Previously on The Dragon Lord's Aide Wants to Quit [BL]...
Malrik, disguised as a human and imprisoned, is horrified when his hood is blown off, revealing his true form to a shocked crowd. He struggles against unseen bonds, while Riley observes with a predatory glint.
Malrik was utterly speechless.
He had operated under the assumption that his identity would remain completely concealed. The very notion that his name could be linked to these events was beyond unbearable!
Furthermore, he had employed a rare artifact specifically to distort his appearance, adding an extra layer of security. There was absolutely no possibility that he resembled his usual dignified self. To make matters worse, he was clad in pathetic, worn-out rags, an unthinkable attire for someone of his elevated status.
Moreover, the majority of individuals present wouldn't even recognize the Chancellor, given his exceptionally private nature due to the demands of his position.
If anything, the fact that he wasn't radiating dragon mana should have been sufficient for Kael and Karion to dismiss him or delegate him to subordinate staff.
Right. This individual was likely just grasping at straws.
However, unbeknownst to the proud Chancellor, he was confronting an entity operating on an entirely different plane of shamelessness.
"I remember him!" Riley proclaimed, his voice effortlessly resonating throughout the assembled crowd. "When my husband brought me to the dragon estate as a guest!"
"Someone like the Chancellor would be easy to overlook!"
The onlookers, who had been trembling with fear mere moments before, were now completely captivated by the unfolding drama.
The murmurs intensified.
People craned their necks, pointing and whispering, their initial fear momentarily eclipsed by burgeoning curiosity and intrigue.
Malrik attempted to vocalize.
He tried to refute the claim.
Yet, only strained, futile sounds emerged, caught in his throat.
Then, abruptly—
A resounding thud interrupted Riley’s scathing accusations.
Not far from their location, Kael and Karion had finally managed to subdue the scarlet dragon. The beast lay defeated, restrained but still alive—a outcome that had evidently demanded more exertion from Kael than he would have preferred.
For a brief instant, Malrik harbored the hope that the diverted attention might prove beneficial.
A distraction.
A potential escape.
Then—
"Honey! The Chancellor! That hooded figure is Chancellor Malrik!"
"!!!"
The declaration struck with the force of a physical blow.
Malrik’s gaze shot towards Riley, his eyes blazing with fury.
The sheer audacity—
How dare a mere mortal utter his name so carelessly, as if it held no consequence—
His vision started to redden.
This insignificant being had grown excessively bold, latching onto a dragon and mistaking temporary protection for genuine influence.
Very well.
He would certainly remember this insult.
And the instant an opportunity presented itself—
That human would be the very first to meet his end.
But before he could further entertain this thought, Kael made a swift movement. In the blink of an eye, the Dragon Lord materialized directly in front of Riley.
And just at that moment, the human dared to interject once more.
Riley, who had been shouting so brazenly mere seconds ago, now appeared visibly shaken. It was as if he had only just recognized the peril he was in. As if Malrik’s intense glare had finally registered.
He moved with haste, stepping into Kael’s immediate vicinity, pressing close as though seeking refuge.
It was almost a convincing display.
But as he leaned into the Dragon Lord, that infuriating human glanced upwards.
Their eyes met.
And this time—
There was no trace of fear.
Only a clear, undeniable smile.
A smile that seemed to mock and provoke.
"...!
Something within Malrik fractured.
The restrained Chancellor felt an intense heat engulf his entire being, fueled by pure, unadulterated rage.
Just as Malrik felt on the verge of exploding, the scream that had been building within his chest never escaped.
It imploded, turning inwards.
He swallowed it down, and the subsequent agony had no outlet but his own ears.
Something ripped.
His leg—the same one that Orien had injured previously—burst open. Blood erupted in a violent spray, as if an unseen force had driven directly through it in a single, merciless thrust.
There had been no discernible movement.
No visible weapon.
At least, nothing that even his enhanced senses could detect.
The spectators gasped, recoiling as their eyes frantically sought an explanation that remained elusive. The man they were now murmuring about as the Chancellor was still suspended in mid-air, seemingly untouched by any tangible force.
And yet—
He was being ripped asunder.
If the crowd was shocked, Riley's reaction appeared even more profound.
At least, that was the impression conveyed.
But Malrik could perceive him clearly.
