Chapter 169: Frightful Gaze
🕑 Added 2025-05-13 11:00:09 +0000 UTCTrapped In Another World With No Magic
Chapter 169: Frightful Gaze
~A/N: Hey Dear Readers! I have been lazy on my editing and have neglected to do my proofreading, so if you notice a higher number of mistakes in the last few chapters, I do appreciate your patience. I'm going to start another full proofreading pass from chapter 1 to start catching all of these errors (and refresh my memories on events). I hope you're enjoying the story and can forgive me of my errors that have been neglected for too long xD I've been on a roll writing, so I've shirked my other duties to my readers. For that, I do apologize.
Now that that's said, I do hope you'll continue to enjoy the story!~
***
Neith is over seven hundred years old, which is rather young for a dragon. Shialvalgarro estimated his own age to be around ten thousand years, though he would readily admit that he spent a great deal of that time either in total seclusion or hibernation. The other elder dragons scattered to the winds as the Devourer proved to be unkillable, even when it was little more than the size of a town, and the few that remained were driven out or killed by Morthybargaron and his allies.
Some of whom Morthybargaron betrayed in the end.
The grey Jomsviking has seen many forms that magic takes, and witnessing a known sage like Senn form a spell from methods older than the dragon himself is a bit awe inspiring.
Wenlianna, Vaergraes, and Senn are all working in tandem to cast a specialized detection spell that will use their three positions to help pinpoint any return mana waves from Neith’s part in the spell.
With just a quick description from Daniel, Wenlianna was able to quickly explain an adapted idea, and Senn ran with it, working with the next most experienced mage in Vaergraes and the young human magic artisan who is more familiar with how Daniel’s brain works.
Vaergraes calls out calmly as the detection spell is finished, “Neith, now.”
The dragon nods, quickly casting the pulse portion, which uses a lot of his mana suddenly. He’s not especially surprised, but it does hit him harder than he expected.
The mana pulse is briefly visible as a bubble expanding outwards quickly, racing into the distance, and the three mages hold their detection spell to wait on any ‘echoes’ that return.
Something sends a strange feeling through Neith’s scales on his tail, and he looks around to see if there’s anything that stands out. A foreboding sense that someone is watching him refuses to go away, though there’s no obvious signs of anything.
That is until he looks behind him.
A titanic shadow is looming over the group, distorted by the faint fog around them and wavering with the movements of the tree branches and leaves warping the sunlight. The shadow is larger than Neith in his natural form, which is roughly fifty times larger than he is now.
More than its size, though, which could easily imply another Yaulwembor, it’s the mana that Neith senses buried deep within that shadow that nearly stops his heart.
The last time he felt this sensation is when he was little more than a neonate in the grand scheme of things, and he was taken in by the feldroks.
When he passed one of the elders, the sheer volume of mana rolling off of the ancient being seemed to suck all of the air out of Neith’s lungs, chill him to his bones, and remind him how very, very small he was.
Like dragons, feldroks grow over their entire lives, though it does slow down as they get older. Regardless, the feldrok Neith only saw once carried with it what the dragon can only describe as the presence of death.
The shadow carries that same presence.
Just as quickly as he notices it, though, the gossamer apparition fades into the fog, but what it leaves behind is the realization of where it was coming from.
Directly at the base of the dark presence is a human from another world who, without any magic of his own, found ways to defeat dragons, the Devourer, and is leading a near unstoppable campaign to secure territory for his friends and family.
Their eyes meet at that moment, and Neith realizes that he was entranced and terrified for that brief moment.
By all appearances, he was terrified by Daniel.
Is it true? Is he an imposter?
No. Even if the imposter could use Nemaisol, it would disable the spell hiding his mana. And, the bound goddess wouldn’t be fooled.
As his brain races through possibilities, trying to eliminate anything that warrants fear, he keeps circling back to one question.
So then, what was that?
Both Daniel and Neith share a silent conversation with their gaze. They wordlessly agree not to get distracted from the mission, but whatever it was demands investigation at the earliest opportunity.
For now, the detection spell seems to be working, and Neith and Daniel appear to be the only two who noticed anything peculiar. Kera’tai and Aoloan are observing the detection hologram and the firefly-like glowing spots that appear inside the triangle formed by trio of casters. Senn is still chanting with her split presence, getting close to finishing Hallowed Ground.
