Greg practically fled the Damir caverns, smoke billowing as he transformed into a Dragon and let out a long, thundering roar that echoed off the mountains, heralding his presence to the world. He honestly couldn't fathom what had compelled him to volunteer to initiate relations with the Damir. He should have just waited for the others! As things stood, all he could do was talk, talk, talk, which if the talks were interesting, maybe he could get behind, but it was just the same thing over and over! The Damir had some kind of benevolent overlord complex going on, where they viewed their kidnapping and control of humanity as some sort of charity, helping uplift the humans beyond their ‘base nature’. No matter how much he told them it had to stop, they just kept bitching! It was almost worse than if they had been outright using humanity. If the Damir were just being assholes, Greg could have just fought them. That would have been fun. But no! The Damir were actually trying to be good, they just had their heads stuck so far up their asses they couldn't tell their ideas from shit anymore!
Greg shook his head, putting the Damir out of his mind as he flapped his wings to gain height, refocusing on his reason for coming out here: to fight a Dragon! Aaand probably get his ass kicked. Greg chuckled as he drifted lazily through the mountains. He wasn't under any illusion that he could actually beat a Dragon, unless it was a particularly young or weak one. Dragons were feared for their physical prowess, but when you really thought about it, their abilities and age were their more terrifying aspects, both of which Greg lacked. Abilities multiplied their power up to a hundred times, which was bad enough, but then there was the matter of the centuries of combat experience the Dragons had as they'd grown from weak, insignificant kobolds and into, well, Dragons. Greg almost shuddered at the idea of a Dragon cultivator existing somewhere out there.
“Hey!” A shout/roar interrupted Greg's thoughts as he drifted around the next mountain, looking down to see one of the giant lizards glaring up at him. “What are you doing in my territory!?!”
“Rour reriro- rhart ra ruk?” Greg frowned as his lips failed to form a reply. Wasn't the language trait supposed to fix that? He quickly opened up his system to make sure he actually had the trait in this World, and… yeah, there it was. So why- Greg blinked as he read the description. It allowed him to understand and be understood, but it didn't say everything he said would be understandable. If he didn't know how to talk in a form, the trait wouldn't change that, it just meant that when he did know how to talk, the trait would translate for him. “Rell riht.” Greg sighed, smoke shifting around him as he turned back to his human form, landing in front of the surprised looking Dragon in a cloud of smoke. “Yo! Sorry, don't know how to talk in Dragon form. Lizard lips can't really do English, you know? Anyway, wanna fight?”
The Dragon blinked down at him. “A small one with a Dragon form? How… interesting. Are you sure you wish to test my might?”
“Oh, absolutely.” Greg chuckled. “You would not believe the shit I've had to deal with these past few days. I need to release some steam!”
The Dragon chuffed in amusement. “At least you have the spirit of a Dragon to go with that form. Very well, let us compete in glorious combat!” The Dragon roared, bursting into the air with a mighty beat of their wings.
Greg cackled as he flew up as well, transforming in the air to chase after them. The Dragon swooped upwards, twirling in the air and coming down hard on Greg's back the moment he got close, sending him tumbling downwards. He'd barely recovered when the Dragon clipped his wing, sending him spinning into the side of a mountain. Greg coughed awkwardly as he turned back to human form. “I don't think I'm up for aerial combat. Maybe we could brawl in a nearby valley?”
The Dragon snorted. “Dragons are the Lords of the Sky! If you cannot fight in the air, then maybe you shouldn't even have a Dragon form, hm?”
“Hey, give me a break here! This is literally my second time using this form, and the first time I just batted around some Elf cultivator for a bit.” Greg protested. “What, do you expect fledglings to automatically become experts the moment they grow their wings?”
The Dragon grunted. “Whelps should learn fighting other whelps, not expect their elders to make concessions for their weakness.”
“Hey, I'm specifically here not to kill anyone.” Greg retorted. “You think a whelp could handle fighting a full-grown Dragon, no matter how bad they are at aerial combat?” He paused, before muttering to himself. “Though, I suppose I could grab a whelp form…”
The Dragon huffed, landing nearby. “Very well, we can scramble about on the ground like savages. But if you wish to fight like a Dragon, you better learn to do it in the air.”
