The Dragon Lord's Aide Wants to Quit [BL] Chapter 444: Hard-Won Spoil

Now armed with renewed determination to bring down as many enemies as he possibly could, Orryn devoted the remaining days before what they’d all marked as D-Day to training with even greater intensity.

The children, meanwhile, had finally been convinced to prepare for their own mission after Riley started including them in specialized drills and exercises. That alone made them far more cooperative. Being trained separately and entrusted with their own responsibilities convinced the two dragonlings that Riley truly meant it when he said guarding the Hales wasn’t simply a way to send them somewhere safe.

Naturally, that also meant Kael suddenly found himself responsible for training even more people while somehow fitting additional sessions into an already packed schedule.

Not that the Dragon Lord could really complain.

His own mate had looked him in the eye, wrapped both arms around his waist, and told him that doing so would give him peace of mind.

What exactly was Kael supposed to say to that?

Predictably, the answer became a rather merciless boot camp that left most of the remaining MBE personnel sore enough to start feeling jealous of Riley. From their perspective, Mr. Hale somehow managed to avoid the grueling training everyone else had to endure while calmly sitting in meetings and planning the war.

That was exactly what Riley wanted them to think.

The reality was that nobody’s training came remotely close to his.

Kael refused to let him endanger himself.

Thyrran refused to let him slack off.

And the dwarf they’d recruited refused to proceed until Riley figured out how to control the impulses constantly radiating from the relics because without that, hiding them would be impossible no matter what they created.

That was the unfortunate thing about plans.

Just because most parts came together surprisingly easy didn’t mean every part would.

Take Mr. Winston, for example.

Lady Cirila had managed to convince the master artisan to join them without too much difficulty. At that point, Eryndra was already teetering on the edge of becoming a lawless battlefield, and after Riley promised to back everything with an oath that protected both parties’ interests, the dwarf eventually concluded there wasn’t much left to lose.

That confidence lasted...

Right up until Riley showed him what they were actually working with.

The master artisan promptly fainted.

After he woke up, matters somehow became even worse.

"No, no, no..."

Mr. Winston clutched his chest while trying very hard to convince himself reality had temporarily stopped making sense.

"I must’ve been hallucinating."

He stared at Riley once again and vigorously shook his head.

"There is absolutely no way I just felt what I think I did..."

"You weren’t imagining it, Mr. Winston," Riley replied calmly while leaning against the workbench.

The dwarf looked as though he wanted to faint for a second time.

"B-but those are relics carrying unimaginable power!" he practically shrieked, both hands trembling uncontrollably. "Compared to something like that, I’m practically defective! I’m a halfling, Mr. Hale! I don’t even understand why I’ve been allowed to lay eyes on them, let alone work with them!"

He fumbled with his hands.

"You’re asking for the impossible. I genuinely have no idea how I’m supposed to forge or craft something capable of nullifying power on that scale. It simply can’t be done."

"You’re right."

Riley’s agreement immediately made the dwarf pause.

"You can’t."

Mr. Winston blinked.

"At least..."

Riley slowly pushed himself away from the makeshift workbench.

"...not without my help."

"Your... help?"

The dwarf looked completely bewildered.

Instead of answering, Riley simply extended both hands toward him.

The room grew strangely quiet.

A subtle but unmistakable change settled over the recently cleared workshop.

Mr. Winston’s eyes slowly widened.

The terror that had drained the color from his face gradually gave way to something else entirely.

Wonder.

His breathing unconsciously slowed as he stared at Riley’s outstretched hands, unable to tear his eyes away.

After what felt like forever, the master artisan swallowed hard, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and let out a long, shaky breath.

"Well..."

He looked back at Riley before letting out a weak laugh.

"With that..."

The dwarf slowly nodded.

"...I suppose I can at least give it a shot."

__

Of course, just because Riley’s side was busy preparing for the inevitable confrontation didn’t mean the other camp had been sitting around doing nothing.

The biggest difference was that, unlike the MBE and their allies, there was now an undeniable divide between the wyverns and the people supposedly fighting alongside them.

