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Dryadic Dragon: Chapter 59: The Gigantis Dragon
🕑 Added 2025-11-16 14:07:36 +0000 UTCChapter 59: The Gigantis Dragon
“Making the contract’s pretty simple,” Azazel began. “If you focus your senses on the Sacred Gear, you should feel something akin to a pulling force trying to bring you in. Once that happens, all you have to do is not resist—and Fafnir will handle the rest.”
I nodded, closing my eyes in preparation.
Like two magnets nearing each other, I could feel the Sacred Gear trying to connect with my demonic power. Like there was a faint current surging through my body, attempting to guide the energy particles from my being into the gilded dagger.
And like he explained, I made no attempt to fight it. Instead, I decided to encourage it. Circulating my demonic power to match the wavelength of the legendary King that resided within Downfall Dragon Spear.
The feeling strengthened, and the faint pulling force quickly shifted into that of a flat-out vacuum—drawing a connective line between my mindscape and what lay within.
It was a jarring feeling, the same you’d feel from having your head abruptly dunked in a pool of cool water, but I remained firm. Enduring the shock and using every ounce of mental fortitude to ensure the connection didn’t break.
In a way, it almost felt like he was testing me.
“So, you’re the one.”
As I felt the process near its conclusion, a hollow, regal-sounding voice called out to me. Startling my eyes open, only to find that I was no longer in Azazel’s apartment.
Instead, I found myself amidst the confines of a royal hall. Draped in pristine white marble in all directions, with beautifully curated and decorated quartz pillars supporting the ceiling—and radiant beams of light protruding through colourfully-tinted windows.
I’d expect no less from a Dragon King.
In the centre of it all stood a pile—a pile made up of an unearthly amount of gold, jewellery, treasure, and weaponry. The likes of which seemed to originate from all corners of the world, and a vast array of time periods and ages. As if it were trying to embody the greediest depiction of historical materialism known to man. Both beautiful and sickening at the same time.
But that wasn’t where my true attention remained, how could it? When he was sitting atop it all?
A western, wingless dragon with scales a brighter shade of gold than any of the riches that rested beneath him. With a lustre that seemed to shine perfectly with the beams of light piercing the hall.
His reptilian eyes, the same shape as mine, were blood-red in colour—and carried a depth with them that exuded both unbridled greed and ancient wisdom within.
On the tip of his beaked face rested a single horn, one that emitted a strange presence that I couldn’t quite decipher. As if it was a fundamental part of him I wasn’t meant to be privy to.
This was it, the form of one of the Five Great Dragon Kings, the Gigantis Dragon, Fafnir. Not an imitation, not a lesser expression. The genuine article—flesh and blood.
“Gawking isn’t going to get you anywhere, little parasite.” He raised his voice, his calm, yet displeased tone echoing throughout the room.
“Parasite?” I knitted my brow, wiping the awe off my face and replacing it with vexation. “A pretty rude way to refer to your guest, don’t you think?”
“You’re here at Azazel’s behest, which makes you his guest, not mine.” He scoffed, raising his head up high and narrowing his eyes with contempt. “And I’ve given you a rather fitting title, haven’t I? Some of my kind may have forgotten, but my memory remains sharp. I’m well aware of what manner of creature those of you who bear that surname are.”
Hmph, and here I was planning on taking the respectful approach, but since that’s clearly not welcome here—I suppose I have no other choice but to respond in kind.
“Let me guess, one of my ancestors took a chomp out of you or something adjacent?” I wore a mocking sneer, carefully examining Fafnir’s expression all the while. “It’s pretty unhealthy to hold onto a grudge for that long, you know?”
I expected my comment to turn his disgust into disdain, only to be surprised by an entirely different reaction.
A puff of smoke left his nostrils, the back end of his maw curling up in what I could only describe as a smirk—putting his gargantuan rear canines on full display.
