The Dragon Lord's Aide Wants to Quit [BL] Chapter 403: A Reward for Success

The moment of truth hadn't really transpired long ago.

And while for others, it was the instant Chancellor Malrik perished in flames as a hydra, for some, it happened just moments before that.

For beings no longer classifiable by species, only by allegiance, their defining moment occurred within that fleeting timeframe following the surprisingly successful assault on the golden dragonling.

Yes, all in that single instant.

Then again, referring to it as 'their moment' felt like an exaggeration, considering it wasn't a collective triumph but rather the outcome of circumstances that would have driven even the most devoted to madness.

Because out of all people, it befell the recently discarded creation, dismissed merely for being inept.

Left to perish as the sole surviving amalgamation of humans and magical beings—which regrettably demonstrated that stitching together existing humans with the parts of magical creatures did not guarantee survival or the proper use of mana—he had been cast aside as a futile effort.

Too diminutive to serve as a mere shield and too fragile for menial tasks. Even the other experimental subjects found no interest in him, neither for play nor torment.

Had he perished at the facility, no one would have even registered his absence.

Consequently, he should have met his end the moment he was abandoned, much like the previous experiments.

Typically executed for their grotesque appearance or consumed by unsuspecting beasts after being incapacitated, a nameless creation like him—one incapable of even movement—should have suffered the same fate.

But just as he was discarded for being excessively weak and human, those undesirable characteristics were paradoxically the very things that enabled his survival.

The absence of a discernible presence.

His humanoid form, allowing him to pass unnoticed as a deranged beggar.

His inability to wield mana, which, unbeknownst to his creators, rendered the neutralization process ineffective against him.

And most critically, the distinctly human intellect that managed to suppress the primal urge to hunt, thereby maintaining a more human facade.

All these factors permitted him to endure under the precise conditions, surviving long enough for an encounter that would inevitably reshape his existence.

Because suddenly, he—who had long found refuge in the shadowed depths of the sewers—felt the entire world begin to convulse.

__

The earth shuddered violently.

Again.

And again.

The force arrived in pulsing waves that rocked the sewers from one extremity to the other. From his concealed vantage point, the surviving experiment could discern the hurried movements of people above. Their muffled cries echoed through the subterranean passages as they spoke of dragons.

The creature froze.

From the very outset, their thoughts had been meticulously guided.

They were conditioned to fixate on anything classified as 'dragon.' More importantly, they had been repeatedly reminded of the connection between the dragons' demise and their own impending triumph.

However, this conditioning was not solely verbal. Under normal circumstances, tremors of this magnitude would have sent the other experiments into a violent frenzy. They would have surged towards the surface without a second thought, launching themselves at any dragon, regardless of their chances of victory.

But he was different.

Too human and acutely aware of his own deficiencies.

Thus, instead of joining the surrounding pandemonium, he simply remained hidden.

Tucked away in the oppressive darkness of a drainage channel, he peered through the protective grate above, observing the tumultuous battle unfolding in the world outside.

The crimson dragon.

The robed individual confronting it.

The two additional combatants.

All he could do was witness the spectacle from the periphery.

But who could have predicted that such a passive approach would prove to be the wiser course of action?

The creature pressed his hands over his ears, endeavoring to muffle the deafening roars that reverberated through the network of tunnels.

And it was at this precise juncture that fate, it seemed, delivered something directly into his grasp.

A fugitive.

The very same individual who had vanished moments after a jagged blade pierced the leg of the protector engaging the scarlet dragon.

Concealed within the deepest shadows of the sewer, the abomination remained utterly still.

Silent.

Virtually imperceptible.

__

Meanwhile—

Tavos navigated the subterranean passages in his serpentine form, his scales grating against the damp stone as he propelled himself forward with frantic haste. A serrated dagger, slick with blood, was firmly clamped between his jaws. Even after being subjected to preservation enchantments, the pungent aroma of fresh dragon blood still trailed in his wake.

And perhaps—just perhaps—if not for this compelled charade of loyalty and subservience, he would have claimed the weapon for himself. At the very least, embracing death by his own hand would have been far preferable to enduring continued existence under Malrik's dominion.

But thoughts such as these could scarcely take root, existing only as fleeting and fragile notions. Because even the indulgence of such desires lay beyond the reach of someone as unfortunate as himself.

The serpent's movements were hurried.

Desperate.

He wove through the labyrinthine tunnels without hesitation, his course evidently set towards a predetermined destination.