The tension between the two sides had become almost palpable. The Merfolk, who were bound to march beneath the banner of their own leaders, no longer looked at the wyverns as allies. If anything, they feared them after repeatedly witnessing just how little regard those creatures had for anyone else’s life.

It had started with the wyverns taking interest in peculiar traits they found useful. Whether it was the enchanting voices of sirens, the regenerative abilities of certain sea monsters, or any other characteristic they deemed valuable, they simply took it for themselves without the slightest hesitation.

At that point, anyone who witnessed such scenes with their own eyes would’ve believed every notice the MBE had released rather than the repeated claims of their leaders that they were merely helping the wyverns establish a new world order.

Maybe the new world order part was true.

But if this was what that world looked like, then ordinary Merfolk soldiers and their families would be fortunate just to survive long enough to see it. At the rate things were going, they might not even live long enough to fight the forces aligned with the MBE.

More importantly, even the soldiers who had reluctantly convinced themselves to keep moving could no longer stomach what the wyverns were doing. They had expected a direct march toward Silvara, but instead found themselves dragged into endless detours as the wyverns insisted on wiping out anything and everything in their path.

Village after village fell, yet no matter how many settlements they pillaged or how many lives they took, the wyverns’ response never changed.

"Not enough. More."

That was all they ever said.

At least, until they reached one particular village.

__

Unlike all the others that either collapsed without resistance or managed to evacuate before the wyverns even arrived—as if they had been warned in advance—this one fought back.

Smoke billowed into the dark sky as chaos consumed the settlement, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood and burning wood. A young Merfolk soldier stumbled backward, his shield already splintered while his spear shook uncontrollably in his hands. At first, it had been no different from every other raid they’d participated in. Advance. Spread fear. Pillage. Then move on to the next target while trying not to dwell so much on all the screams that haunted him and his brethren.

However, this time their attacks had actually been returned, several folds even.

An immense surge erupted from somewhere near its center, unleashing a torrent of fire that tore through the streets with explosive force. The young soldier barely managed to throw himself behind the remains of a collapsed wall before the scorching wave swept past him. The heat alone was enough to singe his scales, and had he reacted a heartbeat later, he was certain he’d have burned alive.

That was enough for him.

He had absolutely no intention of dying for a bunch of deranged wyverns and whatever insane objective they were chasing this time.

Discarding his ruined shield, the Merfolk soldier immediately turned and sprinted toward where the rest of his unit had regrouped, intending to report what had just happened and maybe convince the others to desert with him too.

But he hadn’t even made it very far when a deafening roar suddenly ripped through the village.

It wasn’t the cry of frightened civilians.

It wasn’t even the sound of the remaining merfolk fighting back.

Whatever had produced that roar carried overwhelming power, shaking the very ground beneath his feet. Screams echoed from every direction as the battle instantly descended into complete chaos.

Afraid of being caught in whatever was happening, he turned and ran.

Faster.

Just a little more.

Then, just as he thought he had put a considerable distance between himself and the center of the fighting, the roaring sounds changed.

Instead of cries of pain, shrill, celebratory screeches echoed throughout the battlefield.

The young soldier instinctively looked back.

Much to his surprise, the wyverns weren’t retreating in defeat.

Instead, they were rejoicing.

One after another, the grotesque creatures rushed toward something—or was it someone—that seemed almost radiant. From this far away, the fact that he could even glimpse it meant it must have been blinding up close. He nearly stumbled as he ran, repeatedly glancing over his shoulder while trying not to lose his footing.

For some reason he couldn’t understand, the wyverns were suddenly piling over whatever had drawn their attention with frantic desperation, as though terrified someone else might reach it first.

Claws, wings, and tails tangled together in a ravenous frenzy before, almost as one, the swarm shot into the sky with their hard-won spoil clutched tightly between them.

Just like that, they abandoned the battlefield.

The village.

The merfolk soldiers they had just used.

Everything and everyone else—simply discarded.

Within moments, they disappeared into the darkness as though nothing else in the world mattered anymore except whatever treasure they had just uncovered.