Chapter 44: Arrived
Alan had reached his limit.
His heart pounded rapidly, yet it felt as heavy as a massive millstone. And now this “millstone” was desperately squeezing out the last miserable remnants of magic from his already drained body.
Alan had never known that magical exhaustion could be this agonizing: a strong metallic stench churned from his stomach up to the back of his tongue, then pressed by his larynx all the way into his nasal cavity. Every capillary felt like it had been soaked in sulfuric acid; countless invisible, scorching iron needles stabbed madly along his nerves.
And yet, even like this, the magic flowing from Alan’s body was becoming thinner, weaker.
Fortunately, the plants at this moment displayed a gratifyingly extreme generosity—they responded with astonishing zeal to Alan’s crude, fragmented summoning. From pumpkins to eggplants, they stretched and strengthened themselves with all their might, placing themselves between him and Hieronymusa.
Honestly, their performance far exceeded Alan’s expectations. Until today, he had never realized that the solanine in unripe tomatoes, when enhanced by magic, could actually irritate and corrode even high-level demons. The fuzzy, adorable little thorns on pumpkin leaves, when reinforced and enlarged, could become genuinely lethal weapons (Hieronymusa, behind him, probably felt this deeply when a large mass of his tentacles had its surface scraped away to reveal the raw, red flesh underneath)…
“How… how ridiculous.”
Hieronymusa snapped his fingers, retracting the troublesome tentacles behind him that throbbed painfully, and turned his gaze toward Alan with even greater malice and wickedness.
“To try to deal with me using this farce, Mage Alan—I swear, you will regret your foolish defiance.”
The demon whispered in a chilling, sinister tone. Clearly, he was growing impatient at the sight of being blocked by a whole pile of fruits and vegetables.
Almost immediately after his words, a torrent of deep-red magical flames poured from the demon’s mouth. The plants Alan had summoned were instantly reduced to light, black ash by the fire, hot enough to melt steel—leaving not even a trace of smoke.
As for Little Green, it was the only plant able to maintain its shape in the magical fire—but even it could only preserve its form, nothing more.
Through the flames, the dragon vine that Alan had meticulously raised with honey water and dessert essences—so delicate it would cry over even being moved to a different jewelry box—proved so fierce that even Hieronymusa couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise.
After the previous battles, Little Green was no longer that glossy, vibrant green dragon vine. Now it was completely charred; each movement scattered black ash from its crisp, burnt leaves and fragile branches into the wind.
Anyone could see that, as a dragon vine, it had reached the very end of its life.
Yet even now, this blackened vine, reduced to a small fragment, still struggled desperately to crawl before Alan. It painstakingly propped up its remaining fragile branches and opened its last flower—its petals so damaged that only a few “teeth” remained—trying to repel the demon that advanced step by step.
Plop.
Plop.
…
The last few drops of murky, poisonous sap were forced out by Little Green, falling from the cut ends of its black-brown branches to the ground.
“Tch… dragon vine… this vigorous, troublesome weed is just as annoying as ever.”
Hieronymusa yawned, muttering the words to himself.
Just as it was about to once again summon magical fire to burn Little Green to ash, the battered, exhausted mage lunged forward with astonishing speed, clutching the dragon vine—reduced to its last fragile twig—tightly to his chest.
Little Green’s leaves drooped softly over Alan’s wrists. It twitched, still trying to struggle, but Alan gently held it in place.
“No, it’s fine, Little Green. You’ve done very well.”
Alan’s voice was hoarse. He didn’t even lift his head to glance at the demon duke; all his focus was on the dragon vine in his arms, barely clinging to life.
Upon hearing Alan’s praise, Little Green twitched one final time.
A single tendril, thin as a worm, curled weakly around Alan’s finger. It was only then that Alan realized how little of the once-robust Little Green remained.
It was even smaller than when he had first seen it.
Now, if he returned it to its jewelry box, it could probably take a honey-water bath there with ease.
“When we get home, I’ll make you the sweetest honey water.”
“Thank you, Little Green.”
The dragon vine’s tendrils drooped, utterly motionless, offering no further response.
Alan pressed his lips together.
He didn’t want to show grief or pain in front of a demon, but those aching, burning tears still filled his eyes.
This, unsurprisingly, seemed to delight the demon immensely.
“All right, all right—playtime’s over.”
Alan heard Hieronymusa’s malicious chuckle. The demon clapped its hands and crouched toward him.
“I’m hungry.”
Alan heard it speak.
As the words left its mouth, several cold, stinking tentacles slithered toward him.
Alan didn’t close his eyes.
He stared directly into Hieronymusa’s murky, corrupted eyes, bracing himself for the immense pain that was about to come.
And it was precisely this that proved fortunate: because he kept his eyes open, Alan saw the blackened shadow even before Hieronymusa could.
What appeared first was, in fact, the teleportation runes beneath the clouds.
The runes spun in the air like whirlpools, glowing with a dazzling silver-blue magical light that no caster could ignore. Yet at this moment, even more striking than the runes themselves was the gruesome figure tearing through the portal, which hadn’t even waited for the runes to fully form.
