The Dragon Lord's Aide Wants to Quit [BL] Chapter 388: The Worst Insult

Chancellor Malrik, his pride already severely wounded from the realization of who had arrived, had nevertheless set his expectations low. However, the arrival of both Kael and Karion as part of this colossal blunder had surpassed even his diminished foresight. Now, with his physical form immobilized and his mana refusing to cooperate, strategic maneuvering became an impossibility. Only brute force remained as an option. Malrik’s gaze flickered beneath his hood. If trapped, he would simply break free. He ran his forked tongue against the roof of his mouth, clamping down with considerable force. The sharp sting of his potent blood filled his throat as his fangs sank into his own flesh, releasing a metallic tang. Satisfactory. This was precisely what he required. With precious little time to spare, the Chancellor commenced an internal incantation, channeling his power to prepare for the toxic miasma that would soon emanate from his robes. Escape was paramount; he was convinced the dragon lord and his father would soon arrive. Logically, he would be the primary target, the most significant threat requiring immediate neutralization. By the time his preparations were complete, the figure concealed within his robes was barely recognizable. His eyes had already transformed into narrow, reptilian slits, and the beginnings of dark, scaled ridges were forming across his forehead. He was poised to strike, awaiting only the opportune moment. A single moment— ...Nothing occurred. Malrik stiffened, his eyes widening further. His mouth remained sealed shut. The potent poison was contained, unable to escape. Yet, more distressing than his own predicament, the Chancellor grasped a chilling realization: No one was paying him any attention. For a fleeting instant, he questioned his perception of the situation. But the truth was undeniable. They didn’t even cast a glance in his direction. He was there, suspended, an intruder among them. Still, the Dravaryns remained focused on other matters, acting as if he were utterly insignificant. Malrik found this inconceivable. Even upon witnessing Kael Dravaryn reappear before the red dragon instead of directly confronting him, Malrik’s thoughts remained fixated on the sheer impossibility of it all. But the reality was unfolding before him. The dragon lord materialized with such abruptness that it appeared as if the very fabric of space had contorted to accommodate his presence. His long, golden hair flowed backward, caught in the violent pressure building ahead of him, as if a concentrated storm had coalesced into a singular point. Then, his mana erupted. The display was so awe-inspiringly potent that it expanded outward with an immense, crushing force, driving into the ground and causing the very foundations of the MBE to shudder. The air vibrated with its intensity. Nearby structures rattled ominously. Panic surged through the surrounding populace, their screams rising in unison with the pained roars of the red dragon. The colossal beast could barely maintain its own posture under such immense pressure. Its limbs buckled as it was forcibly driven into the earth, its roars growing strained and erratic beneath the overwhelming dominance exuded by Kael. Yet, from his suspended vantage point, Malrik perceived none of this raw power. The stark contrast was unnerving. In truth, he would have remained oblivious to the immense surge of mana had he not observed the trembling buildings or heard the terrified screams of people caught in a blind panic. It was at this moment that he began to suspect Kael was exercising terrifying control over his power release. After all, that human—the one Kael had shamelessly brought to the dragon clan in an attempt to humiliate their venerable lineage—was able to move about without any apparent difficulty. In fact, Hale had been casually attending to those younglings, inspecting Orien and that peculiar anomaly, while Karion, who had stepped forward to assist, was directed towards Kael and the red dragon instead. From his immobilized state, Malrik distinctly heard Riley’s voice cut through the escalating chaos. "Dad, please stop him from killing the dragon." Malrik attempted to let out a growl, his throat tightening with suppressed fury. He could scarcely believe the sheer audacity of a mere mortal to align himself with a dragon and issue commands so imperiously. He mentally resolved to eliminate such an ambitious human at the earliest opportunity. While Malrik had always favored individuals driven by ambition over those lacking direction, like the Dravaryns, he did not believe those who would not witness the future he envisioned should wallow in further self-deception. Therefore, why prolong their pointless existence and spare them the inevitable misery? In the Chancellor’s distorted perspective, his actions were a form of generosity. If only he had possessed true understanding. If only he knew that, between the two of them, there existed someone who genuinely had no right to entertain delusions. And it certainly wasn't the dragon whose form bore the closest resemblance to the ancient progenitor. __ "Brother... Orien... will Orien be alright?!" Liam’s voice fractured as he clung to Riley, his fingers digging desperately into his sleeve as if that alone could prevent utter catastrophe. To the child’s credit, he attempted to emanate an aura of strength, perhaps a semblance of calm amidst the overwhelming panic, but being an inherently honest boy, the anguish etched upon his face was impossible to conceal.

Riley was already kneeling beside them. With careful, deliberate movements, he reached out, attempting to gauge the injury without worsening the pressure on Orien’s leg, which continued to bleed profusely.

Orien, for his part, managed a weak smile.

"Little Sprite, I am alright," he stated, his voice unintentionally fragile. It was likely meant to convey the regal presence he believed he always possessed, a feat not easily achieved given his current state.

Yet, the child, who currently appeared far from convinced, actually responded, "How could I possibly die?"

The child attempted to downplay his predicament.

In reality, the wound itself shouldn't have posed a significant threat. It would mend. It always did. Had he possessed sufficient mana, he would have already treated it himself, and the little sprite wouldn't be on the verge of tears.

However, regrettably, that was not the case.

Every last bit of his strength had been expended to reach Liam on time.

And he held not a single regret about that decision.