Chapter 321
The grand hall of the Guild, usually a bustling maelstrom of adventurers and supplicants, was eerily quiet.
Only the soft glow of magic lamps cast long shadows across the polished stone, illuminating the last vestiges of a protracted, arduous negotiation.
The hours had indeed ticked away quickly, surrendering the day to the encroaching tendrils of night, and now, almost midnight, the air hung heavy with the scent of stale parchment, cooled tea, and unspoken power plays.
Finally, with a resonant thud of a gavel that echoed through the nearly empty chamber, the meeting of familia captains concluded.
Many of the smaller, less influential familias had departed long ago, securing modest but vital deals with the Guild……contracts for monster subjugation or trade agreements that would keep their members fed and their patrons appeased.
Their immediate concerns addressed, their thirst for rest had outweighed the stress and lure of the lingering negotiations.
But for the titan familias – Loki, Freya, Ishtar, Hephaestus, and a select few others whose influence shaped the very foundations of Orario – the night was still young.
The true machinations, the juicy bits, as they were colloquially known, were discussed in hushed tones behind closed doors, away from prying ears and lesser eyes.
Among this elite echelon, a peculiar presence had been required to remain: Draco of the Bahamut Familia.
Though his familia was relatively new and numerically small, its strength was undeniable, its trajectory meteoric.
The Guild, foresaw the Bahamut Familia's rapid ascent, and thus, its captain, Draco, was afforded a seat at the table of giants.
With the final, weary pronouncements made and the last of the sealed documents exchanged, Draco finally rose from the stiff, uncomfortable chair that had become his cross for the past several hours.
Beside him, Tsubaki stretched with a hearty groan that seemed to reverberate off the very walls. Shakti maintained her usual serene composure, though a subtle tightness around her eyes betrayed her own exhaustion.
Together, the trio walked towards the main entrance of the Guild, the silence around them amplifying the soft crunch of their boots on the stone floor.
Upon reaching the massive, ornate doors that guarded the Guild's threshold, Draco performed a full-body stretch, his muscles protesting the prolonged inactivity with a symphony of satisfying pops.
He rotated his shoulders, then his neck and tail, feeling the tension slowly recede.
He turned to Tsubaki, his eyes now softened by an undeniable plea.
“Tsubaki,” he began, his voice a low rumble, laced with a weariness that seeped into every syllable, “it’s almost midnight. Can we… can we skip the drinks tonight?”
He was tired.
The last thing he needed was to navigate the boisterous, nonsensical revelry of a late-night drinking session.
A small, mischievous part of him, however, did entertain a fleeting image: Tsubaki finally succumbing to the drink, her usual features dissolved into joyful, perhaps even silly, inebriation. He conjured a mental image of Shakti, the dignified Ganesha captain, loosened by liquor, perhaps revealing a less guarded, more playful side.
It would be an amusing spectacle, certainly.
A quiet chuckle almost escaped him.
Yet, reason quickly reasserted itself.
Tsubaki, he knew, drank like a seasoned war elephant, a bottomless pit with a dwarven constitution.
She wouldn’t stop until she was utterly incapacitated, a state that took an inhuman amount of alcohol to achieve.
As for Shakti, he wasn't entirely certain of her drinking prowess, but he reasoned that a woman of her composure and strength would likely possess a considerable tolerance.
And himself?
Draco believed he could easily outpace them if it were merely conventional liquor.
Due to the unique physiology of his dragon-kin body, ordinary alcohol had a negligible effect on him.
The intoxicating properties simply failed to register, leaving him clear-headed but also devoid of the joyous buzz that made drinking appealing to others.
The entire point of imbibing, for him, was lost.
However, the "Liquor of the Gods" from the Soma Familia… now that was a different story.
He hadn’t had the opportunity to try it yet, but the rumours surrounding its divine potency and the peculiar, effects it wrought upon those who dared to consume it had always intrigued him.
He was certain it would offer an experience unlike any other, perhaps even a challenge to his draconic constitution.
His mind drifted, imagining the intricate flavour profiles, the sheer experience of it.
“Ahem,” Tsubaki coughed, a deliberate, resonant sound that cut through Draco’s burgeoning internal monologue and snapped him back to the present.
Her gaze was fixed on him, a knowing glint in her eyes.
“Sorry,” Draco apologized, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck.
He mentally chastised himself.
His mind, deprived of proper rest, was indeed far too susceptible to these whimsical delusions.
“Geez, you really are strange sometimes,” Tsubaki said, shaking her head with a mirthful grin. “One minute you’re pleading not to go drinking, and the next you’re staring off into blank space, smiling at yourself creepily. You planning something devious in there, dragon-boy?”
