Chương 366: Fallen Grace

Siegfried frowned, staring at Drago for a long moment before slowly pouring himself another glass. The conversation had taken a far more serious turn than he had expected, even his usual carefree expression had disappeared. He swirled the liquor inside the glass, watching the liquid move in slow circles as the unspoken question lingered between them.

"So..." He finally raised the glass toward his lips.

"How many does that make?" Drago remained silent for several moments. His gaze stayed fixed upon the distant city beyond the window, but his thoughts had already drifted far away from Irea. They wandered through memories of forgotten ages and the Divine Beasts who had once walked beside the greatest Concepts of existence.

"If the raven truly awakened... then there are five." Siegfried stared into his glass for several seconds before abruptly slamming it onto the table. The sound echoed through the room as he dragged one hand down his face, frustration clearly visible despite his attempts to hide it.

"Gods." His voice carried a mixture of disbelief and exhaustion.

"How many have died already? Dozens? Hundreds? And for what?" Drago slowly approached the enormous window overlooking Irea. Below them, the city continued without concern. Merchants moved through the streets, children laughed in the plazas, and scholars traveled between the towers of knowledge. A peaceful world built upon the sacrifices of countless beings most would never even know existed.

"For choice. They chose to die." Drago rested one hand against the cold glass.

"They willingly offered their lives for something greater than themselves. Not because they were forced to, and not because they were incapable of surviving. They made that decision knowing exactly what it would cost them." His expression softened slightly.

"And now the countless Concepts that once walked this reality must continue without their guardians." Siegfried leaned back into the couch, letting out a quiet breath through his nose.

"Yeah..." He looked toward the ceiling.

"Well, I would've preferred if mine had survived. I would've liked to meet him before he died fighting those bastards." Drago's gaze shifted toward him.

"Bastards?'' One eyebrow slowly rose.

"After all this time, are you still afraid to speak their true name?" Siegfried's relaxed posture disappeared. His hand tightened slightly around the glass as he slowly turned his head toward Drago.

"You of all people... should know exactly why we don't utter that name." His jaw tightened.

"Not after what they did to Dagon." Silence filled the office. Drago held his friend's gaze for several long seconds before finally looking away. The anger in Siegfried's voice was not something he could argue against, not after everything they had both lost.

"You're right, I apologize. I remember that day well. Better than most memories I possess." His eyes lowered slightly.

"I suppose I've simply grown... numb to the thought after all these years." The faint regret disappeared, replaced by his usual stern expression.

"But I agree. The knowledge of their name should remain buried."

"No matter the cost." Siegfried visibly relaxed. He leaned back again before emptying another glass and releasing a dramatic sigh.

"Man." He looked down at the bottle.

"This stuff would actually taste incredible if I could still get drunk." A chuckle escaped Drago.

"Our regeneration is far too efficient. The best we can do nowadays is pretend." This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. He took a sip before setting the glass back down. Siegfried pointed at him.

"And where's the fun in pretending?" Drago gave him a rare, small smile.

"I couldn't agree more, old friend." Siegfried grinned before settling deeper into the couch.

"Anyway..." His expression became more serious.

"When exactly are we finally freeing the Founders? We already know where several of them are." He looked around the office.

"It feels like we're just sitting around doing absolutely nothing while they remain trapped." Drago blinked.

"How do you know that?" His eyes narrowed slightly. Before Siegfried could answer, Drago lifted a hand.

"And don't you dare say 'I have eyes everywhere.' I personally located those prisons. I made certain no one followed me." He stared directly at Siegfried.

"There is absolutely no reason anyone else should know." Siegfried froze. For several seconds, his eyes moved around the room as if searching for an escape route. Eventually, he slowly looked back toward Drago. Then he looked him up and down.

"Why do you stay old?" The sudden change of subject was so unexpected that even Drago stared blankly. Several seconds passed.

"What?" Siegfried smiled innocently.

"You heard me." Drago slowly stroked his beard.

"Because I dislike wearing a younger face after everything that happened." Siegfried groaned.

"Oh, come on." He leaned forward.

"Just this once. Do it for me." His grin widened.

"We practically look like brothers when you're young." He paused.

"Well... apart from the skin tone." He proudly crossed his arms.

"We're both devastatingly handsome, after all." Drago stared at him without expression. The silence lasted long enough that even Siegfried's confidence began to weaken. Finally, Drago pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Creator preserve me."

"If I indulge you, will you finally stop asking?" Siegfried nodded.

