I, Kurumi Tokisaki, Am a Wanderer

The monster cloaked in the Armageddon's bones opened its gaping maw toward the descending Kurumi.

The frigid winds of the Frozen Abyss pierced to the bone. Within the howling gusts, Kurumi could even smell the stench of decay emanating from its soul.

Curling her body slightly before extending outward, she transformed into a streak of silver light, a blade plunging straight toward the earth.

Facing this audacious gnat, Frost chuckled darkly, its wind-wings giving a powerful beat as it lunged forward to devour her whole.

And then—it bit down on nothing but air.

A mysterious force erupted within its massive body as Kurumi spread her arms wide. The jewelry adorning her began to shimmer with an ominous interplay of black and red light.

A roiling miasma seeped from the accessories, intertwining with the deep orange flame flickering coldly around her, igniting into an inferno.

Her figure vanished from the beast's maw and reappeared behind its skull, a movement endowed by the powers once belonging to the true sovereign of the skies.

Kurumi's lips curled into a brazen grin as she unleashed a storm of firepower.

Her arms extended, crossing in front of her, as her fingers rapidly squeezed the triggers dozens of times. Explosive projectiles lit up the freezing skies, casting a wild grin onto her shadowed face.

Though the results were... unimpressive.

Completely understandable—Dragonia bones were the toughest material in the world, harder than any ore. It was precisely this quality that drew the Dwarves' unrelenting obsession.

These people who sought even the Elves' soulstones would obviously drool at the thought of mining dragon bones.

Kurumi's relentless barrage? A storm of brilliance only to discover a DPS of two and a half.

The bullets struck the bone, scattering brilliant sparks, leaving barely a scratch. But that didn't mean they were entirely useless.

At the very least, the eerie blue flames dimmed considerably.

The awakened undead let out an enraged roar, thrashing its skull side to side, sometimes diving and sometimes smashing its head into the ground. In mere moments, it had carried Kurumi an incredible distance.

High above, in the stratosphere, Schwi hovered, clutching her chest with worry etched across her face.

As she prepared to swoop in, an unexpected yet undeniable voice filled her mind.

"Thou... Ex-Machina."

"Designated individual: Schwi. Unit number: Üc207Pr4f57t9."

"'Gratitude'? ...'Puzzlement'? ...That is what Holou hypothesizes."

The voice was clumsy, the smile simple as a field lily in autumn. But within its tone lay a power that was irresistible, impossible to defy.

"Would thou... lend Holou thy aid?"

In an instant, her world shifted and spun.

Kurumi sprinted across the dragon's ridge, its jagged, sword-like spines doing nothing to hinder her.

She fired wildly as she ran, her bullets unable to penetrate the dragon's skeleton but scattering the azure flames that clung to it.

To evolve from mere "creature" to a fully-fledged "being", one had to integrate soul, body, and spirit into a seamless, magical whole.

This was the fundamental difference between the Upper Six Races and the other sentient species.

Kurumi's relentless assault of fire and fury drastically slowed Frost's attempts at progression.

The dragon's long, slender tailbone lashed out, its movements accompanied by a cacophony of grinding bones. It howled skyward before twisting its body into a spiraling drill.

An amalgamation of nightmares—flame and tempest—chased after Kurumi. Yet she was too nimble, darting about like a fleeting shadow.

Frost, unfamiliar with this body's movements, was left frustrated and impotent. Its mighty tail couldn't swat the pesky fly, its colossal form a lumbering high-caliber cannon pitted against a buzzing mosquito.

With a roar of fury, Frost spread its wings, blades cutting through the sky as it ascended, casting a bat-like shadow over the earth.

Blue flames roared and fused with the storm, igniting its massive frame from the tail upward. Frost envisioned itself as a celestial sun blazing against the heavens.

Standing on the dragon's ribcage, Kurumi gazed upward.

"Where are you hiding?"

This abomination surely had a core, the essence of Frost's existence. Perhaps a swirling gale? A flickering flame? Whatever it was, it had to exist.