Daniel notices Luceniel peeking out from underneath the scarf that summons her, glancing around warily before she finally emerges.
“Lucy, there you are.”
She gives Daniel a concerned look, and he gently pets her with his finger to try to reassure her. “We’ll figure out what that was later. Don’t let me forget, alright?”
She perks up, nodding eagerly. She mimics Hekate by ‘standing’ in midair with her hands on her hips, puffing her tiny chest up as much as it’ll go. Like the feldrok teen, Luceniel is not particularly femininely-endowed, and given her much more cherubic appearance, she really does look a little like a frog trying to make herself look bigger.
Daniel gives an amused smile, adding warmly, “Good. I’m counting on you, Lucy.”
She beams at him happily, giving him two big thumbs up. Soon after, Senn’s physical voice finishes Hallowed Ground as it had before. However, with Kaeralegier’s magic negation around him, Daniel can’t understand the words this time.
The otherworlder Emperor braces himself. Nemaisol is still released from the sheath, and Kaeralegier already knows what to expect.
As the golden light of the spell descends to the ground, spreading outwards to form the dome of security, the mechanic sees everyone watching him, just to be sure. Even Wenlianna, Vaergraes, and Senn’s ghost-like copy are somewhat nervously watching him, even though they need to stay focused on the detection spell, which has pretty well filled with colorful dots.
Thankfully, Daniel and Luceniel are unaffected by the spell, with the exception of the elemental’s appearance. She changes forms to her ‘holy’ form, which makes her look like a tiny goddess with her dual-tone hair and weightless-looking robes possessing an ethereal sparkling quality like visible stars in daylight. She becomes more ‘mature’ and ‘composed’ compared to her usual bubbly self, and strangely enough, Daniel feels a sense of comfort with her presence. He still doesn’t know what special powers she has in the divine-seeming element. If he’s lucky, she’s a powerful healer/shaman capable of keeping everyone around him safe and free of poisons. In fantasies, especially those centered around roleplaying formats, there’s usually the role of priest/priestess who is capable of summoning divine power from their god to heal the party of wounds and cure poisons, dispel curses, and provide various protections. This often extends into other deity- and nature-worshipping roles, such as paladins, shamans, druids, and various others.
Not that Daniel wants to find out the hard way whether or not Luceniel in her holy element can save anyone whose lives might be in danger, but he will need to make an effort to learn what her ability is if it doesn’t appear in the next few minutes.
Kera’tai, who took it upon herself to sketch the detection hologram with Wenlianna’s notebook, finishes drawing and says, “I copied it as best as I could, if that helps.”
“Very much so,” replies the physical form of Senn. “I have a pretty good idea of what we’re seeing and where it’s at as well. As far as I can tell, the marsh should be clear of anything that can threaten us, and certainly nothing too big.”
“One of us could just stomp around on top of the false ground,” points out Peiburi. She intended to be facetious, but Neith offers, “Allow me. If I am grabbed by something, all the better.”
“I-I didn’t mean… That was just a joke,” urges the gatonine woman quickly.
“Regardless, there are few things in the world that can harm me directly,” replies the grey dragon. “And, I should be able to react quickly enough to any that can, with certain exceptions.” He glances at Daniel, who nearly prevented their alliance before it could ever begin upon their initial encounter.
“Couldn’t we have just done that to begin with, then?” asks Kuboen with little effort made to mask his impatience.
Senn is the one to answer with, “We could, but now we know where everything in the immediate area is. For now, even the pack of slormantus seems to be far enough away to leave us alone, but I’ll hold Hallowed Ground as long as I can. It will keep us undetected by most things, and slow anything else down at least a little.”
Baron Goelselmo asks the most important question. “So, how is our path ahead?”
“Clear,” replies Wenlianna.
“Very good. Then, I’ll lead the vanguard while Sir Neith serves as our noise lure. Peiburi, I’d like you to go into one of the branches above and listen. The fog will restrict your vision, but try to keep an eye on Senn for our position.”
“Yes, Father!” replies the gatonine woman, and she bounds towards the nearest tree to begin her climb, slinging the rifle to work her way deftly up the tree trunk.
