The massive dragon beneath his feet exhaled its final breath and then fell silent.

One of the oldest surviving Dragon Kings in the Dragon Clan, the crimson embodiment of "burning flames," had fallen.

There was no doubt—Constantine ranked among the top three in power out of all the Dragon Kings Leon had slain so far.

If the situation had allowed, Leon genuinely would have liked to spar a few more rounds with such a formidable opponent.

But unfortunately, Leon had "pressing family matters" and couldn't afford to waste too much time.

He needed to wrap this up quickly—after all, he had to rush home to hug his second child.

What?

You’re saying it’s because Teacher Leon had painstakingly built up his mana bar only to drain it all at once, and that's why Leon didn't dare prolong the fight?

Haha.

To that, Teacher Leon has this to say:

Being weak? Train harder.

Can't handle losing? Don't play.

The past was the past; the present is the present.

If you're so hung up on comparing this to my mana-draining moments, why don't you compare it to the times I went rampaging around slaying Dragon Kings left and right?

Leon leapt off Constantine's massive dragon head with a swift motion.

The wounded Sherry, clutching her right shoulder, limped over accompanied by a few Silver Dragon warriors.

"Your Highness... I-I never realized you were this strong..." Sherry remarked in astonishment.

Oh please, three years ago I might have fought some of your 'family' within the Silver Dragon Clan; do you really need me to tell you that too?

Leon removed his helmet, revealing a face and dark hair stained with blood that had seeped through the slits in his armor.

In normal circumstances, such an appearance would indeed seem quite unnerving.

But this was a battlefield. Severed limbs and injuries were commonplace—what did a bit of blood matter?

Nothing.

Sliding his helmet into position at his waist, Leon surveyed the battlefield.

Constantine had fallen, which left the Crimson Flame Dragon Clan soldiers scrambling in disorder like headless chickens.

However, the Silver Dragon Clan wasn’t without heavy casualties either. Not to mention, Anna lay gravely injured not far away, desperately in need of treatment. Pursuing the remnants of the enemy might yield diminishing returns at this point.

After weighing the situation briefly, Leon spoke, “The battle here is essentially over. Don’t pursue defeated enemies too recklessly; focus on regrouping. Dispose of Constantine’s corpse, and sever his dragon head to hang it on the borders of Silver Dragon territory. Finally, send the remaining elite troops to defend the rear mountain to prevent sneak attacks by enemy stragglers. And as for—”

His gaze shifted to the severely injured Anna, who had been dealt a heavy blow by Constantine. “If you don’t send medical personnel over soon, your Head Maid will be joining Constantine on his journey to the afterlife.”

Snapping back to reality, Sherry immediately hobbled toward Anna, despite her own injuries. “H-Head Maid! Please hang on! The medical team is on its way!”

Anna: So tired. Fine, let it all burn. Honestly, living is alright, but dying isn’t that bad either.

The Silver Dragons sprang into action: some focused on decapitating Constantine, while others prioritized rescuing the wounded.

A few soldiers even gathered in a circle, stacking their tails together in a sort of bizarre celebratory ritual.

Seeing this, Leon grinned but couldn’t help muttering, “What a ridiculously bromantic way to celebrate.”

He shifted his gaze away and, with heavy steps, started trudging toward the Silver Dragon Castle.

Damn it. You Silver Dragon Clan members have no manners whatsoever. I went through all this trouble to slay Constantine, and not a single one of you even offered to help escort me back?

If that’s the way it’s going to be, next time someone attacks, I might as well just sprawl out in your spring and watch the battle from there.

While mentally griping, Leon suddenly heard footsteps approaching ahead.

Looking up, he saw Milan, accompanied by several Dragon Clan guards carrying a stretcher.

The yoga instructor and the guards jogged up to Leon and placed the stretcher down before him.

Leon blinked and glanced at the stretcher. “Uh... don’t tell me this is for me?”

“It is, Your Highness. Please lie down,” Milan replied earnestly.

“...Honestly, I don’t think I’m hurt badly enough to require a stretcher.”

Leon had fought his way through countless battles, yet he’d only used a stretcher once—and even that wasn’t due to combat injuries.

It happened when he first joined the Dragon Slayer Army. One fateful evening, he encountered an ultimate nightmare dinner consisting of eggplants and carrots.

