Volume 3, Chapter 5-3 – An Exiled Dragon Needs No Tombstone

Aetlana could not sleep.

Her body desperately needed sleep, yet her consciousness remained as clear as still water.

The eternal night of the Abyss had long since lost all meaning to her.

Years of imprisonment in the White Tower had already shattered her biological clock into fragments.

She now existed half-awake and half-asleep, drifting through the gray zone between consciousness and unconsciousness, unable even to distinguish for herself what was a dream and what was reality.

But even so, she did not dare close her eyes.

Something was burning between her shoulder blades.

The Chastisement Brand.

The symbol of her imprisonment within the White Tower.

The mark carved into her by the human sanctum was like a chain that could never be severed.

As long as Aetlana fell asleep, as long as her consciousness relaxed for even an instant, the brand would summon the White Tower’s chastisement spirits.

A pack of hunting hounds formed from pure Holy Light would follow the scent of the brand and track her down, pursuing her until one side died.

That was what had happened last night.

She had merely leaned against a wall and dozed off for a moment when three spirits wielding spears of light pierced straight through her shoulder.

Aetlana lowered her eyes and looked at her left hand.

Bandages were wrapped around it layer after layer, yet blood had still seeped through, spreading dark-red stains across the gray-white cloth.

There was no need to unwrap them and inspect the wound.

Burns caused by Holy Light could not heal within a short period of time, even for a higher demon with draconic blood.

Aetlana had long since grown accustomed to injuries of this degree.

Every wound retained its heat, every trace of heat tugged at pain, every pain called for healing, and every act of healing placed further strain on her body.

Aetlana turned her head and stared out the window.

Outside lay the edge of Nightmare Street.

But she could not stop.

Farther away stood the silhouette of Lilith School.

It was almost within reach.

Read οո ΚаtReaⅾіոɡCαfе

Yet she felt that this short distance was even longer than the thousands of miles she had traveled while escaping from the White Tower.

Waiting for disaster to arrive was more painful than suffering the disaster itself.

Especially when there was no way to escape it, when one could only sit and wait for it to descend. There was no escaping that suffocating dread.

Aetlana understood her current situation very clearly.

The Chastisement Brand would follow her forever, and the human sanctum’s hounds would never give up the hunt.

The Abyss Nexus Council had already noticed her return. Wanted notices had long since been issued throughout every city and town.

The hunting parties sent after her were already on their way. Perhaps they had even reached Nightmare Street.

That even included members of the Samael main family.

Her own clansmen.

‘How ironic.’

Once, she had been the sharpest sword of the Samael family, a personal guard ordered by the Family Head to swear her life in loyalty to the Pale Lord.

Back then, loyalty to the Pale Lord had been the family’s glory.

And now that their former master had fallen, that former glory had become a stain they urgently needed to erase.

For the sake of protecting itself, the Samael family had become one of the fiercest hounds hunting her down.

Three forces hunted her.

There was nowhere to flee.

And the rest of her life would forever remain shrouded beneath the shadows of all three.

No end, no release, only endless exile.

Aetlana tried as much as possible not to think about the future.

She had not forgotten why she had come all the way to Nightmare Street.

Aetlana took something from the pocket close to her body.

It was a photograph.

A magical image she had torn from Prophet Weekly.

The photograph was warm, still carrying her body heat. Its edges had already become somewhat worn, but the image remained clear.

Rеаd οո KаtRеαdingСаfе

Long hair interwoven with silver and red, exquisite features, cool and distant brows and eyes.

Even after so many years, Aetlana could still feel an instinctive, pure, natural love filling her entire heart.

Aetlana gazed at the girl in the photograph.

“You’ve already… grown this much.”

She spoke very, very softly.

Most of her memories lacked any complete sequence. Their chronology was also jumbled and confused. They were mostly insignificant fragments of daily life, constantly interrupted by surging waves of hunger.

Yet every individual memory was exceptionally vivid, like a whirlwind suddenly sweeping in from beyond the heavens and shaking her entire body.

When she first met Stella, Stella had still been an egg.

In her hazy recollections, Aetlana remembered that it had happened not long after the Pale Lord’s downfall. The entire Abyss was undergoing a purge, the Ash Drinkers had scattered in every direction, and the forces that had once served their former master had collapsed overnight.

