“We have to help them!” shouts Gwenesphia, gathered with her brothers, sister, father, and Treia.
“With what!?” snaps Treia. “I’m out of ammo! And you’ve got less than a full cartridge left.”
They all flinch as the earth tremors from an impact. They’re behind a stand of trees, though many of the trees are partially uprooted from an earlier quake or the explosion spell cast by the mages.
“I don’t know! But… But has anyone seen Daniel!? Or Veira!?”
“We can’t think about that right now,” retorts Goelselmo. “The best thing we can do is retreat and try to bring in reinforcements.
“Everyone will be dead by then!” cries out Gwenesphia, who is trying to see the battle, but knows that getting too close will endanger her with even stray attacks from the ones actually battling.
“I don’t like it either,” adds Treia. “But, our rifles were useless against that thing. And, if Neith’s claws can’t hurt it, their swords are just as useless.”
KABOOM!
The six gatonines all jump at the startlingly loud rifle report, followed by Yaulwembor shrieking as a spell in the sky disappears. Gwenesphia doesn’t even think. She simply runs ahead. Kuboen and Peiburi call after her, “Gwen!”
Gwenesphia is nothing if not swift and agile. Her brothers could probably outsprint her, but she can outmaneuver them through the torn up battlefield that currently looks like an apocalyptic wasteland from the battle with a titan.
She clears the edge of the trees, seeing the monster trying to move its hand as if to cast magic across the humongous clearing from Gwenesphia, and there she spots Hekate, Veiranoei, and the two knights assigned with Magnir.
And, most importantly, the enemy dragon is unable to summon magic.
One of the knights is the one with the powerful anti-dragon rifle Daniel survived with, which starts to concern the gatonine soldier a bit.
Daniel must have given someone one of his anti-magic bullets, which the knight just used to negate Yaulwembor’s magic.
Though, that’s not to say that the beast is suddenly defenseless. It breathes icy wind in a powerful stream, which Hekate blocks. As the dragon goes on guard, Hekate starts moving towards Gwenesphia and the other gatonines.
It’s an open area leading to the lake that she and the knights will be running across. There’s no way they’ll make it.
I still have half a cartridge. If I can just distract it…
Gwenesphia runs counter clockwise, away from Hekate and the lake to flank Yaulwembor from its left side as it faces the open area to defend against the feldrok girl and her trailing entourage.
Gwenesphia takes a breath, summoning her courage as Kuboen yells, “Gwen! Stop!”
“Go back, Kuboen! I’m going to buy Hekate time!”
“I’m not leaving you, idiot!”
Lyrtef’s voice calls from a little further behind, “Gwen! We don’t have the weapons or armor to even withstand one of Yaulwembor’s attacks!”
“My friends haven’t given up! I won’t either!”
“If this is about that stupid human…”
She pivots on one of her running steps, and she whirls in a powerful kick. It stumbles her elder brother, but he manages to catch her leg. Thinking quickly, she aims the rifle at him, and he knows enough about it to instinctively flinch back, releasing her as he steps back. “You don’t know anything about him! You don’t have any idea what he has done for all of us.” She spins and keeps running before Lyrtef can flank her and catch her.
Kuboen groans and keeps chasing after her. While none of them can do much of anything to Yaulwembor, he can try to save his idiot youngest sister.
For her part, Gwenesphia leaps over a felled tree and tumbles under the branches of another, resuming her flight as Lyrtef takes the same route while Kuboen bounds from tree to tree, staying high.
All three of them notice that the ancient archfiend hasn’t even spared them a glance, focused on breathing fire at Hekate. The knights are the ones guarding as Hekate keeps moving towards where Goelselmo, Treia, and Peiburi are, who stayed behind to protect Gwenesphia’s father. He was wounded in one of the quakes.
The gatonine Empress flanking the dragon threat notices this, and she slides to a stop.
Her rifle may not be able to pierce the dragon’s scales, but it has a great deal of accuracy. For large targets, Daniel recommended aiming for soft points, such as the inside of the mouth, the nose, and eyes. While these targets are much smaller on most enemies, they can be the difference between life and death; between a harmless ricochet and slaying a dragon.
