Drael leaned on the ground as he willed a chess board with ice magic, the pieces slowly forming from the humidity in the air. Not needing that much focus, he kept his gaze on the human, who was lazily breathing out smoke. He had had no reason to refuse, and it would be a good way to try and probe into his opponent. He himself had admitted to being a bad person, but he smelt not like one.

“I see you weren’t kidding about your hoard.” Surprise and adoration exuded from his indifferent form as he looked sideways to the masterfully evocated pieces as if he didn’t mean that compliment.

“I am a white after all. Ice is my domain.” Drawl could but growl out. He didn’t get this one. He was a bad person? Then what did that made him? But he was clad in the bitter smell of regret. Scents don’t lie after all. Nevertheless, he had rescued his sister, a thing he had failed to achieve.

“Seems like it. Mine’s betting.” Another puff of smoke. Well disguised annoyance seeped into his tone as the scent of regret fluctuated, growing a bit stronger. “Do you wanna make one?”

“Depends on the consequences that pertain to it.” He heavily breathed out, creating a small white cloud on purpose, trying to push his doubts away. He was a dragon after all, and tradition commanded him to win. ”As you are the challenger, you shall have the first turn.”

“Let’s say…” Thug moved the seventh pawn, a piece as big as his hand, two steps ahead. “If this round lasts less than nine movements, you owe me one.”

Another white cloud. His growl heated up. “Are you saying that you will best me in eight moves?” Drawl looked suspiciously at the pawn, a waste of a movement that didn’t free any high end pieces.

“You heard me. And, please, do be swift. I want to hit the sack or, well, the stone ground.”

Drawl held in the urge to scare the mortal in front of him by breathing ice, barely, but managed to. Cold blood started to rush in, heating itself with the instinctual tremble of his muscles, as he focused on the match. He would not let this humiliating statement go unanswered. He didn’t even care about gaining a favour. The pawn in front of the king advancing one square by itself, “So be it. I accept the bet.”

Thug snorted, radiating a weird smell. ‘Satisfaction?’ “Well, don’t come back regretting the offer. There are no take backs.” Thug proceeded to move the left knight two squares forward and one to the right side, blocking the movement of his third pawn.

Debating if it was a trap or not, he decided to charge right into it, moving his King to the square at the right of Thug’s first moved piece. He still found the game very strange even after playing a few rounds with Ruf. Still, he had learned some tricks. “A dragon never goes back on their word.”

“Glad to hear.” Fearlessly, Thug moved his left knight again, two squares forward and one to the left, putting in range of two black pawns.

Grael didn’t see the danger of that last movement. His force magic grabbed the paladin. Tilting his head, he moved the piece until it was just at the right side of the recently moved knight.

Thug remained calm, moving the pawn behind the knight and putting in danger the paladin.

Drael, as if not believing his eyes, ate the pawn to the right and up of Thug’s queen, causing a checkmate.

“I won!” Roared Grael as he raised to the standing position of dragonkin. Weirdly enough, his loudness caused no discomfort to the sleeping dragon. A few seconds later he realised what he had done and returned, too quick to maintain his decorum, to the ground.

“Yes?” Thug raised an eyebrow. “You won the game and I won the bet.”

That caused Drael to cool down his excitement. Realising he had caught himself up too much in managing to use Ruf’s tactic, he readjusted his position. “What are you saying? Wasn’t the bet about you winning in less than ten moves?”

“Oh, Drael, the Snowbringer. I fear you have misheard me.” A smirk broke his confident facade of before. “I said ‘if this round lasts less than nine movements’, didn’t I? I never included something about me winning or losing.”

“That…that is…” Drael seemed to disinflate as he started to stutter in a too low mumble.

Thug started to think. “A question, Drael. What is the age gap between you two?”

That brought Drael back into an area of expertise he knew about. Rising again, he spoke in a firm and proud tone. “I am older by degree of seven mortal years!”

“And how old is Hare?”

Drael tilted his head. “Has she not told you? She will be making her fourth winter.”

