Show Them a Fierce One - chapter 13

Beowulf was just that kind of foolish dragon.

If you did the math, he was probably missing nine years of compulsory education in his fate.

Not all members of the Dragon Race were brainless brutes, but Beowulf certainly was. This was also why Knight Leya was confident that Drunken Flight wasn’t a conspiracy-because the dragon involved simply didn’t have the brains for it, and the other dragons probably wouldn’t risk using a fool as their pawn.

Of course, Leya didn’t completely dismiss her cousin Prince’s concerns. She didn’t rule out the possibility that, although this incident was an accident, some scheming dragon might later use it to stir up trouble. Still, Leya felt that since there was such a potential danger, she should take even better care of her own White Dragon’s younger brother.

Only then could she leave the other dragons with no way out.

Prince Adam, on the other hand, believed that the more you did, the more mistakes you made; if you did nothing, you made no mistakes. The best way to avoid trouble was to stay away from it from the start. Since it was confirmed that Drunken Flight wasn’t a conspiracy and the Red Dragon wouldn’t turn the tables, they should seize the opportunity to withdraw and fade out of the situation entirely.

At the very least, they couldn’t let others think that, in the intensifying conflict between the Free Dragon Faction and the Conservative Dragon Faction, they had “contributed” to the tension.

After a few exchanged glances, the cousins’ lifelong tacit understanding let them grasp each other’s intentions instantly. Generally, Leya would compromise with her cousin, since he was the Third Prince of the Empire and, frankly, had more brains. But when it came to dragons, she was more insistent on her own views.

If they left things alone, that’s when real trouble would happen. Leya’s eyes seemed to say just that.

Prince Adam thought for a moment. His cautious nature led him to agree in the end, though he couldn’t help but mutter inwardly-was this really necessary? Could a Red Dragon really be so foolish as to get himself killed?

Soon enough, the Red Dragon youth proved himself. He really did need someone to watch over him, otherwise…

He was currently standing behind iron bars, arranging his “aftermath” with the sheriff: “Hey, human over there, you know this, right? Dragons are treasures from head to toe. Sell my wings, and you’ll cover the damages to the school’s mountain and buildings; the blood that flowed from biting off my wings will definitely heal Drunken Flight’s victims, no matter how serious the injuries; a dragon takes about five to ten years to regrow wings, which is plenty for the flight ban, right? So I don’t need to pay bail anymore?”

Ancient dragons, making do with what’s at hand.

“Why aren’t you writing this down yet?” Beowulf finally said to the young sheriff.

The rookie sheriff was dumbfounded. After a long moment, he hurriedly pulled out his notepad and pen, stammering nervously, “A-are you sure?” With such a fortune dropped in his lap, anyone would struggle to stay calm. No, he needed to report to his superior first-this wasn’t something a rookie could decide.

“No, please don’t listen to him,” Knight Leya quickly interjected to stop him.

Prince Adam hadn’t expected that, if they didn’t intervene, this dragon really would do something as stupid as selling himself by the pound. His cousin was right. The consequences of indirectly causing a dragon’s death were more than they could bear.

So, he immediately put his Third Prince’s diplomatic skills to work, stepping forward to have a friendly chat with the still-bewildered young sheriff. With practiced ease, he slipped the man some gold coins, smiling as he said, “I think he’s still drunk-otherwise, how could biting off his own wings not hurt? Could you perhaps give us a little time to help our dragon friend come to his senses?”

At that moment, the rookie sheriff’s conscience was tormented. He looked at the gold coins, then at the dragon, then back at the coins. After a fierce internal struggle, he still refused the bribe that could have lifted his whole family into comfort.

But the sheriff did say he could step out for a bit: “You really should talk things over with him.” As he left, he completely ignored the Red Dragon’s furious roars of “Who’s their friend?”

This was truly an upright sheriff. Prince Adam smiled and waved him off, and stopped secretly using Magic Communication to call for backup to silence witnesses later.

Seeing he couldn’t stop the sheriff from leaving, the Red Dragon youth could only turn and angrily argue with Leya: “It’s my blood, my wings-I’ll give them to whoever I want! You have no right to interfere, and you’re not qualified! I’ve been at Sky Fortress for over twenty years-do you really think I don’t know anything?”

Leya was furious. She’d loved dragons since childhood and knew some of their brainless, arrogant traits. When she solemnly swore before the Dragon God’s statue to become a Dragon Knight, she believed she could be tolerant, understanding, and restrained. But at this moment, she realized she couldn’t. She snapped, angrier than ever before: “You don’t know a damn thing!”

The youth and the knight quarreled in a mess.

Ludwig didn’t pay any attention to what was happening here, because he didn’t care. He only noticed that after the argument started, Anuo’s brows slowly furrowed, and he began to gently rub his pointed ears.

Elves had better hearing than most races, but that also meant their ears were even less tolerant of noise.

The newly appointed Demon Race commander could have used a small-area soundproofing spell to help his Elf friend, but in the end, he chose to lift his hand and gently cover the other’s sensitive pointed ears. The lustrous ear tip instinctively slid against his palm, like a feather brushing his heartstrings.

Ludwig, in a posture of absolute protection, half-stepped behind Anuo. Then, a surge of majestic magical power erupted from him, sweeping through the entire room in an instant.

In a flash, everyone fell silent, as if struck dumb.

The Red Dragon youth was the first to feel this soul-deep terror, instinctive fear enveloping his whole body. Dragons were at the top of the food chain, but the first thing they learned as hatchlings was fear. The Dragon Race’s parenting standard was always “as long as you survive”-what’s a thick-skinned dragonling got to be afraid of? At that moment, all his childhood shadows surged up together.

