Chapter 360
The sound of ceramic colliding with ceramic…..a sharp, rhythmic clutter-clutter….echoed through the hollowed, inner chambers of an elven settlement.
In the distance, the canopy of the elven sacred tree hummed with a faint, bioluminescent pulse, its leaves shimmering like fractured diamonds against the dimness of the forest.
The atmosphere should have been one of reverent silence, typical of the reclusive elves of the Ice Forest, but today, the serenity was broken by the sheer gluttony of a single individual.
In the center of the hall, Draco sat in his humanoid form, though the term ‘humanoid’ was a generous approximation.
He was a monolithic presence, a mountain of defined muscle that seemed to tense with his every movement.
His head was crowned by two massive, sweeping horns that curved back like the blades of a dark god, and his long silver hair billowed slightly, moved by a localized draft that seemed to follow his every motion.
He was currently preoccupied with a task that required his total focus: consuming four years' worth of missed meals.
Across the table, the elven leaders sat in a row of stiff, elegant chairs.
Their faces were masks of porcelain-like composure, yet their eyes betrayed a deep-seated wariness.
To them, Draco was a contradiction….a creature of terrifying power who had, only hours prior, subjected their entire settlement to a "prank" in his draconic form.
Beside Draco sat Aasterinian, his current patron goddess.
She reclined with a casual, almost feline grace, her eyes sparking with amusement as she watched him demolish a platter of roasted boar.
On Draco’s other side was Skadi, the patron goddess of these woods.
She was a contrast to Aasterinian’s….cool persona….leaning more towards fiery and chaotic.
Draco felt their eyes on him.
He felt the weight of their judgment, the lingering fear of the villagers, and the awkwardness of his own massive frame in a space designed for the slender grace of elves.
He was over two and a half meters tall, and even seated, he towered over the elven elders.
His blood-red pupils, slit vertically like a predator’s, darted toward the leaders occasionally, but he chose to say nothing.
Words were difficult when one’s mouth was full of honey-glazed roots and smoked venison.
He was acutely aware of his recent behavior.
The "prank…..a display of dominance….had been immature.
He realised that now.
The realization had set in the moment he saw the genuine terror in the eyes of the elven children. He had offered a sincere, apology to Skadi and the elders, but trust was not something easily rebuilt with a few words.
Behind him, his thick, muscular tail, armored in overlapping obsidian scales, swished back and forth across the floor.
It was a subconscious gesture of pure delight.
The four-year void in his stomach was finally being filled.
The pressure in the room remained thick, a palpable tension that only the two goddesses seemed immune to.
They chatted with a playful familiarity, their auras clashing and mingling in a way that made it hard for anyone to jump in the conversation.
"Thank you for the meal," Draco finally rumbled.
His voice was a deep, resonant bass that seemed to vibrate the very floorboards.
He leaned back, his joints popping with a series of satisfying cracks.
He was finally full.
The gnawing ache that had been his constant companion since his transformation began had vanished, replaced by a warm, heavy lethargy.
In his state of contentment, Draco’s tail lashed out with a bit too much enthusiasm.
It caught the base of the precarious towers of empty plates he had accumulated.
CRASH.
The sound was deafening.
Fine elven ceramics, some centuries-old heirlooms, shattered into a thousand gleaming shards across the floor.
The silence that followed was absolute.
It was the kind of silence that felt heavy, pressing against the eardrums.
Draco froze.
His hand was still half-raised in a stretch.
Slowly, he turned his head to look at the wreckage, then up at the row of elven leaders.
Their expressions had shifted from wariness to a stunned, glassy-eyed shock.
Even Aasterinian had paused, her eyebrows raised in an 'oh-no' expression.
Draco felt a heat crawl up his neck…hot as his blood was, the flush of embarrassment was universal.
He tried to maintain a stoic, intimidating facade.
He tried to look unconcerned.
"Sorry… I will pay for it," he said, his voice dropping to a barely audible mumble.
The "aura" he had spent the last hour inadvertently projecting….that of a dangerous, mysterious powerhouse….shattered more thoroughly than the plates.
He stood up awkwardly, his massive frame nearly knocking over his own chair, and began to stoop down to pick up the shards.
It was a pathetic sight: a two-and-a-half-meter-tall dragon-kin delicately trying to pinch tiny slivers of porcelain with hands that could crush steel.
Skadi was the first to break.
A sharp, melodic sound escaped her…..a laugh that started as a titter and escalated into a full-blown fit of mirth.
Aasterinian joined in, shaking her head in mock desperation.
"Look at you," Skadi wheezed, pointing a finger at Draco.
The elven leaders, seeing the goddesses laughing, felt the tension bleed out of the room.
A few of them cleared their throats, their shoulders shaking with chuckles they tried to disguise as coughs.
The "monster" was, at the end of the day, remarkably clumsy.
Draco’s desire to disappear into the floor grew ten-fold.
He gathered the larger pieces of the plates, his movements stiff and self-conscious.
‘I’ve lost it,’ he thought bitterly.
‘All that effort to look imposing, gone because of a tail wag.’
………………………………………………………………………………………….
As the evening matured into a deep, indigo twilight, the feast concluded.
Interaction flowed more smoothly afterward, the barrier of fear having been replaced by a strange sort of bewildered acceptance.
