The Dragon Lord's Aide Wants to Quit [BL] Chapter 389: Fear of Irrelevance

By all accounts, the choice made by the golden dragonling appeared to be the correct one. His charge remained safe as a direct result, and he had successfully repelled the attack, just as he had believed himself capable of doing. That, in itself, should have been sufficient.

However, what had eluded his calculations was the sheer unfairness that life often presented.

There were, in fact, two attackers.

Not a single foe, but two.

His attention had been solely fixed on the first assailant, employing defensive maneuvers, shielding, and holding his position as was expected of him. Thus, when the second attacker entered his immediate vicinity at the very last possible moment, he had initially dismissed it.

Or, at the very least, that was what he preferred to tell himself, realizing even then that dwelling on it would be futile, as his remaining strength would have been utterly insufficient to mount any meaningful reaction.

He was, after all, a dragon. Surely, that heritage would afford him some inherent resilience, wouldn't it?

Even as a mere dragonling, his physical form was not inherently fragile. A standard blow should not have inflicted significant damage.

His body ought to have withstood the impact.

Alas, it did not.

The blade sliced through him with an unnerving ease, catching the young golden dragon completely unprepared.

Now, Orien was young, but he was not entirely ignorant, and from his ancestral knowledge, he understood that such an occurrence was not impossible when facing an artifact forged from dragon materials.

And as a dragonling, he should have exercised particular caution regarding such possibilities.

Yet, the realization dawned upon him far too late.

By the time he managed to push back the attacker directly above him, the other had already made their escape.

And now...

Now, he was faced with the daunting task of providing an explanation for this turn of events.

To his aunt.

To his uncle.

To his grandparents.

The mere thought sent a tightening sensation of worry through his chest. He loathed the prospect of disappointing them by displaying such incompetence.

He winced slightly as Riley leaned closer, steeling himself for the inevitable reprimand. For the crushing disappointment. For that quiet, knowing gaze that conveyed he should have performed better.

Instead—

Riley spoke sharply.

"You’re still holding it in?"

The abruptness in his voice caused Orien to blink in surprise.

"Do you not trust us enough to maintain this pretense?" Riley continued, his tone escalating, frustration evident. "If it hurts, say it hurts. What is a child like you doing attempting to hold it all together like this?"

There was a palpable anger present.

Genuine anger.

Riley’s expression was a complex mixture of sorrow and fury, stemming from the fact that Orien had endured such a ordeal. Even more distressingly, despite the arrival of aid, the boy still endeavored to appear strong, as if he were not a child who also merited protection.

Even at this moment, he felt compelled to urge the youngling to acknowledge his own feelings, as if doing so required external validation.

However, Riley’s reaction did not elude Orien’s keen observation, and his chest constricted for an entirely different reason.

It seemed his aunt wasn't directing anger towards him.

Rather, his aunt's anger appeared to be focused on the incident itself.

Orien gazed at him, utterly astonished.

The pain had been a constant companion, throbbing and burning, but he had suppressed it out of a desperate need to remain upright.

But now, under that intense gaze—

His eyes began to tremble.

Riley gently placed a hand over the wound. Mana flowed into the torn flesh, meticulously mending the damaged tissue. A comforting warmth followed, spreading through him as the injury gradually began to seal.

And with that subtle shift, something within him finally yielded.

The tightly held tension he had maintained snapped.

His lips quivered. His shoulders began to shake uncontrollably.

The significantly larger form he had compelled himself to inhabit—to lend weight to the gravity of his recent actions—started to diminish, shrinking back to his natural size as the full impact of everything overwhelmed him simultaneously.

Then, just as his composure finally fractured, the tears began to flow.

Not silently. Not with any attempt at restraint.

He broke down completely, his emotions spilling out.

Liam offered immediate comfort, enveloping him in an embrace, attempting to soothe not only Orien but himself as well.

They wept together, clinging to one another amidst the unfolding events.

"It was so difficult...!" Orien sobbed, his words tumbling out between ragged, hiccuping breaths.

"Wuuuu!"

"A-and you guys were so slow... Auntie, it took you forever to get here!"

"How could you possibly be so late?!"

His voice cracked, rising with the unadulterated force of a child who had strived too hard for far too long.

"What if I had died?! What if I never got to see everyone again?! I didn’t even manage to visit the temple one last time—!"

It was a raw display. Loud. Entirely uninhibited.

And somehow, still profoundly endearing.

Riley finished tending to the minor injuries and then drew both of them into a large, deeply relieved embrace.

"You did well," he murmured softly. "Both of you performed admirably."

His voice grew even softer as he nuzzled against their much smaller heads.

"Thank you for giving it your all."

A brief silence followed before he added, his voice quieter still, "And I apologize for our lateness."

He held them like that for a moment, allowing their tears to flow, letting them find their equilibrium.

"Now... We will discuss everything later, alright?"

"I am eager to hear all about it, especially since your Mother and Father were insistent on detailing how you both protected everyone."

Riley gently ruffled the children’s hair as they hiccuped their shared grievances at each other.

For a fleeting period, only warmth, reassurance, and a sense of safety permeated the atmosphere.

However, if the black dragon wished to perpetuate such an atmosphere, a few matters would need attending to.

Then, as though recalling their present circumstances, the aura he had been exuding shifted abruptly.

The ancient being, clearly displeased, drew back slightly, and an immediate alteration swept across his expression.

The tenderness vanished.

In its stead emerged a quality that was cold, controlled, and fraught with danger.

"Remain within my ward," he commanded, his tone admitting no defiance. "Do not venture out, even if events become more compelling."

"Certainly not until the refuse cluttering this place has been cleared away."

His gaze ascended, fixing upon the immobile figure standing before him.

Malrik.

Even concealed by that shoddy disguise and the feeble attempt to suppress his inherent draconic nature, he still emanated that distinct, fishy scent peculiar to him, which Riley could never mistake.

Now, for the majority of individuals, this figure might have presented a genuine threat.

But to Riley, especially in that precise moment—

He was, in essence, insignificant.

And for those who had long perceived themselves as paramount to all others, what was the most effective method to deliver a crushing blow?

Hmm...

Perhaps it was to strip them, along with all their self-perceived importance, down to nothingness.

Furthermore, what superior method existed to inflict such a downfall than through the hands of someone they had once dismissed as inconsequential?

Riley rose with leisurely grace, tilting his head as a recollection of Thyrran's findings surfaced.

This individual was destined for demise today.

Yet, even in his most extravagant fantasies, there was no conceivable path for that scoundrel to depart from this world as a dragon.

And just as he had stripped others of their dignity even in their final moments, so too would he be made to suffer.

The black dragon made a clicking sound with his tongue before looking upward and emitting a sigh, loud enough for all to perceive, "And what have we here? A hydra?"