CHAPTER 108: ULTIMATE CHIMERA

0% Nemi, the goddess of earth, holds dominion over the land.

Her priests make soil bloom, but they also channel her rage. Wherever Nemi’s fury falls, crops shrivel and fields become dust.

Elysia, light goddess, outclasses Nemi in sheer power. Her followers bend pure light into blades and shields.

And what of Hillai? In battle, she holds no formidable abilities.

Before the order of the Three Goddesses was established, Hillai’s priests were sometimes persecuted by the followers of Nemi and Elysia. This forgotten Chapter of shame rarely sees the light.

Ordinary priests may not need to remember it, but an archbishop cannot afford such ignorance. A faith that forgets its past has no future.

“Nemi’s holy knights soar against gravity. They bend earth to vanish and reappear, overwhelming armies in a heartbeat.”

Archbishop Armata as he stared at the girl in the glass tank, her eyes sealed in calm slumber.

Holy knights are the weapons of the gods, forged with unwavering devotion by each order.

Lesser deities often lack the power to create saints or holy knights, relying solely on priests. True holy knights are rare because they are challenging to develop.

Though the Three Goddess Church claims to have hundreds—perhaps thousands—of holy knights, the reality is far different. Only a select few are true sacred knights.

A knight who merely channels divine power is no holy knight. The truth is hidden beneath layers of illusion.

What the people believe to be holy knights and what the Three Goddess Church considers holy knights are entirely different. True holy knights are the church’s ultimate military force—standing just one step below the Pope.

“Elysia’s holy knights forge weapons of pure light, wielding radiant swords and encasing themselves in armor woven from the very essence of illumination. And what do we have in comparison? Nothing. Our holy knights can do nothing but stand, even with their limbs severed.”

The priest, Elwin, listened in silence to the archbishop’s soliloquy. Each time the archbishop visited this research facility, unease clung to him. He would mutter to himself as if attempting to justify his actions.

“Near-immortal vitality is an impressive trait, but it merely turns one into a slow-dying target without strength to match. Such incidents were common in the church’s early days.”

The Hillai Church, now a respected order, had not always stood so high. There was a time when local lords and bandits alike harassed its priestesses with impunity.

In those days, the faithful grew desperate for power—the power to protect themselves. They searched for ways to claim what their goddess, Hillai, could neither grant nor possess.

“Has the adjustment to the ultimate chimera been completed? Or will it need further refinement?”

In the end, they found an answer.

The chimera.

A fusion of man and monster, beast and beast—sometimes even something beyond. They sought to merge disparate beings into a single form, extracting only the strengths of each.

Of course, if success were so simple, the Hillai Church would have already raised a chimera army and seized control of the world. Hillai would have ruled alone, the sole deity of the continent, rather than one among three.

But creation is never so easy. The process of making chimeras is one of constant crisis, a delicate balance between ambition and ruin. Somehow, through the mobilization of divine power, the Hillai Church continues to accomplish the biologically impossible.

“Reformulation is impossible. The damage to the body has already reached its limit.”

“So extending its lifespan is out of the question. What a shame.”

The archbishop sighed, his gaze fixed on the figure submerged in the holy water tank. Eyes closed, chest rising and falling with steady breaths—this was the ultimate chimera, the most remarkable creation yet, a masterpiece destined to remain unrivaled for all eternity.

But it was also the last.

There were no more viable subjects or bodies capable of withstanding the transformation. A dragon’s heart had never fallen into human hands, even in the age when dragons still roamed the land.

With their kind long gone, a dragon’s heart had become little more than a legend. And so, the girl before him was likely the only chimera ever to possess draconic properties.

“Our original goal was to create something surpassing even the Saint. While we achieved that, its lifespan is too short. What was the point if it can only exist submerged in the holy water tank without its body breaking down?”

“It’s already a miracle that humans created a chimera with such abilities. Stabilizing the body beyond that was beyond our capabilities,” Elwin muttered hesitantly, offering a feeble excuse.

It was a dragon’s heart, after all. When had she ever dealt with something so powerful?

No matter how valuable a treasure, without the knowledge to wield it, they had no choice but to resort to primitive methods. After acquiring the heart, the Hillai Church scoured the continent, gathering orphans to test for draconic aptitude.

Those who showed no potential were sent to orphanages. Those who did were brought here—to this hidden laboratory.

A laboratory built not within church territory but in Grandera—far from the prying eyes of the other two denominations.