“The fact that you would suggest such a thing displays nothing but unchecked idiocy on your end, little parasite. There exists not one of your kind capable of creating so much as a minute dent on these illustrious scales of mine.” His eyes shifted upwards, his demeanour abruptly filling with reminiscence. “Well, I suppose there was one—but that fool went and threw himself at Albion’s claws. Heh, perhaps your lack of intelligence is genetic.”
Tch, this asshole’s starting to sound like Martha.
“Nonetheless, while I’m under no inclination to offer you so much as a drop of my essence. I am inclined to cooperate with you to an extent, at least until the one known as Kokabiel meets his inevitable demise. Azazel believes there’s something within you worth admiration, but I refuse to share that sentiment until I see evidence to back it up with my own eyes.”
He says that, but now I’m only more determined to get my hands on his blood—one way or another.
I need power, and I’d be a fool to miss out on the chance to attain the overwhelming source of it I’m standing before.
Even if he doesn’t have a positive image of me, he has shown that he’s willing to consider that such an image of me might exist, and that’s far better him showing outright denial.
There’s a chance. I’m not sure how I’ll capitalize on it, but it’s reassuring to know it’s there.
“Fair enough.” I had locked and loaded a myriad of retorts, but for the sake of necessity, I decided I’d best keep them to myself. “So, how do we do this?”
“It’s simple, all you have to do is state the terms of the contract.” He paused. “Repeat exactly what I say, ‘I, Alduin Buné, will be in possession and be able to access the power of Downfall Dragon Spear until the Fallen Angel known as Kokabiel is either incarcerated or executed. In which case, Downfall Dragon Spear will be returned to the Fallen Angel Azazel’. Word for word. If you miss or mispronounce a single one, you can forget about me lending you my power at all.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I got it.” I cleared my throat in preparation. “I, Alduin Buné, will be in possession and be able to access the power of Downfall Dragon Spear until the Fallen Angel known as Kokabiel is either incarcerated or executed. In which case, Downfall Dragon Spear will be returned to the Fallen Angel Azazel.”
Following those words, ethereal currents of bright-gold energy started to protrude from the joints of Fafnir’s scales. Slowly, they snaked their ways towards me, coiling around my figure and greeting me with a firm—pleasant warmth.
They proceeded to find their way through the pores of my skin, creating a connection between themselves and my lifeforce, one far more intimate than when I had first delved into Fafnir’s domain through the Sacred Gear.
It didn’t just reach out to me, it blended with me. It assimilated itself into part of my being as knowledge of an unknown source of strength graced my brain.
“That’s the base power of Downfall Dragon Spear. My Golden Aura. With it, you can negate the abilities of your opponents and strengthen those of your own.” He sneered. “Assuming you have the necessary finesse to control it in such a manner.”
Negation and enhancement? Fascinating.
Touki’s also capable of enhancement, but that only extends to my physical attributes. I have a feeling that what Fafnir’s got operates a much broader spectrum.
As for negation? I don’t have a clue what the mechanics behind that could be, but I’m sure as hell eager to find out.
I smiled knowingly. “Mind giving me a crash course? O’ glorious and illustrious Dragon King?”
“Azazel figured it out on his own. If you can’t do the same, then you have no business wielding my power.”
Yeah, that’s about the kind of response I was expecting.
At least now I know one of the requirements for getting his approval—demonstrating my mastery over his power.
Just wait, you wingless bastard, soon enough I’ll make both you and Azazel look like fresh out of the box greenhorns.
“Wipe that smug look off your face, little parasite. I find it rather repulsive, and irritating.”
I coughed in mild embarrassment, failing to notice that I had been making a face this whole time.
“What look?”
He rolled his eyes, clearly unamused. “I already tire of your presence, be gone now—and make no attempt to come here again unless you have something worthwhile to show me.”
I blinked, and I found myself back in Azazel’s apartment. Though I suppose it’d be more apt to say I could see it again. It’s not like I ever left.
“It looks like everything went swimmingly. Congratulations.” Azazel smiled at the sight of the shining lance-tipped dagger in my hand, one which now responded to my will rather than his.