Prince Adam and Leya felt it too, even more intensely-hearts pounding, trembling, nearly kneeling on the spot. They didn’t dare look at the purple-eyed Demon Race youth again. They’d known he was hiding his true strength, but hadn’t expected him to be such a high-level powerhouse.
But what made all this happen was simply a very basic magical deterrence-only, it had to be an absolute suppression at the level of power itself.

Ludwig was already quite adept at it.

Anuo, sheltered in the Safe Haven, felt nothing at all; all his attention was focused on someone touching his pointed ears, and… it felt so comfortable, he wanted it to continue.

The shy silver-haired Elf, even the tips of his ears were flushed red, looking just like the finest Dragon Blood Gem.

In a daze, Anuo heard Ludwig speak in a voice that was neither too loud nor too soft: “Dragon Race classmate, have you ever considered that there is something in this world called a Confinement Array? You don’t need to treat your wings this way.”

As soon as Ludwig heard the words “Six Races Grand Competition,” he had already begun pondering certain things. Once he realized the Red Dragon was a fool, his vague plan took full shape. Now was the perfect time to put it into action.

“Of course I’ve considered it,” Beowulf puffed out his chest, trying to bluff his way into looking less afraid. “But even the best Confinement Array on the market can’t restrain a Dragon Race for long.” The Dragon Race was indeed tough and had the strongest magic resistance on the continent; Beowulf didn’t want to keep putting on and taking off shackles-it was too much trouble.

Ludwig raised a helpful, kind smile: “That’s only the human market. The Demon Race is different. You just need to endure the brief pain of the inscription, and you can avoid the long agony of wing regeneration. And I am more than willing to help with this small favor.”

Red Dragon Beowulf truly wasn’t very bright; faced with such an obvious trap, he actually began to seriously consider it.

On the other side, Knight Leya was nearly frantic, desperately signaling with her eyes. The Demon Race’s cunning and trickery were famous across the continent; even during their thousand years of internal strife, no other race dared to lower their guard against them.

But why would Beowulf listen to a human who had signed a contract with his brother?

Leya’s signals only made things worse; once she showed opposition, the reckless Red Dragon immediately nodded: “Alright. What do I need to do?”

“Just a trivial little favor, which might take a bit of your time,” Ludwig chuckled, his violet eyes deepening in color. “Isn’t it right for classmates to help each other out?”

His voice was low and magnetic, like a lover’s whisper, gentle and lingering, yet somehow chilling, as if a demon was tempting you.

“No!” Knight Leya thought that even if she was torn to pieces by this Demon Race the next moment, she absolutely couldn’t just watch Beowulf sell himself.

But the Red Dragon agreed without hesitation: “Alright, that’s fair. Thanks.”

Ludwig shrugged at Leya with a smile, as if to say, See? I didn’t lie, and he even thanked me.

The next moment, the contract was sealed, witnessed by magic.

With a muffled groan through clenched teeth, the Red Dragon youth’s face turned as pale as if he’d been drained of water. The wings on his back turned into starlight and quickly vanished completely. In their place, an unknown symbol inscribed in Demon Race script appeared on his exposed spine. After a few flashes, the symbol faded entirely into his soul.

Beowulf was in so much pain he couldn’t make a sound. This was no “brief pain”-it felt more like something had been nailed deep into his soul!

Only those who have experienced it can understand the agony of the soul.

Still, after a quick test, he found he truly couldn’t manifest his wings at all.

Faced with the now-settled reality, Leya didn’t sit idly by. She immediately tried to blow the Dragon Whistle hanging around her neck to summon her companion Ladon for a violent rescue. But the more level-headed Prince Adam stopped her first. Even if Ladon came, nothing would change; he could sense that not even ten Ladons could touch the Demon Race before them.

They might as well focus on something more practical-after all, Ludwig had said when signing the contract that he only needed Beowulf to help with a small favor. Contracts don’t lie; they might as well pool their wisdom to help the Red Dragon solve this “small favor.”

Ludwig smiled with satisfaction. He liked clever people, because clever people always sized up the situation, knew when to bend or stand firm, saving him a lot of words and time.

The calm was broken by Beowulf’s sudden exclamation: “Ah, it’s you!” He looked at Anuo in surprise-they had actually been classmates for a while.

Anuo had also matched the name and identity; the two of them had studied “Basic Potion Making” together in the lecture hall, though the Red Dragon quickly lost interest and switched to another class. Strangely enough, Beowulf, like Prince Adam, was a renowned genius in the Sky Fortress.

Only now, if not for the riding pants Leya brought, this genius would probably be standing here bare-bottomed.

Beowulf was quite friendly to Anuo, seemingly unaware of the mutual disdain between the Dragon Race and the Elf Race, and not at all ashamed of his own nakedness. He once again refused Leya’s offer. Then again, considering the Dragon Race’s giant dragon form, not wearing clothes seemed reasonable.

“You-hello,” Anuo greeted his former Magic Potion classmate with reserved politeness, not wanting anyone to notice his fondness for the Dragon Race.

“Are you still taking Mixology Class?” his classmate asked. “How’s it going? Any results? If you can, my friend, make me a Mint Julep-this contract really hurts.”

Anuo: “…Huh?”

Author’s Note:

Nonsense Mini-Theater:

Anuo: This Magic Potion class is so hard.

Red Dragon: The Mixology Class teacher is terrible. What are these weak drinks? I’m dropping out!

*Mint Julep, a type of cocktail. Bourbon base, heavy spearmint (basically green mint) flavor, sweet and refreshing. My friend calls it a giant Mojito, lol.

PS: Ludwig isn’t exactly a good demon at this stage, so please don’t expect too much from his worldview. Mwah!