Scrubia’s long hair stood on end and curled in the air transforming into a pair of wings. She agilely flew over the fence and into the unguarded graveyard. Then, she slowly landed in front of the largest headstone, clutching it with her wings. Scrubia opened the coffin of the dragonslayer.
In just a year, Scrubia had already mastered flying and could now soar effortlessly. At the beginning of her journey, she still relied on her admirers in the face of difficulties. However, the journey soon grew so dangerous that she could rely on on one but herself. With those wings above her head she managed to escape from many crises. As long as her hair was long and thick enough, she could even spread a pair of wings with a wingspan even larger than her body, allowing her to remove boulders much bigger than her.
“Give me some hints, please! Even the smallest hint will do!”
The body of Beowulf was lying inside the coffin. It had been preserved from decomposition by Idun’s power though she could not save his life. Looking at his peaceful face, sensation of dragon soul crossed her mind. Her heart was beating so hard it felt as if it was being hit by a hammer. As Scrubia stroked his rough face with her fingers, his memories emptied into her. Since Beowulf had once been soaked by the Primordial Dragon’s blood, a message could be sent to Scrubia by the dragon through his body— cursed by Demons, the dead body of Primordial Dragon was exploited as an evil weapon. But after the war, the unfortunate dragon was imprisoned by Humans in a tall tower. Before she came to herself, her wings had already brought his body in front of her.
“Dragon soul, can you revive this man if I avenge you?”
The soul did not answer, yet its power had already been channeled into Beowulf through Scrubia. The proud warrior of yore once again opened his eyes, wielding his weapons in vengeance.