Volume 4 Chapter 9 Quest： The Thunder-Clad Bull ①
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
(What devastating power…)
From the dragon’s back, Kian gazed down, a shiver running through him.
A massive heat wave had turned the sea’s surface into a billowing cloud of steam, shrouding the clear sky in a dense white mist. The distinct, metallic-petrichor scent—like rain striking stone or concrete—filled his lungs.
The colossal sea serpent struck by Aliona’s lightning was nothing but charred remains. Its head, once arched above the surface in an attempt to devour them, now crumbled into fragments, scattering into the misty sea breeze.
There would be no regeneration.
A dragon-type beast would normally regenerate endlessly by drawing magic power from the Spiritual Vein, unless every dragon scale—the source of its life—was shattered. Aliona’s strike had left nothing but ashes.
”What… what is this power?!” Isthbaran murmured in astonishment as he regenerated the scorched scales and chitin along his abdomen. Kian felt the same as the old general.
Four months earlier, during the war with the Beastmen, he had witnessed the grand magic of Rufna, Sarah, and Linca up close—true strategic-class magicians capable of annihilating thousands in a single leap.
It was the kind of power that made it clear why Azrael’s warrior monks specialized in diving deep into enemy lines to assassinate enemy magicians.
But this…
Aliona’s display was abnormal—beyond comparison.
Not to be compared.
Not even to be thought of in the same terms.
(A sea serpent whose head alone was hundreds of meters… felled in a single strike.)
”…The incantation took less than two minutes. Far slower than Sarah or myself, yet the destructive force is…” Kian thought.
”That thing could have swallowed Ramsey’s fortress whole, Lady Aliona,” Isthbaran said, his tone almost accusing. “You are…”
(The strongest in the modern age.)
Those words flashed through Kian’s mind. The magic power she had unleashed surpassed even the Jibril in his memory. This was the full might of the Thorn Magician.
”Well, when I get serious, it’s like this,” Aliona said with a wink, watching the serpent’s remains crumble away.
Kian stared at the elven Head Magician twirling her moss-covered staff.
”You were holding back in the Burgkain battle, weren’t you?” he asked.
”No,” she replied with a light laugh. “That was all I could manage then. As you know, I was bound by the Church’s magic scroll—same as Lord Oswald. That was a hundred years ago, before I became immortal. There isn’t a single cardinal alive who remembers me from those days.”
She smiled faintly, a shadow of loneliness in her expression.
”Did the Church break the scroll after releasing you?” the general asked.
”Yes, they did, General. Didn’t I mention that?”
”I’ve heard nothing of it,” Kian said. “Only that Cardinal Homolka agreed to hand you over—in August.”
”Ah, I see.” Aliona’s lips, painted a deep red, curved into a crescent. Beneath her high-elf beauty, Kian glimpsed an unconscious savagery and a certain… innocent malice.
”Right after you helped me regain my senses, I sent a letter to the Western Church,” she said. “I offered them every magic sword, divine sword, and magic staff I owned in exchange for breaking all six hundred and sixty-six scrolls that restricted my power.”
”Six… hundred and sixty-six?!”
Kian remembered Oswald’s limit had been only two hundred.
”And the Church agreed? How foolish,” Isthbaran muttered.
”General, please don’t speak of me like I’m some kind of dangerous weapon,” she replied sweetly, though a vein pulsed at her temple.
”I suppose the Church had its reasons,” she continued. “Every item I offered was one-of-a-kind, priceless even to the wealthiest buyers. In particular, my vampire-slaying divine sword would be an irreplaceable symbol for the Western Church, whose origins lie in vampire hunting.”
”You donated that sword?” Kian asked, startled.
”Yes. Freedom was worth more.”
She touched her cheek with a sigh. “In hindsight, perhaps a foolish trade, given how poorly equipped our party is now.”
”Then… Aliona, what about that staff?” asked the Leanan sídhe.
”This? Just wood from the monastery’s back garden. I can’t get in the mood for magic without something to hold. And… it’s a keepsake from the children there. I’m banned from the Church now, after all.”
”That’s right,” the Leanan sídhe replied.
”Besides,” Aliona added, “the Church probably feared that if I died from the scroll’s effects, my body might be taken over entirely by thorn cells, or I’d lose my mind and become a dangerous creature endlessly releasing primal magic. They couldn’t exactly say, ‘It’s all Kian’s fault, nothing to do with us!’”
