Norton's voice wasn't loud, but the weight of his words struck like a falling hammer, leaving everyone frozen.
"The White King-the strongest dragon ever created by the Black King, Nidhogg. She was said to be his greatest work, the only being capable of challenging him, holding a status even higher than the twins of the other four thrones."
Caesar's fingers tightened. "According to dragon history, the White King incited the greatest rebellion the dragon race ever saw. Nearly a third of all dragons followed her. The war lasted for ages, until the Black King personally crushed and killed her with his absolute power. Since then, her lineage was believed extinct... but the scales that erupted from Masamune Tachibana were white."
Lu Mingfei swallowed. "So... based on what Old Don said, this Masamune isn't the real guy? Just a puppet? Or a stand-in?"
"If the Patriarch of the Five Regent Houses is nothing but a puppet..." Caesar murmured, "...then what kind of plan is the one behind the curtain running? Is the White King truly dead-or in the process of reviving? And which Dragon King was killed and used as the sacrifice?"
His voice dropped.
"All of this..."
On the wall, Genji-who had been thrashing moments earlier-went completely still.
No matter how furious he was, even he could sense something was terribly wrong.
In his memory, his father had always been a master of politics and management, but in terms of combat power? B-rank at best. A powerful old man among ordinary hybrids-but still an old man.
Turning into a dragon?
Impossible.
And a Dragon King had no reason to lie to him.
A puppet. A sacrifice. A murdered Dragon King.
What did that make his father?
Or... was he even his father at all?
Then who was he?
And where was the real one?
The flood of information finally broke through Genji's composure. For the first time in his life, he felt that his mind simply wasn't enough.
Back at Cassell College, Professor Schneider was having a far worse time.
The situation had reversed three times in less than ten minutes, and each turn had been more shocking than the last. He pressed a hand to his chest, genuinely worried his heart might give out.
"EVA," he said hoarsely, "relay all information and the full sequence of events to the Principal. Immediately."
He gave up.
As Head of the Execution Bureau, he was supposed to command situations like this-but he knew better. This was far beyond him.
Better to hand the mess to someone who could actually carry it.
Rain fell steadily.
In a narrow alley behind Tokyo University, a small ramen cart glowed weakly under a streetlamp. An old chef worked quietly, steam curling into the damp night air. Even in the rain, customers had come and gone-proof of the old man's skill.
Eventually, the rain worsened, and the last customer left.
The chef muttered to himself, preparing to close up.
Then someone sat down.
An old man in a black robe.
The chef frowned. Anyone who hid their face like that was suspicious-but he wasn't afraid.
"You want noodles, you pay," he said gruffly.
"I can afford them," the guest replied calmly, "but I can't eat them."
He lifted his hood.
The chef's pupils shrank.
He had seen ugly faces. He had seen handsome ones. He had seen people scarred by life and war.
But this face was different.
Handsome-yes-but unmistakably inhuman.
"Good evening, Mr. Masamune Uesugi," Morin said, smiling. His body shimmered faintly, water flowing subtly beneath human contours.
"Who are you?" Uesugi snapped, then scowled. "And don't bother. Whoever sent you, I'm not coming out of retirement. I'm just a ramen chef now."
"Is that so?"
"Absolutely."
"What if I told you," Morin said lightly, "that you have two sons and a daughter?"
"That still wouldn't-"
Uesugi stopped.
"...What did you say?"
"I said you have two sons-Genji and Chime Gen-and a daughter, Eri Uesugi."
Morin placed a document on the counter.
"Sperm donation records. The Germans used IVF technology. As a descendant of Imperial blood, you were... surprisingly casual with your genetic material."
Uesugi's face twitched. "I was broke back then, and later I forgot-wait, that's not the point!"
He stepped forward sharply. "Are you sure?"
"Completely."
"If you're lying-"
"Paternity tests are easy," Morin shrugged.
Uesugi collapsed onto the stool.
Three children.
At once.
For years, he had felt himself drifting from the world, like a kite whose string had been cut.
Now three thick ropes yanked him back to earth.
Blood.
"I'm telling you this because they're in danger," Morin said.
Uesugi's eyes sharpened instantly.
"Who?" His voice was iron. "Who dares touch them?"
"Masamune Tachibana," Morin replied. "The Patriarch of the Regent Houses. The real one died long ago. An impostor took his place-and became leader of another faction. You know them. The Shadows. Led by the King of Masks."
Uesugi slammed his fist down. The wooden counter shattered.
"What does he want?" he demanded.
"He's cultivating Imperial blood. He sacrificed a dead Dragon King embryo to the remains of the White King to awaken her. Every conflict, every death-materials for his experiment. His goal is simple."
Morin's eyes were cold.
"He wants to steal the White King's power. To become her. To resurrect himself as an Imperial."
Silence.
"Masamune Tachibana just died," Morin added calmly.
"Good," Uesugi growled. "Where are my children?"
"That was only a puppet. The real body is still hidden. But his next move is obvious."
Morin met his gaze.
"He'll come for them."
"He wouldn't dare!"
"He will."
Uesugi trembled with restrained fury.
"Who... are you?" he finally asked.
"You'll find out soon enough," Morin said, smiling.
Then his body collapsed into water, splashing onto the rain-slick pavement and vanishing.
Uesugi stared at the empty space.
Slowly, he reached into the ramen cart and pulled out a long, cloth-wrapped object.
Metal hummed beneath the fabric.
"So," he murmured, eyes blazing, "you're calling me back too."
He stepped into the rain.
The water hissed against his skin, steam rising as heat surged from his body. Above him, something like a black sun seemed to form.
There was only one place to find the truth.
Genji Heavy Industries.
"What do you mean the White King is resurrecting?!"
Ange sat in his Gulfstream jet, staring at Norma as if she had personally betrayed him.
"We were just dealing with the King of Bronze and Fire and the King of Oceans and Water! Since when did Dragon Kings start holding secret resurrection meetings? And wasn't the White King personally killed by the Black King? Did that lunatic really leave a backdoor?!"
Beside him, the Deputy Principal struggled against thick ropes.
"I'm the Deputy Principal! I can't leave! The school needs me!"
"The school doesn't need you judging swimsuit competitions," Ange snapped. "Now answer me-alchemy-wise, is this possible?!"
"Of course it's possible!" the Deputy Principal shouted. "That's a Dragon King! If you sacrifice a full First-Generation and have a blood descendant, resurrection is entirely feasible! Dragons don't follow logic! Even dead, as long as bone remains exist-"
His face went pale.
"An Imperial. Three First-Generations. One Second-Generation. God knows how many Death Servitors..."
He struggled harder.
"Ange, turn this plane around! Let's go back and start planning a nuclear strike on all of Japan while we still can!"