Gwenesphia will settle for blinding one long enough for Hekate to do whatever it is she’s planning, which seems to be starting with evacuations, since she’s capable of teleportation magic.
Like the other three mages, who seem to be out of the fight for now, Hekate does have a finite amount of mana, so she must be conserving as much as she can for the evacuations.
The gatonine former lieutenant takes aim with her rifle, pointing it up at the sky, it feels like. The towering form of Yaulwembor has Neith pinned down, beaten and wounded, while it engages the feldrok Empress of the Fievegal from range with elemental breaths of various kinds that seem to not require mana. This is especially surprising, since the feline woman was fairly certain dragons can only naturally breathe fire, with a handful of exceptions, but only one element in those cases as well.
This apparent dragon has used fire, ice, and now a water jet that the human knight blocks with a magic barrier, and the shenwulf counters with lightning, which only flinches Yaulwembor briefly with an angered roar.
As it shifts posture for throwing something, Gwenesphia finds her opening. She fires a burst of three bullets, as Daniel taught her, and then another and another.
The rifle isn’t as loud as Daniel’s dragon slayer, but it is still startling for her.
She can see sparks and tiny puffs of smoke on the scales of Yaulwembor’s head, and it twitches.
Gwenesphia has five bullets remaining, which means she can’t afford to miss. However, Yaulwembor tilts its head and left eye to finally glance her way. This makes the eye even more of a target, since less of the dragon’s jawline is blocking Gwenesphia’s aim.
She exhales, trying to put it out of her mind -another piece of advice she got from a known dragonslayer-. She just needs to hit her target and survive afterwards.
Bababang! Babang!
Gwenesphia empties her rifle at the dragon’s eye with as much prayer as practice behind her shots. Several of the bullets spark and ricochet into oblivion, but one of the two from the second burst finds its mark, evidenced by Yaulwembor howling in pain as it recoils its head. It bellows in agony for a moment, nursing its eye with its left claw.
Flames spew from its mouth, but Veiranoei chants a spell, summoning a spear of rock, which she launches at the monster.
This surprises Gwenesphia a little, since the gatonine knight didn’t mention that she can use magic. But, then she sees why. The newest of Daniel’s concubines -though only in name in her case- is already panting. She doesn’t have the mana of the Stalvaltan knights, but was able to distract it.
Unfortunately, it is a monster under attack, and it glares at Gwenesphia with its right eye, keeping its left eye closed. There’s no noticeable blood, but the hole pierced in its eye by the bullet would be tiny in comparison to itself.
The titan pivots right quickly, and it becomes obvious what it’s doing. It’s too late to escape.
Yaulwembor is sweeping its tail viciously through the trees and disturbed ground.
Kuboen somewhat instinctively puts himself in front of his youngest sister, but it’ll do nothing. Gatonines are little more than baby mice in comparison to the Archfiend of Matterglos.
Gwenesphia whimpers, “I’m sorry…”
The tail closes in, smashing through trees and moving faster than anyone could hope to run.
Or at least, it won’t be a human-kin.
A massive blue claw swoops in front of the three siblings, ramming into them as a massive force slams into a huge right arm and shoulder trying to stop the tail. The ground rumbles as Gwenesphia, Kuboen, and Lyrtef are all scooped up roughly by the claw, carried backwards as the massive figure absorbs the shock of the tail and slows it to a stop.
It’s none other than Magnir, who has seen better days. The lightning magic has noticeably charred his scales and flesh like a root pattern, but he was able to swoop in and block Yaulwembor’s devastating sweep attack.
He’s less than a third of Yaulwembor’s size, though, and the ancient dragon quickly whips its tail around the other way, lunging close to grip the blue Einherjar’s head from the side. He drops the three gatonines as he’s dragged across the ground mercilessly, tearing up more of the forest as he is slammed through trees and into the dirt. He roars, but is only able to brace himself and soften the damage on his wounded flesh.
Even without magic, Yaulwembor is a terrifying presence.