“Hahaha,” Draco chuckled, the sound a low, resonant rumble.
He didn’t deny it, for denying it would be a lie.
He was strange, especially when exhausted.
Shakti, interjected, her voice a calm counterpoint to Tsubaki's boisterousness.
“Just let him get some rest, Tsubaki. He’s already been through a lot. I will be going drinking with you, so it’s not like you’ll be lacking company.”
Tsubaki’s grin widened, a predatory glint entering her eye.
“For that, my dear Shakti, you are gravely mistaken. We will be sorely lacking in company, specifically, the company of a handsome man. Don’t you want to have a fun snack after drinking, Shakti? Something to warm us up?” She winked suggestively, gesturing subtly towards Draco.
Shakti’s calm facade faltered slightly, a hint of exasperation touching her features.
“Tsubaki,” she warned, her voice firm, “do I have to remind you that the boy is just twelve… or was it thirteen?”
The suggestive joke, thankfully, seemed to have flown completely over her head, or perhaps she simply chose to ignore its implications.
“Ah, sometimes I forget,” Tsubaki conceded, though her eyes remained entirely fixed on Draco. “But look at that face, that body! Does he look anything like a thirteen-year-old?”
Shakti, almost subconsciously, sampled Draco’s imposing figure up and down.
His broad shoulders, his powerful frame, the intense maturity in his eyes – he certainly didn’t fit the typical image of an adolescent.
She found herself subconsciously nodding in agreement before hastily turning away, a faint blush dusting her cheeks, after catching Tsubaki’s triumphant smirk.
“I fell for it,” Shakti muttered, annoyed at her own unwitting participation in Tsubaki’s teasing.
“Hehe, see? You’re not completely against it,” Tsubaki crowed, thoroughly enjoying her momentary victory.
‘Sigh, these women. How wrong you are, both of you,’ Draco thought, a faint, melancholic smile twitching at the corner of his lips.
The irony was almost palpable.
Due to his unique situation, Draco’s physical development was vastly accelerated compared to humans or even other races.
In his "juvenile" state, his age, though only thirteen years lived, was physically equivalent to a regular dragon-kin in his early to mid-two hundreds, perhaps even older.
He was, in essence, almost a fully developed adult male in terms of his kind.
Paired with his reincarnated mind, a mind that carried the weight of a life lived before this one, Draco was indeed a strange and complex existence.
He was a confluence of old soul, trapped in a body that defied conventional age assessments.
The playful teasing about his youth, while harmless, always contained a bitter sweetness for him.
“Alri….,” Draco began, about to acquiesce, to negotiate a compromise, perhaps a quiet drink at the Astraea familia home, when the very ground beneath the trio rumbled subtly.
It wasn’t an earthquake, but a heavy, deliberate tremor, like a large creature approaching.
They all turned, almost in unison, towards the source.
A colossal figure was lumbering towards them, cutting a swathe through the few remaining adventurers and Guild staff who were still milling about.
It was a woman, undeniably, but one of truly monstrous proportions.
She stood well over two meters tall, her frame broad and thick-set, giving her an enormous, almost spherical figure.
Her limbs were plump, disproportionately large, and her bust was so immense it seemed to compete with the rest of her voluminous physique.
But it was her face that was truly unsettling – a wide, frog-like visage, dominated by bulging eyes and a perpetually sneering mouth.
This was Phryne Jamil, captain of the Ishtar Familia, and a woman whose reputation preceded her in the most repulsive of ways.
“Make way, uglies! I spot a handsome man over there!” Phryne bellowed, her voice a guttural croak that grated on the ears.
With an utter disregard for personal space, she shoved aside a pair of weaker adventurers who had the misfortune of being in her path, sending them sprawling.
Seeing her approach, a deep frown etched itself onto Draco’s face.
Of all the people he wished to avoid in Orario, Phryne Jamil was near the top of the list.
Ever since he had stepped foot in the sprawling metropolis, he had made a conscious effort to steer clear of the Ishtar Familia's known haunts, knowing the depraved proclivities of their captain.
But it seemed, on this late night, fate had decided to intervene.
Phryne reached the trio, halting directly in front of Draco.
Her bulging eyes lingered on him, assessing, devouring.
Then, with a sickening lack of self-awareness, she licked her lips, a string of viscous saliva dripping from the corner of her wide mouth, catching the lamplight.
It was a gesture that sent a shiver of disgust down Draco’s spine.