Eventually, the elves retired, leaving only the two goddesses and Draco in the lingering warmth of the hall.
Skadi, evidently having decided she had shared Aasterinian enough for one day, stood up and nudged Draco toward the exit.
"Go on, find something to do, Dragon-boy. I want to speak with my friend in peace without your tail breaking my furniture."
Draco didn't need to be told twice.
He nodded to Aasterinian and stepped out into the cool air of the settlement.
The village was a marvel of architectural harmony.
The evacuated civilians had returned, and the streets were once again alive with the soft glow of lanterns and the melodic murmurs of elven conversation.
As Draco strolled through the streets, he was a spectacle.
He watched as parents gathered their children, pulling them into doorways as he passed.
Some elves looked at him with curiosity, others with lingering resentment for the scare he had given them.
He couldn't blame them.
He had looked like the very monsters that plagued them from time to time.
‘I should have stayed in the room’ he mused, his heavy footsteps crunching against the dusted earth.
Thinking of children brought a specific memory to the surface….a memory five years old.
Alicia Forestlight.
She had been a tiny thing then, a ball of determination and curiosity, dreaming of becoming an adventurer to protect this very forest from the dragon-type monsters that occasionally raided it.
"I wonder when she departed for Orario," Draco murmured to himself.
The thought of Orario….the City of Dreams, the Dungeon’s cradle….sent a jolt of anticipation through him.
It had been five years since he had seen his Familia.
In the world of adventurers, five years was a lifetime.
Friends became legends; rookies became veterans; and some simply vanished into the dark depths of the lower floors.
‘How much have they grown?’ he wondered.
‘And will they even recognize me?’
He looked down at his hands.
He was no longer the person who had left.
He was something else….something more.
He spent an hour walking the perimeter of the settlement, watching the moonlight play off a waterfall, before finally returning to his assigned dwelling to rest.
Dawn arrived with a pale, ethereal light that filtered through the dew-laden branches of the sacred tree.
It was time to leave.
Unlike their departure five years ago, there was no weeping or desperate pleas for them to stay from Skadi.
Aasterinian had spent the night talking with Skadi, and though Draco didn't know the specifics, he knew the tone had been serious.
Aasterinian had warned her friend of the shadows following them.
If they stayed, the village would eventually become a target for forces it wasn't prepared to fight.
In the clearing by the sacred tree, the two goddesses stood facing each other.
Draco stood a few paces back, his gear packed, his silver hair tied back with a leather cord.
Skadi walked over to Draco.
She was petite, her head barely reaching his mid-chest, but she possessed a gravity that demanded respect.
She scanned him from head to toe, her eyes sharp and analytical.
"I don’t know exactly what other disasters await you in the future," Skadi said, her voice dropping to a low, serious register.
"However, tread very carefully. The one who seeks your demise is much more terrifying than Aasterinian is letting on."
Draco stiffened.
"What do you mean?"
Skadi didn't elaborate.
Instead, she reached out, intending to give him a firm, encouraging punch to the chest….the kind one warrior gives another before a campaign.
However, her stature worked against her.
Draco was so tall and broad that her reach was slightly off.
Instead of hitting his pectoral muscle, her hand grazed lower, her knuckles awkwardly brushing against his crotch before she pulled back.
She froze.
A vibrant, burning red climbed up her neck and engulfed her ears.
She clutched her arm, her eyes darting everywhere but at Draco.
Draco, however, hadn't really noticed the specifics of the graze.
His skin was thick, and he was preoccupied with the weight of her warning.
He looked at her, confused by her sudden change in demeanor.
"Anyway," Skadi snapped, her voice an octave higher than usual.
"What I am saying is… stay alive. Don't let my friends investment go to waste."
She turned on her heel with an angry huff, her cloak billowing behind her as she marched back toward the sacred tree without looking back.
"Eh? What’s wrong with her?" Draco asked, turning to Aasterinian.
"Did I do something offensive?"
Aasterinian watched her friend’s retreating back, a knowing, mischievous smirk playing on her lips.
She looked up at Draco, shrugging her shoulders with a theatrical nonchalance.
"Who knows? goddesses are fickle things, Draco. Perhaps she was just overwhelmed by your now mature… charm."
Draco grunted, skeptical.
"She was trying to cheer me on, I think."
"Let’s go with that," Aasterinian laughed.
She stepped closer to him, her expression shifting to one of readiness.
"Orario is a long flight, and I’d rather not be in the air when the sun sets again. Are you ready?"
Draco looked back at the forest one last time.
His tail gave a single, sharp twitch.
"I've been ready for five years," he said.
With a powerful surge of energy, Draco’s form blurred.
The ground beneath him cracked as he pushed off, his wings…hidden in his humanoid form but manifesting with a roar of displaced air….unfurled.
They were the color of the void, vast and terrifying.
Aasterinian took to the sky beside him, a streak of blue against the morning pale.
They rose above the canopy, above the white leaves of Fanache, and turned toward the horizon.
………………………
Somewhere far to the south, the Tower of Babel pierced the clouds.
A pair of silver eyes observed the world below, and soon something caught its attention.
A rather juicy white rabbit was fleeting across the busy streets, its destination the dungeon.
Unknown to it, its presence had caught the attention of a rather enigmatic goddess.
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