Neith nods with satisfaction, declaring, “I’m going ahead.” The dragon jogs into the fog, and the eerie mist closes in around him like a thick, cool sheet.
Something must be producing this fog for it to remain this thick. It obviously wasn’t the pol’vapporr itself. So, what is it?
Without further ado, though, Neith performs his assigned task. He begins jumping up and down, using his weight to make as much noise as possible on the surface of the false ground. He can hear the creaks and rustles of the roots flexing, and the occasional splash of the water beneath being disturbed enough to make noise.
It’s surprising that Hekate was able to attract something so big with her weight. And, her escape still desires an explanation, though it’s probably not my place to ask.
Neith lands on the false ground briefly, studying his hand.
Upon a close inspection, a dragon transformed into a human form could pretty easily be seen through. On a barely-perceptible level, his skin is made up of his scales, but smoothed over to give the appearance of human skin. His hair is grown on the spot, and his horns and tail are compressed. The more energy dedicated to hiding features, the more difficult the spell becomes. And, unless complete and utter avoidance of detection is required, most dragons would prefer to be identified as dragons at a glance, even if they are in a humanoid form for social functions with smaller races.
Once a user of transformation magic is proficient at it, summoning clothes for their appearance is just a part of becoming human. Likewise, storing the clothing put on while in human form essentially ‘hides’ it within their scales. And, specialized materials, like Neith’s armor, can switch with him between each form.
She came out of the marsh with all of her clothes removed. She has no issues teleporting with her clothes, so…
The dragon pauses his thought, doing a few more child-like hops on the false ground. He whistles as well, just to make some more noise to try to attract any underwater ambush predators.
After several minutes of doing his best, he calls back, “No response! Vanguard may advance! I’ll keep making noise just in case.”
“Understood!” calls back Lyrtef. “Vanguard advancing forward!”
If she made the choice to switch during her scouting mission, why did she switch back while still endangered by the pol’vapporr? Even if she has never spent time in it, her natural form should be easy and comfortable…
The dragon scoffs to himself.
No. Maybe comfortable isn’t the right word. But, I’m surprised she was able to do two switches so quickly.
The dragon finds one of the pol'vappor's recent ambush points, as denoted by the broken roots and significant portion of missing plant matter from the macro-moss that provides the net-like coverage. The murky black water is visible in the gap, and the fog rolls across and around the uncovered window into the deep hidden lagoon.
Neith jogs to the hole, cautious of the lost structural support. He kneels down, splashing the water.
“Sir Neith!?” calls out Peiburi.
“Apologies, I should have given warning. I'm not under attack yet.”
“Confirmed! We can hear you, but we can’t see.”
“Understood. I'll use telepathy if necessary.”
The dragon resumes his bouncing strategy on the more “solid” parts. He gains a strange amusement the longer he works, listening carefully for the party's voices and using his sense of smell to detect anything abnormal that changes.
Doing so catches his attention when he picks up a particularly familiar scent.
Neith follows his nose, hopping like a children’s game.
The tiny whiff of familiarity he detected possesses a sweetness granted by a diet luxurious enough to have sweets on a regular basis, cleanliness associated with the soaps made at the Fievegal, and a faint ozone-like smell from a stupendously large amount of mana in a deceptively small package.
Neith finds a helmet custom-forged to fit a small humanoid head with big triangular ears.
As far as he knows, Hekate isn’t especially attached to her current armor so much as the much lighter spot-armored blouse and skirt she favors at the Citadel. It’s the outfit Daniel gave her, and it has seen better days, which is one of many reasons Daniel usually tries to encourage her to wear newer clothes.
But, he claims the helmet to be returned to the youthful Empress as soon as possible. Even if she’s not especially attached to it, the sharmelkolle alone is valuable.
While he’s storing it, though, another wave of eeriness rolls over Neith’s skin, causing him to whirl to face the direction of the sensation.
The eldritch shadow has appeared once more, visible to him even through the thick fog, and he realizes that Hallowed Ground is no longer active.
And, amidst the fog and darkness of the humongous apparition, the towering form shifts, and six faintly glowing points of light turn. It takes a second as Neith feels his heart racing for him to realize what they are.
