Not long after that righteous duel ended, the Dragon King’s mana ran so low her body failed, and she crumpled like a felled pine.

A dragon that had been hiding slipped from the air like a shadow peeling off a cliff; it swooped, shifted, and became a drakonian—dragon below, human above—to catch the Dragon King midfall.

He didn’t puff up with an “I’ll avenge my lord and challenge you, punk” routine; instead he bowed to Ling with courtly grace, murmured an apology like rain on eaves, and carried the Dragon King off, likely to rest.

Ling didn’t stand there like a scarecrow in a field; heart quick with purpose, she grabbed Alicia’s hand and followed, shadow tracking shadow, into the house prepared for the Dragon King.

The recovery was faster than expected; in that mana‑rich room, thick as fog in a ravine, she lay a while and the color returned to her face like dawn washing stone.

A thought pricked Ling like cold water on the nape—mana replenishment, that peculiar method—but it stayed a thought, because her body balked at crossing that line with the Dragon King.

Fortunately, it wouldn’t take long; her flesh wasn’t hurt, only her mind singed by pain, so her strength sprouted back like spring grass after frost.

Relief fluttered, then Ling leaned in the moment Lady Dragon King stirred, as quick as a sparrow to grain.

“Pervert Dragon! When are you going to fulfill your duty?”

At that “Pervert Dragon,” the Dragon King’s newly won calm drained away like ink in water.

“Hey, I’ve got a name, okay?”

“Mm? Then what should I call you?”

“Call me… call me Jiu Jiu.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Paramecium.”

“Hey! That’s getting worse!”

“Oh? Mr. Malaria Parasite?”

Forget it—the Ninety Nine Maiden let the curtain fall on her thoughts, fogging them on purpose to meet provocation with emptiness.

A moment later, Jiu Jiu felt a light pat between her shoulder blades, as soft as a dragonfly touching a pond.

“Alright, alright, Pervert Dragon. I won’t call you Mr. Paramecium or Mr. Malaria Parasite. From now on, I’ll just call you Pervert Dragon, okay?”

Something felt off, yet the Ninety Nine Maiden found “Pervert Dragon” oddly pleasant—sweetly wrong, like honey with smoke; at least better than being called things she couldn’t even name, so Pervert Dragon it would be.

“Mm. Since Pervert Dragon’s mostly recovered… answer my question already. When will you keep your promise?!”

The first half sounded like concern, but the tone snapped like a twig, and she turned into a little tyrant, voice bristling like a hedgehog.

Jiu Jiu wasn’t used to it; fear snagged her tongue like thorns.

“I—I—I—”

Ling pressed harder, eyes bright like a hawk’s, as if she’d eat the Ninety Nine Maiden alive.

“I what?! Speak up! I can’t hear you—keep talking, keep talking till I do!”

“I don’t even know what you want—how am I supposed to know if I can help you?!”

Lions have tempers; a Dragon King even more, and pushed by Ling, her temper surged like a wildfire, the shout booming like thunder in a gorge.

Ling didn’t grow angry at the roar; instead, a honeyed smile opened like sunshine through mist.

“Now that’s more like a Dragon King.”

Jiu Jiu flinched, then bowed her head; her hair fell like a curtain, hiding her eyes, her expression shuttered like a closed shrine.

“Since you’re clear‑headed, I’ll say my goal outright.”

She didn’t answer; her head stayed low, but a tiny nod rippled like a leaf twitching in still water, and Ling saw it.

“Ahem. We’ve got a big goal. We want to build a new world—a world where all races live in peace.”

“Impossible.”

She cut Ling off before the words could breathe, voice flat as a blade.

“Not that you lack the power. With your strength, you could found a new world. But you can’t make all races live in peace. Pigs eat grass, people eat pigs—that’s a law you can’t bend. Even if you force a peace, it’s only a pause. Sooner or later, the old thing in every creature—my kind above yours—will rot the order. That’s the—”

“Prosperity tipping into decay, right?”

“…Yeah. Since you know that, why still do it?”

Silence pooled first; Ling lifted her eyes to the ceiling like a kite on a wind, thoughts dark as cloud.

Guilt pricked, then cooled; she never believed much in peace among all races. She only wanted to smash the World Consciousness. The so‑called Mystic Realm was a piece on that board. Thinking that, she felt selfish, like ash on the tongue.

She lowered her gaze to the Dragon King girl, a smile curving with unreadable tide.

“For myself—or for a pitiful girl. That’s all.”