Flames erupt from Yaulwembor’s new left, having turned counterclockwise after stepping past Neith.
The grey dragon has wearily risen back to his feet, bleeding from his neck, and his armor is heavily damaged. He probably doesn’t have much fight left in him, but he is willing to give his life for the mission.
Keeping Magnir’s momentum, Yaulwembor throws him into Neith, and the grey dragon crashes through more of the forest away from the lake with the blue dragon on top of him.
The archfiend then inhales, turning its attention to the gatonines.
Before it can spark one of its elemental breaths, the god of thunder intervenes once more, startling Gwenesphia and her brothers. At that moment, a small body flops onto Gwenesphia; a body with big triangular ears under a specially-designed helmet and with a large poofy black tail.
Hekate Is trying to protect them, but the rifle shot has sprayed blood from Yaulwembor as the ancient beast shrieks in pain, stumbling backwards and flopping onto its back. It tears through the forest as it scrambles back up to a standing position, now facing the one being that it doesn't understand how it can be harmed by him.
Emitting smoke like he just spit fire himself is the human from a world beyond the imagining of even some of the wisest people of Zenkon.
It is none other than Daniel, the Harbinger of Calamity, kneeling as the smoke rolls off of him and a crumbled log falls to his side.
Daniel draws Nemaisol, and the magic blade transforms before everyone’s eyes into a clone of his dragonslayer rifle.
It’s then that Gwenesphia sees it. As far as she’s concerned, he’s her hero and wondrous beyond imagining at the same time, but he’s also a human.
And, he’s using the transformed mythical weapon to support himself.
Regardless, he cycles the bolt and feeds another one of the devastating shells inside.
It’s a terrifying standoff between Yaulwembor the Archfiend of Mattarglos and Daniel the Harbinger of Calamity.
***
Shortly before that, Daniel stumbles out of the water, collapsing on the ground as his weight is returned to his aching body. He has to catch his breath on the move, though, as the battle is still raging. Yaulwembor is still fighting ferociously, but it seems to be using breath attacks instead of terrifying magic, which is good. Either it ran out of mana on its own, or Veiranoei figured out that she needed to grab his rifle and the polonium bullet to fire.
Whatever the case, Daniel has plenty of 20mm ammo, but he only had the one rifle of that caliber. He’s not sure where everyone is, and the battlefield is torn apart, with terrifying noise all around. Smoke and fog obscure lines of sight, other than the ancient monster battling fellow titans.
The human mechanic, as he gets closer trying to find anyone else, watches Yaulwembor throw Magnir into Neith, toppling them both.
He’s out of time.
Daniel pulls out another piercing 20mm shell from those fastened to his belt, since the regular shells and piercers aren’t hazardous to anyone around him, unless it discharges accidentally.
And, of course, he’s about to intentionally discharge it.
He looks around frantically for options. His brain is in overdrive trying to solve problems, worrying about his friends and family, afraid of the monstrous being that he’s only facing because he has successfully maintained his usual fantastical denial. He had heard somewhere that there were increasing numbers of young men who grew up playing modern war-based video games, and as a result, desensitized themselves to the atmosphere of war to a degree, making them more brazen -and reckless- in carrying out military operations. Daniel doubts his own video games have made him a hero, but he doesn’t feel the same wonder and mysticism he would have thought seeing literal fire-breathing dragons, monstrous bears that can cast lightning, and teleportation. It’s common in the anime, video games, and TV shows he enjoyed.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
And, this is just one more high level boss monster that he did his best to prepare himself for. That’s all.
“That’s… Ooo, boy… The hell am I doing?” murmurs Daniel nervously. He shakes his head, thinking in turn, Forget it. Everyone’s in trouble. Kill this thing and go home. What can I… That’s it!
Daniel quickly snatches the nearest ruined branch of one of the many destroyed trees, placing it against his chest. He doesn’t have his armor anymore, and he needs to absorb and diffuse the shock. Even still,...
Daniel hesitates when he places the firing rim of the 20mm armor piercing shell against the wooden branch. Sweat is starting to take the place of the cooling water drenching him. At least, it feels that way.
