Dragon's Awakening: The Duke's Son Is Changing The Plot

Chapter 68: Chapter 67 - The Reason.

Raven couldn’t understand what was going on.

Yes, he was elated about getting so many plot points.

Heck, he was jumping inwardly, but that didn’t mean he would just let it be.

[Plot Points: 29055.]

29055...

He was finally going past the 20k barrier.

But more than being happy, he was curious.

’Did these fuckers listening to my confession get me this many points?’ He wondered, staring at the four idiots, who were stabilizing themselves.

That thought lasted no more than a heartbeat.

’Nah. No way.’

There was no way these idiots could get him so many points at once.

Yes, when they improved, he received 5-10 points depending on the progress they were making, but that didn’t mean they could get him 10,000 points.

That was above their capabilities.

After all, they had a defined route they had to follow.

Even without Raven’s interference, they were supposed to grow into famous figures.

All he was doing was speeding up the process, and that was why he got so few points whenever he did something for them.

But then, his focus shifted to Clara, her hand on her sword—or belt.

’...is it because I proposed to her?’

He shook his head right after. ’No, that was also something that had already happened in the plot—’

His thoughts paused as something clicked.

"Save them for the wedding... Save them for the... Save them..."

Clara’s earlier words echoed in his head like a haunting melody.

’Fuck...’ He cursed, his eyes widening. ’It isn’t because of that, right?’

Not once did he think it could be related to Siris because he had already received the plot points for that.

When she was announced as a Vaise, he received 1200 plot points.

Yes, quite a few points compared to how much he had invested in it.

He had almost died under Gerax’s hands and used plot armor worth 4000 plot points.

Plot armor alone cost more than thrice the amount Siris gave.

So, at that time, he had raged a lot.

He had cursed his Fate Eyes, the goddess, and the system all night, calling them scammers.

After all, his Fate Eyes told him that Siris was an Indigo-ranked opportunity.

Because of that, he lost 4000 plot points. Now, he had a psycho girl walking around him, calling him husband.

’Fuck...’

He cursed again, recalling how miserable he had felt at that time.

But the problem still remained.

’Where did these plot points come from?’

Some would think Raven was wasting his time.

Just eat the pie, don’t ask for the recipe, right?

But what if he had the recipe? What if he knew where these plot points came from?

That would help him understand what things could give him more plot points.

Just then, something clicked in Raven’s head.

’Principal Gerax...’

That guy was still being interrogated in the Vaise family.

’Could it be that he gave some useful information? Or did Father already eliminate everyone behind this incident?’

If Argon had found out who was behind the experiment done on Siris—the one who made Siris—and killed them, then these many plot points would have been justified.

’Yeah. That must be it.’

He didn’t think the real culprit—the person from the Vaise family who supported this program—was caught.

That guy was too cautious to be caught in cases like those.

The alchemist who made Siris, however, wasn’t that hard to catch if they could find where he was.

Killing that alchemist would stop many of the future plots, so 10,000 points would be understandable.

’That must mean that Father—or someone else—has killed the alchemist.’

Now, he at least knew that villains could be killed by others.

Since his father could kill the person who was supposed to be killed by him, the protagonist, it means anyone could kill anyone as long as they had power.

That also meant that the protagonist wasn’t always necessary for the plot to progress.

His thoughts, however, were cut short as Clara, looking at the four idiots still standing in the lounge with an awkward expression, completely unsheathed her sword.

"Since you guys are still here," she stepped forward, casually flicking her wrist. "You must be as curious as I am to know how many pieces my sword can cut you all into."

When her words fell, the atmosphere shifted.

One could tell she wasn’t joking.

Jessy coughed, quickly getting up, half walking, half running towards the doorway.

Rufus made a choking noise, scared out of his wits before he saw Clara’s gaze stop on him.

’Fuck!’

He ran away.

Then there was Jake—

—No, wait.

He wasn’t there.

He had already vanished.

Alex? He was halfway out of the window.

Raven, however, just blinked.

’Damn,’ he sighed. ’She wasn’t kidding when she said she had to handle them for two years.’

After all, the way she controlled them wasn’t something anyone could do.

What he didn’t know, however, was that he still hadn’t found the right source of the plot points.

His guess was wrong.

The real reason for this sudden spike in the plot points was a crackhead of an old man living in the restricted forest near the capital city.

.............................

Deep in the Restricted Forest, not too far from the capital, an old man lay sprawled on the mossy ground like roadkill after a magical stampede.

It was Crisaius Von Vaise.

Formerly an apex predator of the battlefield, now looking dead.

Like, really dead.

His face was as pale as moonlight soaked in bleach.

His veins were dark and bulging like he’d tried to snort liquid mana.

His robes were torn, burned, and possibly held together by sheer stubbornness and regret.

But the most disturbing thing?

The man was grinning.

Even as black blood dripped out of the corner of his mouth like cursed maple syrup, his eyes glinted with maniacal joy.

"Finally!" He rasped, his voice crackling like a broken cauldron.

Then he broke into a fit of coughing so violent that a nearby tree spontaneously decayed out of sympathy.

More black blood spurted out of his mouth, but he wiped it away with his sleeve.

Or maybe it was already part of his sleeve. It was hard to tell anymore.

’YESSS...’

He howled internally, practically vibrating with excitement.

’I can feel it. I can feel it! My insides don’t feel like a battlefield after Spice Night anymore!’

He laughed again, this time with the exact energy of a villain in the third act who just unlocked a cursed transformation.

"HAHAHAHA—ow—HAHA—fuck—my lung."

He coughed again.

Then rolled over.

Then he rolled back because his spine popped weirdly.

But the grin didn’t vanish.

The technique Raven had given him—a profound body-purifying cultivation manual that even Crisaius didn’t even know the origin of—was actually working.

’Who the hell made that thing?! Who purifies poison by circulating it so fast that even the human heart can purify it?! It’s so complex yet so simple?!’

And it was working.

He had to flow the mana through every vein in his body, but he had to follow certain pathways, as any other pathway would take longer.

The difference between messing up the technique and doing it perfectly was less than a microsecond.

If you missed even one vein or took a longer path, delaying or speeding the process, this technique wouldn’t work as it should.

But Crisaius, who could perceive all this, never took a wrong step.

Yes, when he started mana circulation, it was excruciatingly painful.

After all, his mana had been poisoned and blocked.

For a long time, it hadn’t even been used.

However, as he continuously used the cultivation technique—the Soul-Kiln Purification Method—the mana poisoning that had plagued him for decades was burned away, cell by cell, like a fire cleaning out a festering wound.

Yes, he wasn’t completely healed.

There was no way he could purify 40-50 years of accumulated poison in a few days, but his brittle old limbs were regaining flexibility.

His mana circuits, long corroded, now sparked with new life.

His internal organs were no longer trying to unionize against him.

If this went on, he wouldn’t just be functional. He’d be dangerous again.

Like, "sneeze-and-collapse-a-mountain" dangerous.

’That damn brat...’ Crisaius grinned wider, his bloodstained teeth making him look like a retired cryptkeeper on mushrooms. ’He gave me back my warpath.’

He rolled over again—this time smoothly—and looked up at the moon.

"Just wait, Raven..." he chuckled, blood still dribbling down his chin.

"Once I’m all good, I’ll find you a nice great-grandma and teach you a few things about love along with her."

Then he passed out.

Face-first into a bush.

A rabbit cautiously hopped over, sniffed him, and collapsed over from mana toxicity.