Then Mara Nightsong found her and gave her an order.

Enter Firefly Dark Alley, steal the egg Vilpana had left behind, and preserve it as the hope for their former master’s return.

It was only stealing an egg.

That was what Aetlana had thought at the time.

Nothing difficult about it.

And she succeeded.

She infiltrated the barrier, broke through the seal, and found the Pale Egg covered in ash-colored markings.

She held it in her arms and left Firefly Dark Alley before Gehenna noticed.

But…

She had never expected the egg to hatch.

What emerged from the shell was a tiny, translucent baby, snow-white and crystal-clear, fragile, with long, quiet eyelashes and a face so beautiful it was almost unbelievable.

She looked sweet enough to eat, like a tiny piece of fruit candy.

“…Mama.”

Like a hatchling bird taking the first existence it saw as its mother, the girl called her that as well.

Aetlana knew that a person could not simply regard herself as someone’s mother just because the other person called her Mama.

Aetlana also knew that the girl was still the Pale Daughter, but in that instant, something subtle had truly touched the deepest part of her heart.

Reаԁ oո КаtRеαԁіոɡСаfе

At first, Aetlana genuinely believed she could protect the Young Mistress forever.

If the Samael Family Head had not ultimately stabbed her in the back and exposed their location, if she had not drawn an overwhelming encirclement down upon them…

Aetlana’s golden slit pupils suddenly contracted, and her killing intent seemed to lower the temperature of the surrounding air by several degrees.

She could have taken the Young Mistress and fled far away.

But that night, flames soared into the sky, and purge forces several times their number surrounded the place where they had been hiding.

Then she made a decision.

She shouldered every crime and every debt alone, then drew every pursuer away by herself.

She did not know what happened to the Pale Daughter afterward, did not know whether she was safe, did not know whether she had been caught, did not know whether she was still alive or had already…

Aetlana closed her eyes.

It had been more than ten years since they parted.

Imprisonment in the White Tower, torture by Holy Light, endless interrogations…

Every minute and every second, Aetlana wondered whether the Pale Daughter was still alive. Where was she? Was she doing well? Had those pursuers found her? Had she…

Now Aetlana knew.

The Pale Daughter was alive.

She had grown up.

And her name was Stella.

Aetlana put away the photograph, braced herself against the wall, and slowly stood.

Through the shattered window, she could see the outline of Lilith Academy in the distance.

The Young Mistress was there.

Almost within reach.

Yet this final stretch of distance was harder to cross than the entirety of the Abyss.

She was now a wanted criminal, a harbinger of disaster, trouble given human form.

If the Young Mistress recognized her…

If she brought danger to the Young Mistress…

Rеαⅾ оո КatReaԁіոɡCafе

“…There’s no need for us to acknowledge each other.”

Aetlana spoke softly to herself.

She only wanted to get close to the Young Mistress, a little closer, then just a little closer. That was all.

She had no other improper wish. She did not even dare truly draw near. She only hoped that, by some accident, the two of them might happen to brush past each other, their sleeves grazing, the tips of their hair sweeping by, and she would be as happy as a child who had stolen a piece of candy.

She would not indulge in absurd dreams. The smallest gain or loss was enough to sway her emotions. She had a simple heart.

Aetlana tended to her wounds and stood.

It was time to set out. She wanted to take a good look at whether the Young Mistress she had not seen in so long was still full of life.

After that, she would choose to leave, stepping into an exile without end and rotting away in some corner no one would ever know.

The last time she left, she had not even said goodbye to Stella.

This time, Aetlana thought, she would make sure to bid her a proper farewell, smiling as she said to her.

——Goodbye.

“As for anyone who gets in the way…”

Aetlana slung the chipped greatsword back across her back.

The muscles beneath her bandages tightened, and her draconic slit pupils lit up with a blazing golden glow in the darkness.

“…I’ll just kill them all.”

She pushed open the door and walked into the bustling night of Nightmare Street.

An exiled dragon needs no tombstone, only to run until it rots away.

Translator Note

Ohh~! Somehow I feel like this Aetlana will betray Ash Drinker for the sake of serving Stella.

I mean, she was the first figure the Pale Daughter saw. She even sacrificed herself by abandoning her. So, will she be able to sacrifice Stella to revive the Pale Lord?

What do you think?