‘So I have taken advantage of a kid?’ Feeling a bit dirty, Thug shook his head. “Now I know, at least.” Shame was added to the weird mix Drael was sniffing.

That uncomfortableness was dispelled rather quickly as Drael imitated his gesture, his gaze returning to its previous hostility. “...not only are you a dangerous person. My sister doesn’t trust you fully and you dare to play me for a fool and expect, what? Me bending to your whims?” Thug fought the panic that tried to turn him around and run as Grael’s fangs got near again. “But I am a dragon of my word. Speak, mortal. After you have done so you will leave this place. Alone.” Growled Grael. His underhandedness had convinced him. He did not know if he was making the right call, nor if he was capable of being a good tutor. Nevertheless, he knew Thug wouldn’t be.

Thug raised a hand, conciliatory. “Before we rush to that. What would you consider to be your most vulnerable time of the day?”

“Is that the boon you ask for?”

Thug continued on without answering. “Because I have come to fear that it will be at night. And we are currently, well, at night.”

“What are you trying to…”

Interrupting him, the sound of several explosions far away reverberated in the hoard chamber, causing a dangerously loud rumble that caused some rocks to fall from the roof. “...and seeing as Hare keeps sleeping, your slumber is deep.” Ended Thug in a neutral tone.

Drael turned his attention to the half a dozen tunnels that led to exits. The explosions have come from their ends. The only tunnel that was intact was the central one, from where Thug and Hare had entered from. Breathing in, he charged his aerial sacs with new air, getting ready to fight. His claws teared into the stone below, a reflex of both fear and excitement, as his fight or flight response kicked in.

“I am cashing in that favour you owe me.”

“Now’s not the tim…!” Altered, Drael started.

“I demand you to pick Hare up and run. You will only weigh me down.”

Half a gulp of breath escaped Grael’s mouth, causing the right shoulder of Thug to be showered with ice.

“Now.” Before Greal could bite Thug’s head off, he added. “They hunt dragons, not humans. And I fear they have extensively prepared for you.”

“I will also fight!” Roared Grael.

As if to mock his words, the cavern trembled again, rocks the size of Thug’s head falling from the roof as growing cracks mirrored his roar. Grael defended his wings by glueing them to his sides, some stone crashing and breaking as they hit his back. ‘Would the cavern resist my rampage?’

Fear winning against both pride and anger, he looked at Thug, not knowing what to do.

“Can you dig us out?”

The new idea shone hope into Drael. Hope that was transformed into panic as another reverberation made itself known. Retreating towards Hare and grabbing her with his mouth, he jumped head first into a wall, revealing a hole five metres above ground hidden by the dispelled illusion.

Thug nodded towards the hole, as his hands touched, for reassurance, his last dagger and the new and strange flintlock pistol. Closing his eyes, he focused on his hearing. Soon enough, between all the rumbling and pained screams of the mountain, he heard steel boots far in the tunnel at his back. ‘I have grown mighty tired of you, man.’. Knowing he had a few minutes, he lighted another cigar as he walked towards the middle of the room, not minding the falling dust.

……………..

“It has not been one of your best works.” Commander Ires chastised her mages. Her tone cold as ice.

“We had only a week to prepare! We had to cut the time of the probing and that caused us to slightly miscalculate the amount of explosives to use…Still, the retreats are completely cut off!” The mage crouched as the second rumble shook the mountain.

“The mountain seems a bit unstable.” Ires sighed. Patting the recently repaired area of her armour. She started to walk towards the tunnel.

“Wa…Commander, wait! It is dangerous!” Not wanting to kill his commander even if it cost him his pay, he started. “I will take full responsibility! So, please, stop the…”

“I accept. If the mountain falls on me I will take your head. Keep the patrols up.” Not minding them, Ires entered the cave system.

…..

Stepping out of the tunnel, Ires saw a ruined hoard room. Dozens of objects made with painstakingly quality laid, broken and shattered, in a rubble filled room. On the back to the right, a retreat tunnel that had already been cut down. The only light source, apart from her’s, was a torch in the middle of the chamber.