Temporarily, of course.
“He’s got quite the personality.”
[I can still hear you, parasite.]
Good.
“It comes with the territory of being a Dragon King,” he nodded his approval. Even though Fafnir made no comment, I could practically feel him grumbling under his breath. “Still, I’m certain he’ll make a reliable ally. You can always count on him when it matters most.”
I had another sly remark prepped, but decided to restrain myself upon hearing the sincerity in his tone.
Azazel continued. “With that settled, I think it’s about time I get going. My sources tell me Kokabiel might be lurking somewhere within Europe, and it’s only a matter of time before that search narrows down.” A fluttering sound echoed through the room as twelve—vantablack feathery wings protruded from either side of his back. “If anything comes up, don’t hesitate to give your favourite Fallen Angel a call.” He winked, the apartment door swinging wide open as he disappeared into Kuoh’s airspace.
Right then. I stretched my neck from side to side and rolled my shoulders until they let out a satisfying pop, and stashed Downfall Dragon Spear in my pocket.
I think it’s time for me to fix things with Thora.
===
Akeno looked from side to side with curiosity as she helped the villa’s maid do the dishes, despite the latter’s numerous reminders that such a thing wasn’t necessary.
“Where’s Alduin? I haven’t seen him since breakfast.” She asked, glancing through the backyard window to observe the sight of the girl her teacher had supposedly dropped off a short while ago—Asia Argento. Who was currently being swarmed and drowned in affection by the entire peerage.
Perhaps a little too much affection, considering the girl’s frail stature, and the jetlag she was still experiencing from arriving in Japan.
“Asia-chan! Look, this is a donut. Have you ever tried one before?”
“U‒uhm, no. I’m not really hungry though, Alduin already bought me breakfast earlier—”
“Buchou, I think Asia would prefer one of my cookies instead.”
“C‒cookies? I think I’ve heard of them before—”
“Don’t be ridiculous Koneko, just look at her, Asia’s obviously a donut girl!”
“No, she’s clearly a cookie girl like me.”
“Based on what? Look at her eyes, those are clearly the eyes of a donut girl!”
“Cookie girl.”
“Donut girl!”
“Cookie.”
“Donut!”
“The Young Lord went to handle an errand right after bringing Asia here, he’ll be back soon enough.” The maid answered, failing to mask the undertone of bitterness her words carried.
“I see,” Akeno replied—choosing not to comment on her observation.
At first, the Gremory group had been hesitant to have a fairly known figure from the Vatican living amongst them. Even if Asia wasn’t a part of their order anymore. An unwelcome, but understandable reaction.
Fortunately, Thora urged everyone to calm down and give the nun a chance to explain her side of the story.
The reason behind her excommunication. The false promises of a Stray Exorcist. The dubious intentions of a rogue Fallen Angel cell, the mention of which forced Rias to feign ignorance. And finally, meeting their teacher a short while ago.
After hearing her tale, it only took a matter of seconds for their opinions regarding her to shift in the complete opposite direction. Especially Kiba and Akeno’s, who resonated with the misdeeds of the Church and the Fallen Angel species—fiercely so.
Quickly, it became clear to them that Asia was a kind-spirited girl who had simply been dealt a poor hand by fate. Not even the faintest drop of malice to be found behind her gentle, emerald gaze.
True, they were a little miffed that their teacher had neglected to inform them about the whole Fallen Angel fiasco to begin with—but the fact that they now had such pleasant, and undeniably adorable company did a good job of soothing that feeling.
Rias was more than happy to have Asia remain in her town, even from an overseer’s perspective. The girl was an exile, which meant the Church had no legal ground to stand on if they wished to interfere with her presence.
Of course, the Church didn’t exactly have a reputation for following legal protocol. Especially since Kuoh was a devil-owned town, if they were interested in snagging Asia for whatever reason—they wouldn’t hesitate to do so.
But Rias was fine with that too. After all, the town’s Guardian would be more than happy to offer them a warm welcome if they wished for it.