”And you weren’t afraid of breaking them?” Isthbaran asked.
”This was only my second time. There won’t be a third,” she said. “I was a good sister, you know—obedient, causing no trouble. And, as I said, no current cardinal, Homolka included, remembers me as anything more than some long-ago political criminal or a withered recluse.”
A foul stench began to rise as countless dead fish floated to the surface. The mist thinned, carried away by the sea breeze, and even the serpent’s charred remains vanished like an illusion. There would be no harvesting materials from this sea dragon.
Aliona turned from the water, giving Kian a smile like a goddess. His heart pounded, and his cheeks warmed.
”Breaking the scrolls doesn’t mean I’ll burn the Western Church or destroy Izerland fortress like Lord Oswald,” she said. “I’m grateful to them. And now, I want to help you, Kian—both in public matters and in private.”
”That makes me happy,” Kian said quietly.
”Yes… you’ve brought life’s warmth back to this withered body. I’d like to repay that debt, little by little,” she replied, her green eyes gleaming with heat.
Kian became acutely aware of her white dress, the swell of her breasts, the curve of her waist, and her hips as she stood before him.
On the dragon’s back, their gazes tangled together.
”This isn’t the time for romance,” the Leanan sídhe said dryly.
Aliona chuckled. “You’re right, my apologies.” But before turning away, she let her eyes linger suggestively on the line of Kian’s chest visible at his collar.
It seemed certain that, once the adventure ended, intimacy would follow—but for now, as the Leanan sídhe said, they would tighten the belts on their armor.
”What will you do next?”
Isthbaran asked in his usual, unchanging tone. It was a mature, measured response.
”There are no ship shadows nearby. We’ve long since slipped past the Kingdom of Crete’s patrol net. Continue west.”
”Understood,” came the reply.
”At last, our pace may finally pick up. Honestly, that rowboat journey was far too slow,” remarked Leanan Sídhe, shrugging lightly.
Once the three had each secured themselves to the spines on Isthbaran’s back, the dragon spread his wings wide and beat them powerfully. Sunlight flashed across the glittering ice crystals along his scales. In a single leap, a burst of crisp, cold air swept over them, and then the dragon’s acceleration began.
In moments, they were moving westward at speeds dozens of times faster than their small boat could have managed.
* * *
After some time heading west, a pitch-black thundercloud loomed ahead. Beneath it lay an equally black, massive island.
It was about half the size of Water Island, where the capital of the Kingdom of Crete stood. Strangely, it appeared perfectly square, as if measured and carved by someone wielding a magic tool.
Could this be the unmapped “Underworld Island”?
Beneath the clouds, a constant mix of drizzle and fierce lightning rained down.
”Look, there!” cried Aliona, her high-elven eyesight picking out the details. She extended her pale finger toward the black square island. Along its coastline lay the wrecks of ships, their sails torn to shreds.
”The lightning’s intense!” Isthbaran shouted above the thunder. As if to emphasize his words, a vivid blue bolt cracked down upon the island ahead, the delayed thunderclap rumbling like an explosion.
”Switching to low-altitude flight! Hold on tightly!”
”Got it,” came the reply. “Do you see that ship with the broken sail? Aim to descend near it.”
”Understood.”
Isthbaran banked sharply to the right, beginning a controlled turn. Aliona and Leanan Sídhe gripped his spines tightly. Kian steadied himself with one hand, leaning out to take in as much detail of the island as he could. He had the ability to turn what he saw into monochrome and store it as an instantaneous memory.
The island was generally flat, resembling an enormous fortress with a roof. Black rock formations were dotted with holes or bulged into dome shapes—too deliberate to be natural.
The lightning flared brighter with each strike, and the thunder deepened to a bone-shaking roar. Raindrops pelted Kian’s face like pinpricks.
The combination of companions and weather inevitably brought to mind the rain-swept Labyrinth of Roses they had ventured into earlier that April.
”Square-shaped… Could it have something to do with the Black Onyx spirit, Kharab?” Kian asked.
”Who knows?” Aliona replied. “But it doesn’t feel malevolent. It’s a pure energy—like stumbling into a valley where magic power from a Spiritual Vein crystallizes into magic stones.”
Magic stones were a newly popular energy source. In truth, they had been used since the vampire era, but their rarity and processing difficulty had kept them scarce until recently.