“We have to stop meeting like this, knight. I feel bad for not knowing your name yet.” Spoke Thug, resting his back on a decently sized piece of rubble, a hand already in his dagger, but not yet unsheathed, the other free.

Ires stopped, the runes of her full body armour shining a bit less than normal. “Why?”

Thug took another whiff of his cigar before grabbing it. “Why what? Well, I do not think the best way of getting to kno…”

“Why are you here?”

Thug laughed a bit. “You trying to be diplomatic, now?”

“I have read your diary. I know who and what you are.” Revealed, shamelessly, Ires, her tone poisoned. She had learned all she needed. She would barrel through all her previous defeats and change them for an overwhelming victory. There was no retreat. There would be a fight without tricks. Her eyes using her helmet, she started to scan for magic in the chamber, using the conversation as a shield.

“And what of it?” Iching for combat, Thug throwed the half spent cigar to the ground. The chamber didn’t look that stable and, while that armour may resist, his wouldn’t.

“You are a murderous bastard. An egoistic person that tried to be good only to get in the pants of a farmer girl. You do not even care about what’s at the stake here. You are defending man eater monsters. Not that you weren’t one before. Always abusing your lineage. How many people were buried at your words?” No enemies here, only way back, trying to dig their way out. A one versus one.

“I think you are somewhat confused. I am defending two children too young to even know right from wrong from being murdered for their ancestors' crimes.” Thug’s voice grew weaker amongst the somewhat more calmed rumbling. “I am defending a girl annoyingly curious about everything and a boy too immersed in his craft. Their lives are in no way connected to mine crimes.”

“And why are you defending them?”

Thug shrugged. “I do not see any of those legendary ‘good people’ here besides me, do I?”

Ires hand stealthily approaching her greatsword, sheathed in his waist this time, retorted. “A mithril coin.”

“We are past the hiring phase, man.” Thug hid his right hand into his coat.

Ires smirked. “Do you think you can redeem yourself by saving these lives? The damage you have done will never disappear! Your beloved Irania must be weeping in her unmarked grave!”

To her surprise, Thug nodded instead of growing angrier. “Damn right you are. But that is that and this is this. I am going to save Hare’s life. And add her brother to the sack while I am at it. Not to try to earn something I know I do not deserve. But because it is the right thing to do, and the thing I oughta be doing.”

“And w…”

Not waiting for her reply, Thug rushed in. Waiting until he was at striking distance, Ires started to unsheathe her greatsword, only to be stopped by a loud but small explosion. A dice was rolled. Even. A bullet crashed against his right gauntlet, cancelling her strike. ‘A flintlock pistol?’ Leisurely meditated Ires as Thug rushed by her left. Turning around, she felt a strike in the back of her knee, making her fall to a kneeling position. Rising swiftly, she morphed her unsheathing motion into a cleave around her, causing Thug to jump backwards. Before she could follow up, Thug shot again. Even. The bullet once again hit her hands, now only slowing her strike, giving Thug enough time to dive at her right side. Thinking quickly, she turned around, letting her weapon lag behind. A stab and a kick followed each other in quick succession. Her armour grunted as the dagger stabbed into it, the enchantments barely enough to stop the metal from breaking. The metal cried, as the magic also added to the tension the iron had to support.

Thug did have no magic, being flung a few metres as the kick connected with his stomach. Rolling over some rubble, causing painful cuts, he used the inertia to jump to a standing position. Thanks to it, he managed to slide with his dagger the stab of the charging Ires, causing the greatsword to pass by his left side. Taking the opportunity, he stabbed the right side again as he dodged a punch to his head by crouching. His now lower position baited Ires into a downwards strike. As Ires moved the sword to the shoulder level with frightening speed, Thug smirked. The third dice was rolled. Even.

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Another shot. Another hit to her hands. Another strike halted. Ires had little time to react before Thug rushed in and stabbed her right side. The dagger, after having worn down the badly repaired flank, finally found flesh, stabbing guard deep into her side.