This was the Free City of Grandera—a place where the world’s wealth and goods converged, where nothing was indeed out of reach. If you had money, you could obtain anything. That made it the perfect place to procure materials for experimentation.

“And after all that—after running a slave trade, after committing acts so vile even evil gods would approve—all we get is this? The cost-benefit ratio is absurd! The body will break down completely after just one or two uses.”

Experiments using criminals had all failed. Testing on orphans had led to nothing. No human could withstand even a fraction of the magic within a dragon’s heart, let alone the heart itself.

That was only natural.

The Hillai Church never understood that humans and dragons were fundamentally different beings.

All creatures, including monsters, descended from the primordial body. Even fusing those with shared ancestry led to tragic failures—short lifespans, bodies rotting while still alive, unstable forms collapsing at the slightest trigger.

“Elwin. Is this truly the best you can do? I gave you all the time and funding you demanded, and this is the result? We wanted an ultimate chimera, not a mayfly!”

“Dragons were beings beyond logic! We did everything we could—truly! But what can we do if the results simply aren’t there?”

Dragons weren’t just different—they were utterly alien. They did not descend from the primordial body. Their connection to humanity was so distant that, from a species perspective, humans were closer to pine trees than dragons.

Trying to create a chimera using the remains of such a creature was doomed to fail—over and over again. No amount of trial and error, no accumulation of knowledge, could bridge that impossible gap.

In truth, there wasn’t even precedent for a human-plant chimera. And compared to dragons, plants might as well be our closest relatives.

Dragons were extraterrestrial beings entirely detached from the logic of earthly creatures.

Unaware of this, the researchers continued their futile trials, accumulating failure after failure without ever understanding why.

There was nothing to be learned from these failures. Lacking the fundamental knowledge to identify the root cause, they are trapped in a hellish cycle. The ultimate chimera project even teetered on the brink of being scrapped.

What if we used those with dragon lineage as the base?

That single idea changed everything.

In truth, many had already speculated that individuals with dragon blood would possess the highest compatibility. But before, there had been other options—less costly, less desperate. Now, with so much time and resources sunk into a project with no results, there was no turning back.

Who among humans carried dragon blood? The Demon King Harmael? The imperial family?

If the Hillai Church had the power to capture and experiment on beings of such standing, they wouldn’t need an ultimate chimera in the first place. They would already have the continent under their rule.

It was precisely because they lacked such power that they resorted to these extreme measures—to create a force capable of surpassing Nemi and Elysia. They had no choice but to search elsewhere for viable candidates.

If dragon blood couldn’t be found among humans, why not among non-humans?

“If that half-elf hadn’t been able to contain the dragon lineage, we wouldn’t have gotten even this far. Isn’t it enough if it serves its purpose once at a crucial moment?”

There was no need to infiltrate Elvenhome to abduct an elf. Elves didn’t even consider half-elves their kin. To them, half-elves were nothing more than byproducts—the remnants of fleeting romance, the results of a pleasurable but meaningless night.

When they approached an elf rumored to have a dragon ancestor and offered a large sum, the mother handed over her child without hesitation.

She didn’t even ask where they were taking the child or why. That worked in the Hillai Church’s favor, but even they found it unsettling. The sheer indifference of the southern pointy-ears was enough to unnerve even the most zealous fanatics.

These elves gave no thought to the future—only to indulge in the present. Tired of child-rearing, the mother simply discarded the child as if it were an inconvenience. That child was deemed a suitable test subject and became the foundation for the ultimate chimera.

It might be the most powerful creature to walk the earth for three days. But after that? The body would collapse beyond repair. Even cutting open the chest wouldn’t allow them to salvage the dragon’s heart—it had already fused completely. When the body failed, the heart would disintegrate along with it.

When they realized that all their resources, years of effort, and even a dragon heart had resulted in nothing more than a three-day chimera, even the archbishop felt his heart sink.

To make matters worse, submerging it in the holy water tank didn’t mean it could be preserved indefinitely.

The girl floating in the tank had already begun to change. Horns protruded from her head. Wings, once mere stubs, had now fully extended. A tail had grown just above her waist. Cracks lined her body, running like fractures in fragile glass.

No matter how much divine power they poured into suppressing the instability, it was impossible to reconcile the two disparate beings they had forced together. If her body were already deteriorating within the holy water, unleashing her in battle would mean losing her almost instantly.

Yet if they let her languish here, she would die anyway.

The time had come.

“Awaken.”

The archbishop placed a hand on the glass tube, activating the restraints inscribed with divine power.

“A task has arisen that requires your intervention.”