Unbeknownst to the fleeing attendant, however, a different entity lurked nearby. Concealed within the oppressive darkness was a being whose existence defied the natural order, its vacant eyes methodically tracking the serpent’s every move. Yet, amidst all this, the disoriented Tavos did not glance backward. He never faltered in his pace. Apparently, the blade held immense importance for his master’s grand designs. Even now, in spite of the commotion above and the faint, lingering roars echoing through the subterranean passages, he protected it with care as he pressed onward. But just as a moment of respite seemed within reach for him— A distinct, squelching crack reverberated through the sewer. "!!!" And to Tavos’s misfortune, he was not spared from the impact as the world plunged into darkness. The serpent’s form thudded forcefully against the slick, wet wall. Then, emerging from the gloom, the abomination appeared, clutching a splintered wooden chair leg with both hands. The crudely fashioned weapon trembled slightly from the sheer force of the desperate blow he had just delivered. For a fleeting instant, he simply stared. Then, he advanced rapidly. His fingers first secured the dagger. Next, they grasped the lifeless serpent. Wasting no further time, he hauled the body into the shadows and fled through the labyrinthine sewer tunnels with all the speed his unsteady legs could muster. The corpse trailed behind him with a loud scraping sound. But in his terror, the escaping abomination failed to notice that the serpent had long since ceased breathing. It was only as he attempted to extricate himself from this suffocating darkness that he comprehended his bargaining chip had expired. __ "It’s dead." Dead. Those two words alone annihilated every fragile hope the experiment had managed to nurture. Trembling uncontrollably and barely stopping short of begging for his own demise, the creature quivered violently. He had committed an error. His carelessness had blinded him as he envisioned his life transforming with his acquisition. Instead of procuring something of value, he had retrieved someone already deceased. And now, having finally earned an opportunity and standing before an authoritative figure rumored in hushed tones, he was certain he had irrevocably failed. He sank even lower against the ground until he was virtually collapsed, completely bowed. Suffocating. Waiting. After proclaiming he had returned with something significant, he was brought before the one they routinely addressed as their Queen—a being of immense dread. And now, his insignificant existence hung precariously by a thread. Yet, the condemnation he braced for never materialized. This was because whatever accompanied the lifeless serpent proved sufficiently valuable to overshadow his mistake. A woman stood before him, her long black tresses cascading down her back, a mask carved from bone obscuring much of her face. Initially, she merely observed the serpent and the jagged blade nearby, her expression one of mild curiosity. In that moment, she appeared non-threatening, yet the abomination knew with certainty that everyone else in the chamber felt an overwhelming urge to collapse from sheer duress. Then, with effortless grace, she dispelled the preservation magic enveloping the weapon. The seal fractured instantly. And just like that, the distinct aroma of dragon blood permeated the room. The woman, who had seemed nonchalant moments before, froze, her demeanor shifting palpably in that instant. "This—" "You truly possess this?" Her voice was imbued with an almost breathless quality. Then, with an unsettling intensity, she lifted the blade and drew in a deep breath directly from it, akin to someone reuniting with a long-lost, cherished scent. The creature trembled with greater ferocity. His forehead pressed firmly against the floor as he stammered that it was the very blade he had witnessed plunged into the leg of a man emitting blue flames. "Is that so...?" she inquired cheerfully, her tone suggesting she was indulging a household pet. A laugh then escaped her. Softly at first. Then, it grew louder. The sound reverberated through the chamber, causing everyone else to flinch as a profound realization dawned upon her. She had finally found it. Her eyes widened with unrestrained elation as she slowly turned towards the colossal, unoccupied throne positioned majestically behind her. "My love," she whispered. Then, her voice boomed— "My love! We finally have it!" The creature blinked in bewilderment before gradually lifting his head. He... had succeeded? For the first time since his arrival, some of the tension drained from his body. Perhaps he had finally proven his worth. Maybe, just this once, he had actually accomplished something correctly. "Good work." The woman turned to face him, bestowing warm commendation. The creature immediately bowed his head once more, but this time, it was an gesture of gratitude and relief. "T-thank you, Your Majesty," he stammered, relief evident in his voice. The woman tilted her head slightly, a smile gracing her lips despite the confines of the mask. "And since you have finally done something right," she stated sweetly, "I shall permit you to select your own reward." At these words, the creature’s eyes widened. A flicker of hope ignited within him. But it vanished as swiftly as it had appeared when he heard her subsequent declaration—

"So," the woman piped up with a pleasant demeanor, "how precisely do you wish to meet your end?"

"!"

An immediate hush descended upon the space.

The peculiar entity froze mid-motion.

Then, its entire form began to quake uncontrollably once more.

"!!!"

A wave of sheer panic washed over it almost instantly. It let out a piercing shriek, so potent that the robed individuals encircling the room visibly recoiled from the sheer volume.

But that was the extent of its vocalizations. From that brief moment onward, only incessant shrieking echoed, until it abruptly ceased.

"There. Now, exactly as you desired, everyone will remember you…"

The air within the chamber grew heavy, making each breath a struggle.

Meanwhile, the woman merely blinked, processing the recent event, before her gaze slowly traversed to everyone present.

"Huh," she mused aloud. "I have generously bestowed upon him his just reward, and yet, none of you are offering applause?"

An unnerving quiet permeated the room.

"Shouldn’t you all be delighted?" she inquired further. "When returns, at the very least, he won’t have to endure tales of how each and every one of you faltered, while he alone triumphed."

The figures draped in robes lowered their heads even more profoundly, their movements nearly bringing their faces to the very ground, which could very well have been their impending doom.

Then, as if suddenly comprehending the gravity of their predicament, one individual hesitantly initiated a round of clapping.

The applause shattered the silence like a sudden clap of thunder, so sharp and unexpected that it caused everyone to jump. Nevertheless, as anticipated, the others quickly followed suit, their palms striking each other in an increasingly hurried cadence until the entire chamber was engulfed in a cacophony of fervent applause.

And standing at the epicenter of this tumultuous display, the woman offered a gentle smile and declared,

"Prepare yourselves to face your King."