“Argh!!” Screamed Ires, unused to the pain, as she backed away, slashing madly with her greatsword to try and gain some ground.

“One in eight!” Roared, laughing, Thug, despite his pain. Nethers, he had lost good coin with way better odds.

The runes in her armour going off and on, as if they were unstable, were reflected in the mad look of Thug. ‘Too brittle even for a hazardous repair…Could that metalw…’. She had little time to think, as Thug raised his prototype and aimed at her face. She shielded with her greatsword, costing her her vision. Adding to her confusion, the bullet never arrived. What came was a kick to her weakened hold from the ground, disarming her and knocking her weapon out of reach.

Once the dust settled, she found in front of her the gun, aimed at her head and almost touching her helmet.

“W…”

Not giving her a chance, Thug pulled the trigger. The last dice was thrown. Odd. The explosion that followed was way bigger than before. The gun turned into shrapnel that tore both Thug’s right hand and Ires’ helmet, breaking a part of it and finally dispelling the enchantments, which shone in a radiant light that gave way to nothingness. While Ires seemed to collapse onto the ground, Thug backed away, grabbing his destroyed right hand. “Nethers!! It hurts!!” He screamed.

Copying him, the mountain roared too. It didn’t stop. Chunks and pieces falling from everywhere, the thunderous crashes added to his panic. Not having enough time to secure the kill, and not even having looked to Ires once since the malfunction, Thug rushed to the hole that Grael had retreated to.

“They had to make it for dragons’ use!” Cursed out loud, the ineffective try to fight the chaos around him, not that he managed to hear himself under the stone rain.

His right hand being almost useless, he started to climb as fast as he could. Thanks to the accumulated rubble, he managed to rise halfway to the opening. Digging his feet into the wall, he prayed so that no rock fell on him as he fought against gravity. His right hand grasping the floor of the tunnel after an arduous climb, he started to pull himself with grit and blood, not even daring to think about the possibility of slipping in his own blood on the last step. A hand clad in a gauntlet grabbed his healthy hand, pulling him down.

Thug looked to the ground in a panic.

“Always secure the kill!” Ires, with a gruesome wound in his right cheek visible thanks to the side of the helmet that had broken away, had copied his usual smirk. This one, though, had the self accomplishment of knowing that it would be a draw.

Nonetheless, what Ires hadn’t taken into account was that her face was the copy of Irania’s. Thug didn’t register her words, not his situation. Fueled by the fear of losing his wife again, the fear of dying in this subterranean tomb and the sheer defiance of the will of the Gods, he pulled. He pulled with his healthy hand as his bloodied one did its best to support his efforts. He pulled with almost inhuman strength, the one that only comes when you have to save another. His two broken ribs cried in pain. His left shoulder was dislocated by the effort. His right hand gushed out blood. His badly positioned feet suffered under the combined weight. And yet, he managed. As if a turning point had been crossed, he forced their two bodies to climb the last step, inertia causing him to roughly land as he turned. And just in time, for the hoard chamber collapsed under the thousands of tons of overhead mountain.

The pain of his broken ribs stabbing his insides made him keep rolling, saving him from a falling stone. What was not saved was Ires’ right leg, being crushed by the very same thing. Her body, not resisting the pain, caused her to fall unconscious, or it seemed.

“Irania!” Thug screamed, as he crawled, before getting up, back to her, despite the still falling chunks. Crouching before her, he started to panic. A stabbed dagger. A broken leg. A wounded face. She would survive. Having reassured himself, he soon realised the knight was not his wife. The form of the cheeks was different. The nose was bigger. Weakly shaking his head to dispel the last fragments of the illusion, he got up. A wave of nausea hitting him, he started to sway in his feet as the pain started to kick in. All the adrenaline had been expended. While Ires would survive if she got help in a forgiving time set, Thug couldn’t say the same.

A fit of coughing bloodied his left hand. ‘Wasted my luck in that one in eight chance, huh.’. Needing the support, he collided against the wall and started the long trek towards the tunnel. His blurry vision did the best it could in the lightly light tunnel. He didn’t have the will left to wonder why he could see anything but complete darkness. Seconds gave way to days in his mind. Neither did he hear the sounds of moving rocks.