“I’m back.”
Speaking of which—said Guardian had just made his return. His even voice greeted the two women as he strolled back into the living room.
“Welcome home,” Akeno put on a warm smile.
“Welcome back, Young Lord.” Thora’s demeanour, on the other hand, was far more cut and dry. Lacking its usual fondness Alduin had grown accustomed to.
Alduin’s eyes gravitated towards the backyard as he observed the sight of Rias and Koneko attempting to push their sweet treat-related ideologies onto the residence’s latest addition.
“It looks like they’re having fun,” his lips curled up a little. It was nice to see that Asia was settling in just fine.
Akeno’s smile widened. “Asia-chan’s a treat to have around, we’re more than happy to spend as much time with her as possible.” Her expression tightened. “However, next time there’s a rogue element operating in Kuoh. We’d appreciate it if you gave us a heads-up. Stuff like that shouldn’t be happening without our knowledge, otherwise, what point is there in having Rias serve as the town’s overseer?”
“Of course. I understand,” he gave her a stern nod before directing attention to Thora, who didn’t seem all that interested in looking him in the eye. “Thora, would you mind coming with me for a second?”
Thora pressed her lips together, internally scrambling for an excuse.
“I’ll be available in a moment, Young Lord. I just need to finish up these dishes.” She insisted, putting a frown on Alduin’s face as he effortlessly read between the lines.
“It’s important,” he returned with urgency. Making it clear that such a flimsy excuse wouldn’t deter him.
Thora clenched her teeth, internally fishing for a more ironclad way to wave him off.
“It’s alright, I can handle them.” Akeno shifted closer, completely taking over Thora’s duties without the maid’s input. “You two clearly have something urgent to discuss.”
The knowing look on Akeno’s face spelled that she had read the room perfectly, even if she didn’t know what was going on between her teacher and his maid—she knew there was something. Leaving Thora with no other choice but to oblige.
Thank you. Alduin nodded his appreciation at her.
Don’t mention it. She nodded back.
Thora paused, quickly being reminded of her Young Lord’s unending stubbornness.
She breathed a heavy exhale and dusted off her apron. “Very well. I appreciate your assistance, Akeno.”
“Anytime.”
Without uttering a word, Thora followed Alduin upstairs. Their footsteps were heavier than ever as he led them into their bedroom.
He allowed Sylvie to undo her transformation spell, morphing from her disguise as a scarf back into that of her true form—and letting her wander wherever she pleased so he and Thora could have absolute privacy.
“We’ve clearly got a lot to talk about, don’t we?” He sat down on the mattress, unbuttoning his collar and making himself comfortable.
“Do we?” She raised a brow, crossing her arms with scepticism written all over her face. “You don’t appear to be very keen on doing a whole lot of talking as of late—and I’m not entirely convinced that’s changed.”
He sighed, feeling her disappointment—and understanding its source.
“Do you think I would’ve called you here if I wasn’t willing to talk?” He tilted his head, leaning backwards a little.
“Maybe,” she narrowed her eyes. “Or maybe you’re planning on giving me a small fraction of the story, conveying it as the whole picture and expecting it to satiate me. It’s something I’d expect from—”
Thora paused, stopping herself midsentence. Immediately realizing that she may have gone a little too far with her words.
“It’s alright,” but surprisingly enough, Alduin hardly seemed bothered. “You can say it if you want, it is something she’d do after all.” He breathed a dry chuckle. “Although, she’d only do that if she was bored enough to want a reaction out of someone. Otherwise, she’d just flat-out ignore them, wouldn’t she?”
Her lips quivered ever so slightly. “No… it was wrong of me to suggest—”
“I said it was alright, didn’t I?” He pressed, expressing neither offense nor irritation. A strangely out-of-character thing for Alduin when mentioning her. “During my initial awakening ceremony, I had to overcome a certain fear of mine.”
Thora’s eyes widened. Her Young Lord genuinely appeared to be willing to discuss what was going on in that seemingly incomprehensible mind of his.
