Published at 25th of August 2026 9:09 am

Volume 8, Chapter 87: Not Until Death

This chapter is updated by JustRead.pl

Fortunately, Wu hadn’t been caught in the crossfire just now. He had only minor injuries and was exhausted—nothing serious. Kaiser walked over and asked:

“Miss Isha, you’re heading to the Red Flame Dragon Clan?”

Isha nodded.

“Mm. My brother-in-law said the key to ending this disaster is there. So whatever happens, we regroup at Red Flame if at all possible.”

“Good. Then I’ll come along.”

Kaiser had been sent by his sister to help, but he hadn’t been told exactly what to do. Chances were they’d only figure it out once they reached the Red Flame Dragon Clan. Either way, with Kaiser as top-tier combat power, at least on the fighting front Isha’s side no longer had anything to worry about. Even if more far-ancient peril-forms swarmed them, Kaiser would feel no pressure.

Isha spread her wings and took her dragon form; Valendna slowly climbed onto her back. Kaiser simply jumped up, and Wu followed.

They’d burned a lot of stamina a moment ago, so their flight speed would be slower. Isha beat her wings and lifted slowly into the air.

“I’ll try to reach the Red Flame Dragon Clan within an hour.”

“Okay~ Isha, gooo~”

Isha smiled and shrugged.

“Easy for you—lounging on someone else’s back is pretty comfy.”

“I’m not just relaxing.”

“Oh?”

“I’m also vetting for you, Isha~” Valendna puffed out her very flat chest with pride.

Isha blinked. “Vetting? Vetting what?”

“Checking whether this cold-faced purple-haired hottie is a match for your spark—hey, hey!! Slow—slow down!!!”

Isha couldn’t be bothered with the babble; she accelerated and streaked off.

At the same time, Wu’s condition had improved a little. After Kaiser got him onto the dragon’s back, he’d lain flat to rest. Now that some strength had returned, Wu sat up and looked toward the Red Flame lands. After a silence, he murmured,

“It’s been so many years, A-Yan... are you well.”

...

“Constantine, hand over the Golden Helm! Or I kill her!”

While everyone else was racing full tilt for the Red Flame Dragon Clan, the Old City Lord and his puppet servants had already arrived. With them came a host of far-ancient peril-forms controlled by the Demon Sword Shards. Their numbers were grotesque, their varieties many, their power great enough to smash through the combined lines of the Red Flame Dragon Clan and the Homeland Front fighters with ease.

By then, the battle before the Red Flame Dragon Sanctuary had already

reached its endgame. The field was strewn with the bodies of Red Flame dragons and Homeland Front fighters. Hands clasped behind his back, the Old City Lord stepped slowly through the mountain of corpses and sea of blood, walking toward Constantine ahead. Fuyuan followed at his side, pressing a girl bound in magic-suppression rope.

“Your clansmen and your allies have lost more than half. Are you going to keep resisting?”

The Old City Lord halted about fifty meters from Constantine, the face full of wrinkles and age spots still wearing a calm composure.

“Do as I say. Hand over the Golden Helm, and the remaining Red Flame dragons—and this girl—live. A fair trade, Constantine.”

Constantine, having fought through countless clashes, was injured. He wasn’t yet unable to move, but if he kept fighting, he’d likely be worn to death. Worse, the rotten old man had pulled a “saturation hostage-taking.”

Threatening the remaining Red Flame clansmen and the Homeland Front wasn’t enough—he had to drag in...

“Orion...”

Constantine’s draconic pupils flicked toward the slender form held by Fuyuan. She was already covered in wounds; the sword at her hip was broken clean through. Her golden hair—usually blazing—was dull now, with clots of drying blood stuck among the strands. Constantine didn’t yet know why the Blazing Sun Clan’s new and old City Lords had suddenly slid into depravity; but given the Demon Sword Shard in the Old City Lord’s clenched hand, it wasn’t hard to guess he was colluding with the Void.