What he is looking up at are its eyes, and it is looking directly back at him.
The shadow is not just some strange anomaly. It truly is a living being, and it is aware that Neith knows about it.
Every instinct in the dragon’s body are screaming at him to run and hide.
***
Wenlianna watches the glass indicators of her device, adjusting the filtering iris as the lights fill up, keeping her indication mostly centered as it continues to get stronger and stronger.
“How do you know we’re getting closer if you keep lowering it?” asks Treia quietly, not wanting to look like a fool to everyone else, but curious about why Wenlianna is doing what she’s doing.
The brunette magic artisan replies brightly, “It’s actually so that I have an indication of it getting stronger. If I let it fill up all of the lights, like this…” She opens the iris up until the lights fill completely, and the maximum level indicator glows red thanks to faint coloring in the glass. “I won’t be able to tell if it’s going up anymore.”
Treia nods, failing at her goal to avoid feeling dumb, but thankful that Wenlianna didn’t mock her. “I see… What if it doesn’t light up at all?”
“The iris fully open is pretty sensitive to even a little bit of mana. I’d think Daniel’s house is the only place that would have no natural mana present.” The young noblewoman laughs at her own joke, and Treia’s ears turn and flex as she thinks. She finally snickers when she gets it, “Ah, you mean on Earth.”
They both laugh together, and Wenlianna admits, “Yes. A dumb joke. Sorry.”
“Ha! I love dumb jokes, as it turns out. As long as they’re funny.” The gatonine clears her throat. “How many eyes does a gatonine have?”
Wenlianna cocks her head, confused. She looks at Treia, studying her face for a long time. Gatonines have mostly-human faces, with the exception of their triangular ears, and some of them have dimples where whiskers might have been in their ancestors. Additionally, Treia’s eyes have a sharp green color with oval-shaped pupils that can narrow tightly in bright light. But, no matter how much she looks, the human brunette can’t find any additional eyes on her feline companion.
“Ummm…”
Kuboen blurts out bluntly, “Three. One’s in the name ‘gatonine’.”
“Hey!” cries out Treia. As she does, Wenlianna gets it, and the magic artisan snorts when she tries to suppress her laughter a bit.
Meanwhile, Treia flinches, asking just as quickly. “Wait, how do you know that, Lord Kuboen?”
This causes the male gatonine to flinch, glancing at his family in order before settling his gaze on Gwenesphia briefly, who cocks her head. It’s a joke most of them have not heard, with exception of his youngest sister Gwenesphia.
Treia remarks, “I thought you hated Da-...”
“I guessed!” snaps Kuboen. He scowls at Daniel briefly, who is unsure why he’s the target of animosity all of a sudden.
Just before the gatonine warrior can be pressed for information, almost everyone seems to feel the same sensation all at once. The entire group halts their forward progress, while some grip their weapons and immediately scan the area. Daniel picks up on something wrong, quickly shouldering his rifle. “Where’s it coming from?” asks the human with no sense for mana or its direction.
However, no one can speak, as the feeling rolls over those who can feel it, which seems to be everyone but Daniel, like the cold chill of winter. Wenlianna can feel her skin becoming clammy, and breathing becomes more difficult. Her eyes dart around as the air seems to get thick and suffocating.
The pressure relieves suddenly, and Wenlianna gasps for air, dropping to her knees.
Neith jogs close to Daniel, glancing at Wenlianna briefly as sweat starts to trail down her face. Hesitating for a moment, Neith jogs to Wenlianna. “Your Grace Wenlianna, are you alright?”
She notices that Daniel is confused, since everyone is still on edge, including the grey dragon. “Are we under attack?” asks the mechanic.
The elven sage approaches Daniel, trembling as she grips her staff. She asks at nearly a whisper, “D-Daniel…?” She visibly swallows, and Wenlianna finally tears her eyes away to look at Neith, whose own wary expression is wavering. The dragon glances at his human sovereign more than once, as if Daniel is the source of that phenomenon.
Senn asks quietly, “Daniel,... did… you do something?”
“I… Me?” asks the confused Earthling.