“I had to overcome my fear of becoming like my father, because deep down, some part of me thought awakening Dragonification would somehow lead me to the same state of mind he’s found himself in.”
He looked down, smiling to himself.
“Of course, after conquering that fear—I quickly realized how foolish it was of me to let it exist in the first place.” Puzzlement overcame his face. “But some time after the ceremony, I couldn’t help but wonder why that was the fear I faced, or rather, why that was the only version of that fear I had to face? When there was a much bigger one lurking in the recesses of my brain.”
As he spoke, the verdant hue of his irises appeared to intensify.
While this was a prime opportunity for his dragon to intervene with its usual words of sage advice, Alduin’s mindscape remained silent.
Perhaps not because it didn’t have any advice to give—but perhaps because Alduin might’ve already found the words all on his own.
“Then I started to think.” He swirled his finger around his temple, the subtle change in his expression alarming Thora a little. “What if it wasn’t even supposed to be an obstacle in the first place? What if there was no dread for me to conquer? What if the reason the fear didn’t show itself through a trial like that of my father’s was because… this fear was actually justified? Grounded in logic rather than paranoid delusion?”
She shuddered. “Young Lord, I think you might be jumping to conclusions… couldn’t you argue that you simply aren’t ready to face that fear yet? Like you said, that fear’s far more substantial than the one you faced.”
He turned to her, his optical gleam neither heightening nor waning.
A thoughtful hum escaped his lips. “Yes, I suppose you could be right.” Thora wanted to sigh in relief, but felt a ‘but’ coming. “However, this Clan Trait of mine doesn’t exactly have a reputation for being so considerate, now does it? I doubt it would be so generous as to let me delay confronting such a fear until I was prepared.”
She desperately wanted to refute him, but unfortunately, there was too much logic in Alduin’s words.
There was a reason only three Buné clansmen remained, one of which just barely escaped the Clan Trait’s punishment for failure—and remained plagued by it to this day.
“Do you know why I fear becoming her so much more than I do‒ did father? It’s not solely because she scares me more than he does.” He began. “It’s because I know why father is the way he is, but I can’t even begin to fathom why she’s who she is, and there’s no fear like that of the unknown.”
Part of him wanted to chalk all of it up to Zekram’s nurturing, but the wiser part of him knew better. That she was much—much more than a product of nurture.
Venelana had put it best, she wasn’t someone you could simply understand. No matter how much time you spent observing her, no matter how many attempts you made to interact with her.
She would always be more.
“And you know what’s worse?” His fingers clenched the duvet. “I’m also scared that one day I will understand her, because at that point, I may already have become the exact same person.”
I might as well be stuck in limbo. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. He flexed his forearm as hard as he could, observing the veins spanning under his skin with contempt.
Throughout his upbringing, his mother had done absolutely nothing to try to make her like him. Absolutely nothing at all. No warped guidance, no devilish suggestions. All she had done was educate him on their shared Clan Trait.
Yet, with each lie he told, with each problem he swept under the rug—he felt his mentality start to change.
Slowly but surely, it became more tolerant of the lies. More accepting of the justifications he told himself. More capable of planning around ‘obstacles’ like his bosses. More intelligent, but not in the way he wanted to be.
More apathetic to certain things and people.
Just like her.
However, he wasn’t ready to see himself as a lost cause—not completely.
Not when there was still someone at his side who had his unwavering trust and confidence.
Perhaps the only one who could steer him from that fate.
Thora bit down on her lower lip, knowing just how much of an effect her words from this point onward would have on him.
“Who you are is defined by more than just your blood, Alduin.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “The culmination of who you are is more than just your flaws, it’s your strengths as well. Take Lady Rias and her subordinates, for example, it’s only been a little over a week since they were put under your care—and look at all the good you’ve done for them in such a short span of time. Do you think your mother could’ve helped them like that?”
Noticing a chink in his mental armour, she persisted.