“What do you want, Phryne?” Shakti asked, her voice tight with thinly veiled disdain.
Her posture stiffened, a silent declaration of protection towards Draco.
“Shut up, ugly! I have no business with you!” Phryne retorted, her frog-like face contorting in an expression of pure disgust before she summarily dismissed Shakti and turned her full, lecherous attention back to Draco.
“Hey there, strong and handsome,” she purred, the sound more like a croak than an endearment. Her eyes raked over Draco’s form, lingering.
“Why don’t you leave these ugly old maidens and come with me? I will show you the best night you can ever experience, the experience of a real woman.” She concluded with a truly sickening smile, revealing too many teeth.
At that moment, Draco’s body trembled, not in fear, but in a deep, primal rage.
The tremor started deep within his chest, a nascent vibration from his core.
Not only had this repulsive female toad in humanoid form openly disrespected his companions, Shakti and Tsubaki, women he considered close friends and allies, but she had also possessed the unmitigated gall to proposition him, openly offering her vile 'services.'
Phryne was more than just an unpleasant individual.
She was a deviant, a predator, a monster who preyed upon handsome young boys, luring them into her clutches, loading them with potent aphrodisiacs before brutally raping and then discarding them.
She was the embodiment of perversion, a creature few could stand, let alone tolerate.
The only reason she had been allowed to continue her reign of terror, unchecked, was twofold: firstly, the Ishtar Familia stood behind her, their power and influence shielding her from retribution.
Secondly, Phryne herself was ridiculously strong.
Like Tsubaki and Shakti, the recent war against the Evilus had forced her to grow, to push her limits.
And currently, she was a terrifying Level 5 adventurer, a force to be reckoned with in terms of raw power.
“Phryne-sama, please stop!” a concerned female voice called out from directly behind Phryne.
It was a nervous, almost pleading tone.
“What is it, Eliza? Can’t you see I am busy?!” Phryne snapped, her voice laced with anger at the interruption.
“B-but… Ishtar-sama said not to cause any trouble with the Bahamut Familia,” the smaller girl, Eliza, stammered, clearly terrified of both Phryne and the potential repercussions.
“I am not causing trouble, you fool! Can’t you see that I am just asking him out? Look, he’s even shivering in joy!” Phryne retorted, completely misinterpreting the tremor running through Draco. She pointed a thick finger at him, oblivious to the true, terrifying source of his trembling.
Shakti and Tsubaki, however, were not so easily fooled.
They recognized the ominous undercurrent in Draco’s stillness.
The tremor was not one of excitement, but of barely restrained fury.
Draco was currently exerting monumental effort, holding himself back from tearing Phryne apart on the spot.
They too felt a similar surge of disgust and anger, but they understood the political tightrope they walked.
Attacking Phryne, however justified, would invite the full wrath of the Ishtar Familia, an entanglement that Orario, still recovering from the war, truly did not need.
“Phryne, I think you should leave,” Shakti warned, her voice now devoid of disdain, replaced by an earnest, almost desperate plea.
She didn't want a bloodbath.
“Yeah, you wouldn’t want the one given the title ‘Monster’ to rip that toad-like head of yours off,” Tsubaki added, her tone sharper, more direct.
Her hand subtly drifted towards the hilt of a hidden weapon, a silent threat.
The warning was clear.
Draco had earned his fearsome nickname, "The Monster," after he had single-handedly annihilated the factory district, and killed a peak Level 7 Evilus champion alone.
What chance did a mere Level 5 like Phryne stand against such raw, destructive power? Tsubaki’s words were meant to inject a dose of reality into Phryne’s repulsive delusions.
“You bitches should shut up! Can’t you see me and him are talking?!” Phryne retorted, her face reddening with anger, completely ignoring the implicit threat in Tsubaki’s words.
She was too consumed by her perverse desires and her inflated sense of self-importance to truly process the warning.
Shoving Shakti aside with a brute force that sent the Ganesha captain stumbling, Phryne took another step closer to Draco.
Her plump hand, adorned with thick, calloused fingers, reached out, preparing to make physical contact with him.
But before she could touch him, a sudden, overwhelming wave of icy fear slammed into her.
It wasn't a physical blow, but a psychic assault, a crushing weight of dread that seized her heart and squeezed the breath from her lungs.
As soon as her gaze had locked with those cold, indifferent red reptilian eyes, eyes that had momentarily narrowed into vertical slits, Phryne instinctively, uncontrollably, took a staggering step back.
Her massive frame, usually so unyielding, wobbled precariously.