“It’s the curse,” replies Neith confidently, causing everyone to look at him. He stands up with Wenlianna, helping her to her feet. Her legs wobble, since she’s not a fighter, and what she just experienced was pure, unfiltered danger as far as her body’s instincts are concerned.
Senn grips her staff, asking urgently, “Curse? The one from that bauble?”
“The same,” replies the dragon. “For… all intents and purposes, Daniel died that day. The creature he described seeing… I think… I saw it just now.”
Everyone is quiet for a long time. “I don’t understand…” remarks Treia, her voice wavering from fear. Even though the presence is gone, the lingering terror is still gripping their souls. She can’t speak for everyone else, but Wenlianna’s heart is still pounding in her chest, and her glasses don’t seem to be working as well as normal due to the adrenaline rush. “Is Daniel turning into some kind of monster?”
Kuboen and Resken reflexively grip their rifles tighter, as if saying the words will suddenly turn Daniel into the thing they fear.
Even Wenlianna admittedly feels the instinctive urge to grip her light armor over her chest more firmly.
Daniel’s own expression shows distress, and he seems to come to a small realization. “Nemaisol. It must have been when I locked Nemaisol after Hallowed Ground was dispersed.”
“That’s the second time in a short while I’ve felt that presence,” replies Neith.
“Really?” asks Vaergraes. When was the first?”
“When the detection spell was being cast,” replies the grey knight. “It might have blended in for everyone else with the pulse that was created, but I saw it. A beast with six eyes and a massive, towering form, looming over our Liege like a colossal shadow. What’s worse…” The dragon trails off, noticeably grimacing. Wenlianna hasn’t seen much of the ‘greater dragons’ in action, but she has heard stories that Magnir has confirmed of ‘lesser dragons’, as they used to be referred to, who have virtually a powerful human’s worth of magic at most. According to the blue lesser dragon, the weakest of the dragons are what the Stalvaltan guard trained to fight against, and the standard by which 7,000 standard soldiers are said to be able to defeat.
If something is making Neith, a greater dragon, afraid, it must be even more powerful than Hekate, Vaergraes, or the legendary Senn, who is also trembling nervously as she clutches her staff. The elven sage is trying to maintain a stoic expression, but anyone could likely see through her facade.
Neith finally summons the words to finish his thought. “It’s not just the shadow of a curse. The creature… It looked right at me.”
Several of the combat party members gasp at Neith’s revelation, and Daniel shifts uncomfortably.
“Why is it showing itself now?” asks Daniel quietly.
No one has the answer, so the group remains quiet for a moment. Baron Goelselmo waits a moment longer to make sure he doesn’t interrupt anyone, and he asks, “How about the detector? If we can finish this mission quickly, we should return to a controlled zone until it can be figured out. If the curse is preparing to manifest something, we may need the Dragon Empresses and her Greatness Empress Hekate for additional firepower.”
Daniel nods in agreement, looking at Wenlianna. She twitches, having been caught off guard by being silently addressed. “Oh! Um…” She quickly looks at the device. It is reading a strong mana detection, but they still need to move into the marsh, which seems to be the center. She clears her throat, doing her best to give an officious answer. “Given the strength of the mana signature, we’re either close, or the detector is going to reach its maximum threshold.”
The otherworlder emperor gives the information some thought, and Neith speaks up. “My Liege, if I may.”
“Go ahead,” replies Daniel with a respectful nod.
“I think it’s time we summon the remaining Empresses to escort you. The alternative is to test Wenlianna’s device now.”
“Oh! Yes!” squeaks the magic artisan in question. “Th-Though, the intent was to use it on something inanimate to make sure it’s safe the first time.”
“Regardless, prolonging Daniel’s presence where the creature is making its existence known is asking for a fight we’re not ready for. He can’t keep Nemaisol drawn indefinitely, and we don’t know if spells will suffice.”
“What about anti-magic stones?” asks Kera’tai curiously. “We were using them to negate Doephluev’s mana for a long time.”
“It’ll have to do,” replies Neith. “Though, their field of effect is much larger and less discriminatory, meaning…” The dragon knight looks at Daniel with a minor bit of hesitation.
Daniel fills in, knowing what it is pretty easily. “I won’t be able to accompany the group on missions.”
Neith nods.
