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(Fate) Chapter 208: Sleepless Dragon just wants to sleep.
🕑 Added 2024-11-25 18:32:02 +0000 UTCEven Promise, who had seen his fair share of oddities, was momentarily at a loss for words.
Meanwhile, the green-haired nymph was quick to act—probably from experience.
As the dragon rose, grumbling incessantly and spraying spit everywhere, she immediately used her power to grow plants into a natural barrier to shield against the saliva.
The moment the dragon’s spit touched the plant barrier, it corroded it instantly.
"Be careful!"
The nymph yelled at the sleepless dragon, clearly annoyed. "Don’t hurt this child!"
Hearing this, even the usually talkative dragon paused for a moment. It glanced at Promise and then curiously asked the nymph, "Isn’t he here to take the Golden Fleece? He’s going to die sooner or latter anyway, so why are you protecting him?"
The nymph pouted but didn’t reply.
While she privately agreed with the dragon’s grim assessment, to he honest, she really didn’t want this adorable child to die.
So he turned his head to look at the boy again and said softly, “Promise, you’ve seen for yourself. This is not an opponent an ordinary person can defeat. Besides… the king of Colchis, who owns the Golden Fleece, never intended for anyone to obtain it.
His life is tied to the fleece itself, so even if you manage to take it, the king will hunt you down to the ends of the earth."
Promise looked at the nymph in surprise, then smiled warmly, a genuine sincerity in his expression this time.
"Thank you, beautiful nymph. But I have my reasons to obtain the Golden Fleece. It represents a promise between me and my friends, as well as the culmination and glory of our journey together.”
Having said that, without waiting for the green-haired nymph to respond, Promise turned to look at the tall sleepless dragon in front of him and said, "Speaking of which, Lord Dragon, do you want to finally have a good sleep?"
Seeing that Promise was quite polite, and that his old acquaintance Nymph was protecting him, the Sleepless Dragon naturally would not make things difficult for the boy and nodded in a very easy-going manner.
“Of course! I only agreed to guard that shiny thing hanging up there because Ares and that king told me this place would be peaceful. They tricked me! How is it peaceful when people come here every other now and then to bother me? I can’t sleep, and it’s infuriating!”
As the dragon started to ramble on again—
"I think I might have a way to help you sleep, Lord Dragon. Would you like to try it?" Promise interrupted hastily and said.
“What?!”
The sleepless dragon let out a thunderous roar of surprise, the sheer volume nearly deafening Promise.
Fortunately, the quick-reacting nymph immediately covered his ears to shield him from the noise.
Staring at Promise, the dragon said, "Are you serious? Can you really help me sleep? But you’re so weak—you must be lying!”
"I swear upon the gods. They will bear witness to my words!”
The nymph glanced at Promise, suddenly noticing how oddly practiced he was at making vows. His swearing was almost second nature by now.
Hearing a solemn vow, the previously skeptical dragon believed him a bit more.
It leaned closer, both excited and curious, asking. "Fine, tell me—what’s your method?!”
Promise didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he gazed at the massive sleepless dragon in front of him, lost in thought.
He remembered the myths.
Originally, Jason had taken the Golden Fleece with Medea’s guidance and Orpheus’s music, which had lulled the dragon to sleep.
So… among the three trials, was the final one actually the easiest?
"I have a shepherd’s flute—a gift from the god Hermes,"
As he spoke, Promise took out a painting from the sky and the shepherd's flute that he had obtained during the incident with Io and the Hundred-eyed Giant.
This was the very flute capable of closing all the eyes of Argus, the hundred-eyed giant.
“It might just fulfill your dream, Lord Dragon.”
Then, without giving the nymph or the dragon a chance to respond, Promise moved to sit beneath the ancient tree, placed the flute to his lips and began to play.
And when the soft, serene notes of the flute floated through the air, the nymph’s eyes widened in shock as she stared at Promise, utterly entranced.
In fact, among the nymphs of ancient Greece, there was a nearly universal trait—they loved music and dance, graceful and melodic above all else.
In mere moments, the nymph felt as though the goddess of the arts herself had descended, leaving her trembling at the sheer beauty of the sound.
In addition, the gentle breeze stirred Promise’s hair, sunlight falling on him as if it adored him, pooling warmly around him.
The green-haired nymph gazed at the scene, dazed, and a wild thought crossed her mind:
'If I die for this, so be it.
If I could bring him home, it would still be worth it.'
Meanwhile, under the spell of the magical flute, the sleepless dragon, who could never close its eyes—finally did.
For the first time in centuries, perhaps millennia, it experienced the peaceful sleep it had so desperately craved.
After a while, Promise lowered the flute from his lips, glancing at the now-slumbering dragon and the nymph who had fainted beside him.
Yawning, he leaned back against the tree bearing the Golden Fleece, closed his eyes, and drifted into sleep as well.
.
.
.
.
Promise only rested for a short time, merely closing his eyes to recharge.
When he reopened his emerald-green eyes, the sleepless dragon and the green-haired nymph still showed no signs of waking.
Looking at the dragon, whose ever-open eyes which had remained unclosed for millennia—were now peacefully shut, a thought suddenly struck Promise.
This scene was quite extraordinary so why not capture it in a painting?
It had been a long time since inspiration had struck him so strongly, so when Promise came up with this idea, the only thing left in his eyes was the sleeping dragon.
Reaching into the air, Promise summoned the pure white feathered paintbrush crafted for him by Hephaestus, the god of craftsmanship, along with the magical canvas capable of capturing all colors.
With these divine tools, he began to sketch the sleepless dragon of Colchis, guardian of the Golden Fleece.
The dragon, nestled beneath the ancient oak tree, exuded a tranquility that seemed to ripple through the air as Promise’s clear emerald eyes, sparkling like distant stars, gazed deeply at the creature, penetrating its very essence.
And so, Promise saw.
Just as he had glimpsed the true essence of Goddess of wisdom, Athena or Pegasus when inspiration struck before, he now peered into the core of the sleepless dragon.
He saw everything.
A monstrous figure—half human, half serpent—dwelling in the liminal space between the Underworld and the mortal realm.
Her serpentine body coiled like a mountain around the depths of the Underworld, while her upper half was as beautiful as a nymph, a spirit of nature.
The moment he saw, Promise knew her name: Echidna.
The monstrous mother of the sleepless dragon in front of him, also of Cerberus, the three-headed hound of hell, the multiheaded Lernean Hydra, and the Chimera.
At the same time, she was the wife of Typhon.
And if he saw Echidna, it was only natural that he would also see another.
A terrifying being born of Tartarus, the abyss that even the gods feared—ancient and as old as Nyx, goddess of night.
From this dark abyss came Typhon, the progenitor of all monsters, a dreadful force seeking to consume and transform all existence into a hellish inferno.
The greatest and most terrifying creature of the Greek Age of Gods—
Typhon.
Promise saw him.
Through painting the sleepless dragon in front of him, his unique gift transported his sight beyond the physical world, penetrating the Underworld and the infernal abyss.
There, he glimpsed a monstrous entity silently lurking, waiting for its moment to rise.
Towering higher than the heavens, a being so immense that even the sun would retreat from its emergence, a terror only the night could contain—Typhon, the most fearsome dragon of all.
But this time, something unprecedented occurred.
The instant Promise saw Typhon, Typhon saw him in return.
In the abyss of purgatory, Typhon lifted his grotesque head.
His crimson eyes, filled with unbridled fury and destruction, locked onto Promise from across the planes of existence.
In that moment, a strand of silver hair tied to Promise’s locks snapped.
Comments
Sarley
Promise is cooked