It was Umar Vahid who made them practical, creating magic tools even those without innate magic power could use. His family’s golem and insect-controlling technologies were unmatched—until the young Sarah stole them, spreading the knowledge across Azrael.
”Have you ever been to a magic stone site, Lady Aliona?” asked Isthbaran.
”Only once! I ended up hiding there while playing a rather dangerous game of tag with a giant lizard in Châtillon,” she answered with a mischievous grin.
”That sounds fun,” Leanan Sídhe said brightly.
(It wasn’t fun at all,) Kian thought, staring flatly at her excited face. He knew Aliona and Guy must never meet—it would be chaos, perhaps as bad as a battlefield.
”Landing on the sea! Brace for impact!” Isthbaran roared.
The black waters rushed closer. The dragon charged straight toward a spot just before the wreck-strewn area. A flash of blue lightning lit the sea behind them, making Kian’s pulse spike.
(He didn’t flinch when facing the sea serpent…?)
(During battle, I’m a different person—adrenaline high, like—well, never mind.)
”I don’t want to know,” came the mental reply from his companion spirit.
”Hold on!” Isthbaran bellowed.
But before they could hit, Aliona and Leanan Sídhe teleported onto the half-sunken deck of a ruined ship. Kian, on the other hand, yanked a cloak from his Wraith storage, gripped it with both hands and between his legs, and launched himself into the air.
”Woooaaahhhh!” he shouted.
The ice dragon plunged headfirst into the sea, while above him, Kian floated past inside a makeshift cloak dome—a sight so surreal it was almost comical.
Then—splash. Kian’s dive into the cold water was anything but graceful. He sank quickly in the shadow of the black island’s coast. The water was about three meters deep here, with sand at the bottom and scattered iron and wooden crates from long-lost ships. Jagged black rocks jutted here and there.
No fish, jellyfish, or octopuses swam nearby, though a few seaweeds useful for elixir-making drifted in the currents.
With a breath, Kian surfaced. “That was refreshing,” he said dryly.
”Indeed. A fine seawater bath,” Isthbaran agreed, swimming like a shark past the shipwrecks before shifting into his human form.
Together, they climbed onto the black rock shore. Aliona and Leanan Sídhe were already waiting.
”Looked like you were having fun,” Leanan Sídhe teased.
”Why did you two jump into the sea? Did you want to swim that badly?” Aliona asked with a smirk.
”Something like that,” Kian replied vaguely.
Both he and Isthbaran dried their clothes with magic. The seawater was surprisingly cold for a tropical latitude; an ordinary person might have lost all strength in under ten minutes.
”Hey, Aliona,” Leanan Sídhe said, tilting her head. “Don’t you think Kian’s… a little strange?”
”That’s what makes him wonderful,” Aliona said warmly. “You never get bored watching him.”
”Eh?”
”I knew he was an interesting one the moment we met.”
”Guess I’ve been found out,” Kian said with a short laugh.
”Now then,” Isthbaran interjected, glancing back toward the broken ship. “Is this truly the ‘Underworld Island’?”
The vessel, though smaller than the ghost ship Priscilla had provided them, was well-built and sturdy—at least before whatever monstrous sea creature had taken a chunk out of its lower hull and shredded its sails.
”If it was the sea serpent, there’d be nothing left,” Kian observed. “Something else got to it.”
”Look,” Aliona said suddenly, pointing.
They followed her gaze several hundred meters south along the shore. There, a six-meter-long small boat rested intact on the black rock, its shape preserved perfectly.
The group moved away from the wreck of the large vessel, heading toward a small boat bobbing in the shallows.
As they closed the distance, a strange odor pricked their noses—a pungent mix of rot and olive oil.
”Hm. That is not the boat prepared by old Gaius, is it?” Isthbaran asked.
”It seems so. Ah…” Kian quickened his pace, taking the lead toward the small craft. He leaned over the side and peered inside, covering his mouth.
A middle-aged woman’s corpse lay within, clad in a white toga. Her black hair and sun-darkened skin suggested she was a native of the Kingdom of Crete. Decay had begun—flies swarmed over her—but her flesh had not yet collapsed, and bodily fluids had not seeped much.
The island’s chill must have slowed the rot. Still, with flies crawling over her, within a week the body would surely be swarming with maggots, the flesh softening into ruin.
”The stench of rotten meat and olive oil… quite the combination,” Aliona murmured, pressing a pale green handkerchief to her nose.
