Chapter 327
The air in the Stardust Garden was not still; it hummed with an almost palpable tension, thick and resonant like the pluck of a bowstring drawn taut.
Golden motes of pollen drifted lazily through the afternoon sunbeams, yet seemed to hold their breath, caught in the invisible currents of anticipation.
Draco, his frame radiating an understated power that seemed to ripple the very atmosphere around him, stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the girl before him.
Ais, young but undeniably stubborn, met his stare with an unyielding intensity, her golden eyes burning with a defiance that belied her tender years.
They were locked in a silent tableau, a challenge etched into the quietude of the garden.
A bet had been made, the terms simple: if Ais could last more than a single second against him, Draco would reveal the location of the one-eyed black dragon.
For Ais, the allure of this information was intoxicating, a target of revenge she pursued with a singular focus that bordered on obsession.
For Draco, however, this was not just a wager; it was a carefully orchestrated act, a necessary, albeit harsh, lesson designed to temper the girl’s stubbornness, to put her headstrong nature in its proper place before it led her to genuine peril.
“Shall we begin, on your countdown, Ref?” Draco’s voice, finally broke the strained silence, the word "Ref" carrying a slight, amused inflection.
Ais, her small hands already clenched around the hilt of her sword, looked positively incandescent with eagerness.
Her lips were pressed into a thin line of concentration, a barely contained storm within her delicate frame.
By the sidelines, Riveria, the designated arbiter, shifted her weight nervously.
She understood Draco's rationale, knew this act was ultimately for Ais's good.
Yet, the maternal worry that perpetually shadowed Ais, gnawed at her.
Draco’s power was colossal, a force that could easily shatter a less resilient opponent.
“Sigh… just don’t… don’t be too rough, Draco,” Riveria finally relented, her voice soft but firm, a plea carried on the gentle breeze.
“She is still a kid, after all.”
A faint smile touched Draco’s lips, a silent acknowledgment of her concern.
He knew Riveria’s heart.
Meanwhile, nestled comfortably under a parasol, two figures observed the unfolding drama with an entirely different kind of scrutiny.
Bahamut, leaned back, her long, scaly tail……thumped idly against the side of Aasterinian, who sat beside her, utterly absorbed.
“Hey,” Bahamut called out, her tail giving Aasterinian another, more deliberate thwack.
Without so much as batting an eye, Aasterinian, replied, her voice a low murmur, “What is it?” Her gaze remained fixed on Ais, cataloging every micro-expression and twitch.
“That girl,” Bahamut said, her eyes narrowed slightly, picking apart the subtle nuances of Ais aura.
“There’s something… strange about that girl.”
Aasterinian hummed, a low, pleased sound.
“Hmm, yes. That’s precisely why she seems like an interesting subject of research. I don’t yet know what it is, but she is definitely mixed with something abnormal. Her soul is a bit odd too; how utterly fascinating.”
Her eyes, usually dispassionate pools of intellect, gleamed with an almost ravenous scholarly hunger.
“Hey, stop drooling like some pedophile, Aasterinian,” Bahamut warned, a note of exasperation in her tone, well-acquainted with Aasterinian’s often inconsiderate and ethically ambiguous nature when presented with a captivating mystery.
“She belongs to Loki.”
Aasterinian merely tilted her head, completely ignoring Bahamut’s earlier jab.
“Do you think Loki will let me borrow her for a bit?” she asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“No, she is too weirdly attached to that girl,” Bahamut replied flatly, recalling Loki’s almost obsessive protectiveness over Ais.
“Then what if I just snatch her up? It’s not like Loki can stop me,” Aasterinian mused, a phantom smile playing on her lips, her tone light and airy, as if discussing the weather.
But the joke, a dark one, flew clean over Bahamut’s head.
Seeing Bahamut’s expression morph into one of disgust, Aasterinian finally frowned.
“Relax, I won’t actually do that,” she said, a hint of genuine hurt colouring her voice.
“You don’t have to stare at me like I’m some piece of garbage. It actually hurts, you know.”
Her expression was a peculiar mixture of self-pity and genuine confusion at Bahamut’s strong reaction.