The mechanic quickly bites the fingers of his right glove and pulls it off. He’s out of order. He’s flustered. He’s going to…
Huuuuooooaaaaaaa!
The rising sound is that of a very obvious inhale; the inhale of a titan as it prepares an attack. This attack, emphasized by the sudden crackles and pops of a pilot flame, is a fire breath.
Daniel hesitates one last second, rubbing the fingers of his right hand on his thumb and palm, terrified of what he’s about to do. His brain and body know the consequences. He’s afraid.
They’re going to die…
Daniel uses every ounce of his pathetically miniscule mana to summon a tiny spark with his fingers across the casing of the bullet. His senses are nearly knocked completely out of him from both the impact and the volume of the sound.
KABOOM!
“SCREEEAAAAHHHHH!”
The shriek that pierces the air comes from none other than Yaulwembor as it throws itself backwards, blood spraying from a high-velocity impact that manages to penetrate even its seeming sharmelkolle scales.
Yaulwembor roars and bellows in pain, and Daniel, during the discharge of the shell, coughs as he is blown backwards, not flopping onto his back only thanks to his kneeling posture and his bracing for the impact. He feels like a horse just kicked him in the chest, even with the branch absorbing some of the shock. Said piece of formerly living wood has snapped in half, and the human doesn’t even know where the shell casing went. His left hand burns, and it feels like his thumb was pushed near to breaking, similar to a mild automobile collision he had where the airbag deployed, flinging his hands free in spite of his grip on the steering wheel.
He leans forward, grunting as pain fills his chest, and he feels like he can’t breathe. He does his best to forcibly gasp in what little air he can.
During the moment of strange clarity that comes with the brief daze following his risky shot, he has a realization.
Why didn’t I just ask Kaeralegier to turn into a rifle?
“{Yes, why didn’t you, you idiot?}” retorts the goddess’s voice. “{You think I’m too busy to be useful here?}”
The mechanic braces himself for the pain as he reaches to his left side, gripping Nemaisol’s hilt. “Thank you… in advance,” murmurs Daniel, fighting the burning in his chest.
Nemaisol morphs in his hand, taking the shape of his 20mm rifle, though bearing a more chrome-like color. He uses it to support himself for a moment, keeping his gaze on Yaulwembor, who has only just risen to its feet again, and he can tell, even from this distance, that it looks specifically at him and then the rifle, recognizing the shape, no doubt, from the first shot.
“I’m going to use one of my piercing shells, if that’s alright.”
“{As you wish, Daniel. I’ll get you to pay me back in time. Heeheeehee!}”
He scoffs, wincing in pain as he tries to laugh and comes to pay for it. He wheezes, withdrawing another of the bullets and cycling the bolt of the rifle, placing the shell into the breach and returning the rifle to its firing state. Unlike his hand-made rifle, Nemaisol cycles easily and weighs a fraction of the crude weapon’s heft.
Still, Daniel can barely move without feeling pain. He is bluffing right now as he stares down the monster glaring at him. For some reason, he has the gut feeling that it doesn’t have mana, meaning someone definitely managed to use the polonium round on it. Its chest, now that he’s looking, seems to have lost virtually all of its luster, and the rest of its scales barely have any coloration to them.
A human knight steps up alongside Daniel, kneeling at his right with his true 20mm rifle held in the same manner. “Your Grace, may I?”
Daniel nods, and he can feel the soldier take one of the shells from his belt. He loads it into the rifle in the same manner, and this causes Yaulwembor to noticeably shrink in fear.
Good. It recognizes the danger.
“{Ya think? A little higher and to the left, and its heart would be pumping blood into the lake.}”
Daniel can hear the boots of a second and third knight coming to a stop behind them, staying on their feet to guard. It’s not Resken or Veiranoei, though, that finishes the fight.
Three Valkyries land at each of Daniel’s sides and directly behind him; dragons in human form that have arrived to protect their Mukori.
