, piercing the Glutton’s tail.  

This time, it had crafted a half-dragon from shadows, attempting to assassinate him amidst the chaos.  

Rhaegar had every reason to suspect that the headless shadow was, in fact, the true shadow of the Shadowbinder.  

“A shadow without a head… a mask…”  

As his thoughts churned, inspiration struck.  

“Glutton! Take me to those prisoners!”  

Rhaegar shouted the command, speculating on a way to break the curse.  

With the half-dragon shadow torn to pieces, the Glutton Rhaegarined its composure and soared obediently through the air.  

It sprayed dragon fire at the shadowy figures on the ground while heading toward the center of the clearing where the prisoners were held.  

On the other side of the clearing…  

The headless shadow reappeared, standing atop a distorted creature.  

It directed the abomination to pursue the fleeing savages, harvesting their lives to replenish its lost shadows.  

Swoosh!  

A flaming arrow shot through the headless shadow’s chest.  

It touched the hole in its chest, then turned toward the direction from which the arrow had come.  

There, a brown-haired girl with curls was pulling back her bow, readying a second shot.  

The headless shadow’s body writhed for a moment before it transformed into a mass of shadows, merging with the distorted creature beneath it, and advanced toward her.  

“Run! The dragon is coming!”  

Blue Sapphire, unsure of her target, hesitated, only to be shoved aside by a burly savage as he forced his way into the crowd.  

The green dragon fire followed closely behind, engulfing the distorted creature.  

As the final fragment of the shadow creature, the abomination crackled as it burned, losing all resistance.  

The great battle was drawing to a close.  

The army of savages, alongside soldiers from the Brunn and Kleiber families, worked together to repel the shadowy waves. Their burning, oil-coated weapons proved highly effective, significantly reducing casualties.  

Seeing familiar faces, Rhaegar landed the Glutton and shouted to Sapphire, “Did you see the Shadowbinder’s head?”  

He had found the corpses of the prisoners.  

But the Shadowbinder’s head was nowhere to be seen.  

He could only ask around.  

Sapphire struggled to move through the dense crowd and couldn’t hear him clearly.  

Instead, another voice answered.  

“I have it! I have the head!”  

Rhaegar turned to see a disheveled Babart running frantically, clutching the head with a face full of despair.  

Behind him, his two guards were nowhere to be seen.  

The tall and obese Sam wielded a longsword, cutting down shadowy figures as he pushed closer to the dragon.  

Seeing the object in Babart’s hands, Rhaegar’s eyes lit up. He hurriedly shouted, “Smash it! Destroy the head!”  

“Yes, Your Highness!”  

Babart, thinking he had misheard, hesitated for a moment. But the head in his hands squirmed violently, and he had long wanted to throw it away.  

Upon hearing Rhaegar’s order, he immediately hurled the head into a nearby bonfire.  

Sizzle…  

As soon as the head touched the flames, it emitted black smoke. Its sealed mouth attempted to scream but could not make a sound.  

In no time, its flesh was burned away, and under the trampling of the crowd, it was reduced to bone fragments.  

Buzz— 

The scene fell silent.  

Everyone froze in place as if petrified, allowing the living to slash at them. They turned into shadows and retreated back into the ground.  

Near the bone fragments, a headless figure emerged.  

In Rhaegar's sight, its empty neck wriggled for a moment before slowly growing a head.  

The face was identical to the one that belonged to the Shadowbinder's head.  

But that face bore no emotion—utterly numb.  

Its mouth opened as if it wanted to say something, but how could a shadow speak?  

The change happened quickly. The headless figure seemed accustomed to having its head restored, and the shadows in the area began to move again.  

Even the shadows on the ground started surging, ready to reappear.  

"Azure! Shoot it!"  

Just as everyone thought the battle was about to resume, Rhaegar's command rang out.  

Whoosh!  

An arrow shot forth, its tip carrying a red lacquer mask, flying straight at the Shadowbinder's shadow.  

Thunk!  

The arrow struck the Shadowbinder's forehead, and the red lacquer mask covered its shadowy face.  

In an instant.  

The red lacquer mask seemed to erupt with endless suction, consuming the shadow behind it entirely.  

As the Shadowbinder’s shadow vanished, the figures on the clearing dissolved as well, turning into wisps of black smoke that dispersed with the wind.  

Even the severed limbs and remains of the monstrous creatures and shadow half-dragons could not remain. They twitched briefly before crumbling like desiccated husks, disintegrating into dust.  

In the blink of an eye, the enemies were gone, leaving everyone present in shock.  

Still immersed in the chaos of battle, someone muttered, "Did we succeed?"  

Watching the shadowy monsters disappear completely, Rhaegar's eyes remained vigilant, scanning for any remaining threats.  

"Grrrr…"  

The Gluttonous One let out a low growl, lazily shifting its feet and stretching its wings with a flap.  

Its actions conveyed to its rider that the danger was over.  

The barbarian army and soldiers, still holding their weapons in battle stances, turned their gazes toward the young prince on the dragon's back.  

They were unsure if the curse had truly been lifted.  

But as long as the dragon and the prince remained, they still had the courage to fight.  

Understanding the Gluttonous One's intentions, Rhaegar felt a lingering sense of disbelief.  

"I didn’t expect the shadow monsters to be so easy to deal with!"  

He muttered to himself, feeling the burning gazes from all around him and realizing it was time to take action.  

After a brief moment of thought, he stood upright on the dragon’s back, raised one arm high, and looked down at the expectant faces of those who remained.  

They were a mix of crude barbarians, armored soldiers, and nobles like Sam and Barbat.  

"Grrrr…"  

The Gluttonous One shifted its body, raising its spine high, lifting Rhaegar’s figure even higher.  

Standing atop the scorched battlefield, bathed in moonlight, Rhaegar took a deep breath and spoke with a voice full of resolve: 

"Everyone! Your efforts have paid off. Now, I declare—"  

"Under the dragon's flame, the curse is no more!"  

The young voice echoed across the empty battlefield. Though slightly hoarse, it fell upon the ears of the survivors like a divine proclamation.  

"Yes! We won!"  

"Damn that curse! You couldn’t kill me, but I killed you!"  

"Long live the dragon! Long live the prince!"  

The joy of victory washed over every survivor as they erupted into cheers and shouts, waving their weapons to release their pent-up tension.  

Rhaegar scanned the crowd, an inexplicable surge of emotion welling up within him, and a smile spread across his face.  

Without relying on his family, he had defeated the terrible curse with just himself and his dragon.  

This was his adventure.  

The first adventure that belonged solely to him and the Gluttonous One.  

"My friend, we’re amazing!"  

Looking at the mountain-like Gluttonous One, Rhaegar gave the highest praise.  

(End of chapter)