“Sure.” Greg agreed. “You willing to teach me?”
The Dragon gave him an amused look. “Let's see how you survive the ground first.”
Greg grinned, transforming again and charging at the Dragon, tackling them and sending both of them tumbling down the slope in a chaotic scramble of claws and teeth, wings and tails batting at each other. They hit a particularly large rock and the two tumbled apart, landing across from each other in a small valley. Greg frowned slightly at the various wounds covering the Dragon, nothing major but there were a few pretty decent gashes. His frown deepened as the Dragon almost looked excited by all of it, letting out a roar as they charged at him. Greg tried to be a bit more careful as they continued to fight, not wanting to get lost in it and end up killing the Dragon by accident.
The Dragon pulled back in frustration, snapping their jaws at him. “Fight! I am not some whelp you need to coddle!”
Greg growled, frustrated himself. He wanted to let loose, not pull his punches! But the Dragon didn't heal- Greg paused, an idea occurring to him. If wounds were a problem, then why not fix the wounds as he caused them? Could he do that? Greg brought some smoke to his claws, swiping at the Dragon, willing it into the wounds and setting it to healing. Greg grinned as he watched the wounds knit closed, renewing his assault with a fervor that the Dragon readily returned.
The two battled like that for a good hour or so until the Dragon finally collapsed in exhaustion, letting out a satisfied groan. “I haven't fought like that in ages.” They purred, before pausing and sighing. “I'll need to find a good cave to recover in.”
“Recover from what?” Greg asked with a grin, stretching slightly as he returned to human form. “You seem perfectly healthy to me.”
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“I- what?” The Dragon blinked, actually taking the time to examine themselves, eyes widening. “How- you- I felt- How!?!”
Greg snickered, waving some smoke at the Dragon. “I used my smoke to heal you while we fought. Didn't you notice that I wasn't getting injured either?”
The Dragon cocked their head. “Transformation abilities generally come with some level of healing… yours can affect others?”
“Transformation is sort of a… side effect of my ability.” Greg explained. “I control this smoke which allows me to… manipulate matter, and I'm matter, so I can manipulate me. You happen to also be matter, so…”
“You can manipulate me.” The Dragon frowned.
Greg shrugged. “If I can get my smoke in you. Usually takes some effort when someone has too much energy, but I guess wounds give me an in?” He paused. “Might be something to take advantage of. But not here!” He quickly explained as the Dragon's expression hardened. “I just didn't want to worry about either of us accidentally dying.”
The Dragon evaluated him for a moment, before letting out a snort. “Whatever. It was a good fight.”
Greg grinned. “Indeed it was. Want to go again tomorrow? Maybe add in some aerial training?”
The Dragon grinned back. “I could be convinced to entertain such an idea… if you keep healing me like this.”
“Of course.” Greg agreed. “Oh, and thank you for not using your ability.”
The Dragon scoffed. “You need your ability just to keep up. Bringing my ability to bear would turn this into an execution, not a fight.”
Greg nodded. “No argument here. Well, kinda on the execution part, since I can't actually die, but still, not much I could do to resist.”
“Can't die?” The Dragon asked skeptically.
“Yup, totally immortal.” Greg winked. “Insane healing, several different bodies scattered around, no need for food, water, air… yeah, I just exist, and there's nothing anyone can do about it.”
The Dragon narrowed their eyes. “I have the inexplicable urge to test this. Thoroughly.”
“I get that.” Greg muttered seriously. “You wanna? Not like I have anywhere to be.”
The Dragon paused, before nodding. “Yes. Yes I do.”
*
“So, how are we doing this?” Greg asked as the four of them flew towards the capital of the Elven Kingdom in a private jet.
“Well subtly is out.” Victoria grumbled.
“You said show of force.” Chris shrugged. “This is show of force.”
“You just wanted to use your private jet.” Andrew rolled his eyes.