The Emperor of the Fievegal is thankful. He’s not sure he could actually react faster than the archfiend and fire, thanks to the aches and burns in his muscles and bones. But, now, a small army of fresh and ready dragons has arrived at full strength. Even without magic, Yaulwembor has to know it’s outmatched.
Sure enough, the nervous draconic monster glances around with its eyes, and it whirls in a violent spin, diving into the treeline and intentionally throwing dirt with its feet, tail, and foreclaws. Just as Helbeit lowers his rifle onto his knee to fire again, Daniel gestures, “Wa-*cough*-wait!” He pants, pain wearing him down. “M-Mukori… tell-ergh… tell Ucahote to follow it in the air.”
“The shuttle has been shot down…” replies Veiranoei nervously.
The mechanic wasn’t expecting that. He tries to think of other options, resisting the pain in his whole body.
“The wing golems are in pursuit,” replies Ryuogriar.
“Good.” Daniel coughs, and he can feel Reignleif and Geirahoel both cling to his shoulders, supporting him. “Mukori!”
“I-I’ll be alr-...” He winces when the grip on his right shoulder tightens to a slightly painful force. He looks at the young auburn-haired dragon. She’s glaring passionately at him, ready to light him on fire with her gaze, were her eyes not watering.
Reignleif tugs on his battered jacket’s sleeve. Her own expression is sad. Ryuogriar, standing behind him, hasn’t indicated her own feelings. The others are approaching, and the three knights gave Daniel and his dragon Empresses a moment.
Daniel puts his hand on each of theirs, reassuring them gently, “I’m sorry. But, I will be alright, thanks to you three.”
Geirahoel growls, but Reignleif is the one to make the declaration all three seem to be thinking. “You’re on house arrest again, Mukori.”
He smiles, knowing now as much as ever that he is loved more than he probably deserves.
But, it’s love that he didn’t earn by being idle and safe.
He earned it by doing what he felt he needed to in order to protect people he cares about.
Gwenesphia’s family, as well as Veiranoei’s home and relatives, are counting on the Fievegal defeating the most deadly and legendary monsters of Mattarglos to allow their people to handle the rest.
Daniel replies as close to normal and calmly as he can to avoid coughing if he can manage it, “We have to capitalize on Yaulwembor’s current state of weakness. If it outlasts the polonium and regains its full mana, it’ll recover its wounds immediately and likely go on a rampage.”
Everyone else is gathering now, and Daniel asks, “Do we have you to thank for hitting it with the polonium round?” He looks at Veiranoei first, but she shakes her head. “N-No… I wasn’t sure what was happening, and… you were snatched away so quickly.”
“What?” asks Geirahoel.
Daniel tenses a little, feeling the sweat again. “I’ll explain later, Mukori… Mukori’s. Sir Helbeit?”
The human knight nods. “We managed. The gloom arrow was able to stop it from casting an explosion spell.”
“I’d like to know how it was able to cast that,” retorts Doephluev as she, Vaergraes, and Senn ride up on Arachne, all three looking as exhausted as Daniel feels.
“It has to be a dragon, but I was unable to communicate with it via telepathy,” replies Vaergraes. “If anything, I only registered as an insect buzzing in its ear.”
The elf slides off of the death knight’s back, flopping onto her own back to rest. “It’s not a dragon…”
Everyone looks at her expectantly, including all five of the present dragons. Neith and Magnir are still in their full sizes, nursing their wounds.
She adds with a sigh. “It’s been a very long time, so I only remember the name and little else. Yaulwembor is a Faormyr. If I remember right, it was believed that they’re the evolution of drakes that didn’t become sentient, but gained as much or more mana than the dragons.”
“But, to be able to use such advanced magic?”
“It’s the latent natural talent of a prodigy. It doesn’t understand the magic, but can instantly comprehend and copy it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was able to inadvertently teach itself language comprehension, even though it can’t speak.”
“‘She’,” blurts out Magnir wearily.
Now, everyone looks at him skeptically, and he adds, “Yaulwembor is definitely a ‘she’.”