And the reason he wanted to exchange Orion’s life for the Golden Helm was clearly to prevent Constantine from reigniting the sun. Once the sun’s power fully vanished, the Void Gates would slacken.

Then... the most troublesome enemy in history would return in force.

Constantine clenched his fists in secret, caught between choices.

“You’ve sat on that throne long enough, Constantine,” the Old City Lord went on.

“What, do you actually feel nothing for our Blazing Sun clan’s Orion?”

He gave a mocking laugh.

“Seems my scouts do make mistakes. I thought you two had already!”

“You... old bastard!”

The Old City Lord’s monologue was suddenly cut off. He had only time to lift his head and look ahead. “I thought Fuyuan crushed your windpipe... didn’t expect you could still speak.”

Orion slowly raised her head. Through the gaps in her blood-matted hair, her blue eyes glared at the Old City Lord, full of hate.

“Who do you think the Red Flame Dragon King is, hmm? The Golden Helm is tied to Samael’s life and death. Whatever there is between me and him, you won’t threaten him with my life. Old man... don’t assume everyone betrays their own creed like you. If the forebears have spirit, they will not feel shame for you!”

At her taunt, the Old City Lord’s expression chilled. He snorted.

“If the forebears truly had spirit, they wouldn’t feel shame. They’d strike me dead with judgment. Pity for you, I’m still very much alive. And as long as I destroy the Golden Helm, what Atos rewards me with will far exceed what Apollo left for you!”

Seeing how far gone he was, Orion stopped talking to him. She turned to Constantine and shouted with everything she had:

“You must not hand him the Golden Helm!! That’s the only key my teacher and your big brother left that can save the sun! No matter what, you have to protect the Golden Helm... do you hear me! You’re the Red Flame Dragon King! You won’t be scared by this damned old bastard! Right?!”

She had long since set aside how her life might end; she knew saying it out loud would only pile more guilt and pressure onto Constantine. In a situation like this, the Golden Helm absolutely could not be surrendered.

And she was only a common daughter of the Blazing Sun. How could her life... weigh more than the sun’s rebirth? Orion trusted Constantine to understand her. For the Red Flame Dragon King, some things don’t need saying, do they.

Constantine watched in silence. Orion’s cries kept ringing in his ears.

“—Why don’t you understand what Orion means.”

She and her teacher were the kind to carry out their will and creed even at the cost of themselves.

Constantine trembled, his eyes complex. The Old City Lord narrowed his eyes at that shock of red hair. This man hadn’t moved for a long time—what was he waiting for...?

Before long, a Red Flame soldier hurried to Constantine’s side and whispered:

“Your Majesty, Her Highness Hefei, the Golden Helm, and the elders have been moved to safety. We don’t need to worry about our rear.”

At that, Constantine’s taut body loosened a fraction. He exhaled slowly and asked in a low voice:

“Confirmed they’ve been sent to the Silver Dragons?”

“Confirmed, Your Majesty.”

In this peril, Leon was the only one Constantine could trust. He didn’t know where that guy was this instant, but he had to plan for the case where everyone here was wiped out.

And letting Orion be sacrificed—without a doubt—was the only choice.

In this world, if even Leon couldn’t keep Hefei and the Golden Helm safe, then no one could.

“Confirmed, Your Majesty. We’ve had no eyewitness reports of King Leon and his consort,” the soldier replied.

Constantine shook his head.

“No matter. They always make it home. They’ll take care of Hefei...”

With that, Constantine raised a hand and pulled in the emotion spilling out. In this moment he was not A-Yan, nor Constantine, but..

The Red Flame Dragon King.

“All units, hear my order!”

Scorching fire boiled in his palm. For a heartbeat, Orion’s figure flashed across those deep red vertical pupils; then they filled again with ferocity and will to fight.

“Engage at full strength! To the death—no quarter!”

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