“...oming here?” The sound of blood flow was a barrier to the words. Falling to the ground, his last conscious thoughts were ‘At least I saved Irania…How have I missed her…’.

Grael, smelling the blood, turned backwards towards the endless turns of the tunnel. “Wait a second sister. Let me b…”

But if one dragon could smell it…“Thug!!!”

……………

“Get to healing him.” Growled Drael to the panicked Hare. Not bothering to see if his orders were being followed he roared, trying to push out the fear that was gripping him. He had never wanted to understand why his mother had forsaken him. But today, with enemies at the gates, he was too scared to even flee correctly. And he faced himself, his cowardly self. Worst of all, he wasn’t alone. His cowardice would consign his own sister to death together with the human who had done his best to save them. Nevertheless, the blood inside him demanded blood and, for once, he wasn’t repulsed by the feeling. He needed that primal drive to survive. He tried to submerge himself in it.

His scales toughening up, he charged head first towards the badly cleared exit, flying all the weak stone chucks that had been piled on it. Outside, half a dozen mercenaries, cladded in leather armour, welcomed him with a volley of bolts shot from crossbows. Enchanted as they were his barrier magic, outside of his area of expertise, did little to nothing. The six bolts embedded themselves in his chest. Roaring, now in pain, time slowed down again. ‘If I run now, I can get back to crafting. I will have a future.’ A voice whispered. He only had to extend his wings and jump. His speed was one of the things he was proud of.

Instead, he jumped to the right of the exit. With a quick movement of his neck, he mauled the nearest mercenary. Two types of red twisted his eyesight as the blood bathed his head. A tail strike impaled another, causing a gaping hole in their chest. Three volts flew, one robbing him of his left eye, the other two nailing his right leg.

‘“I have not a name.”

“You look like a Jacob. Prove me you are one with the next shield, brat.”’

Having already prepared a breath, his freezing wave of air coursed too fast for the unfortunate soul that got caught on it, turning them into ice in the action of recharging his crossbolt. ‘Weren't here another three?’. A hammer strike onto his right wing, which cracked the frail bone inside, answered his question. His tail coiled and struck, hitting the men with the poisoned body of his fallen comrade and throwing both away. The scream of the hammer user as he melted was the soundtrack of the charge of the last two men. His legs fought against the stone as he backed, claws digging into the rock. The taste of blood in his mouth had brought nausea to him, causing his vision to falter and double. Not knowing what weapon of the four he should stop, he threw caution to the wind, jumping forward and, as he collided against the humans, impaling himself against those. Hearing their bones crack and their bodies splatter as his chest crushed them against the ground made his stomach turn, his mouth tasting of bile.

Breathing heavily, pain almost causing him to black out, he jumped a few times to the tunnel. He had to close his eyes, not wanting to see the carnage.

“...ther! Brother!!” The voice of his sister brought him back. Looking to his side, he saw her jumping and taking flight while struggling to hold Thug in his fangs. Following swiftly, he soon followed, flying below her. Noticing her unevenness, he let her land on his back. His blood raining, he remembered to heal his wounds as he did his best to control his damaged wing, trying not to look at the bone that was coming out of his limb and threatening to plummet him to the ground.

………..

“Commander!” Screamed analyst Marc as he dived into the rubble.

“Calm down, se…cond in command. It is just a stab wound.” Muttered Ires, pain evident in her voice. She had not had the respite of falling into slumber, as she had awakened a few seconds after the rock hit her leg. If her opponent could play dirty, she would respond in kind.

“Your armour is in tatters…Elenia’s piety…your leg.” Marc had to gulp down his vomit when he finally freed her leg. Biting his teeth, he raised her, letting her lean on his shoulder. “At least you are alive. We lost six of our own.”

