Taking the Mafia to the Magic World - Chapter 1112

Chapter 1112: The Chosen Successor

Sitting upon his throne, Vicente observed the clash unfolding before him. The towering manifestations of light and darkness surged against the ice dragon, attacking with relentless fury.

The figure of light raised its golden arrow, pulsing with divine brilliance, while waves of pulsating shadows emanated from the figure of darkness, crashing into Kong’s colossal form like an unrelenting tide. Kong, a dragon the size of a mountain, endured these attacks, his ancient, frost-covered body coated in sharp, jagged ice that shimmered against the contrasting powers that sought to destroy him.

Above the peak of the frozen mountain, the atmosphere seemed to groan and buckle under the immense pressure of opposing forces. The freezing air, thick with the power of Kong and the icy minions he commanded, rolled like an arctic storm. But faced with Vicente’s summoned forces, the frost-laden storm faltered. Spirals of darkness cut through the frigid winds, while bursts of light from the golden arrow burned away the freezing haze, tilting the balance of the battlefield.

Vicente sat, stoic and unmoving, his gaze fixed on the scene before him. He paid little mind to the freezing air or the countless ice-born attackers rushing toward him. His focus was singular: Kong. The dragon’s movements, sluggish under the relentless waves of dark energy, betrayed his condition. The golden arrow, floating ominously above Kong’s form, appeared to mark the dragon’s downfall.

As Kong’s legion of icy minions, controlled by the dragon’s maddened mind, advanced toward the throne, the golden arrow of light reached its apex and fell. The light-imbued arrow descended with a radiant velocity, piercing the center of Kong’s head with devastating force. The resulting explosion of power sent a shockwave rippling outward. The very fabric of space around the mountain trembled violently, distorting briefly as the balance of power shifted. It was a power so raw and absolute that even Kong’s mountainous body seemed to recoil from the attack.

The pulse of light and darkness, born from the collision of Vicente’s forces and the dragon’s immense power, reverberated across the battlefield. It struck not only Kong but also his minions—creatures of ice and frost that had followed Kong’s command without question. The pulse burned through them like divine judgment, ’frying’ their physical forms and dispersing the mental energy that bound them to their master. The icy constructs shattered, their crystalline forms collapsing into lifeless heaps, leaving only fragments of frost behind.

But the aftermath was more striking than just the loss of Kong’s servants. The once-glimmering peak of the icy mountain, cloaked in pristine white, began to dull and lose its brilliance. The bright, reflective sheen of the frost turned opaque, then darkened as if the mountain itself had been tainted. The air, previously dense with Kong’s icy domain, grew thinner as the currents from the swirling mist pulled Kong’s strongest minions toward the ground. The mist seemed sentient, folding in on itself, swallowing what remained of the dragon’s servants.

Vicente didn’t spare another glance at the annihilated minions. He already knew there were no survivors. Instead, he kept his steely gaze fixed on his adversary.

In the quiet that followed the near-complete obliteration of Kong’s forces, doubts flickered briefly at the edge of Vicente’s mind. For a moment, his conscience questioned the necessity of slaughtering all of the dragon’s underlings. He hadn’t come to this icy peak intending to commit wholesale extermination. Nor was his goal to deliver a harsh lesson to a being like Kong.

Yet, as his gaze lingered on the colossal dragon, he remembered the bond he had sensed between Kong and his minions—not camaraderie, but domination. He recognized the slave-master relationship, intertwined with control, subjugation, and servitude. These creatures had been little more than extensions of Kong’s will, incapable of free choice.

In the end, Vicente allowed the thought to pass. Mercy had no place in this confrontation.

Finally, with Kong standing as the lone opponent before him, Vicente raised a single hand, stretching it outward as though reaching for something in the air. The golden energy from the arrow still embedded in Kong’s head shimmered and twisted, reshaping itself into thick, glowing chains. The chains expanded outward, radiating holy light as they coiled around Kong’s massive body, tightening with unyielding force.



Simultaneously, the icy ground of the foggy battlefield started glowing, pulsing with dark energy. From below, several blackened metal tethers emerged, their edges jagged and cruel, wrapping themselves around Kong’s legs and tail, restraining the dragon further.

Ensnared by both chains of light and the spectral tethers of darkness, Kong’s enraged thrashing slowed, the weight of the restraints rendering his movements ineffective.

A black hand from the figure of darkness stretched out against Kong, growing so large that the beast’s enormous body seemed insignificant in comparison. The hand’s shadowy tendrils curled and twisted, exuding an aura of inescapable doom.

Part of the golden chains and mechanisms surrounding Kong froze under the dragon’s desperate struggle, but even so, the immense creature couldn’t easily escape Vicente’s grip. The dragon’s once-mighty roars of defiance were now tinged with a hint of desperation.

