Greg turned to Chris with a serious expression. “Chris, I don't know how to tell you this, but… your grand uncle might be retarded.”

Jo scowled at him. “He isn't retarded. He's-” She paused, before letting out a sigh. “He's arrogant. Uncle Pish's ability revolves around pressure, physical, mental, spiritual. The more he challenges himself, the more he thrives. He's used to finding himself in impossible situations and beating them anyway. The more pressure he's under, the more he improves. To him, a trap isn't an obstacle, it's an opportunity.”

“Is that so?” Greg muttered, frowning slightly, before shaking his head. “Still seems pretty stupid to me. He couldn't have known where that portal would lead. Chris could have just been sending him somewhere far away to get him out of the way.”

Jo grimaced. “I didn't say it was smart, I said it was due to arrogance, not a lack of intelligence. Think of the things you do on a regular basis due to your confidence in your abilities.”

Greg paused. “Huh… good point.”

“Okay, let's get back to the kingdom.” Victoria interjected. “How are we handling this? Are we trying to make Chris King or are we just letting the Elves deal with it themselves?”

Chris paused, before turning to the cultivators. “What do you guys think?”

They froze. “Us?” Net'jala asked hesitantly.

“Sure. You're Elves, aren't you? Would you rather have a new King forced upon you or try to cobble something together on your own?” Chris elaborated.

Net'jala gave him a baffled look. “Isn't- Isn't becoming King the whole reason you're here?”

Chris shook his head. “No. I have very little interest in being King. Too many issues that could be solved just by having everyone move into my world. I'd rather take your kingdom than rule it.”

“You don't want to be King?” Net'jala repeated incredulously, unable to comprehend Chris's disinterest.

Chris frowned at him. “That's what I just said, yes.”

Net'jala groaned, covering his face with his hands, before erupting in frustration. “I'm sorry, but what!?! You people blow in here, cause chaos, are somehow involved in the death of the King, and now- now you just aren't interested!?! What the fuck!?! In less than an hour, you destabilized our entire kingdom! Take some fucking responsibility!”

Chris blinked at him. “So you do want me to be King. Good to know.”

“No- I- you- urgh!” Net'jala stammered before letting out an aggravated growl, body tensing as he barely restrained the urge to lash out at Chris. “I want you to take this seriously!” Net'jala insisted. “You have claimed the Blood Bow. By law, you are the King, because without the Blood Bow, we are doomed. We'd be crushed by the Doppelganger Behemoths, or the Orcs’ Champion, or the Dwarven Destroyer. We rely on the deterrent of the Blood Bow to keep our lands safe. Which means that as long as you own the Blood Bow, you own our kingdom, no matter how anyone feels about it, you included.” Net'jala finished in a deadly serious tone.

Chris cocked his head. “But can't I just promise to protect you, and let someone else be King?”

Jo sighed. “No one would go against the owner of the Blood Bow. Even if you aren't King officially, any ruler would be beholden to you to maintain their power. It'd be the same as you being King yourself, just with extra steps. If you don't want to rule, that's fine, you can appoint people to rule in your stead, but as long as you hold the Blood Bow, you are King, whether you call yourself one or not.”

Chris clicked his tongue. “Damn. Fine, who wants to actually be in charge then? You?” He pointed at Net'jala.

Net'jala went pale, backing away. “If I accept any political position I will die.” He quickly explained. “It's the same for all cultivators.”

Chris turned to Zin'yesa, who's eyes widened. “How about you then?”

“Chris, you can't pick the leader of a country based on who's in the room!” Victoria snapped.

“I absolutely can.” Chris retorted. “But… I suppose I agree that I shouldn't. Very well, I suppose I'll put the effort into finding someone competent.”

“Oh, Ver'varia is pretty competent!” Greg offered. “Plus, she really wanted to be involved in all this, and we're already pretty much done… making her a pseudo-Queen should be a pretty good apology, right?”

“Ah yes, the best apology. A position with no status and a bunch of responsibility.” Victoria rolled her eyes.

Greg paused. “So not Ver'varia then?”

“No, she's definitely a candidate. I'm just saying it isn't exactly something she'll be happy about.” Victoria shook her head.

“I was just thinking of grabbing an adviser from the Palace, but I suppose loyalty is a fairly important factor as well.” Chris muttered. “Who else would be good?”

