CHAPTER 427: CHAPTER 258: HOW DARE YOU!

Facing the Chromatic Dragon Queen’s fury and fighting spirit, which seemed set to burn the world to ashes, Bahamut spread his wings. He shifted his position to avoid Tiamat’s attack—a pounce that fell like a meteor, powerful enough to split mountains and shatter stone. Looking up at this old friend, with whom he had an inseparable bond across two worlds, the god showed his true emotions for the first time, with no other beings to observe.

It was a weariness that defied description, and a sincere, heartfelt pity:

"Tiamat, even though you’ve changed shells, you’re always so zealous and stubborn. Honestly, sometimes I really envy you. You should know that I am your destined nemesis, the foe you cannot defeat. Yet still, you never give up, not until the next time I kill you..."

At this point, a complex expression appeared in Bahamut’s eyes as he asked, "But now that we’ve come to another world, can we not have a different ending between us?"

These words completely enraged Tiamat—the Chromatic Dragon Queen, no, the former Goddess of Chaos from Mesopotamia—who laughed bitterly, "Bahamut, or should I still call you Marduk? Are you begging for my forgiveness? How can I forgive you and all those who betrayed me and Apsu, those traitors who cruelly conspired to kill Kingu? Do you think that by changing your appearance, you can wash away the filthy bloodstains and original sin from your body? That being reborn into the same Dragon Nest lineage can make me forget all that and affectionately call you... brother?"

And this word, "brother," brought forth memories from Tiamat’s past. Though filled with conflict, these still ’beautiful’ recollections involuntarily surged from the depths of her mind. She had also once thought of casting aside everything from the past, embracing a new world and new life, embarking on a fresh start. But all these thoughts vanished. Their common elder brother, Vorre, fell in a pool of blood. The unavoidable battle between them broke out, revealing their past identities from Mesopotamia. Then came the image of Father God Io, his face etched with extreme pain and disappointment, announcing her expulsion... All the beautiful past and kinship were consumed by fire, reduced to ashes. Only the reignited, bone-deep hatred remained.

"Absolutely delusional! And what of Vorre? How would he, now dead, look upon me then?!"

Accompanying this hysterical roar, Tiamat’s five dragon heads—red, blue, green, black, and white—unleashed their corresponding Dragon Breaths: flames, lightning, poisonous fog, acid, and frost. Bahamut, as if anticipating every move, elegantly dodged each stream. The attacks flew past him, landing on the blood-soaked battlefield miles behind, pulverizing demons and devils who hadn’t managed to flee far enough.

It wasn’t me... It wasn’t me... How could I have cruelly killed my own brother for a sliver of divine power?

Bahamut, effortlessly dodging Tiamat’s lethal strikes, showed no joy or arrogance. All that remained was an even heavier sorrow and an expression that gradually grew cold, indifferent, and then icy.

He had explained such things countless times throughout the endless cycles of reincarnation, but Tiamat never believed any of his explanations. In her eyes, any attempt he made to speak was merely another deceitful scheme, full of hypocrisy, trying to manipulate her once more.

With his ’transmigrator identity’ long exposed, and Tiamat holding him accountable for the hatred of two lifetimes, he was utterly unable to defend himself. After all, the divine essence from Vorre, the very essence representing ’perfection,’ had indeed appeared within him. This was what made Bahamut the near-perfect Platinum Dragon God, the King of the North Wind, in the eyes of the Metal Dragons, even though he had never needed such perfection.

Yet, their father, Io, had chosen to believe him, directing suspicion instead toward Tiamat, who was deemed ’naturally evil.’ Ultimately, in extreme disappointment, Io chose to exile her. Honestly, at the moment Vorre lay slaughtered in a pool of blood, even one as wise as Bahamut had doubted Tiamat.

However, after their brief battle erupted, Bahamut instantly regretted his suspicion, realizing that he and Father Io had wronged her. In that moment, he sensed in her the same profound sadness, Despair, and hatred Tiamat had displayed back in Mesopotamia when she lost Apsu and then Kingu—emotions nearly identical. Such searing feelings could not be feigned.

Indeed. How could Tiamat, a being willing to unleash an apocalypse for her own desires and emotions, possibly kill one brother merely to frame another? Back then, neither he nor Tiamat had any inkling of the other’s past identity.

After all, disguising and hiding one’s identity as a transmigrator is instinctual for every such individual, regardless of the era or the world. This is the nature of intelligent beings. Unfamiliar environments compel them to use such methods to find even a sliver of mental security. Especially when their creator, their father, was a god.

So it seems... Is possessing wisdom from a past life truly a curse?

If only I had no memories of my past life... No, even without them, Vorre’s death would still have been inevitable. Everything would still repeat; Tiamat would still hate me to the bone for it all... Damn these Scars of Time! Why couldn’t my reincarnation point have been set earlier, back to that moment? Why couldn’t I have been allowed to find the real murderer and change this accursed destiny!?