The vapid mortal's back was pressed against the Dragon Lord's chest, concealed from the others by Kael’s imposing presence.
With Kael's body forming a barrier, those behind them could no longer see Riley, though his vocalizations were still audible.
At this juncture, it was only Malrik who possessed an unobstructed view.
And what he witnessed rendered everything else insignificant.
The true nature of that individual.
He was so utterly astonished that he didn't even consider prioritizing his injured leg. He simply observed as Riley tilted his head slightly, almost with a sense of mild curiosity, a wide smile stretching across his face. It was a smile entirely incongruous with the surrounding circumstances. It did not align with the chaos unfolding around them.
But it wasn't truly the smile that unsettled him.
The genuine cause of Malrik’s spine-chilling dread, and the sudden onset of a cold sweat, were those eyes.
As the mortal blinked, those eyes, which appeared overtly human, opened to reveal something entirely different.
Slit, emerald orbs.
Gleaming with an aura that distinctly felt otherworldly.
Malrik’s breath hitched.
His gaze then fell upon the hand.
The hand now held loosely by Riley, his stance relaxed, almost to the point of appearing bored. A dismissive wave of his pointing finger.
A mere flick.
Nothing more.
Yet, what should have been insignificant caused the very air to constrict and thicken around him.
And with that, Malrik’s other leg suffered a rupture.
Another strike, unseen.
Another clean perforation.
Another gush of blood.
But the sheer astonishment that nearly sent him into unconsciousness was far from over.
The very individual who moments before had appeared entirely human repeated the motion, and Malrik’s remaining leg was impaled once more.
Astonishingly, like the madman he was, that mortal dared to cry out, “Kael!” as if attempting to restrain the Dragon Lord from excessive violence.
Malrik’s visage contorted, his mouth gaping open for a scream that refused to emerge. The agony was instant and immense, sharp enough to obliterate all other sensations.
It was an excruciating level of pain for a being who, for centuries, had only recently begun to experience such sensations.
What was worse—
The wounds were not healing.
They remained gaping, bleeding incessantly, stubbornly refusing to mend despite his body’s desperate attempts to recover.
Just like the injury inflicted by the Wyvern King’s deranged consort, his regenerative abilities had abruptly failed him.
“...!”
This defied all logic.
There was no lingering trace of the primordial dragon. Nothing in the surrounding atmosphere that could account for this phenomenon.
Yet, it was undeniably occurring.
However, the Chancellor, clearly unable to think rationally due to the unexpected torment he was unprepared for, did not have ample time to regain his composure.
For before he could even begin to process the situation, the onlookers erupted in screams of sheer horror.
Malrik sensed it before he comprehended it.
Something familiar.
Something deeply unsettling.
The Chancellor, capable only of moving his eyeballs, attempted to look downward.
What he witnessed sent a true jolt of terror through him.
The blood was not merely spilling across his form; it was streaking.
Now, while that situation wasn't entirely unprecedented, he was certain, as an ancient being, that his own spilled blood was being directed onto him in a specific formation.
Actually, no.
It was more akin to… arranging itself into a pattern.
And indeed, even in his current state, even enduring the relentless pain, he recognized the sight before him. It was a pattern disturbingly reminiscent of runic inscriptions.
Then, as Malrik, that same proud individual now gasping in understandable fear, looked back towards the Dragon Lord and the human cradled in his arms, he became convinced he could see the mortal’s hands moving.
The motions were unnervingly fluid and precise, as if meticulously tracing unseen lines within the air. Each gesture aligned with the emerging pattern across Malrik’s body with chilling accuracy.
Subsequently, as if to validate his fleeting, irrational fear, the Dragon Lord’s aide actually offered him a smile.
“!”
It was a pleasant, business-like smile that Kael Dravaryn himself might have deemed as beautiful as it was lethal.
However, he was not the Dragon Lord, consumed by obsession with his wife.
No.
He was merely someone who found himself on the aforementioned aide’s list of targets.
Consequently, Malrik felt his spirit plummet at the sight of that smile.
But then, the mortal clicked his tongue, as if suddenly struck by irritation.
Well, naturally. Why wouldn’t Riley be annoyed?
They were just initiating the retribution sequence. So how could this Chancellor possibly attempt to perish so prematurely?