To Alan, everything else seemed to fade away—or perhaps, simply stop—except for the young mage’s heart, suddenly revived and pounding wildly in his chest.
The dangerous demon duke, the life-threatening threat just steps away… all these things that had seemed so crucial were effortlessly swept aside by the unstoppable tide of his racing heartbeat. Alan felt as if he were drowning, unable to move, foolishly raising his head with wide eyes, reflecting that breathtaking, soul-stirring figure.
Compared to the last time he had seen him in reality, this figure descending with a sharp wind and murderous intent had already transformed drastically. At least when he had said goodbye to Alan in Green River Village, the man named Veles had been extraordinarily handsome, with a powerful, fierce dragon tail—but otherwise, he had appeared mostly human.
But now… no matter how heavy the cloak he wore, no matter how carefully he tried to conceal himself, he could no longer hide his inhuman appearance.
Behind the man, a pair of immense dragon wings unfurled, so vast they seemed capable of blotting out the sky, like a swath of solidified night. As he descended at incredible speed, Alan clearly saw the fine scales running from his neck to his cheeks, and the long, sturdy tail that cut through the air to maintain balance.
At this moment, the half-human, half-dragon being resembled a meteor wreathed in black flames, plummeting straight toward Alan.
Time slowed, so slow that Alan almost felt he could imprint the powerful, handsome figure of Veles onto his soul. Yet time also rushed, so fast that Alan’s whispered breath got caught in his chest, not even fully exhaled. With a deafening “BOOM” and a cloud of exploding dust, the demon duke Hieronymusa, who had just stood before Alan, was blasted away by a dark shadow.
“Mr… Mr. Veles—”
Alan’s eyelashes trembled. His lips pressed together. His longing for the man made him feel as if he were dreaming, almost too afraid to speak the name aloud.
Then he was forcefully pressed into a solid, familiar embrace.
“Alan… my Alan—”
Veles’s voice came from above Alan’s head. It was completely different from the fierce, merciless figure that had arrived just moments ago. His voice was hoarse, even trembling slightly.
No—more accurately, the arms that gripped Alan so tightly were trembling too.
Alan’s face was pressed against Veles’s chest from the intensity of the embrace. Perhaps because of the prince’s overwhelming emotions, or some strange illusion, he felt as if he could hear the pounding of Veles’s draconic heart even through the thick layer of mithril armor.
After a while, Veles struggled to control his instincts, finally loosening his grip just enough on the person in his arms.
However, the moment he lowered his gaze and saw the blood on Alan’s face and body, his pupils narrowed into thin slits uncontrollably.
“…I’m late.”
He raised a hand, carefully brushing his fingertips against Alan’s cheek. The dragon claws, capable of effortlessly tearing through iron shields, trembled and recoiled as if burned when they touched Alan’s blood.
But soon, Veles gently pressed his hand back against Alan.
“I’m so sorry, Alan… I was too late, and I let that wretched, corrupted thing hurt you…”
His words stumbled over themselves in apology. By the end, his speech gradually lost its human tone, the low, hoarse voice tinged with an unmistakable dragon’s roar.
The forbidden spell around his neck, glowing with an ominous golden-red light, trembled slightly in response.
“I’m fine… it’s just a scratch. Everyone… and even Little Green did their best to protect me,” Alan sniffled, forcing a small smile, trying to reassure the man in front of him, who was clearly already terrified.
But when he noticed the trickling blood from Veles’s neck, the panic shifted to Alan himself.
“W-wait… Veles, you’re bleeding!”
“Ah… this… it’s nothing,” Veles replied.
The sharp pain from the forbidden spell had snapped him fully awake. Realizing he had inadvertently revealed his draconic form in front of Alan, his heart tightened involuntarily.
Yes, Veles had already felt Alan’s affirmation in his dreams—but even so, he could not suppress the panic and helplessness rising within him.
Veles was fully aware of just how grotesque he had become.
Beyond the wings he could not retract, his arms were completely covered in scales. From his waist downward, he had long since lost any semblance of human form. His leg muscles were swollen and thick, his joints bent backward, and his feet had become true dragon claws. Each scale, evenly covering his skin, was as large as a human hand, colored a poisonous, iridescent black.
He was gradually falling toward becoming a demon dragon, the forbidden spell around his neck, growing hotter and tighter by the second, marking the transformation.
Yet, even with the most exacting, critical scrutiny, Veles saw not the slightest hint of disgust or resistance in the eyes of the young mage he loved.
In fact, Alan’s eyes looked at him like the most precious gemstones in the world, dazzling and radiant.
Clap—clap—clap—
At that moment, a most annoying sound of applause interrupted the precious reunion between Veles and Alan.
“Hey… did you two forget something?”
The ancient demon duke fixed them with a strange expression, mockingly reminding the pair of something.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Author’s Note:
Hieronymusa: “…So… I’m part of your little play too, huh?”