Daniel looks to his hip where Nemaisol is sheathed, as if spoken to. Knowing what she knows, he probably was. Wenlianna is one of the few privy to the fact that the sword of legend houses an apparent goddess in hiding, similar to Ryukana. Though, even Ryukana doesn’t know about Kaeralegier.
“Once we clear this mystery and the Valley of Dreams,” starts Daniel. “I’ll sequester myself. To do that, though… I intend to recruit our most unruly new guest.”
This sends another chill through the group, though for a different reason. Daniel can only be talking about one being.
“You’re out of your mind!” exclaims Treia. “You want to free that thing!?”
“She is an intelligent being,” replies Daniel. “And she’s the only one strong enough to rival Hekate’s raw power, so one can be on offense and the other on defense.”
“How do you expect to train her to obey you?” asks Aoloan cautiously. “Yaulwembor is probably more ancient than any of us. If she becomes territorial or aggressive, there will be nothing that we can do to stop her.”
“In your experience, Vae, would a magic contract be able to restrain her?” asks Daniel.
The Uhl’tall archpriestess thinks, but Senn is the one to answer first with little hesitation. “No. Not the ones you use at the Citadel. Even Doephluev is able to resist its hold. Though… I think I can get through to her.”
“Really?” asks Daniel, surprised to hear this.
“Yes. Though, as Aoloan just pointed out, there will be little to stop her if she goes rampant for any reason.” The elven mage finally relaxes her staff a little, placing the bottom on the ground. “She should be intelligent enough to understand communication, though it won’t be as simple as using any of the language conferral spells.”
“You hope to use mana listening?” asks Vaergraes, surprised. “I’ve never heard of anyone trying to communicate that way.”
“Mana listening?” asks Peiburi curiously.
Senn explains, “It’s the artform that includes Dawnseeing and observation of the world’s mana. It’s what I was doing to the tree to narrow down our search.” She then answers Vaergraes. “And, yes. I’ve had some success relaying Dawnsights to non-Dawnseers before, such as Rikuto. I’ve also sent messages across the continent with it, but it’s significantly less efficient than telepathy or the peculiar radios the Fievegal developed.” She then clarifies her plan for everyone else. “Using mana listening, specifically, mana flow guidance, I should be able to convey our goals to Yaulwembor and make a deal with her.” She gestures at Neith, saying a little sarcastically, but still respectfully, “Unlike the dragons, Yaulwembor seems to have no desires for power or wealth, specifically, so she should be fairly easy to appease. Given enough time, we might also be able to teach her to communicate with words.”
“It’s a big risk, Daniel,” urges Gwenesphia.
“Yaulwembor is the elephant in the room on one side, and this curse is a growing one on the other. We can’t ignore both forever. I’d rather know if we can use Yaulwembor against the curse beast, or if we need to put her down for good. She should still be fairly exhausted for now, once we pull her out of storage. I have an idea for how to react quickly enough to finish her if need be, and it’s something I’ve wanted Xyreko to build for a while now.” Daniel clenches his fist. “I feel like there’s never the right tools or weapons.” He takes a breath, and Wenlianna can tell a sudden sadness has gripped him. “Sometimes, it feels like all I’ve done since coming to this world is find ways to kill everything around me…”
“Daniel…” murmurs Wenlianna, reaching towards him. She’s not sure what she can say to ease his conscience, since she’s not used to the world of combat either.
“If you are done killing the world’s monsters, retire to the Citadel,” replies a stern voice that commands attention. It’s not a voice that was present at the location before, and she often serves as the de facto Empress of the Fievegal in lieu of Hekate due to her seniority and position as second Empress.
Ryuogriar walks calmly between Helbeit and Resken, who step apart to let her through to the core of the main group. They then bow, greeting her. “Greetings, Your Grace.”
“Greetings, and be at ease, gentlemen. I need to speak to my soon-to-be husband.”
She approaches Daniel with a merciless gait, stopping in front of him with her arms crossed under her breasts. “If you wish to live a life of comfort and leisure, as is your right, you will find no one to stop you. In fact, I will wholly welcome it.”
“She’s right,” adds Treia. “You killed the Devourer, the Feral Feldrok, er, Lugrae, the evil red dragon and his loyalists, Brosjak…” She starts counting on her fingers, realizing she’s quickly running out of fingers. She sighs. “Point is, you’ve already decreased the world’s population of troublesome beings. Maybe we should just go home and let the army handle external threats.”
