“I’ve got no interest in ordinary dragons. If you’re bold, not afraid to die, think you’ve got the chops, and love to brawl, come find me! That’s all!”

She planted a boot on a high marble slab like a cliff-top altar, her disdain sweeping the gathered Dragonfolk like a cold knife, and she threw the words down.

It was Alicia’s idea: stoke their fury at any cost. With their pride, they’d never swarm a single target unless their tempers burned like dry tinder. Ling thought up this exact jab.

The effect was obvious. Not all—well, not quite all—took the bait. A few “ordinary dragons,” thinking Ling truly had no interest in them, slunk away like fish slipping out of a net. But compared to the sea of dragons bristling under her taunts, those few were a drop of rain in a storm.

“Human girl on the stage!”

An old, weighty voice rose from the dragon mass like a drumbeat. The rest fell silent at once. He had standing; you could hear it in the hush.

“Kid, don’t get swollen with pride. Things aren’t as simple as you think. Beating the Dragon King doesn’t make you invincible. Anger all dragons, and the price is harsher than angering the King.”

Annoyance flared first, sharp as a spark on oil. Then Ling watched him pose like a schoolmaster with that tired line—things aren’t simple—while his face, tight with rage, betrayed what he really meant.

But angering the Dragonfolk was exactly her aim. Why stop now?

“Old man, I don’t mean anyone in particular. I mean all of you here are paramecia~”

Most of them didn’t know the word. They didn’t need to. They saw the mockery in Ling’s eyes, clear as a slap, and the meaning landed like a stone in a pond.

“Human girl! For your youth, I’ll overlook your foolishness once. Or do you intend to challenge the Dragonfolk?”

Boredom cooled her fire like shade on noon heat. If you want to fight, then fight. Who remembers speeches after fists land?

“Old-timer, if you’re fighting, hurry up. I’ve got things to do later. If you’re afraid of losing too fast, I won’t use the Magic Cannons. I’ll use my Scythe and nothing else.”

That last barb was the straw that snapped the camel’s back. Fury burst its banks. His golden dragon pupils flooded red, and pressure, aura, and raw strength all climbed like a storm crest. Reason held, barely. Without it, rage would bring not only power, but death.

“You alone? Too arrogant!”

He roared, unfurled his wings, and his vast body lunged skyward, rushing at Ling like a thrown mountain.

Calm settled first in her chest like still water. She drew her Scythe and set it before her, ready to meet the charge head-on and let him taste despair.

Her plan fell flat. The charging dragon never arrived. Some unseen force seized him mid-flight and pinned him in place. He kicked, hammered the air with his wings, and gained not half an inch.

“When did I say it was one-on-one? I’m here too.”

A mature, velvety voice flowed from behind. Red hair lifted by a playful breeze draped her shoulders. Its owner raised her hand, palm leveled at the old dragon; the ribbon at her wrist glimmered like a caught star.

“Alicia…”

Worry tightened Ling’s heart like a fist before thought moved. She hadn’t expected Alicia to step in. Ling alone? No problem. But Alicia, alone against so many Dragonfolk—unless she unleashed multiple high-tier spells at once, like last time—the odds felt thin as paper. And would those dragons grant her the time to weave them?

Alicia met her with a steady look, clear as a bell. Ling swallowed her protest, nodded once, and in the same breath set a silent vow—to keep her safe from first clash to last.

The trapped old dragon thrashed for another heartbeat and failed. Knowing he couldn’t move, he forced his mouth, the one part still free, toward the ground and bellowed.

“Move! What are you staring at? They’re trampling our heads, and you won’t strike back? Show me your pure-blood pride and fight!”

Who knew why the Dragonfolk clung to that empty “pride” like a relic—yet his words lit them like torches. Most dragons roared, then leapt, wings beating. Dust rose in waves, and in moments the ground vanished in a brown storm.

“Hey, sis, last check—can you really keep yourself safe?”

The wish came first, soft and stubborn, like rain that won’t quit: let Alicia stay back. Fighting, bleeding, angering others—let Ling handle it all.

Alicia shook her head.

“Ling, sometimes your big sister wants to fight too~”

She’d fought before, which made the line sound flimsy, like paper over a window. She was brushing it off. Fine. If she wouldn’t say more, then—

“Alright. Then we do it together~”

After all, Ling could protect her.