"You’ve suffered a lot, Kong," Vicente commented in a mournful tone, shaking his head as he closed his eyes, feeling a pang of sympathy for the tormented dragon. "It’s time for you to move on. Let me in. I’ll make you a new version of yourself."

Kong continued to tremble, his massive form straining against the bonds that held him. Yet, he couldn’t help but see Vicente standing out in the encroaching darkness, like a beacon of light at the end of a long, dark tunnel, offering salvation.

The helping hand Vicente extended reminded Kong of everything he had lost, witnessed, and sacrificed. The memories flooded back, overwhelming him. Tears, long frozen in his heart, melted, streaming down his ancient face.

Meanwhile, Vicente penetrated Kong’s psyche, using his electromagnetic abilities amplified by the Throne of Darkness. The connection was deep and immediate, linking Vicente entirely to the dragon’s tortured existence.

It didn’t take long for Vicente to understand the depths of Kong’s hatred and instability. He was plunged into the dragon’s memories, witnessing the tragic end of the dragon race in Anicane.

Kong’s memory preserved the tale of how the dragons, who had come from the Polaris Realm and settled in Anicane, had united and struggled for millennia. They sought a way to reconnect with their distant companions, to bridge the gap between the 10,000 worlds and Anicane. Just as they were on the verge of discovering the method to solve this problem, Transcendents from Argardus appeared, shattering their hopes and dreams.

Vicente found himself amid a battlefield littered with the remains of dragons and other beings. The ground was soaked with the blood of countless beings, the air thick with the stench of death and decay. His infernal crown trembled on his head, resonating with the deep-seated anguish and suffering that permeated the area.

’This...’ Even Vicente, an experienced harbinger of death, felt a shiver of discomfort at the sheer scale of the slaughter. The negativity and residual power from the fallen were almost palpable, a testament to the ferocity of the battle that had taken place.

’Transcendents died here...’ he thought, his eyes scanning the ruined field. The familiar aura of a powerful presence lingered, one that he had encountered before. ’I see. He died here.’

Vicente remembered his experiences with the Dragon Tribe, recalling the powerful artifact he had obtained from an ancestor of the race who had long since left their plane and come to Anicane.

The realization was sobering, but it didn’t shake him as deeply as it had Kong. Vicente hadn’t lived through such a harrowing experience, nor did he share the same profound connection with the dragons. He understood the gravity of the situation, but his bond with the fallen was not as deep.

Looking at Kong again, Vicente saw the pervasive negativity of the horrendous environment seeping into not only Kong but several other surviving beings within the memory.

Near where Kong was crawling, the bodies of three other dragons—two females and one male—lay still and lifeless under Kong’s regretful, sad, and desolate gaze.

’Those were his companions...’ Vicente sighed inwardly, feeling a pang of regret once again.

A single memory could never fully encapsulate the complexity of Kong’s soul. Yet, this past event was one of the most critical moments for the ice dragon. Many events had led Kong to his current state, but this battle weighed heavily on him, shaping his path in profound ways.

Vicente then witnessed the True Celestials departing, ensuring that none who truly mattered would survive the day. Their departure left a haunting silence in their wake.

"Kong, go!" Shouted an old monkey, lying next to the corpse of a red dragon, his voice strained with the last remnants of his strength.

Kong turned his gaze towards his tribe’s mortally wounded ally, who was not far from him. But he hesitated, his heart torn between duty and grief.



"Go! You must hide and guard what happened here today. One day, you will contribute!" Urged the brown-furred monkey, about four meters tall. "The Celestial King is dead. He will never return. But this reality will not forget him. One day, a destined successor will appear!"

The few survivors near Kong and the monkey paused their suffering, turning their gazes towards the old monkey, their expressions a mix of shock and sorrow.

"Hold on! Elder, are you serious? Is the Celestial King gone for good?! Never to return?!" A frightened voice asked, breaking the heavy silence.

Vicente frowned, not fully understanding the context of the situation. However, he set aside his doubts and continued to observe Kong’s memory intently.

"The Celestial King is long gone! Our only hope is his destined successor!" Declared the monkey, his aura weakening, but his voice growing stronger, filled with an unyielding conviction.

With a last surge of strength, the monkey raised one of his hands into the air and condensed the last of his magical power. "Companions, fight to become Transcendents. When the chosen one emerges, it will be time for our revenge!"

A golden figure formed from the monkey’s fingertips, drawing all of his life force and magical power. The figure glowed with an ethereal light, taking the shape of a winged, human-like entity. It shone brilliantly for a few moments before starting to dissipate.

Gulp!

Vicente felt a chill run through his entire being, his eyes widening as he found himself back in his own body, seated on the throne in front of the paralyzed dragon suspended in mid-air.

Unlike earlier, when he had been calm and confident, Vicente now wore a shocked expression, his mouth slightly agape. The memory he had just witnessed was overwhelming, its implications staggering.

He couldn’t help but compare the figure of that chosen one with someone from his own memories.

’Senior...’