Augustine

“I just wanted to help Brother...” Ophelia murmured with a trace of grievance, a faint blush on her face. “I wanted to prove that I've grown up... I don't want to always stand behind you...”

“I know, I know.” His hand gently patted the back of her head, the touch tender to the point of doting. “You did very well, Liesel.”

A Six-Winged Holy Angel...

Blake panted heavily. Leopold had already fallen unconscious, leaving Blake with no choice but to support him. Golden blood trickled from Leopold's temple, dripping onto the frosted rubble.

Isabella stood where she was, not taking a single step back. At her feet lay the remnants of several white swords of light that had yet to dissipate.

“You are very strong.” The man finally turned his head.

He did not look much older than Ophelia, and their facial features shared some resemblance, though his eyes held a trace of gentle warmth.

“You...” Isabella squeezed the word out of her throat. Standing in the ruins, she had dared to swing her sword against Ophelia. But in front of this man, her body made a decision even before her mind could: do not move.

“Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Augustine Ophelia.” He gave a slight nod, his gesture polite. “Though the circumstances are somewhat inappropriate, it is only proper to introduce myself.”

Forcing himself to calm down, Blake looked up and stared directly at the six unfurled wings, refusing to back down. Now that Leopold had fainted, it was up to him to shoulder the burden.

“Mr. Augustine... My name is Blake, and she is Isabella.”

Augustine's gaze lingered on him for a moment, swept across Isabella's tense shoulders, and finally came to rest on Leopold.

“The shadow curse... to forcibly trigger it before the time is ripe, this boy is practically throwing his life away.” Augustine's tone remained gentle as he raised his hand. “Fortunately for you, you met me. If it had been any other angel, you would be in grave danger.”

Augustine lowered his eyes, a faint white light shimmering at his fingertips. The tiny light drifted from his finger, landing on Leopold's chest like a feather. Almost instantly, Leopold's breathing grew much steadier.

“...Shadow is one of the oldest taboos in the dragon clan's bloodline.” Augustine withdrew his hand and shifted Ophelia slightly higher in his arms.

“Every generation of Night Black Dragons has records of using it as a last resort, but those who return alive can be counted on one hand. It is already quite impressive that he managed to remain conscious after triggering the curse.”

Blake opened his mouth to ask something, but changed his question at the last second. “...Why did you save him?”

“Why did I save him? That is a good question.”

“If I told you that I saved him because I want to see you leave the underground alive—would you believe me?”

Blake clenched his fists. Of course he did not believe an angel could have such good intentions.

“Well, it is only natural that you do not trust me.” Augustine looked at Isabella, who had been silent for a long time. “But what if I told you, Your Highness, that your brother wants to kill you?”

Isabella nodded blankly. She said nothing, accepting the news with absolute composure.

“Oh?” A flicker of interest flashed in Augustine's eyes. He had not expected Isabella to already know this.

“You knew?” A hint of surprise finally colored Augustine's voice. “Thranduil wants to kill you, yet you remain so calm?”

Isabella did not answer. She stood amidst the ruins, her long white hair swaying gently in the wind. There was no fear in her ice-blue eyes, nor any anger—only a weary tranquility.

“...I have known for a long time,” Isabella said, her expression remaining calm. “I have known since the day he killed Mother.”

Augustine fell silent for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle.

“Interesting. You are far more clear-headed than I imagined, Your Highness. I thought it would take some effort to convince you of this.”

“I do not need you to convince me.” Isabella raised her eyes, looking directly at the six unfurled wings. “I know what kind of person Thranduil is. I also know what he is looking for.”

“What is he looking for?”

“He is collecting the bloodlines of the royal family.”

Augustine's smile suddenly vanished. He rested his chin in his hand, his brow furrowing.

“The royal bloodline? So that's it... Thranduil truly is a madman!”

“I thought Thranduil only wanted to purge the southern branches to consolidate his own legitimacy. He actually fooled me!” Augustine set Ophelia down on the ground.

“But if he is collecting the bloodline...” Augustine looked up, his eyes locking onto Isabella. “Then you are still in grave danger, Your Highness.”

Isabella did not reply. She simply stood there, the slowly folding six wings behind Augustine reflected in her ice-blue eyes.

“Excellent. Thank you for the information, White Dragon Princess.” Augustine bowed to them. “I will not kill you. In fact, I am going to help you.”

“Do you have a wish, Isabella?”

Standing on the pile of rubble, her long white hair swaying gently in the wind, Isabella looked at the still-unconscious Leopold and bit her lip.

“Heal him.”

Augustine followed her gaze to Leopold, then looked back at her with a smile. “I am a Six-Winged Holy Angel, you know. Just that?”

“Just that.”

“I understand. What a devoted white dragon...”

Augustine kept his word. He walked over to Leopold and knelt down.

“In nomine sanctae lucis, sana corpus, pelle maledicta.”

(In the name of the Holy Light, heal this body and dispel the curse.)

Augustine's fingertips touched Leopold's forehead. A white glow seeped from his palm, spreading along Leopold's blood vessels. Wherever it passed, the edges of the wounds eroded by shadow began to slowly heal.

Leopold's brow twitched slightly.

“...Mnh.”

“Do not rush to wake up,” Augustine said softly, his voice carrying a soothing rhythm. “Your body needs time to repair itself. Forcibly triggering the curse consumed too much of your life source. You will be extremely weak for the next few days.”

He withdrew his hand, stood up, and looked down at Leopold's face, which had recovered a hint of color from its deathly pale state.

“That should do it.”

“...Thank you,” Isabella said without looking up.

“Yes, yes. That is one of the few sincere expressions of gratitude I have ever heard. I must treasure it, as very few people ever thank an angel.” Augustine picked Ophelia up once more.

“And these,” Augustine said, tossing a pouch filled with stones toward Blake. “The magic crystals inside should be enough for your second slumber.”

“Undergo your second slumber on the surface. More of Thranduil's people will be coming to the underground very soon...”

Ophelia turned around and waved at Isabella.

“I should get going. If I stay any longer, the angelic patrol underground will sense my presence—though I outrank them, it would be troublesome to explain.”

“Then let us meet again on the surface, my dear dragon friends...