“Asia too, you were under no obligation to bring her in—let alone even acknowledge her existence. Yet, you decided to take her in anyway. Is that something your mother would’ve done? I think not.”
She sat down beside him, sliding her fingers over his.
“I too believed myself to be a product of nothing but my vices—but you managed to convince me otherwise, remember?” A warm, gentle smile graced her face. “So, allow me to do the same for you. Even if you feel like you’re going too far, I’ll always be here to make sure you don’t cross that line. But to do that, you need to trust me, Alduin. I can’t be there for you if you don’t let me.”
With her spare hand, she reached over his cheek, gently pulling her face towards hers.
“Do you trust me?”
His response wasn’t immediate. Instead, Thora was met with a gaze filled with immense longing and affection. Like he was about to pounce on her any second now—not that she’d mind.
But he restrained himself, there was still much that needed to be said.
Alduin breathed a softer, uplifted exhale before reaching into his pocket and pulling out none other than Downfall Dragon Spear. Its presence still concealed by Fafnir.
This ought to elicit a ‘fun’ reaction. He mused inwardly.
“When I went out just now, it was to meet with the Governor-General of Grigori, Azazel.”
He could practically hear the sound of glass shattering in Thora’s head, but chose to continue nonetheless. It was best to throw all the mind-boggling revelations out first, and help Thora make sense of them afterwards.
“He gave me this, an ‘Artificial’ Sacred Gear, the first of its kind. This one in particular houses one of the Five Great Dragon Kings, Fafnir. It’s meant to serve as a means of protection against a possible, Satan-Class threat that might rear its head in Kuoh sometime soon.”
He tossed the gilded dagger up into the air, letting it spin before catching and stashing it back in his pocket.
“We started ‘collaborating’ right after I went into the Fallen Angel’s hideout while disguised as Freed. He told me the true perpetrator behind the whole incident was a Cadre of his that had gone AWOL about a month prior, and wanted me to keep that a secret from Serafall so Grigori’s perceived reliability wouldn’t plummet too much in the eyes of Foreign Affairs.”
Alduin leaned sideways on the mattress, propping his palm up against his cheek and adopting a lounging position.
“He wants to bring true peace between us devils and Fallen Angels, and maybe one day between Heaven as well—and in order to do that, he needs to put Grigori in a position where they’d at least be willing to hear such an outrageous proposition out in the first place.”
He waved the Grigori-issued phone Azazel had given him around, letting her get a good view of the organization’s emblem etched into the casing.
“I think it’s a worthwhile goal, which is why I decided to go along with his plan.” Alduin stretched his limbs, a colossal weightlifting of his shoulders as he was finally able to tell someone about what he was getting up to. “Phew, that was a real mouthful, wasn’t it?”
Thora’s face looked like it had been frozen in ice, her only noticeable body language being a few painfully slow blinks of sheer, utter befuddlement on an incomprehensible level.
“…P‒pardon?”
Unfortunately, that otherworldly confusion was about to get worse.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” He snapped his fingers in recollection. “Mother was in town a week ago, well, not mother herself, but a mutt sent on her behalf. She threatened Rias after she asked for basic—practically inconsequential on House Sallos, and I decided to ask Rias to keep the incident a secret from her family, especially her brother, so he wouldn’t waltz over to the manor and execute mother on the spot.”
Alduin tapped his chin, wondering if he had left anything out that she wasn’t already aware of.
“Ah! One more thing! According to Azazel, there’s a high-tier Sacred Gear possessor living here in Kuoh by the name of Genshirou Saji, and a wielder of one of the thirteen Longinus named Hyoudou Issei.”
He continued to tap in deliberation.
“Yep, I think that’s everything.” He clapped. “Now I’m sure you have a plethora of questions you want to shoot my way, so go ahead, I have no intention of leaving this room until I’ve answered them all.”
Thora physically had to grab onto her chin and push her jaw back so it wasn’t agape anymore.
“Alduin.”
“Yeah?”
“What… the FUCK?”
===
I think Thora just experienced what it feels like to get info-dumped on.