“Did…you hunt the dragon? Or, at least, the human?” Not being able to walk, Ires almost fell as she tried to make a steep forward, despite the support of Marc. He didn’t react, too surprised by her callous words as she interrupted him, not noticing the regretful undertone. Ires didn’t want to hear that her new defeat had come with casualties from her company.

“We were unabl…”

“I see.” Remembering her pouch, she grabbed a healing potion and waited for her leg to start working again. “I will call for a meeting of the company. We will need to orchestrate a new plan.” Her hand touched her left check. ‘Another scar.’

“Captain…” Started Marc as they walked towards the exit. After a few seconds, “What if we return to focus on the true danger? Izdral, while injured, is still a great danger.”

“...” Ires didn’t know what to answer. Her guts screamed against that order. Her mind, on the other hand, had been trying to persuade her. Was she being too prideful in her pursuit of revenge? Was it the only thing that mattered, not the lives that they could save?

Immersed in her thoughts, she didn’t realise that, as the moonlight started to illuminate the tunnel they were traversing, no sounds from outside entered the tunnel. Marc, too busy thinking about a way to convince his captain, missed the claimed mana in the air. Only when the exit was in plain view did they realise the anomaly. An angelic woman, dressed plainly, stood smirking outside. Her white hair and blue reptilian eyes were unmistakable and, before Marc could stop, Ires rushed in, intending to plummet her to the ground.

Crossing to the outside broke the barrier, and a cacophony of wailings and the flow of blood welcomed her. A few of her men still had the strength to lightly scream, not that they would survive for much longer. Stopping in her tracks, she analysed the surrounding area, quickly regretting it. As if this was her judgement, all of her personnel that had participated in this operation laid a few metres above the ground, impaled in spears of beautiful pink ice. An ever more gruesome realisation hit her. They were placed in a semicircle surrounding the exit, leaving empty the centre, as if testifying against her folly.

“ You were a woman?” The alluring and sweet voice, akin to a siren, contrasted with the building sourness in her mouth. “Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against it.”

“Monster…” Growled Ires, as her feet started to gather strength.

Izdral did a gesture as if to invite her to attack, only for the sound of Marc being dragged on the floor to reach her eyes. Turning around, Ires watched as a flying ice claw pulled Marc with a dangerous velocity towards the caster, causing dozens of lacerations. A few seconds later he was raised at the right side of Izdral.

“And you are a fool.” Izdral smiled over confidently, arrogance evident in her tone. “Did you think I would die from an injury that small? And not even reinforcing your pursuit, you rush after, what, two of my useless offspring? You gifted me three weeks of preparation on a silver plate, mortal. The best thing out of it all, is that you have the audacity to act surprised!”

Ires’ blood left her face, “But…how? That hit should ha…”

“You forget what I am. You subestimate me.” Izdral hissed, the ice claw digging into Marc, who did his best to hold in his screams. “I am your better. I control reality. You give me weaknesses I do not have.” Her smile had disappeared.

Hating herself for waiting so long, Ires jumped to action, diving head first into her enemy. Before her right fist connected, the left hand of Izdral grabbed her face, raising her into the air and throwing her at her feet, causing a human sized dent in the ground.

“Gah!” Reeling at her injuries, the stab having reopened, he coughed blood. That didn’t spare her, for Izdral proceeded to step, hard, onto her back.

“That I was forced to retreat from you is a stain in my honour.” Izdral grabbed her helmet. The iron screamed and cried in its useless struggle to maintain its form, soon breaking apart and revealing Ires head.

Izdral sighed. This had been no challenge. No sport. A meagre amount of enjoyment. “Expelling your sister from my home was way more exciting.” She mumbled evilly, long enough for Ires to hear.

“...what?”

“Oh. Didn’t you know? Your father had a second daughter.” Another smirk as the claw cut Marc in half, having gotten bored of him. “With me.” The splat of Marc’s body against the ground was the prelude to her laughter. “While you were suffering, alone, your father was living with me. Enjoying his life. Should I tell you what things he l…”

Izdral screamed, as Ires had picked a rock and hit her leg with it, trying to do as much harm as she could. Izdral stepped on her again, hearing something crack. Her eyes focused on her prisoner, excitement building up. But the fight she itched for was not possible. Ires was already defeated, gasping for air and unable to move her legs, slowly mixing her blood in the pond of Marc’s insides.