Jo coughed. “Hello? I'm standing right here.”

Chris frowned at her. “Do you want to rule?”

“I would at least like to be considered!” Jo exclaimed. “I'm literally Elven royalty! I was trained for this position!”

“So was Jer'tunal, and look how that turned out.” Andrew commented.

“To be fair, the issue wasn't his competence, it was his tyranny.” Victoria pointed out. “The fact that the kingdom hasn't fallen apart despite everything he did to piss people off implies he was actually rather brilliant.”

“He was.” Jo muttered, the reminder of Jer'tunal’s fate sending a throb through her chest.

“Brutal, but effective.” Net'jala added with a hint of respect.

“A great trait. In a general.” Victoria sighed. “In a king, it stifles progress.”

Chris shook his head, turning back to Jo. “Again, do you want to rule? I agree you'd be a very effective ruler, but I didn't think you'd be interested.”

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Jo grimaced. “I- I want to help my people. If I need to rule to do that, I will.”

Chris considered that for a moment. “What if I let you be in charge of choosing who rules? The fact is I have very little knowledge of what ruling a kingdom requires and not much interest in figuring it out. However, as you said, you were raised for it. Wouldn't you be the best judge of whether someone would be a competent ruler or not?”

Jo paused. “And if I can't find anyone I approve of… I'll be the ruler?”

Chris shrugged. “If you like.”

Jo thought about it for a moment, before nodding in agreement. “Very well, I accept. I'll find a capable ruler, or take the position myself.”

“Great. Now let's get the Palace fixed up and let the kingdom know it's under new management.” Chris announced. It was so easy to make a mess. Not so much to clean it up. He turned to Zin'yesa. “We should probably start with the guards.”

*

Ru'alta, the capital of the Elven Kingdom, was oddly silent as the sun rose high in the sky. The morning had begun with a strange creature flying over the city as the guards struggled to shoot it down, before a darkness emerged from it and covered the Palace. The people had watched it warily for a while, until the Royal Bodyguard had emerged carrying the King. The darkness had surged after him, covering him and the cultivators that had joined him, only for the Bodyguard to fall out of the sky a few moments later, without the King! The darkness had dispersed as the cultivators flew back to the Palace, followed by the angry Bodyguard moments later, all of them disappearing into the Palace, leaving the populace lost and confused.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, runners emerged from the Palace, carrying messages to the various officials in charge of dispersing the King's decrees to the people. Everyone gathered in the city squares, waiting anxiously for the news. Criers stepped onto their small stages and read out the message from the Palace. “King Jer'tunal has died! He has been succeeded by his nephew, son of the lost princess Jo'vuntulla, King Christopher Joseph Vincent! If- if you have a problem with that, please- tear this scroll?” None of the people were quite sure what to make of that last statement, but they weren't the only ones to be sent scrolls, though the nobles would receive theirs at a later date.

“Is that it?” Someone asked one of the criers, echoing the confusion of everyone who heard the declaration.

The crier turned the scroll over. “That- that's all that was written.”

“Should we rip it?” A man asked, before letting out a yelp as his wife smacked him.

“If you want to commit suicide go jump in the river, don't bring the wrath of the King down on the rest of us!” She snapped.

No one else felt brave enough to risk offending the new King, and the crowd slowly dispersed, the people gradually getting back to work. After all, no matter the chaos of the morning or the suddenness of the King's replacement, they all still needed to eat.

*

A pale mist shredded through Greg, the droplets acting like tiny razors as they ripped through his body until all that was left was a light pink haze. Then, in an instant, the haze turned to smoke, reforming Greg's body. “See? Unkillable.” Greg chuckled as the Dragon looked down at him.

“Impressive.” The Dragon agreed. “That ability of yours would strike terror in the hearts of many small ones.” They grinned. “At least in that regard, you are a proper Dragon.”

Greg snorted. “That's what being a Dragon is all about? Bullying everyone weaker than you?”

The Dragon huffed. “We do not bully! We merely instill the proper respect in those who seem so insistent on forgetting their place. Otherwise the creatures would throw themselves at us over and over again, hoping to claim the bounty that is our bodies. Using our blood to craft their elixirs, our scales for armor, our bones for weapons, and treating our meat as some sort of delicacy! No, it is best to keep them fully aware that a Dragon is the last thing you would wish to anger.” They finished with a growl.

