5 The Saint's Belated Protector

"A perfect match," Owen muttered under his breath, feeling an overwhelming aura emanating from the figure above. 

"So, the fearsome wings in the prophecy belonged to the angel race's envoy!"

With no saint appearing from the angel race in three hundred years, they hadn't attended the ceremony, hence their late arrival. 

In the original course of the future, Owen would have faced ridicule but nothing more. 

Now, having altered the future's path and embarrassed Roger, he found himself in the crosshairs of the angel race, one of the top ten advanced races.

By bullying a saint of the angel race, Owen could only imagine his fate – 

Possibly being disintegrated by the representative's arcanergy, vanishing into this world's air as if he never existed. 

But he refused to accept this destiny.

"Activate prophecy," Owen silently commanded. 

His only chance at turning the tables, even against such a formidable opponent, was not to be relinquished.

The system's cold voice responded: [Prophecy cooldown not yet complete. Cooldown time: 3 days. Upgrade to reduce cooldown.]

A grim smile formed on Owen's face, the system's timing almost mocking. 

Such a crucial detail, and it was omitted until now? 

He understood, though; the power of prophecy was formidable, and without limits, it could foresee decades into the future.

"Is this the end for me?" he wondered.

The angel race's representative descended, his visage as immaculate as a moonlit snowflake, unblemished and pure. 

Dressed in a white robe with solemn, magnificent wings, these feathers – white and gold – shimmered brilliantly around him, like a vast constellation in the night sky. 

His usually warm eyes now blazed with anger.

"Who dares bully a saint of my race?" he demanded.

Seeing the representative of the angel race, Roger immediately stood up, a stark contrast to his previous submissive demeanor: "It's him, him!" 

He pointed at Owen, his face twisted with malice.

The angel race's representative, Walter, looked at Roger with a smile, "Saint, I am Walter of the angel race."

"Now, I will show this insolent boy the power of our angel race's arcana — the Sacred Ray."

"Under our arcana, be it demons or abyssal creatures, all shall perish!"

Other races witnessing Walter's move, using an arcana of the angel race, remarked among themselves:

"The angel race even sent Walter for their saint. They truly value him."

"Is it necessary to use an arcana against a mere child? It's almost laughable."

"This is also about establishing authority. Walter is making a statement for us to see. Such a pity for the kid."

"Damn, no one can really rein in the angel race. They've been arrogant for centuries."

"Nowadays in Novalia, isn't it just the angel race dominating?"

"That's because the ancient dragons are lying low. Otherwise, would the angel race dare to be so arrogant?"

"..."

Walter's hand glowed brilliantly, the surrounding space dimming under the light. 

Roger's eyes widened with excitement, "Yes, yes, let this scoundrel's blood wash away the humiliation I just suffered!"

"As you wish, esteemed saint," Walter responded.

The Sacred Ray transformed into a beam of light, unobstructedly hurtling towards Owen. 

Owen's lips moved, trying to defend himself, then a resigned smile appeared on his face.

In isekai, without a "spirit," you have no rights. 

Such a cruel world.

"Is this the end?" 

Owen didn't attempt to dodge, his eyes filled with reluctance. 

As seconds passed, he only heard a hissing sound but felt no pain. 

Opening his eyes, he saw a formidable figure blocking the ray. 

The Sacred Ray hit him but caused no harm!

Owen's eyes narrowed, murmuring in surprise, "When did this person appear before me?"

"The angel race sure has grown bold, daring to act up in front of me, the Saint of the Dragons," the figure spoke as the ray ceased.

Owen, startled again, blurted out, "What... Saint of the Dragons? Me?"

Turning around, Owen finally saw the face of the dragons' representative. 

His features were sharp and profound, with piercing eyes that held an eerie blue hue, exuding both icy coldness and ruthlessness.

His tall, muscular physique seemed designed for unbeatable prowess on the battlefield. 

His slightly bronze skin glowed faintly, radiating a sense of mystery and antiquity. 

A strong scent of blood lingered around him, as if he had recently been in combat.

"Saint, your subordinate Barlo has arrived late," he kneeled on one knee, his expression respectful yet fervent.

Barlo's kneeling sent shockwaves through the crowd. 

Everyone surged towards Owen, even the representatives of the various races abandoned their own saints to approach. 

Even the white-haired elder, disregarding the ceremony, hastened towards Owen.

Suddenly, Owen and Barlo were encircled.

"What? He's the Saint of the Dragons?"

"The dragons haven't had a saint for twelve hundred years... And now the Saint of the Dragons appears?"

"Oh no, did he hear what I just said?"

"By the gods, his 'spirit' was so strong that it couldn't be sensed."

"I must ensure our saint builds a good rapport with him later."

"..."

Walter's mouth twitched slightly, his pupils filled with fear. 

He stepped back, his voice trembling, "Barlo, there has been a misunderstanding."

Barlo didn't respond to him, instead, he asked with a smile, "Is the saint still angry with me? I apologize for being late. If so, I am willing to accept punishment."

Owen shook his head slightly, responding calmly, "Stand up."

"Thank you, saint," Barlo said, rising to stand behind Owen, his posture straight like a guard.

Walter's eyes flickered, and he bowed slightly, "Saint of the Dragons, what happened earlier... was just a joke. I hope you can forgive my foolishness. I truly realize my mistake."

Roger was completely stunned. 

He had clearly seen Walter's earlier arrogance, but now, in front of Barlo, he was as meek as a bug.

Owen's eyes shifted slightly as he asked in a low voice, "What can I do?"

Barlo, with a smile and a glint of blue in his eyes, replied, "As the Saint of the Dragons, you can do whatever you wish here."

Owen's expression suddenly turned icy, his eyes burning with tangible rage, transforming his earlier fear into a blazing fury. 

Pointing at Walter, he commanded, "Kill him!"

Barlo's smile widened slightly, his crimson tongue flicking across his lips, "As you wish."

The moment Owen's command was issued, Walter, without hesitation, grabbed Roger and soared into the sky, not even contemplating a fight with Barlo.

Other races thought the dragons had become dormant over the years, with no members emerging. 

Only Walter knew the truth: the dragons were simply not expanding their territory, but there were still many dragon members born, searching for opportunities in various places. 

Barlo was one of them.

As an ice dragon, he should have been cold and calm, but instead, he was belligerent and bloodthirsty, completely defying the nature of his bloodline. 

A madman, powerful to the point of despair!

Barlo's body shimmered with silvery-white scales, shooting out like an arrow. 

Almost becoming a streak of light, he instantly entangled with Walter in the air.

Meanwhile, Walter unleashed the holy light deep within him, his body radiating immense holy power.

The battle was so fierce it tore through the air, spanning from the sky to the ground, creating a magnificent spectacle of combat.

In just ten seconds, Barlo returned before Owen. 

His mouth was stained with golden blood, and the blue light in his eyes was chillingly bright. 

He held Walter by his wing, which was dripping blood, and in his other hand, he grasped a pale-faced, terrified Roger, reeking of fear.

Only now did the golden droplets of blood begin to hit the ground, creating a mottled pattern. 

Walter's lifeless body fell to the ground with a dull thud.

Owen's eyes sparkled with excitement, the scent of blood causing a surge of adrenaline. 

He relished this feeling; he was the chosen one of this land! 

The carnage awakened every cell in his body.

"Saint, what should be done with him?"