“You are not worth a quick end.” Spat Izdral. Turning around, her body cracked as it enlarged, returning to her usual dragon form. She didn’t hesitate to just rise into the air, leaving her defeated opponent behind. ‘She will come back…That will be a worthwhile fight.’ That thought did little to dispel the strange satisfaction she felt as she rained dust on the human bodies, her ice spears finishing her opponents. ‘Fourth fought way better than I expected. And Fifth has gotten better at magic. Should I rescind their banishment?’

Fighting to reach her pouch with her broken half, Ires struggled to grab the healing potion in silence, taking so much time that Izdral had long left. The pain of her broken back made her black out after drinking it.

…

The first light of the day woke a groggy and extremely thirsty Ires, who was resting in a pound of dried blood and flesh infested with flies. Raising with the desperation only her memories warranted, she rushed, crawling, to Marc. Seeing the guts of her second in command made her throw up in the ground, adding to the messy soil. ‘“...what if we give up on the chase?”’

Ires fell on her back, her body screaming at her to back away from the talking corpse. Her mind knew better, guiding her gaze to her new second in command, eyes eaten. ‘“A week? Her mother took us…This is madness!”’ And continued to the bodies of the mages she had talked to yesterday. ‘“I will take full responsibility! Please, stop the operation!”’. Each and every single voice of the forty five members he had taken with her started to accuse her. Transforming that quilt into madness, her gauntlets tore into the dirt she was grovelling one.

‘I will end you, monster…With everything I have at my disposition.’

……….

“..hug! Thug!.” He growled, starting to awaken. ‘Is it the second time already? Nethers, I bet too much, didn’t I?’. The painless second impact of Hare, this time in human form, on his side revealed he had already been healed. A look to their second companion completely woke him up.

“Hare, be nice and enchant my dagger.” Said Thug as he walked towards the standing Drael. Inspecting the wounds, he came to the right conclusion. ‘The idiot healed the wounds around the volts!’.

“Is there a problem?” Drawl started, worrying over the seriousness of Thug. In the back, Hare, with her hair dancing in the hair, congregated mana in the dagger. With exquisite control, he forged the runic connections that for humans took months, even years, in mere seconds, engraving the dagger in draconic runes of power that decorated the weapon before fading away, leaving only a powerful atmosphere.

Taking it, Thug commented, “It is different than usual.”

“I remembered how to do it correctly!” Chipped happily.

Thug nodded. “Now…what do you prefer, Drael or Jacob?” Asked Thug as he tested his new blade against the air.

“...Jacob.” Mumbled Jacob. “But, can you answer my inquiry? Why are you…”

“I need to take the volts out of you, or they are going to get infected. Do you need to bite something or…”

“What?!” Jumping backwards, he tried to gain some distance, thinking he had felt enough pain to last another decade. “I…I do feel fine. Dragons are abo…above mortal beings after all!”

“Hare, can you say something?”

“It doesn’t hurt that much brother!” Started Hare, patting her midsection in the zone she had been shot before. “He knows how to heal too!”

Now having enough patience, Thug started to get near Jacob and, with no hesitation, started to caress the crossbow made injuries. “You fought hard, huh.”

That stopped Jacob in his tracks. “Ye…As is expected of a dragon! It was but what was required of me to protect which I love dearly!” He puffed out his chest, not knowing he had been baited.

“As expected of someone of your greatness! This will be no skin out of your teeth, right?” The smirk of Thug at the end would have paled Jacob if his face was capable of changing its colour.

“Ye…yes.”

Before Jacob could regret it, Thug stabbed near a volt, causing Jacob to roar in pain, his eyes starting to tear up a bit. Reopening the wound, Thug pulled out the bolt, with as much care as he could.

“Hare, could you patch him up as I go!”

“Yes!”

…………..