'What is the dragon talking about? Does someone already know I'm here? Do they know I'm the Herald of the Unnameable?'
Questions aside, the dragon exhaled a small cloud of ash dust. The hole in its chest was clearly visible—there was nothing there but a dark void, with faint traces of greenish mist drifting inside with soft, ghostlike movements.
That proved the dragon wasn't lying. If it had been alive—a being belonging to the Mortal World—Azel's arrow would have definitely killed it. But that wasn't the case. On top of that, the creature seemed even more powerful than the Lover of Flowers Among Blood.
"Are you afraid, little human?" It brought its claws closer to the boy, that wide, sinister grin still on its face. "Who would've thought? The agent of our nightmares is a pathetic, frail human."
