Facing the Chromatic Dragon Queen’s fury and fighting spirit, which seed 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 teor, 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 ti, 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, sotis I really envy you. You should know that I am your destined nesis, the foe you cannot defeat. Yet still, you never give up, not until the next ti I kill you..."
At this point, a complex expression appeared in Bahamut’s eyes as he asked, "But now that we’ve co to another world, can we not have a different ending between us?"
These words completely enraged Tiamat—the Chromatic Dragon Queen, no, the forr Goddess of Chaos from sopotamia—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 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 sa Dragon Nest lineage can make forget all that and affectionately call you... brother?"
And this word, "brother," brought forth mories 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 sopotamia. Then ca the image of Father God Io, his face etched with extre pain and disappointnt, announcing her expulsion... All the beautiful past and kinship were consud 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 then?!"
Accompanying this hysterical roar, Tiamat’s five dragon heads—red, blue, green, black, and white—unleashed their corresponding Dragon Breaths: flas, 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 ... It wasn’t ... 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 tis throughout the endless cycles of reincarnation, but Tiamat never believed any of his explanations. In her eyes, any attempt he made to speak was rely another deceitful sche, 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 lifetis, 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 tal 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 deed ’naturally evil.’ Ultimately, in extre disappointnt, Io chose to exile her. Honestly, at the mont 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 mont, he sensed in her the sa profound sadness, Despair, and hatred Tiamat had displayed back in sopotamia 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 rely to fra 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 environnts compel them to use such thods to find even a sliver of ntal 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 mories of my past life... No, even without them, Vorre’s death would still have been inevitable. Everything would still repeat; Tiamat would still hate to the bone for it all... Damn these Scars of Ti! Why couldn’t my reincarnation point have been set earlier, back to that mont? Why couldn’t I have been allowed to find the real murderer and change this accursed destiny!?
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