The girl straightened, height like a cliff, eyes looking down into Ling’s, a teasing crescent of a smile hanging like moonlight.

“Little one, I’m the ‘Mr. Dragon King’ you’re looking for~”

Ling’s eyes went wide, disbelief blooming like frost across a winter lake as she stared at the “Dragon King” girl in front of her.

Right, look at this girl; where’s a hint of that dragon’s shadow, like scales in the dark?

The Dragon King’s voice was rough, storm-wind on stone, even a bit feral, while this girl’s tone was a spring bell, light and healing.

The Dragon King’s teeth were knives, a white reef of danger, while this girl’s human smile was neat and harmless, a sugar glaze on porcelain.

The Dragon King’s claws were razors, hawks that tear the sky, while this girl’s pale hand and trimmed nails looked like doves, not steel-rippers.

The Dragon King’s body dwarfed others like a mountain over hills, while this girl’s… well, in one aspect she towered like ripened fruit on a heavy bough.

No, that’s not the point, none of that matters; this “transformation” overshot the clouds, not even Dragonfolk anymore!

Catching the disbelief in those lake-bright eyes, the girl’s lips curled, amusement flickering like a cat’s tail in sun.

“What are you thinking, little one? It’s just a form shift, like changing tides. Not as comfy as my true body, but why doubt me?”

Her unmeant allure floated like incense, and Ling stepped back half a pace, panic sprouting like weeds after rain.

Thinking of a male beast-soul inside that pretty shell, Ling’s face went green, like pondwater in summer, and her stomach flipped.

“You—you—you, back off! You’re a guy! Change shape if you want in public, fine! But why a woman, and so… so… so big!”

Pot calling kettle black vibes, like crows yelling at ravens. Hm… maybe that’s not the right saying… pervert yelling “catch the pervert”? Ugh, what am I saying.

The Dragon King girl blinked, stunned like a deer in brush, then caught on and almost laughed, the sound snagging like silk.

“What are you imagining? I’m a woman by birth~”

Ling kept her arms crossed tight like a shield, wariness bristling like a hedgehog’s spines, and her eyes said she wasn’t buying it.

“You think I’m a loli and easy to trick? As a dragon, your voice screamed male, and you didn’t deny ‘Mr. Dragon King.’ Now you claim female? Too late, you pervert, gender-flip dragon!”

The logic lined up like tiles on a roof; no gaps, no drafts, just cold wind.

“It’s a total misunderstanding, okay? Think about it like clouds over a peak. I’m a Dragon King, right? If others saw I was a she-dragon, the aura and pressure would dip like ebb tide. Once, a human man came waving a sword, shouting he’d slay me. I got excited to fight and answered with my true voice. Guess what? He heard it was a woman’s voice, dropped the sword, and proposed on the spot. I was so mad I tail-slapped him into the horizon like a falling star.”

It sounded plausible, like a trail after rain, but Ling had once been jump-scared by a burly man in a dress, a shadow that still clung like cobwebs.

“If you wanna fight, fight! Why spout clouds and fog? You pervert dragon!”

The girl pressed a palm to her forehead, a weary leaf in wind, at how “pervert dragon” suddenly glued to her like a burr.

But seeing the one shouting was a loli, her anger fizzled like a damp fuse; after all, she’d brewed this misunderstanding herself.

“Forget it, no more explanations. A fight’s a fight, like thunder after heat. Why talk more?”

She dropped the argument like a stone into a well and stopped trying to win Ling’s trust, the surface going still.

Left foot rooted like a pine, her right sketched a quarter arc on stone, and the next heartbeat she flickered.

Whoosh.

Her body was small now, a swallow instead of a storm-drake, though in certain areas the air drag still clung like wet cloth.

Speed spiked like lightning from a summer cloud; in a blink she stood before Ling, shadow crossing sun.

No more clumsy dragon swipes, mountains thrown by claws; in human shape, the Dragon King could flow like water through rock.

She clenched a fist, dropped her center like a coiled spring, and launched for Ling’s belly like a thunderbolt.

To Ling’s eyes, sharp as hawks over snow, that fist was easy prey, a flash she could pluck from air.

She lifted her small hand to meet the punch, calm as a pond at dawn, already mapping her counter like lines in sand.

But the fist blossomed into a palm at the last breath, a flower opening under storm, and it caught Ling’s hand.

Her right foot swept the ground like a scythe in wheat, and Ling’s body tipped, balance severed, hanging like a leaf in wind.

The girl’s other hand slid to Ling’s nape, a viper quick and cold, and slammed her face-down into earth like a falling tile.

Her first hand rolled Ling’s wrist behind her back, a clean lock like iron tongs; her knee pinned the spine like a stake.

From above, she looked down at Ling’s head like a hawk on a ridge, a smirk cutting across her face like a knife.

“How about it, little one? Feels strong, right? Well, strong for you. First time for me, too, pinning a little girl with human arts as a Dragon King~”

Her nose tilted higher, pride rising like a kite in a steady breeze, though the string hummed with doubt.

“Hey, little one, don’t go silent like a pond at dusk. Your grappling’s terrible. You can’t beat me. Just surrender, yeah?”

Face in the dirt, Ling’s body trembled like reeds in a chill gust, and it sounded like sobbing, thin as rain.

But the girl felt a bad wind behind the hill, a prickle of omen like ants under skin.

Ling braced her free hand on the ground, fingers digging like roots, and the Dragon King’s pupils tightened like knots.

With dragon sight, she watched magic flow like rivers, from Ling’s core and the air, flooding into that planted hand.

It gathered beneath the palm, denser than her last Magic Cannon, a dark sea pooling like night ink in a well.

“Underworld of the Despair Magic Cannon—!!”