“Sigh, whatever you say… trash,” Bahamut retorted, her gaze returning to the combatants, the barely concealed disdain still evident in her voice.
“Wha—!” Aasterinian was about to launch into a full-blown retort, but Bahamut abruptly cut her off.
“Look, it’s about to finally begin,” Bahamut said, her interest in Ais suddenly soaring as she noticed the subtle shifts in the air around the girl.
Ais, on the other hand, had already begun.
A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer initiated around her, coalescing swiftly into a vibrant, ethereal glow.
Her magic, Ariel, activated.
A swirling vortex of wind, pure and potent, erupted from her very core, coiling around her slender form, wrapping her weapon, in an incandescent aura.
“Getting a closer look at her skill, doesn’t it seem like a superior version of your own fire enchantment magic?” Dimitra, observed from a nearby vantage point, leaning against the back door.
Alise, who stood above at her room window, her own fiery red hair seeming to ripple in the ambient magical energy, shook her head with a self-satisfied smirk.
“It’s similar, yes, but not necessarily superior. It’s also not stylish and flashy enough. Remember, mine earned me my nickname, Scarlet Harnell!” she replied, a flash of undeniable pride in her eyes.
Kaguya and the others merely shook their heads in exasperation at Alise’s flamboyant pronouncements.
Draco, by contrast, remained utterly nonchalant.
He merely observed his opponent, a faint, almost imperceptible tilt of his head betraying a hint of mild amusement.
“Are you done, then? Because I’m tired of waiting,” Draco taunted lightly, his voice cutting through the rising wind currents that now encircled Ais.
Ais, however, didn’t respond.
Her jaw was clenched, her eyes narrowed into slits of intense focus.
Her hand gripped the hilt of her sword so tightly her knuckles were white, while the wind around her body didn’t just encircle her; it roared, a miniature typhoon contained within her form.
There had been several instances, subtle windows of opportunity, where Draco could have already ended the fight.
When Ais was merely powering up, when her focus was entirely internal, he could have moved. But Riveria, with her transparent bias and protectiveness, had specifically waited, allowing Ais to fully complete her magical incantation and preparation before the countdown.
It was an unlikely scenario in a genuine life-or-death struggle, a clear advantage given to the younger warrior.
But Draco didn’t mind.
In fact, he encouraged it.
The stronger Ais was, the more thoroughly she believed in her own maximum output, the more undeniable the impact of his point would be.
The more likely she would be to accept the bitter truth of the result.
“Alright, the fight will begin…in ten,” Riveria began, her voice steady despite the tremor of worry in her heart.
“Nine… eight…”
“As a gesture of respect for your effort, Ais,” Draco interjected smoothly, his voice a calm counterpoint to Riveria’s countdown, “I will show you… around one percent of my strength.”
He delivered the line with a perfectly straight face, a slight, almost imperceptible pause on "one percent," as if measuring out a truly minuscule fraction of an infinite power.
It was a line he’d always wanted to say, a classic, theatrical boast from the epic sagas he'd read, but had never truly had the chance to utter in reality.
Alise, unable to help herself, let out a delighted, utterly undignified chuckle, her voice carrying clear from the window.
“Go, go, go, Draco!” she yelled, her enthusiasm radiating, much to the acute embarrassment of the other Bahamut Familia members who inwardly groaned at her lack of decorum.
“...Two… One!” Riveria’s voice finally concluded, cutting through the anticipatory silence.
The word was barely out of her mouth when Ais detonated.
With a burst of tremendous speed, she shot forward, a blur of golden light and swirling wind.
It wasn't just fast; it was instantaneous.
The air itself seemed to offer no resistance, parting before her as if she were a ghost, leaving not even a ripple in her wake.
This was the true power of Ariel, her unique magic: not only did it drastically enhance her physical stats…strength, agility, reaction time….but it also created a dynamic wind barrier that acted as both shield and accelerant, streamlining her movement and deflecting potential attacks simultaneously.
Their initial distance, though already short, vanished in the blink of an eye.
Ais arrived within less than a meter of Draco, her sword a silver flash, aimed with pinpoint accuracy at his heart.
All of it occurred within nanoseconds, a speed that bordered on the impossible for any but the most absurdly fast.