Just like the Fog of Death Insein Nebia, captured by the Elves and ultimately slain by the Flügel.

Indeed, Frost was the mutated offspring of that so-called Demon King, a creature born in imitation of its kin.

The Demon King had created countless horrors, including the so-called Four Heavenly Kings.

But those overinflated fools, forever howling their boasts—"I'm stronger than the Flügel! I'm tougher than the Giants!"—ended up as trophies displayed in Flügel collections (though that's just a rumor).

Frost wasn't the strongest among them, but it was the most cautious, hiding in the polar ice for countless years.

Until two insignificant gnats arrived to ruin its grand plans.

That hunk of junk had been probing beneath the ice for something. The dragon's remains couldn't fall into their hands. So Frost had no choice but to transform into a raging storm.

"Today is a very special day," Kurumi declared, stepping across the dragon's blade-like ribs and surging forward. "A rare day to see the moon."

"It's perfect for your funeral."

With guns crossed at her sides, she let the howling winds lift her hood, revealing her exquisitely calm visage.

"Did you know? Dragons are invincible beings. They are flawless," she murmured, her eyes narrowing with scorn.

"They transcend time and traverse dimensions," she added, repeating facts Schwi had provided.

"Their language—the Dragon Tongue—is a remnant from the beginning of creation, the world's primordial speech. It can command all existence to kneel in absolute obedience."

Her mocking laughter pierced the bone-chilling wind.

"Yet here you are, understanding nothing, knowing nothing."

"All you have is the shell of a king—but your soul is nothing but a worm's."

The rib beneath her feet shifted as though alive, blossoming like a steel chrysanthemum before crashing downward.

In a burst of swirling black and red energy, Kurumi vanished from her spot, reappearing along the dragon's spine.

Clashing bones ground together with a shrill metallic screech.

"You are far too weak, while this body is far too strong," Kurumi taunted.

"That's why—when you burn at full power—you're as conspicuous as ice in a bonfire."

It noticed—this was all aimed at it!

Frost was stricken with terror, struggling desperately as its spectral blue-gold dragon form roared toward the heavens.

Terrifying ghostly flames rained from above, but Kurumi's petite figure seemed even smaller against the massive, reef-like dragon skeleton. Running across its bones with effortless agility, she twisted and lunged for its vulnerable nape.

A sharp gale like a blade grazed past the tip of her nose, shredding her scarf in an instant. But Kurumi had already hurled her gun-blade, and its obsidian chains coiled tightly around a protruding, twisted vertebra of the dragon's spine.

Gripping the chains with both hands, she pulled with all her might, launching herself like a loosed arrow straight toward Frost's weak point.

Traces of wind and flame streaked across the air, spiraling together into an inescapable assault.

The slender, curved neck of the dragon loomed ahead, grotesque yet almost comical in its resemblance to a curled duck neck from the shop down the street. Kurumi smirked before diving headfirst into the fray.

The roaring flames engulfed her, yet the girl crossed her arms before her chest, her graceful figure radiating an ethereal white light as she burst through unscathed.

She was immune—an inalienable right she now exercised to full effect.

The pitch-black barrel of her gun leveled at a distinctive, inverted bone spur—a dragon's reverse scale.

For the first time, Frost truly panicked. It thrashed its head, desperate to evade the locked-on barrel.

Ghostly flames and sinister winds roared to life, hurtling toward Kurumi like vengeful specters, desperate to shield the dragon from that deadly revolver.

"Goodbye, you pitiful insect." Though diminutive compared to the massive dragon skeleton, Kurumi looked down upon Frost with mocking disdain.

Bang.

The golden bullet tore through the air, unimpeded by the howling flames or wailing ghosts.

No... no, no, NO!

I cannot die here. I must become the strongest! I must live forever!

Frost tried to abandon the dragon's frame, to flee far away as a fleeting wisp of wind or a flickering ember, untraceable by any pursuer.

But karma came calling.

The dragon skeleton's immense gravitational pull made escape impossible.

The bullet struck the inverted scale, and a ghostly figure let out a wailing scream, its spectral form unraveling strand by strand.

