—N-no way!
The hatchling’s noble Dragonfolk blood, tainted by a warped strain like ink in clear water, made his body unlike the others.
In vision alone—
Other Dragonfolk saw distant things as a gnat on the sky, a single pixel.
To the hatchling, that pixel sharpened into crystal clarity, a window of glass cut by light.
He watched like a human with a telescope, eyes as cold as a lake at dawn, seeing the giant dragon winging in.
It was the Dragon King he’d mentioned just moments ago…
How could she be this fast?! Panic tightened like a fist; had the Undead been solved already?
The Undead were creatures that refused to die, like weeds pushing through stone after rain.
The black hatchling knew their stubbornness; blows didn’t finish them, and steel lost bite like a blade in sand.
If a whole nest showed up, no way you could clear them in this sliver of time.
Could they… really be invincible? The thought rose like smoke; he crushed it like a twig.
No one could do something like that so easily; that star was too far for any claw.
There was another way to read it. Maybe those two damned humans had failed, like candles snuffed by wind.
Failure would taste bitter as ash, but the Dragon King wouldn’t waste time; she’d drop them and return, a hawk cutting loose dead weight.
Counting the moments like beads, her speed said she might have abandoned them.
Guessing wasn’t enough. His gaze skipped across the Ninety Nine Maiden’s back, a sparrow probing for grain, trying to spot Ling and the others.
Tsk…
He clicked his tongue, annoyance pricking like nettles.
He’d overrated his sight; he could see the Dragon King’s whole shape, but the small details shrank into a pixelated blur.
He tried again, twice, thrice; the haze held like morning fog. He rolled his eyes, then lowered his head and lay flat, a shadow tucked under a rock.
If he couldn’t see, he’d save it as a surprise, like a sealed letter. Those two humans had less than a one-percent chance to live anyway.
Well…
He soothed himself with that. If the Ninety Nine Maiden drew closer, his eyes could count every scale on her back, and Alicia and the others perched on them.
But he chose not to.
Because, at his core, he was a lazy dog, sunning on a warm stone.
While the hatchling dozed for a breath, the Ninety Nine Maiden carried Ling and the rest to the high air over Dragonfolk Gorge. One more move and they could land.
“Alright, everyone hold tight. We’re going for a diving descent.”
Jiu Jiu set her posture, wings angled like knives. Just as she readied to drop, Ling slapped a back scale hard enough to make Jiu Jiu jolt.
“Jiu Jiu, don’t land yet!”
“W-what is it?”
Ling heard the tremor in her voice, like a lute-string plucked too hard, but didn’t care why she was nervous.
She smiled like a crescent moon.
She stood.
She lifted her index finger.
She pointed at the earth, a spear tip toward the valley.
“I’ll jump myself.”
“…”
“Wait—what?!”
That shout wasn’t Jiu Jiu’s. It was Alicia’s, sharp as a startled bird.
She hadn’t forgotten leaping off the Elvenfolk’s Sky Isle. That high-altitude drop felt like your heart falling into a cold well.
Why did this little gremlin love jumping from high places?!
Ling ignored their shock. To this flock of girls, they didn’t know the cool swagger and bright joy of a sky-drop.
“Remember to keep up~”
She tossed the line to the dazed Ninety Nine Maiden, then dove, a swallow cutting through blue.
Jiu Jiu froze until Ling fell a long way, then snapped awake and followed, a thunderhead rolling down.
Their speeds were worlds apart.
Ling had no tool for vertical acceleration; Jiu Jiu could plunge fast, like rain sliding off a cliff.
But the gap had already opened wide. No matter how Jiu Jiu sped up, she couldn’t catch Ling’s small body.
Ling didn’t notice the giant dragon chasing above. Her gaze locked on the ground, a hawk stooping on prey.
Two dragons waited there, one big and one black hatchling.
She didn’t know the big one, but she knew the small one like a pebble you’ve kicked before.
She’d spotted the hatchling only on the way down; he hadn’t been in her show-off plan.
But since he’d put himself in range, how could she not “repay” him a little?
Four hundred and fifty meters…
One hundred meters…
Sixty meters…
Twenty meters…
Her lips curled into a knife-smile.
She pressed her legs together and spun in the air four and a half times, a maple seed twirling.
Feet toward the ground, she sliced the air so hard it screamed with pressure.
Landing—
BOOM—!!
Ling wasn’t heavy, but gravity wound her speed far past human limits; her hem flashed with a lick of fire.
The instant she hit, the high speed hammered the earth, a drum struck by lightning.
Cracks spiderwebbed outward, racing and popping like ice breaking on a river.
Picture it: blocks of ground lifting and bursting, a ripple of squares exploding underfoot.
The floor heaved up, flinging the napping hatchling and the nearby great dragon like leaves in a gust.
Smoke and dust billowed, thickest around the point where Ling fell, a cloud so dense it hid the heart of the scene.
The hatchling fought the crushing wind pressure, beat his wings midair like oars on a stormy lake, and finally stabilized his backward flight.
In that heartbeat, alarms screamed in his head—enemy invasion, monster strike, clan in uproar—thoughts breeding like fish in flood.
Then a voice cut through the dust, heavy as a temple bell.
“Mo, it’s fine now. Ask me why? Because I’m here!!”