”There’s no obvious damage to the boat,” Kian observed. “Surprising, given it carried a corpse. You’d think the sirens would have attacked.”
”In the domain of that great sea serpent, sirens are hardly likely to exist,” Isthbaran replied flatly.
”And why not?” Aliona challenged.
Isthbaran ran his palm along the boat’s edge. “Neither the sea serpent nor the monster that bit the hull of that great ship earlier attacked this vessel. It didn’t even sink despite those strong currents—it drifted here intact.”
”Or perhaps it was delivered… General?” Aliona’s eyes narrowed.
”Delivered? By whom?” Leanan Sídhe asked.
”By the sea serpent,” Isthbaran answered simply.
”You’re saying that dragon brought here the corpses Gaius set adrift?” Kian pressed.
”Yes. The ‘Great Current’—or at least one cause of it—was the sea serpent. For some purpose, it carried every corpse Gaius cast into the sea to this island. And if it found a ship carrying the living, it attacked, killed the crew, and sent them here as corpses.”
From his pocket, Isthbaran produced an emerald-and-gold necklace. “I found this around the neck of a young man’s skeleton on the seabed—judging by the teeth, perhaps in his twenties.”
”A pirate’s plundered victim?” Kian asked.
”I don’t know. But—wait.” Isthbaran’s silver ears twitched sharply. His light-blue eyes fixed on the island’s black slope. “Something’s coming.”
”A monster?” Kian asked.
”Unclear. Multiple, heavy-bodied creatures. Breathing hard. They’re inside the slope… heading toward us.”
”An adventurer doesn’t always have to charge in and destroy everything,” Kian muttered. “Let’s hide and watch.”
Three nods answered him. Aliona raised a shimmering barrier, while Kian and Isthbaran cloaked themselves in stealth. Leanan Sídhe’s skin hardened to resin, reshaping her into the likeness of a two-legged plant.
They retreated north and slipped behind a jutting rock.
Minutes passed. Rain pattered and thunder rolled, mingling with harsh breathing and heavy footfalls. The rockface above them fractured with a scatter of stone—and a massive black shape emerged.
Two hundred meters away, on the steep slope, the creature loomed. It was not human: its body was covered in coarse black fur, and two vast dark-blue horns curved from its skull. Hard hooves struck stone. The guttural, snorting breath carried no hint of thought.
”A minotaur,” Aliona whispered beside Kian’s shoulder. “Three of them.”
Kian nodded grimly. The locals of Crete had sworn minotaurs existed nowhere in the islands, but clearly they were wrong. Still, what could such predators eat on a barren rock? His mind returned to the middle-aged woman’s corpse.
The three creatures pressed their muzzles together, snorting and huffing. No such behavior was in the bestiary records—was this some crude communication? Even so, minotaur intelligence was meager. They could walk upright, but only to fight or intimidate, never to use tools; when stability was needed, they reverted to four legs.
A sudden crack of blue lightning speared down from the black clouds, striking one minotaur that stood upright on the slope.
Kian’s eyes widened. Wrapped in bluish-white radiance, the beast’s coarse fur crackled with arcs of electric blue, yet it showed no injury. Instead, it lifted its arms toward the sky and bellowed a fierce roar.
Through his vampiric sight, Kian saw the electricity coursing through the beast’s fur, sinking into the roots. The creature’s blood surged, heart pounding. Then, as if exuding ore from within, blue crystal-like formations began creeping along its horns and fists.
It had metabolized lightning.
He recalled the salamander of Fire Island—a flame-wreathed lizard that fed on volcanic ore, using it to nourish internal microbes, then digesting them for strength, expelling ore minerals onto its skin for armor. Was this minotaur doing the same with lightning? But lightning wasn’t matter…
Even as a monster expert, Kian couldn’t grasp the full picture.
Eventually, the minotaurs tired of their storm-bathing and tromped down the slope toward the shore. Hooves clanged against the rock. As expected, they approached the corpse boat.
”Fugo, fugo fugo,” one grunted.
Kian ducked further behind the rock, and Aliona mirrored him. Stones skittered as the boat was lifted. Footsteps receded, and the creatures carried the boat back into the slope’s dark mouth—like ants dragging prey into a nest.
They did not emerge again. Isthbaran relaxed, stepping from cover. Leanan Sídhe shed her half-plant form and followed him.
”They took the boat,” Isthbaran noted.