Dark gold ichor seeped from beneath the dull, faded blue glow of the scale, dripping thickly to the ground. Moments later, the entire scale shattered like tempered glass, scattering with a resounding crash.

The fractured pieces of bone revealed their true colors, gleaming like fragmented gold leaf cascading down—a celestial spectacle dragged to earth by a dragon's might.

"Death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. This lake of fire is the second death."

The massive skeletal remains, a floating island of bone, lost all power. Like an airplane with its engines cut, it plummeted from the sky.

No signs of life remained.

Kurumi's vision confirmed it—no life readings.

The health bar before her had completely vanished.

Surveying the dragon's remains, Kurumi made a bold decision. She stored the dragon bones in her inventory.

After all... they only took up one slot.

Once the skeleton of the strongest dragonia, the bones were indestructible even to her bullets. Who knew when they might come in handy someday?

Tucking away her gun-blade, Kurumi shifted into a dual-wielding stance, unleashing a flourish of steel as she dashed toward the icy surface below.

To be honest... she couldn't fly.

The earlier shockwave had shattered the glaciers, scattering ice fragments of all sizes across the sea. The waters had since refrozen, forming a jagged and uneven ice sheet.

Crack.

She landed lightly, but the deep fissures that immediately split the ice beneath her feet, along with the seawater bubbling through, testified to the force of her impact.

Kurumi frowned, tilting her head toward the sky.

Where's Schwi?

Where's my Schwi? She was just here a moment ago—where could she have gone?

"Well, well... quite the unexpected haul," came a clapping sound and a teasing female voice from behind.

Kurumi turned, her gaze landing on a petite girl radiating an overwhelming presence.

The girl's long hair swayed gently, refracting rainbow hues like a prism. A mischievous smile played on her exquisitely delicate face, but her amber eyes gleamed coldly, filled with killing intent.

A geometric halo spun behind her head, and faint wings of light extended from her slender waist.

Her unmistakable appearance included a thin, sleeveless top and... the signature decorative garter-and-panties combo.

The Flügel Extra Individual—Jibril—had arrived.

She smirked mockingly.

"...Monkey."

Jibril twisted her body as though troubled, her graceful frame coiling as her long legs intertwined.

Cradling her face in her hands, her cheeks flushed a peculiar shade of red.

Her lips curled into a smile.

"Oh my, such a powerful, perfect little monkey. Your head must surpass a Rarity 5, perhaps even surpassing platinum treasures," she murmured dreamily.

Jibril giggled maniacally. "And hidden within you is the Armageddon's skull—a relic personally slain by our Lord God's hand."

"Even after millennia, its head remains perfectly preserved. How... fascinating."

Of course. Flügel were notorious head-hunters.

Kurumi tightened her grip on her gun-blades, recalling Schwi's descriptions of these individuals.

Schwi... Kurumi's heart burned with anxiety.

No sign of Schwi was within her field of vision. When had this happened?

"Well now, young lady," Kurumi asked, ignoring Jibril's "monkey" remarks, "can you tell me where Schwi is?"

"Schwi?" Jibril licked her fingers, her expression twisting into a devilish grin.

"Schwi?" she mocked. "I wouldn't know about that."

The Flügel sneered, recalling a past humiliation at the hands of an Ex-Machina.

"Ahhh, was that the little hunk of junk? I might have seen her being dragged off," she teased with a derisive chuckle. "Right now, she's probably crying, begging for help, helplessly being toyed with in despair."

"'Onee-sama... Onee-sama...'" Jibril mimicked in a trembling voice.

She burst into a chilling laugh. "Oh right, Ex-Machina heads are quite the treasures too!"

Anger surged within Kurumi, but her face softened into an unsettlingly gentle smile. "Would you kindly show me the way? My Schwi is quite timid."

"Why, of course," Jibril purred, her smile dripping malice as she began to radiate lethal intent.

"Though, I'd be taking you there with your head detached."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

40 Advanced Chapters Available on Patreon: 

Patreon.com/DaoOfHeaven