Draco, on the other hand, remained absolutely still, an unamused statue amidst the storm of Ais’s assault.
His expression was placid, almost bored.
And then, as Ais’s blade entered his personal space, he moved.
Not with the explosive speed of Ais, but with a casual, almost languid motion.
His right arm, covered in the sleeve of his shirt, stretched partially transformed.
The skin on his forearm rippled, darkening, thickening, and then, with a subtle shift, his fingers elongated, coalesced into claws.
Lifting a single claw, its tip, sharp as any blade, began to pulse, its colour shifting through a spectrum of greens….from a pale jade to a vibrant emerald, finally settling on a deep, almost luminous forest green.
This was an experimental mixture of his partial dragon transformation and spirit transformation skill.
In the infinitesimal fraction of a second that followed, Ais roaring wind barrier, slammed into the unnaturally coloured, emerald tip of Draco’s outstretched claw.
And something impossible happened.
Ais wind barrier, did not just break; it parted like thin paper, dissolved like morning mist before the sun.
Not with an explosive clash, but with an eerie, almost silent dissipation, as if the wind itself had simply... chosen to obey another master.
The shock that bloomed across the young girl's face was immediate, a moment of utter disbelief frozen on her features.
Her momentum, previously unstoppable, wavered, then vanished.
Still reeling from the impossible nullification of her primary defense, she instinctively tried to swing her sword, to bring its keen edge to bear.
But she failed to realize that she was no longer armed.
Her hand, which moments before had gripped the hilt, was now empty.
Her weapon was already arcing through the air, tossed effortlessly aside, landing with a soft thud several meters away, lost in the Stardust Garden’s manicured foliage.
Before she could even register the loss, before her mind could fully process the catastrophic failure of her attack, Ais felt a warmth envelop her.
By the time her senses caught up, her body, inexplicably light and limp, was cradled securely in Draco’s arm, held as gently as a sleeping child.
“And that wraps things up,” Draco muttered, his voice a low, almost indifferent rumble, as an unnerving silence descended upon the garden.
Every single observer, from Riveria to the distant goddesses, found themselves staring, utterly transfixed, at the tableau of Draco effortlessly holding the defeated Ais.
“Did… did anyone actually see what happened?” Nikolaos whispered, his voice hoarse with disbelief, turning to Michalis and Vasileios who stood dumbfounded beside him.
“Nope,” Michalis replied, his eyes wide, still trying to trace the impossible blur of motion.
“I didn’t see nothing either,” Vasileios added, shaking his head.
“Good, good. Seems like I’m not crazy after all,” Nikolaos muttered in genuine relief, although a part of him still wondered if his mind was simply failing to comprehend.
“How…?” Ais asked, her voice barely a whisper, her head lolling weakly against Draco’s shoulder, her golden eyes wide with confusion.
It was a mix between anger, frustration and a deep disorienting incomprehension.
Draco grinned, a flash of genuine, almost boyish delight at her confused expression.
His earlier theatrics had paid off.
“Your wind is my wind, and my wind is my wind. I rule the wind, Ais, so there’s nothing too complicated about it..… oh, she is already unconscious.” Draco’s voice trailed off, his grin fading into an expression of mild disappointment as Ais eyes fluttered shut.
He'd never gotten to finish his dramatic explanation.
“Is she okay?” Riveria asked, her previous worries resurfacing immediately as she rushed over to them.
“She’s mostly fine,” Draco replied, relinquishing Ais into Riveria’s waiting arms.
“Just a light bump and a bit of head trauma ‘cause, you know, I punched kinda hard… well, nothing you can’t fix, I’m sure.”
He offered a somewhat sheepish, apologetic smile, though his true power meant "punching kind of hard" was an extreme understatement relative to Ais constitution.
With Ais safely cradled in her arms, Riveria gently parted the girl’s golden hair, placing a reassuring hand on her forehead, and began to chant a soft, melodic healing incantation.
The faint light from her palm pulsed, mending the slight concussive trauma Ais had undoubtedly sustained.
“Alright everyone, show’s over, go do your things!” Draco yelled, turning to address his familia members who had been watching the spar with various degrees of awe and confusion.