“That too.” Chris agreed, rubbing his temple slightly. Getting the plane out of his world had given him a bit of a headache. Thankfully it was mostly empty space, or he might not have been able to do it at all.
Victoria sighed. “We should at least try and hide Chris's involvement as much as possible. We haven't tested Jer'tunal’s defenses, so there's no guarantee we can actually take him out, at least not quickly, and if he has time to give orders, Chris's involvement could get an army sent after the City. We should probably look like anything other than humans while we're at it.”
“Should we just take Jer'tunal out?” Andrew asked hesitantly. “I mean, clearly he can't be king anymore, but is killing him the best option?”
“If he lives, the oaths he's forced everyone to take will make anything else we do meaningless.” Victoria pointed out.
“What if we just toss him in Chris's world?” Andrew retorted. “As long as he can't interact with anyone who's taken an oath, he can't cause any problems, right?”
“The level of isolation we'd have to enforce to make sure he'd never be able to influence anyone who took an oath would arguably be worse than death. It wouldn't just be isolating him from the oath-takers, but also from anyone who could potentially inform the oath-takers of his will. In fact, just the knowledge that Jer'tunal is still alive could be a problem. Part of the vow is to be ‘agents of his will’ which if he was trapped, would obviously be to free him, or at least punish those who have captured him. The oaths really do make it so he has to die. By tying them up so tightly, he made it the only option.” Chris explained.
Andrew grimaced, before letting out a sigh. “I just- I don't know, this seems so impersonal. We've never met Jer'tunal, all we know of him is second hand, and we're just going to kill him? Not give him any chance to defend himself?”
“Dude, this was your idea.” Greg pointed out. “You wanted us to be more proactive, and now you want us to hold off? Make up your damn mind, man!”
Andrew scowled. “I meant we need to do something, not that we necessarily need to kill the guy! To stop circling the issue and just go for it, not take a man's life without even seeing who he is!”
“Is the state of the kingdom not enough proof of who he is?” Victoria replied. “The fact that he's creating what essentially amounts to a slave army to storm the City? What he's done to the crafters? To his own family?”
Andrew hesitated. “There could be- what if it isn't him, but like, a corrupt advisor or something? People acting in his name, but not him?”
Victoria paused. “I suppose that isn't impossible, though I'd say it's unlikely… The oaths are too specific to Jer'tunal. But I guess if we could isolate him and let me go through his mind a bit, it wouldn't be a terrible idea.”
Andrew nodded. “That's all I'm asking.”
Greg sighed. “So no C-4?”
“No C-4.” Victoria rolled her eyes.
*
“What is that?” Net'jala asked, squinting at the… creature? flying towards the center of the kingdom.
“Some kind of bird?” Ha'palo suggested.
“Big bird.” Bin'kenta muttered.
“Should we do something about it?” Ha'palo asked.
“I'm not sure we can.” Net'jala's expression twisted. “That thing is moving fast.”
“I can try and hit it from here?” Ha'palo offered.
Net'jala considered it for a moment, before nodding. “Do it. I don't know what that thing is, but strange things flying rapidly into our kingdom can't be good.”
Ha'palo nodded, taking aim at the strange creature before releasing a thick beam of energy, piercing through the sky and hitting it directly in the head. Ha'palo let out a triumphant grunt, pumping his fist, before freezing as the damage just… disappeared. “What-” He tried again, shooting out another beam. Then another. And another. “How-” His eyes widened as he remembered feeling a very similar level of frustration rather recently. “It's them! It's- It's the people who took Bar'rintla!”
“Are you sure?” Net'jala asked seriously.
“I'm positive! No one else is capable of shrugging off my attacks like that! We need-” Ha'palo cut off, hesitating. “We- how- how do we deal with people we can't even harm?”
“We need to get closer.” Va'ishta replied. “I can't sense energy from this distance.”
Net'jala nodded. “Then let's go. We can't catch it, but we can at least keep up. Hopefully enough to stop them from doing… whatever it is they're going to do.”