Free Web NovelChapter 434: Divinely Disgusting
"I didn’t destroy the rift’s core," Cecilia said. "I assumed it was you. I saw it embedded inside the giant octopus’s flesh. Like a tumor, really, very gross and I figured you must have dragged the whole creature to the surface, hauled it into the sky and burned it there."
She paused, her brow furrowing. But her reverse-engineering of the situation didn’t add up.
"I was thinking you were using the difference in water and air pressure against that deep-sea creature, and also because the sky is more your domain than the depth of the ocean, I thought..."
She trailed off, her eyes narrowing at Oathran, suspicious. "But that wasn’t your usual fire, was it?"
Oathran was speechless.
Not at all dignified and stoic, his silence wasn’t him choosing not to speak. Oathran’s brain blanked. His brain had been presented with information it couldn’t immediately process.
Beside him, the other dragons had also achieved a state of collective speechlessness. Baswara’s jaw had physically descended toward the general vicinity of the basin floor.
"Was that..." Baswara croaked, awed. "Was that your plan to eliminate the monsters?"
This human woman... had out-strategized an entire team of dragons?
"I could have... I could have done that... It slipped my mind..." Oathran said as he underwent a profound personal revelation. "Why would I fight them underwater...?"
"Could have just... played with them. Dragged them up... Made a game of it," He paused, his expression shifting from enlightenment to a sheepish one. "Was I too emotional just now...? Because they hurt you—"
He cleared his throat aggressively. Even in his battered, bleeding state, some things were too stupid to say out loud.
"No matter." Cecilia waved her hand dismissively. She might or might not discuss his tactical blunders later, but she was already five steps ahead.
"That fire. What was that fire? That was uuuuuuugh—How does it burn underwater like that? Fire is not supposed to do that. I am not a fire expert, but I am fairly certain fire and water have a longstanding mutual non-proliferation agreement. And what was the smoke-like consistency? It was almost... velvety. It was disgusting."
"Did you touch it?" Oathran blinked, momentarily distracted from his own existential crisis by the very real concern that his pregnant girlfriend had interacted with—
"No! I am scared!" Cecilia hugged herself, shuddering. She had just held back a reservoir and dove into a corrupted ocean, but she drew the line at that mysterious, foul pyrokinetic phenomena. "Lord Jenggala is also scared, right?"
Beside her, Jenggala nodded repeatedly with gusto.
"So..." Oathran said slowly. "It wasn’t you who eliminated the rift core. And you thought it was me...?"
"Yeah." Cecilia was wide-eyed in horror. "But that was scary. What fire was that? That is too dangerous. What if you had caught it? What if it had touched you? What if—" freewёbnoνel.com
She made a gesture that was presumably meant to represent immolation. It was surprisingly evocative.
Oathran was speechless. Again. But this time, he was buffering in wonder. He had been scolded, well, was being scolded right now, but not for the thing he had expected to be scolded for. frёewebnoѵēl.com
Not for bursting into the rift. Not for fighting a Kraken alone. Not for being emotional and rash and reckless and diving into an abyss with no plan beyond find-the-core and destroy-it. No.
He was being scolded because of a weird fire.
"That wasn’t me," he said finally. He knew his face looked stupid right now.
Cecilia’s eyes went wide. "Oh my God. There is something out there that can produce that? What the fuck?!"
She hugged herself again, full of bone-deep horror. Realizing the universe contained threats she had not yet catalogued was—
"I saw that octopus’s flesh bubble into itself, it was like fast paced, bubbling bone cancer, but on fles—just—oooooohhh noooo—" She shuddered, her face contorting in visceral disgust. "What are we fighting...?"
"It was nasty..." Jenggala whispered from somewhere behind her like a background vocalist.
"Calm down..." Oathran dragged himself upright, his battered body screaming in protest, and tried to wrap his arms around her. "I-it is... It is not coming to get us. Probably. Maybe. T-the odds seem favorable."
"Noooooooo more getting into rifts," Cecilia pointed at him with her finger of judgment, her expression still locked in that wide-eyed, post-traumatic horror. "You are banned, mister. Your rift privileges are suspended indefinitely pending review."
"W... W..." Oathran’s mouth opened and closed. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what he could say.
That the flame was from the Dragon God Isaiah? That the terrifying, flesh-bubbling, underwater-immolating black fire had been divine intervention, not a new category of existential threat?
Seeing her horrified reaction Oathran felt something unexpected stir in his chest. He wanted to... preserve something. Yes. That. The Dragon God’s majestic reputation.
Should he just... shut up...?
"OATHRAN!"
The shout came from across the dry basin.
Arkai was running toward them at full speed, his feet pounding against the broken concrete. In his arms, bundled against his chest like the most precious cargo in the world, was the young Saintes.
Lilyca’s silver-white eyes were wide but calm, her small hands gripping Arkai’s shirt, ready and prepared to do her part.
Beside Arkai, Eastiel was faster. His golden hair streamed behind him, his lion ears flat against his head and his legs pumping desperately.
He didn’t slow as he approached or paused to assess the situation. Checking for injuries or doing any of the reasonable things a reasonable person might do? No, even when faced with a group of battered, corrupted dragons and one very exhausted human woman.
He launched himself directly at Oathran.
"YOU RECKLESS—STUPID—" Each word was punctuated by a slap to whatever part of Oathran’s battered body Eastiel could reach. His shoulder, his chest, the side of his neck. The dragon, still cradling Cecilia in his arms, could do nothing but stand there and take it. "—DIVING INTO A RIFT WITHOUT US—WITHOUT A PLAN—WITHOUT—"
"I had a plan," Oathran proteste—lied. His voice muffled by the lion currently wrapped around him like an aggressive scarf.
"JUST DIVE AND FIND OUT? THAT’S STUPID—"
"That’s—" Oathran paused, considering. "Fair."
Eastiel’s arms tightened around both of them and he buried his face against Oathran’s neck. His shoulders were shaking. "I don’t care how strong you are. I don’t care if you are the Dragon Lord. We go together or we don’t go at all."
"Are you still seeing me as your father figure replacement after we had se—"
"Shut the fuck up, old man."
Cecilia, still pressed between them, reached up and patted Eastiel’s hair. "He is banned from rifts now. I already told him."
"Good." Eastiel’s voice was muffled against Oathran’s shoulder. "Good. Permanent ban. Lifetime ban. I am hiding his wallet."
"That’s enough—" Arkai said. He skidded to a halt beside them, Lilyca still cradled in his arms, and his eyes sweeping over the group. "You are all covered in corruption. Eastiel, you just jumped into it—"
"Oathran, you are leaking black stuff, alright get off—Cecilia, you are pregnant! Everyone needs to be purified right now before the contamination sets in permanently!"
"Sorry. Sorry."
"Okay~! Line up for Lilyca! One, two, three, I am the Pretty Guardian, who fights for Love and for Justice! I am Li~ly~ca~! And now, in the name of the Moon, I’ll punish you! Lyca Lyca BEEEEEEEEAM—"