For a fleeting instant, she saw not a handsome young man, but a towering, ancient beast, its scales shimmering with power, its fangs dripping with the blood of countless foes.
Everyone was surprised.
Not just Eliza, who gasped, but every other adventurer and Guild staff member who had lingered around, hoping to witness a great show of drama or perhaps a brawl.
The hushed whispers died, replaced by an unnerving silence.
“You should go home. It’s already quite late, don’t you think?.” Draco finally spoke, his voice a low, guttural murmur that seemed to resonate from the deepest parts of his being.
His expression had frozen into a mask of chilling, indifference, and from his very presence, an almost palpable aura of power, laced with undeniable bloodlust, began to leak.
It wasn’t a deliberate attack, but an involuntary efflux of his true nature, too powerful to contain entirely, especially in his agitated state.
The air around him suddenly felt heavy, frigid, charged with a predatory energy that promised swift and brutal annihilation.
For the onlookers, Draco no longer looked merely angry; he looked like a demon, a creature of myth given terrifying form.
Phryne’s frog-like face, usually smug and defiant, was now pale, a sickly green hue seeping through her skin.
She swallowed hard, her substantial Adam’s apple bobbing.
The primal fear was still rattling her, but her enormous ego refused to completely shatter.
She forced a sneer onto her trembling lips, a pathetic attempt to regain some semblance of composure.
“Hmmf… What a cold-looking brat,” she managed to croak, her voice higher than before, an uncharacteristic tremor in it.
"Rejecting a good time with a beautiful woman like me… I hope you don’t regret it later. Come, Eliza, let’s go. My mood has been ruined.”
Masking her fear behind a thin veneer of annoyance and wounded pride, she spun on her heel, made a flimsy excuse, and stalked away from the scene with as much dignity as her wobbling knees could muster.
“Out of my way!” her voice echoed in the distance, still tinged with that uncharacteristic shrillness, as she shoved the small crowd of stunned onlookers aside, clearing a path for her hasty retreat.
Eliza, relieved, quickly scampered after her, casting a wary glance back at Draco.
A tense silence lingered for another moment, before Tsubaki let out a short, incredulous laugh.
“Well, that was intense! I honestly thought she would push it more. It would have been great to see you smack the shit out of her, Draco. A good show and some booze? Now that would have made my night!” she commented, her eyes still sparkling with a mixture of amusement and disappointment.
“Sigh, Tsubaki, you…” Shakti began, shaking her head, but then trailed off, her earlier annoyance with Tsubaki’s antics momentarily forgotten.
As the captain of the Ganesha Familia, an organization largely responsible for maintaining order and guarding the streets of Orario, Shakti was obligated to prevent unnecessary conflict.
She was acutely aware of the delicate balance of power within the city and the potential fallout of an altercation with a high-ranking member of the Ishtar Familia.
Even though Phryne had clearly been the aggressor, a public display of violence, especially one involving Draco, would have drawn the ire of Ishtar herself, creating a political mess.
She was extremely grateful that Draco, despite his evident rage, had managed to restrain himself.
“Thank you,” Shakti said, her voice sincere, looking at Draco with an expression of gratitude. She believed he had held back out of respect for her, out of an understanding of her duties and the fragile peace they all strove to maintain.
In truth, however, Draco’s reasons for restraint were far more pragmatic, rooted in self-preservation.
He too wanted to avoid a fight at all costs, but not out of deference.
He was currently not in a good physical state.
Fighting a Level 5, even a grotesque one like Phryne, would have been a heavy drain, taxing his body and potentially worsening his already precarious situation.
Furthermore, killing Phryne, however satisfying, would ignite a brutal war with the Ishtar Familia, a conflict he was ill-prepared to handle right now, not with his familia still in its nascent stages.
But Shakti didn't need to know that.
A simple nod was all he offered in response, a tacit acceptance of her thanks.
After talking for a while longer, the trio finally separated.
Tsubaki, still buzzing with energy and the promise of alcohol, headed off to find a tavern, presumably dragging a resigned Shakti along.
Draco, his body aching and his mind still reeling from the encounter, began his long walk home. It was finally time for rest, for solitude, for the quiet recovery that his body demanded.
Little did he know, as he navigated the deserted, lamp-lit streets of Orario, that the strange little event by the Guild entrance had already begun to propagate across the city like wildfire.
Whispers, rumours, and exaggerated tales were already circulating amongst the few night owls and early risers.
By morning, the incident would be embellished, distorted, and ultimately, crystallize into yet another peculiar nickname for the Bahamut Familia’s enigmatic captain: "The Toad Slayer."
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