Greg paused, thinking about how Dragons were portrayed in almost every form of media he'd consumed, as the ultimate monster, the most dangerous, and most valuable creature to hunt, despite the fact that they were almost always portrayed as highly intelligent as well. “Huh… wow, that is pretty fucked up. I kinda get why you guys would be pissed.”

The Dragon rolled their eyes. “Do you get pissed when an insect bites you?”

Greg cocked his head. “Kinda?”

The Dragon coughed. “Hm, more, do you blame the insect for biting you? Of course not. It is simply the nature of insects to bite, and it is the nature of small ones to be greedy, to rely on tricks over the purity of strength, and to ignore the proper order that strength dictates if not regularly reminded of it.”

“Starting to feel a little insulted over here.” Greg muttered.

The Dragon rumbled in amusement. “You have more Dragon in you than small one. If it was not so, you would have used that ability of yours to tear me apart, rather than put me back together.”

Greg shook his head. “Nah, I think you're just suffering from some sample bias. The good people have no interest in your bodies, so they have no reason to seek you out, meaning you never interact with them. All you get are the assholes. Of course, by that same measure, the only Dragons they interact with are the ones who actually do want to bully them, which makes them think all Dragons are assholes, leading them to fight any Dragon they see. And so it goes until both sides think the other is the problem, when really, it's just the few assholes that exist in every group doing what assholes do. Just what tends to happen when two groups have no reason to interact other than to fight.”

The Dragon blinked. “So… it isn't that the small ones lack respect, it's that only the small ones that lack respect seek us out?”

“Exactly!” Greg nodded, giving them a thumbs up. “At least, it was. Now it's the fact that in order to become a leader in their society, the Damir need to kill one of you solo. But they only did that because the Dragons that lacked respect sought them out. I'm tellin’ ya, it's a vicious cycle that gets even good people doing awful things.” He sighed, shaking his head.

“Then… what is the solution?” The Dragon asked, cocking their head.

“Talking, mostly.” Greg shrugged. “The problem is that neither side understands the other, so the solution is to create an understanding. Also, when the assholes on your side break that understanding, you don't complain when the other side gives them what's coming to them. Better yet, you punish them yourselves.”

“And if an understanding is impossible?” The Dragon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Separate entirely.” Greg sighed. “If there's no room for positive interaction, then ensure no interaction can occur. Then, in the future, after tensions have died down, maybe you can meet back up and try again.”

“What an interesting idea.” The Dragon muttered. “I'll have to pass it along to the Lord. See if it is something she is interested in pursuing.”

“Your lord is a woman?” Greg asked curiously.

The Dragon chuckled. “Of course. It is rare for a male to survive long enough to even become a Dragon, let alone reach the level of strength required to become Lord.”

Greg paused. “Then… are you a woman?”

“Indeed.” The Dragon nodded.

Greg frowned. “Wait… am I a woman?!?”

The Dragon raised an eyebrow. “Did you not know?”

“No, I- the Dragon I got my form from wasn't exactly in a position to answer questions and my knowledge of Dragon anatomy caps out at big lizard with wi-” Greg grumbled, cutting off as the Dragon's paw flashed out, squishing him instantly.

“Do not call us lizards!” She growled.

“Sorry, sorry.” Greg apologized. “Guess that'd be like calling humans a bunch of hairless apes for you, huh?”

The Dragon grunted in acknowledgement. “How did you gain your form?”

“I came across a sword forged with a small amount of Dragon bone. I analyzed it, copied the DNA, and boom, Dragon form.” Greg explained. “Technically I could turn into you too, since I got your DNA during our spar, but… that'd probably be a bit awkward.”

“Agreed.” The Dragon muttered. “Then… in your natural form, you're male?”

“You can't tell?” Greg asked, surprised.

The Dragon snored. “My knowledge of small one anatomy is limited to hairless bipeds.” She smirked.

“Ha! Fair.” Greg chuckled. “But yeah, I'm a dude.”

“How peculiar.” The Dragon hummed thoughtfully. “Do you have a name?”

“I'm Greg.” Greg introduced himself, grinning slightly. “You?”

“Laikiana.” The Dragon replied. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Greg. Shall we begin your aerial combat training?”

Greg sighed. “This is going to hurt, isn't it?”

Laikiana smiled. “All the best things do.”