"I swear." Drago sighed.

"... Very well." He slowly closed his eyes. It had been millennia since he had last bothered assuming this appearance. Maintaining an aged form was simple, but returning to his younger body required him to adjust the flow of his existence in a way he rarely considered necessary anymore. Even so, the transformation came naturally. The wrinkles across his face gradually faded as his weathered skin returned to its original flawless alabaster tone.

His long white beard dissolved into countless glowing particles before disappearing completely, while his silver hair darkened into a rich bronze that fell naturally around his shoulders. His body straightened as years of age vanished from him. The slight hunch of an old man disappeared, replaced by the posture of a warrior in his prime. Muscles tightened beneath his robes, and the fabric adjusted around his broader frame as though remembering the shape it had once belonged to.

When he finally opened his eyes, the silver had vanished. Two brilliant, ember-colored irises stared back at Siegfried. Drago now stood nearly one meter ninety tall, powerfully built, and appearing no older than his early thirties. He looked exactly as he had countless years ago. The only thing that betrayed his true age was the expression on his face. Complete annoyance.

"Satisfied? I despise this form." Siegfried stared. Then he burst into applause.

"Magnificent! You really do look incredible!" He walked around Drago like an artist examining a priceless masterpiece.

"If I had a brother... I'd want him to look exactly like this." Standing beside one another, the difference between them became even more obvious. Both possessed bronze hair, powerful builds, and the appearance of warriors who had reached the peak of their physical ability. Yet their presence could not have been more different.

"My, I forgot how much muscle the Heir of Storms had." Drago responded with an annoyed expression before casually striking him across the shoulder. The force sent Siegfried stumbling backward several steps. Without another word, Drago reverted. The bronze faded back into white. The youth disappeared beneath countless years. His beard returned. The wrinkles returned. Within seconds, the elderly librarian once again stood before him.

"Alright." Drago folded his hands together.

"Did that satisfy your need for nostalgic bonding?"

"Or was there actually something important you wished to discuss?" Siegfried blinked.

"Eh." He scratched the back of his head.

"Actually, yeah. Ares wants to see us. I don't know why. But he specifically asked me to bring you." He glanced toward the clock.

"We're supposed to meet him before twelve." Drago looked toward the watch on his wrist.

"It's eleven forty-five." He slowly turned back.

"And exactly when were you planning on mentioning that?" Siegfried immediately grabbed the bottle, finished the remaining liquor, and tossed the empty container aside.

"It's close, we'll just jump there." Drago looked down at the bottle. Then back at Siegfried.

"The bottle."

"Oh, come on. I'm an old friend. Have some-""The bottle." Drago repeated calmly. The silence stretched. Eventually, Siegfried sighed.

"Fine." He walked over, picked up the bottle, and returned with obvious annoyance.

"So... can we leave now? We've had our nice little talk." Drago raised an eyebrow.

"Meaning?" Siegfried closed his eyes.

"Oh, come on."

"You know what I mean."

"No. I don't." A long silence followed. Finally, Siegfried sighed.

"I think it's about time we leave." A faint smile appeared beneath Drago's beard.

"There." He stood and clapped his hands together twice.

"See? That wasn't difficult." Siegfried rolled his eyes.

"Do you really have to correct the way I speak every single time?" Drago began walking toward the ceiling.

"As your friend, it is my responsibility to improve your dreadful habits whenever possible."

"I'm old enough to decide how I talk."

"So you claim." At Drago's command, the enchanted ceiling began unfolding like the petals of a flower. Stone moved aside, revealing a hidden spiral staircase descending from within the tower itself. The two ancient warriors climbed upward together. When they reached the rooftop, the staircase disappeared behind them, sealing the office once again. A cool wind greeted them. Across the city, almost a kilometer away, stood the towering headquarters of the Royal Guard. Siegfried looked toward it with a grin.

"So... I can clear that distance in a single jump." He glanced toward Drago.

"Can you?" Drago smiled. Without answering, he lowered his stance. The rooftop beneath him cracked. Then, Boom. He launched himself into the sky like a bolt of lightning, crossing the city in a single tremendous leap. The shockwave spread across the rooftops below as he vanished into the distance. Siegfried watched him disappear. A slow grin formed on his face.

"Show-off." A heartbeat later, he kicked off the rooftop himself. The stone shattered beneath his feet as he followed after him, the two ancient warriors streaking through the open sky toward the Royal Guard Tower.