That same night, the future strongest Dragon Slayer was rushed to the hospital on a stretcher.

Defeated without even facing the enemy on the battlefield, Leon became the punchline of his mentor’s jokes for two entire weeks.

Ah, well. Let’s not dwell on past humiliations.

Sighing, Leon let the memory fade and obediently lay down on the stretcher.

If they’re going to keep calling me “Your Highness,” I might as well live up to the name with some royal-level service.

Two guards lifted the stretcher—one at the front, the other at the back—and carried it toward Silver Dragon Castle.

Upon reaching the Castle’s courtyard entrance, Leon motioned for them to put him down.

“It’s alright, Your Highness; we can carry you up,” one of the guards offered.

Leon waved dismissively. “No need, I can handle it myself.”

Though his mana bar had completely drained within half an hour, leaving him utterly exhausted, Leon still refused to let them carry him any further.

If his daughters saw him arriving on a stretcher, they might think he was gravely injured.

In certain matters, Leon couldn’t help but fancy himself strong. He firmly believed that, as a father—or perhaps... as a husband—no matter what hardships he endured outside, the moment he stepped through his front door, he needed to present his best self to his family.

After all, what did it matter that he had just slain the invincible Crimson Flame Dragon King?

In the past, he might have boasted about it to his comrades, holding up Constantine’s horn as a trophy and basking in their admiration.

But now, all he wanted was to go home, hold Noa and Muen, and check on his wife in labor.

Shedding his armor, relinquishing his storms and thunderbolts, he transformed back into the beloved father of his daughters.

And Roswitha’s... pretend husband.

Clink—

Leon’s steel boots struck the stone steps of the Castle as he climbed them, each step slower and heavier than the last.

Inside the Sacred Hall, before entering Roswitha’s bedroom, Leon removed the Black Gold Chariot armor and stashed it temporarily in the adjacent baby room.

Consider it a gesture, letting his “old friend” take a look at the home he had been part of over the past year.

(Black Gold Chariot: Wow, thanks. Truly, I’m deeply moved.)

He also took the opportunity to wash the blood off his face in the baby room’s bathroom.

It wouldn’t do to scare the kids.

Once he had cleaned up, Leon headed toward Roswitha’s bedroom.

A few doctors clustered around Roswitha’s bed, but the sound of the door opening caught their attention.

Noa peeked her little head out from the balcony. Upon seeing Leon, she immediately grabbed her younger sister’s hand, and the two ran over together.

“Daddy!”

The two little dragon girls hugged him from either side, burying their faces against his waist.

Leon could barely keep himself upright, but despite his exhaustion, he managed to stay standing and return his daughters’ embrace.

He patted their heads and asked with a teasing tone, “Is Daddy cool or what?”

“Cool, cool, cool! Daddy is the coolest!” Noa declared, full of admiration and praise.

Muen nodded her little antenna-like cowlick. “Daddy is the second strongest dragon I’ve ever seen!”

Leon blinked. “Who’s the first?”

“Mommy, because Daddy always listens to Mommy,” the young dragon stated seriously.

The strongest force in the universe wasn’t the Super Saiyan—it was the Super Saiyan’s wife.

Yeah, that checks out.

But Leon couldn’t help wondering: Do I really come across as henpecked?

Huh. No way. My relationship with her is totally balanced at fifty-fifty! I win solo fights against her all the time.

Oh… speaking of her.

Leon’s gaze shifted toward the bedroom.

The doctors surrounding the bed moved aside as if sensing his intent.

On the large bed, a wailing baby’s cries seemed to announce everything.

The two little dragon girls obediently released their embrace.

Leon stepped toward the bedside.

The frail, silver-haired beauty reclined weakly against the bed, her cascading locks slightly disheveled and some strands clinging to her cheek.

Beside her lay a newborn baby swaddled in soft cloth.

The infant cried uncontrollably, greedily inhaling this strange and fresh new air of the world.

Dawn’s light poured in through the windows as the morning breeze stirred the thin curtains.

Amid the baby’s cries, onyx and silver gazes met.

At this moment, words seemed utterly unnecessary.

This tranquil exchange of looks spoke volumes—more than any words ever could.