Neith nods wearily, still bleeding from his neck a little, even though he’s using his own flames to cauterize the wound. “I agree. It wasn’t male territorial aggression. It was…” He tilts his eyes away, murmuring, “Closer to a drake’s mate choosing.”
“We also saw eggs where we discovered it,” adds Resken. This causes the gatonines to gasp, but he adds, “I don’t think they’re viable eggs. She left them without any hesitation, rather than guarding them.”
“I wonder how they’ll taste, then,” remarks Hekate wickedly. She cackles, though she gets more frowns than laughs, and she trails off nervously. “Sorry…”
Daniel winces as he tries to stand up, and Reignleif pulls him back down to lay on her lap. “You’re hurt, Mukori. We’ll heal you. Just rest…”
“We need to move, though. If the mantaroucks come back, or if we run out of time on the polonium bullet…”
“If I may have a healing potation, my Liege,” begins the grey Einherjar. “I’ll fly the group back to the drop off zone, and we’ll retrieve the others.”
Ryuogriar states, “The other ladies are taken care of. Geirahoel teleported them back to the city.”
Neith nods, continuing his thought, “I believe we should return to the city and regroup. Even if we were to try to corner it now, it’ll fight desperately to flee. We need to be able to definitively trap it.”
“Any ideas?” asks Senn a little dryly. “If you didn’t notice, it was stronger than all of us combined.”
“Yes, the scales seem to be impenetrable,” adds Treia as she demonstrates one of Yaulwembor’s few shed scales.
“May I?” asks Ryuogriar, offering her hand to the gatonine. Treia nods, handing it over. “Of course.”
The dragon inspects it for a moment. She remarks quietly, “This is… difficult to believe.”
“What is it?” asks Daniel as he looks up from his resting position on the blue dragon’s lap. She smirks down at him, threatening him without words that he won’t be able to escape her for the foreseeable future. The elegant platinum dragon simply sinks to a kneel, petting his head, and Hekate finally races in, “Hey!” She lays down on his legs, careful of his torso.
Ryuogriar continues smiling, now petting Hekate as well with her other hand. She finally replies, “Mukori, what do you think Yaulwembor’s scales are made of?”
“Given how much it took to do so little, I’d guess mithril or sharmelkolle.” Daniel believes his tone is simply sarcastic, since he hasn’t the faintest clue what would go into the actual scales.
She blinks once with a tender expression, only widening her mysterious smile.
“It’s sharmelkolle, isn’t it?” asks Daniel dryly.
“This is why you’re the feldrok sorcerer, Mukori.” She leans down, kissing his forehead.
“How can something have… sharmelkolle scales?” asks Gwenesphia nervously. “Isn’t that the strongest material in the world?”
Ryuogriar nods. “Indeed. I can only say that a dragon’s scales become stronger and harder over time, though I’ve never heard of a dragon producing its own sharmelkolle.”
Neith offers the idea, “It is a metal like the iron that usually strengthens our scales. Perhaps it had a habit of eating…” He trails off as everyone guesses what the implication could be.
Goelselmo finally speaks, “I believe we should speak with the Grand Premier before doing anything else. Mattarglos may need to mobilize the military to begin evacuations now that Yaulwembor has been spurned. As you said, when the anti-magic spell wears off, it will almost certainly return to retaliate.”
“All the more reason to kill it immediately,” replies Kuboen. “For once, I agree with… Gwen’s lover.” The eldest of the siblings present avoids looking directly at Daniel or Gwenesphia, but he is onboard.
“Don’t be a fool, Son. We were helpless when that beast arrived. It was foolish for us to even ask to battle Rohgattabor. How long will it be until we are able to fight it again?”
Daniel replies, “I don’t know that it’s dead, but I definitely wounded Rohgattabor further when it dragged me into the water. We’ll take it down after we deal with the greater threat.” He adds, “The only person who has to go is me. It's clearly afraid of my rifles. It has to have noticed that I don't have much mana.”
“I agree,” confirms the elven mage. “It couldn't comprehend your attacks, and it couldn't copy it. That was genuine fear that drove it away.”