”Meat is precious on a barren isle,” Kian replied, glancing toward where it had grounded. The black rock was wet with seawater, dotted with flecks of white paint.
”So,” Aliona said, tapping her chin, “the funeral boats from Crete’s islands drift here, and the minotaurs feed on the corpses?”
”Likely for centuries,” Isthbaran said. “The ‘Great Current’ was the work of the sea serpent, yet it looked far older than a hundred years. Perhaps the bodies have been sent here since before the Empire of Night vanished from the northern lands—maybe since the mythic age.”
”Maybe they use the boat wood as fuel… if they can control fire,” Aliona mused.
Kian crouched, retrieving a small vial and tweezers from his pack. Carefully, he plucked a deep-blue crystal shard from the black rock. It glimmered like a gemstone.
”What is this? When one of them was struck by lightning, crystals like this seeped from its horns and fists—like a salamander taking in ore.”
The tweezers grew hot, and Kian felt a sharp tingling run through his thumb and forefinger.
”Blue Thunder Stone,” Aliona said calmly.
”What’s a Blue Thunder Stone?” Kian asked, raising an eyebrow.
”It’s a type of magic stone,” she replied.
Aliona crossed her arms beneath her chest and began to explain.
”Magic stones are formed when the energy overflowing from a Spiritual Vein—called Ryūmyaku in the East—crystallizes. Blue Thunder Stone is the lightning variant. It’s a stone made from crystallized lightning energy.”
”Lightning can crystallize?” Kian tilted his head, clearly intrigued.
”It happens through the activity of certain monsters,” Aliona said. “For example, the thunder dragon Wūsa, who dwells on the Isle of Britain north of the Franz Kingdom, can crystallize unused power after generating it himself or being struck by lightning. He coats himself with it—on the bones of his wings, along the spines of his tail. Then, when needed, he reverts it back into raw power for use.”
She continued smoothly, “Some of his kin, especially advanced-rank dragon types, share the same traits. They armor their wing bones, limbs, or tails with Blue Thunder Stone, using it to slay prey or fend off threats.”
”There are monsters that attack with lightning strikes?” Kian asked, his voice a mix of awe and curiosity.
”Yes,” Aliona confirmed. “Much like the famed Order of the Lightning Knights in the Kingdom of Crete. Though, to be clear, they don’t use Blue Thunder Stone—their abilities come from a branch of Spiritcalling magic.”
”Then,” Kian said slowly, “that minotaur might have the same biological mechanism as Wūsa and his kin—able to crystallize lightning energy.”
”We can’t say that for certain yet,” Aliona replied, “but it does seem that way.”
”A minotaur with such a unique physiology…”
Kian corked the bottle and stored it carefully inside the Wraith.
”Perhaps they’re the so-called immortal minotaurs,” he mused.
”Should we pursue them?” Aliona asked. “The side tunnel they vanished into seems quite wide. I can’t hear any sounds from them anymore.”
”Now that we’ve come this far, turning back isn’t an option…” Kian hesitated, glancing at her. He wasn’t sure it was wise to take her into the monsters’ den.
But the high elf magician was already pulling a battle coat and thick boots from the void, fastening them with practiced efficiency.
”Kian, don’t worry about me,” she said with a confident smile. “Forward is the only way. We need results.”
”And Ms. Leanan sídhe?” Kian asked.
”No problem,” she replied simply.
”I don’t require your concern either,” Leanan sídhe added, her tone flat but certain. “I’ll follow behind you both and provide support when necessary.”
(If Linca were here, this would be the point where some kind of squabble would break out. This expedition has been refreshingly free of stress so far.)
’You shouldn’t speak ill of Linca so easily. Few are as good-hearted as she is. Don’t forget she stayed with you until the very end against Erynys.’
(…Looks like my bad habits slipped out again. I’ll reflect on that.)
Kian took a slow breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them, he looked over his companions—now fully prepared for the incursion.
”Alright,” he said, gripping his weapon, “let’s pay a visit to the minotaurs’ lair.”
Notes:
• Isthbaran – The High Warlord of the ‘Storm Herd.’
• Linca – Jibril’s favorite girl. High-ranking warrior monk woman from Shin, with strong abilities like ignoring attacks and poisons.
• Mag – The wolfwoman under Yelmar—the one who was caught by Kian’s group earlier.
• Kharab – The enemy who stole Talia’s soul and possessed her body; referred to by the Black Onyx Spirit; defeated by Kian.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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