The Dragon Empress nods agreeably. “Neith, this creature… what would it take to defeat it?”
The grey dragon glances at the people around him. “With no regard to collateral, everyone here, most likely. Assuming we don’t crumble under its immense aura.”
“Mukori, you will build another god-killer,” declares Ryuogriar confidently and coldly. She turns and cups his cheek with her hand just as he’s about to respond. “A final weapon that can kill anything. It will be the last weapon you build, if you so desire, so that we are ready when the curse beast appears, Mukori. And, to prevent needing to use it, we’ll employ every strategy we can find. Perhaps, in the process, we can find a clue to increasing your longevity as well.” She smiles sweetly at him, pure and undying affection drowning out the gloom around him. She adds with a hint of disappointment in her voice. “Unfortunately, Mukori, I know you quite well at this point. You won’t be able to rest while there are dangers you can prevent, even if I try to persuade you to. Am I wrong?”
Daniel looks down. “No… I just… I wish there wasn’t so many dangerous things…”
“M-My father…!” starts Wenlianna finally as she steps closer to the two. She swallows when Ryuogriar turns her gaze on the brunette. However, the dragon matriarch’s expression softens into a genuinely caring look. “Yes, Wenlianna-Mukori?”
Wenlianna can’t help but blush and swallow a lump that seems to form in her throat from a brief embarrassment that makes her forget everything else. She manages to summon her courage, though, since it’s not danger that the dragon presents.
“My Father, th-the Grand Duke when he was alive… I…” She settles her nerves as she remembers the man in question. “He always made us feel safe. There wasn’t anything that he and the Stalvaltan guard couldn’t defeat.” She glances at the two Stalvaltan knights, who dip their heads in appreciative reverence. “Father used to say that he hated battle, but the thing he hated more was the thought that we, his family, would experience it because he wasn’t there to stand between us and the enemies. However, he also said that it is better to let a thousand men take charge and fail than to let talent waste away in the shadow of one.” She approaches, taking Daniel’s right hand and lifting it to just in front of her chest. “The Emperor of the Fievegal and the Harbinger of Calamity casts a big shadow.”
Gwenesphia steps up, adding, “As a lowly Imperial officer before I became… an Empress, nothing is more appreciated by even the lowest-ranked enlisted than the right tools and armor to protect us. You don’t have to bring us to Earth’s level, but everyone in the Fievegal appreciates what you’ve done, Daniel.”
The mechanic sighs. “As always, thank you. A momentary lapse into my old ways.” He clenches his left fist, studying it for a moment. “I’m sorry, Mukori, but you were right. Even if I sometimes feel this way, I can’t sit idle when there’s something I could be doing. I hope you’ll all continue to support me…”
Ryuogriar and the others smile, and the platinum dragon woman replies affectionately, “I shall remind you of your foolishness when you stumble, Mukori. But, so long as you and I both live, I will always be by your side making foolish decisions of my own.”
He laughs for a moment, prompting a light chuckle out of everyone else as well.
“Right. Then, let’s find this mana anomaly, figure out how to dispel it, and then go back to the airship. If we’re lucky, our friendly curse beast will appear at the summit and destroy our enemies for us.”
This gets a more sincere laugh out of some of those gathered around, while Wenlianna complains, “Daniel! That’s terrible!”
The Earthling smiles, adding softly, “Maybe so, but it would buy us time to retreat and regroup. Sorry, though. It was a joke in poor taste.”
Daniel faces into the center of the marsh where he suspects the mana anomaly is. But, his mind is also on the implications of the ‘curse beast’, who spoke to him when the curse first afflicted him.
Something feels strangely… familiar about it, like he’s missing a crucial detail about the being. That said, if its presence is being made almost tangible, then his strange dream or vision may not be just that.
In a future not too far away, he’ll be wishing it was nothing more than a figment of his overworked imagination.
***
Comments
Silas Kriegsende
Hahaha that one's going to be a LIIIITTLE worse than that xD
MageFeanor
I keep envisioning the ''Beholder'' as a Yandere~