“Doesn’t that mean it’s not an actual monster then?” asks Doephluev. “Most monsters that I know of don’t feel fear.”
“They don’t,” replies Veiranoei. “Monsters are classified by the rampant mana, which makes them relentless. Magic beasts aren’t the same.”
“They’re even more rare, though,” states Neith. “I’ve never heard of a Faormyr, but it seems to toe the line between ‘beast’ and ‘dragon’.”
Senn nods in agreement with this assessment.
“And, it sheds sharmelkolle,” points out Doephluev.
“Indeed. I don’t know how we’ll fight it,” replies Goelselmo. “Sharmelkolle is exceedingly rare, even for the wealthiest in the Empire. The only sharmelkolle weapons I know of in Mattarglos are ancient family heirlooms that those families keep locked away in their vaults.”
The archoneldwyn woman simply smiles and nods gently.
Those who know her well enough figure out what she was actually getting at.
“You want to capture it!?” snaps Geirahoel. “Alive!?”
Doephluev nods once. “My Love and Sir Neith agreed to try to capture Yaulwembor if it could produce hybrid or pure blood greater dragons. Something tells me a half Faormyr is a win-win.”
“But… Look at all of this!” The orange dragon gestures around them, which is still an absolutely chaotic sight. It’s a wonder no one died, especially the very human otherworlder with almost no magic.
The caramel-skinned pseudo-elf replies, “What greater proof of my Beloved’s power than a servant that can defeat dragons?”
Geirahoel wants to refute, but she halts. It’s the same belief that the demon-kin, specifically, tend to hold. It’s also one of the arguments Ryuogriar made when Doephluev was contracted, though she’s an unassuming young woman with a dainty and feminine appearance when she braids her hair in a waterfall braid. She doesn’t have the appearance of an assassin anymore, which almost makes her more effective for those who know.
The youngest of the dragons present looks to Daniel with a pouty expression.
Daniel is at Reignleif’s mercy as she idly pets his head, destroying any illusion of him being an Emperor or even the warrior that just drove off the archfiend -though, with tons of backup of course-.
The human mechanic replies to Geirahoel’s gaze, “If no one here expected it to be a Faormyr… I don’t want to make them extinct, Mukori. But,... I’ll hear everyone out. Now that we have some idea what we’re up against, and that we have it vulnerable, we’ll discuss what to do. Either way, I’m giving Hekate final say.”
The feldrok empress flinches. “M-Me?”
Daniel nods. “Yes. I’m speaking from the perspective of an otherworlder. I don’t know all of the repercussions of making a species like the Faormyrs extinct, but I know it was tragic when species went extinct on Earth. Not a catastrophe, but a loss to the world as a whole.”
This quiets everyone. Another argument made for sparing Doephluev was to grant her the chance to restore her race in a last ditch effort to avoid making the archoneldwyn extinct. The same will hold true for Hekate when she comes of age, assuming that’s what she chooses.
Daniel adds gently as he pets the fox-eared girl’s head, “And, you’re the Empress of the Fievegal. It’s supposed to be more proper to refer to me as your consort, if anything, but…”
“A-hem!” Doephluev clears her throat, drawing attention back to herself. “That brings me along to an important matter:” She grins wickedly at the raven-haired teen as the latter’s ears fold back in irritation. “My victory reward.”
Hekate growls, and everyone else either rolls their eyes or sighs, with exception of the knights, who all remain quiet.
“Before that,” remarks Neith. “We need to finish discussing Yaulwembor.”
“Thankfully, we can do it as we return,” adds Magnir. The blue male dragon points, and everyone looks at the sky where he gestures. The large form of the Stalvaltan airship is cruising towards them. Wenlianna, Aoloan, and Roeta almost certainly retrieved the airship to recover everyone and assist in battle if need be, since the Dragon Empresses flew off to help Daniel once they knew he was in danger.
With a break on the horizon, Daniel finally admits the truth, “So… if anyone can get into my bag,... I could really use some healing…”
Oh, how he wishes he kept it to himself a little longer.
The passionate scolding from the people who love him has only just begun.
***