Thirty-Nine: Titles Don’t Really Matter

Spell it out—what do you mean, “grown up”? Her voice snapped like a dry twig, anger sparking like flint.

Lilith, the Little White Dragon, coiled around the Black Knight’s side, big eyes blazing at the armored phantom, her protest buzzing like a hornet trapped under glass.

In both lives put together, she counted as a twenty-year-old grown man; being judged with kiddie words rubbed her like sand in a wound. She was already an adult—the kind who wasn’t even age-gated in games.

Feels like the little girl who used to tail me everywhere suddenly turned into a teen who can drop a few reasonable lines; healthy growth. His tone was warm, like sunlight on old steel. Long before they traveled, he’d taken on guarding the White Holy Maiden’s growth; now that the Demon King had faded and the Taint had receded, his last meaning was to watch this small girl step by step. Seeing her grow lit him like a hearth.

He could already hear the other phantoms laughing, that fatherly relief like spring rain after a long frost.

Huh? What’s that even supposed to mean? Her heart pricked; being underestimated felt like swallowing ice.

The Little White Dragon fixed him with a dead-fish stare, cheeks puffed like a frog ready to croak. So mean. Loading glare attack… ( ᗜ ˰ ᗜ )

Am I not a mature, steady adult? Her chin tilted up like a stubborn sapling clawing for sun.

The fact you asked means you’re not. His answer dropped like a pebble into still water.

…Fine. She heard herself being ridiculous and let the air out of her chest like a punctured bellows. Maybe she hadn’t properly sat down with her phantoms in too long; the giddiness had run away with her reins.

Then how do I become a mature grown-up? The ache came first, action later; she wanted them to trust her to guard them, to stand like a pine in storm.

…Grow up a bit first. He paused, then let the words drift like smoke.

Hey! Her fist thumped his shoulder, two quick taps like a sparrow pecking bark.

He smiled and let her hit him; under the helm, his expression was a hidden ember. Growth—he wasn’t going to lay out a map. A dragon’s road is hers alone; only when she feels what growth means will she truly harden like tempered steel.

He glanced at his left hand, already fuzzing at the edges like a drawing rubbed too thin. That day wasn’t far.

I’ll head back. Your Vampire friend should be close. He tucked his fading hand behind him, then looked at the Little White Dragon, gaze soft as dusk.

Right, you lot can’t stay out long now. The thought fell heavy, like dew on cold leaves. She held out her hand, a small bridge across mist.

Next time. He didn’t take it. The phantom’s gauntleted right hand rested on her head, gentle as a feather falling. His voice was calm water.

I figure you and that Vampire Princess would match well. Those two dragons from the Dragon Territory aren’t bad, either. Next time, bring someone to see me.

Hey! Her protest flared like a struck match.

Next time. His outline loosened, then he unraveled into a ribbon of black mist and slipped into Lilith’s body, like night pouring into a lantern.

The Little White Dragon stared at the room turned empty again, silence echoing like a shell. She drifted away from the center, found a corner, and folded herself down, small as a curled cat.

The floor was clean—thank the stars. She laid the Shattered Ark across her lap, a Broken Sword like a crescent of dark moon, and fished out a handkerchief, cloth whispering over steel like rain on slate.

Strictly, the Broken Sword didn’t need care; her old holy sword never did, either. But she’d grown the habit of tending blades, like watering a bonsai—slow, patient, precise.

On their three-year adventure, Lilith had been the team’s weapon keeper: Mona’s wand, Vera’s bow, even Dov’s shield—her hands kept them gleaming, soothed like oil on wood.

No grand reason. It was simply the first skill she learned from the Black Knight—polishing at the fireside every night, a ritual like brewing tea under stars.

Now there was no fire in front of her, and only her own gear needed care. The quiet felt cool as river stone.

It made fine kindling for time while Eliza brought the Vampires down.

She wiped the Shattered Ark with care, then gave the Astrolabe a quick polish. After that, she tipped back half a bottle of Stellar Liquid; her tongue stuck out like a lizard’s, trying to shake off that dreadful taste.

What are you doing? Eliza arrived with the Vampires and caught Lilith mid-sour face—like she’d just bitten into a lemon the size of the moon.

Replenishing mana. Her voice sagged like a damp string. Astrologers have few ways to refill Star Energy—your “mana.” Besides drawing straight from the Star Canvas, we drink this Stellar Liquid, but…

But? Eliza tilted her head, curiosity bright as a finch.

It tastes awful. Lilith’s face twisted like knotted rope. It’s like marble ground to powder and stewed with leather for two days, then someone pours in a whole glass of lemon juice.

Doesn’t sound like something fit for a mouth. Eliza covered her lips and edged away, as if from a foul puddle. You drink that regularly? No wonder you’re not growing taller.

Nobody drinks this daily! That’s a personal attack! Lilith shot upright, fury flaring like sparks, finger jabbing at the Princess.

You’re a dragon, right? Eliza’s smile was a playful dagger.

A White Dragon’s life is still a life! Lilith puffed up, retort sharp as ice shards.

Enough banter. Report any new findings since before we arrived. Seeing the Little White Dragon’s spirit catch fire, the Vampire Princess folded away her teasing, voice settling like a commander’s banner.

As you can see, I found the Void Sect’s control hub for the sewers—there’s a huge heart in there. From what I can tell, it powers the flow of that dark purple liquid in the pipes. While I was investigating, the heart suddenly attacked me. To protect myself, I pierced it. That should wreck their sewer layout, but they probably noticed someone’s snooping. Her tone cooled like steel dipped in water; facts first, breath steady.

I see. Eliza nodded, then turned and murmured a few instructions to a male Vampire attendant. She faced Lilith again, calm as a still lake. It’s fine. In that situation, striking was necessary. If it ruins the Void Sect’s plan, it’s not all bad.

That’s fair, but I still haven’t met a single Void Sect believer. Down here, the only moving things I’ve seen are that heart and you… Wait—how many did you bring? Her eyes flicked, counting like beads sliding on a string.

Including me, twelve. Any issue? Eliza glanced back, did a quick tally, then returned her gaze, brow light as a sailing cloud.

Twelve. Add me, that’s thirteen. Feels like trouble’s going to bite… A chill crawled up her spine like ants, the number thudding like a drum.

Before the words finished, a brutal pull surged from above, like a black tide.

The Little White Dragon snapped her head up. The ceiling had become a vast void, a mouth of night covering the whole roof.

There it is! She yelped, spun to bolt, instinct flaring like a deer’s leap.

Too slow. The gravity spiked; it dragged her back like iron filings to a magnet.

Aaaahhhhhhh! Her scream corkscrewed as the vortex swallowed her through the wall, and in a blink, the room fell still as winter.