“Like I can go back to sleep after all that excitement! Besides, it looks like it’s already lunchtime, right, Alise?” Kaguya quipped, turning to the window beside hers, fully expecting a boisterous affirmation from Alise.
But Alise was nowhere to be seen.
Listening more closely, Kaguya realized that Alise had already succumbed to the lure of her comfortable bed and was likely fast asleep.
‘This girl,’ Kaguya mused with a fond shake of her head, before diving back to bed herself, the lingering excitement a pleasant hum in her bones.
With the others dispersing, their hushed whispers and awed expressions slowly fading into the general hum of the garden, Draco turned back to Riveria.
“Well, when you’re done doting on her, can we perhaps resume our discussion?” he asked, a subtle shift in his tone, indicating a return to more serious matters.
Riveria, her attention still primarily on the recovering Ais, nodded her head.
“Of course.”
“Great. I’ll be waiting by the place we were discussing earlier,” Draco said with a warm smile, turning to leave.
But then he paused, a sudden thought striking him.
“Ah, right, and it’s already lunchtime. Riveria, would you care to join my familia for lunch?”
“If it’s something light,” Riveria replied, her eyes still on Ais, but a small, grateful smile touching her lips.
“Hmm,” Draco responded, a thoughtful look on his face, before changing his direction towards the kitchen, already contemplating a suitable, light meal.
Riveria, meanwhile, carefully carried the still-unconscious Ais to a shaded table beneath the sprawling, large tree in the garden, the gentle breeze rustling through its leaves providing a soothing canopy.
With everyone else gone, only Bahamut and Aasterinian remained in the immediate area, their parasol bathing them in a small pool of shade.
“Well, that was rather anticlimactic,” Bahamut commented, a hint of disappointment in her voice.
She had anticipated a more protracted, visually spectacular clash.
“Yes, I was expecting something more from the girl,” Aasterinian replied, her initial intense focus now replaced by a more relaxed, but no less analytical, assessment.
“Perhaps she isn’t that special after all”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Bahamut retorted, her eyes flashing.
“Didn’t you see her ability? It was like watching a wind low tier spirit manifest! The only reason it seemed bland was because Draco was just that much more absurdly powerful. Besides, I highly doubt that was all she had in her… my kids did mention her using some kind of black wind in the dungeon.”
Aasterinian’s eyes, which had been half-lidded with a feigned disinterest, snapped open, gleaming with a renewed, almost feverish curiosity.
“Black wind, you say?” she murmured, the phrase hanging in the air like a potent spell.
“Now, that is something I would love to see. On another note, I guess we’ve effectively solved the puzzle behind the girl’s oddity, haven’t we?”
“Yes,” Bahamut affirmed, her gaze tracing the lingering currents of wind magic that still subtly dissipated from the battle site.
“She is definitely a mix of some powerful wind spirit and human, albeit the spirit side is, as you observed, is far less prominent for now. The question now is: how can she exist? Is she the experiment of some other deity, a natural, incredibly rare spontaneous occurrence, or something far more complex and intricate?” Bahamut pondered, her mind already sifting through complex theories.
“Hmm, indeed. It is truly a mystery,” Aasterinian replied, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the parasol's fabric.
“I can’t say for certain without some…experimenting. But I doubt I would get the chance, not with Loki hovering like a particularly territorial hawk.” She sighed, a genuine note of regret in her voice, before both goddesses fell into a comfortable, speculative silence.
“By the way,” Aasterinian asked, nonchalantly changing the topic after a moment, "what did you make earlier today, Bahamut?"
“Ramen,” Bahamut replied, a slight smile touching her lips.
“Great! Can I have a serving?” Aasterinian asked, rising from her seat and stretching languidly, her body flowing like water.
“Sure, but do not add anything weird. The meal is perfect as it is” Bahamut replied.
“Yea, yea" Aasterinian said with a casual wave as she strode away.
Bahamut shook her head, knowing fully well that Aasterinian wouldn’t listen.
The Stardust Garden, quickly settled back into its peaceful, sun-drenched afternoon, its electric hum fading into a gentle whisper of the wind.
A/N: Feel free to read ahead on pat3on, donate and read 1 extra chapter as a free member.