Previously, On ‘This Dragon Is A Dumbass’
“Thank you, young dragon,” the boy says. “I will never forget this.”
And then he transformed.
Oh, Kilgharah, you fucking idiot.
—❈—
KILGHARAH THE QUITE HORRIFIED
You ever had one of those “oh shit...!” moments? Like; “Oh shit, maybe I shouldn’t have pissed off that really big dog.”
Or, like; “Oh shit, maybe I shouldn’t have tried to jump onto a trampoline from the roof.”
Or, even; “Oh shit, maybe I shouldn’t have played football inside the house.”
Ever had one such moment?
No? Lucky you. Because, I get them. I get them a lot.
In fact, I’m getting another one right now.
It’s not that I go out of my way to put myself in these situations. Hell, I would rather not be in them if I can help it, hence the “oh shit!”
I’ve tried to stop. Really, I have, I just... I don’t know, I guess my brain is wired different, you know?
Like, some people’s brains are wired for math, others are wired to be able to learn like a dozen languages, shit, some people’s brains are even wired to be able watch fourteen hours of porn without suffering a stroke.
I guess mine’s just wired to give me “oh shit...!” moments.
Like: “Oh shit! Maybe I shouldn’t have freed this motherfucker.”
Said motherfucker has continued to steadily transform while I have my monumental realization of how much shit I just threw at the metaphorical fan, and by now, he’s about twelve feet tall, with huge demon horns, and humongous fangs.
His body glows red for a second, and in the next, he shoots off, up and through the gaping ceiling in the blink of an eye.
‘Oh fuck,’ I say with feeling. ‘Oh fuck, oh shut oh damn oh hell oh fuck oh shit oh FUCK. ME! It’s all so fucking obvious now.’
How the fuck did I miss it before?
The super, obviously magical prison, the fact that he was the sole occupant, the rage; this motherfucker was screaming ‘sealed ancient evil’ vibes in my face the whole time.
‘Argh, fucking hell.’
God, I wish I had fucking hands, so I could hide my idiot face in shame.
I sigh, staring up at the huge hole above me where Evil McDickface had flown out through.
‘The fuck do I even do right now?’ I wonder. ‘Do I go after him? Is there someone I could maybe report this to?’
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Who the fuck do you even call when you release what, for all intents and purposes, appears to be a sealed ancient evil?
Some dumb, little part of my mind whispers; ‘The Ghostbusters.’ And I consider punching myself in the face for that. Only to remember that I don’t have arms.
I sigh again, then stare back up at the destroyed ceiling.
I’m procrastinating. It’s obvious. I’m avoiding going up there to see whatever devastation my actions have wrought.
... Although, maybe nothing is happening. After all, it’s totally possible that I’ve simply misread the situation.
Maybe that guy isn’t actually evil. Or, who knows, maybe he’s just done the same thing that any sane person would do after escaping prison and run off into the sunset to live out the rest of his days in Aruba.
I mean, it’s possible, right?
After all, he was so nice; he complimented me and everything. And he’d looked so helpless before I freed him.
He can’t be a bad guy, right?
Right?
I sigh a third time. Then I strap on my big boy pants and fly towards the ceiling.
The sounds, and sight, of a raging battle overwhelms me as soon as I fly out. And when I say overwhelm, I mean overwhelm.
It’s like that final war in Avengers Endgame, but without the spaceships, and I find myself perching on the ground softly to take it all in.
I’m in a huge chamber, and when I say huge, I mean huge; at least twice as large as a football field. And on one side of it, a small, medieval army clashes against one obviously superior opponent.
That isn’t the amazing thing though. The amazing thing is that most of this small army appears to be made up of the butterfly people from the paintings.
Interesting as the butterfly people are though, they don’t distract me from the huge orcs(?) and the smattering of giant tree people I can see mixed up in the fray.
In fact, there doesn’t seem to be any humans here, since I sure as hell am not counting Evil McDickface (who, as you’ve probably guessed is the one everybody’s trying to kill) as one.
In all honesty though, the species of the people fighting, is much less amazing than the manner in which they’re doing the fighting.
All through the battlefield flies spells of every colour of the rainbow. Soldiers shoot beams of energy from their hands, ice spikes rise from the floor, lightning smites down from the fucking ceiling.
Swords glow, arrows explode, people teleport and blur and phase; it’s like a hardcore DND’ers wet dream.
And the most insane part of it all, is that this is all to stop one enemy. An enemy that, even from where I stand, is tearing through them.
Any magic the soldiers have, Evil McDickface has a counter to, any damage they throw at him, he can match three times as bad.
Oh, they get some good hits in. But they’re few and Evil McDickface mostly seems to shrug them off. Meanwhile, the soldiers are just being... ripped apart.
It’s horrible. And if I had any doubts about whether Evil McDickface was really evil, or a dick, they’re all gone now.
As I watch the chaos rage on, a quiet thought slips into my mind; I need to help them.
I pause, considering it. I do need to help them, don’t I? If for no other reason then simply because it’s my fault that this is happening.
Besides, not to brag, but I’m pretty confident that my firebreath will do a shitton more damage to McDickface over there, than anything those soldiers seem to have.
Despite knowing all that though, I don’t jump in.
My heart is pounding in my chest; my muscles stiff. I’m terrified. Petrified even. Hell, you could say that I’m scared outta my ass... And you know what? That’s okay.
Because it’s not going to stop me. Wanna know why? Cause I’m a fuckmothering dragon, that’s why, and there is no motherfucker on the face of the earth, be they man or woman, who can manipulate me without getting their fucking head burnt off.
My heart is still pounding, but it’s different now; like it’s pushing liquid fire through my veins.
My senses sharpen, my focus narrows, and I just know that I’m either gonna kill McDickface, or die trying.
My legs tense, my wings spread, and the moment I take off, somehow, through the din of the battle, I hear a weak groan near me.
My focus shatters, and I land back on the ground clumsily.
I stare in the direction the groan had come from, and I see a small form struggling to sit up.
Before I can think about it, I’ve flown to them, and it is only when I land beside the person that I fully realise that it’s one of the butterfly people.
A very old one of the butterfly people.
The ancient woman’s eyes light up in recognition as I perch before her, and while I would like to know what that’s about, there’s something more important at hand.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask, feeling a little foolish about the question, because, to be honest, she doesn’t look okay.
Besides being old as dirt, the woman is also pale and shivering, and scariest of all, she’s bleeding from her left eye.
At my question, the woman frowns, looking confused.
Then she asks: “You can talk?”
Seriously? That’s what she’s interested in? I swear to God some people’s priorities are all over the place.