Chapter 14

  ?The pursuit was madness. Absolute, unadulterated suicide.

  ?Homer crouched behind a jagged outcropping of frosted rock, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The air at this elevation was thin and bitingly cold. Beside him, Alija was perfectly still, her blonde wig dusted with a light layer of mountain snow, her eyes narrowed as she looked over the ridge.

  ?They had arrived a full minute after Elara. While the High Elf knight had immediately sprinted off into the dense, dark timberland the second the dragon flew over their camp, Homer and the disguised demon had shared a long, hesitant look.

  ?"Even the Iron Remnant avoids these things," Alija had whispered to him back at the campsite, her usual playful traveler facade completely gone. "We do not pick fights with walking natural disasters. That is a true dragon, human. The oldest and largest I have ever seen. If we follow her, we are walking into a graveyard."

  ?Homer had agreed completely. "Architect," Castor had chimed in, perfectly mirroring Alija’s pragmatic assessment. "I have completed a preliminary anatomical scan of the target based on its flight trajectory. It is heavily armored with highly dense, mana-infused biological plating. I calculate a zero percent probability of conventional victory. You could effortlessly eliminate it by disengaging your nanite limiters and utilizing your full offensive capabilities. However, doing so would instantly reveal your true nature to both the High Elf and the Demon General's sister."

  ?

  So, we either die as humans, or live by revealing I am an ancient weapon, Homer had thought bitterly. Great choices.

  ?Yet, despite the overwhelming logic to run the other way, Elara’s rigid sense of duty had prevailed. She had recognized the heraldry painted on the side of the crushed wooden carriage dangling from the beast's talons. It belonged to a high-ranking elven officer of the High Council. She wasn't sure exactly who was inside, but she refused to abandon a citizen of the realm to be eaten.

  ?So, they had followed the trail of snapped pine trees and crushed boulders all the way up into the jagged northern peaks, arriving at the lip of a massive, bowl-shaped crater that served as the beast's lair.

  ?Elara was already waiting for them, lying flat against the freezing stone, peering over the edge.

  ?"What took you so long?" Elara hissed as Homer and Alija crawled up beside her.

  ?"We were debating the merits of living to see tomorrow," Alija muttered, her eyes scanning the massive cavern below.

  ?"Quiet," Elara commanded, pointing down into the gloom. "Look."

  ?The dragon's lair was a sprawling amphitheater of sheer stone, littered with the bleached bones of massive forest creatures and the rusted, broken armor of foolish adventurers. In the center of the crater, the gargantuan beast landed with an earth-shattering thud.

  ?With a careless flick of its massive, obsidian-scaled wrist, the dragon dropped the carriage.

  ?It hit the stone floor with a horrific, splintering CRACK that echoed off the crater walls. Wood shattered, iron hinges screamed, and the entire structure collapsed inward by at least a foot.

  ?

  Homer winced, pressing his face against the cold rock. "Well. Whoever was in there is definitely dead now. A fall from that height, inside a wooden box? They are paste. We should go."

  ?

  Elara held up a gauntleted hand, her elven ears twitching as she focused intently on the wreckage below. "No. Listen."

  ?Homer strained his ears over the howling mountain wind. At first, he heard nothing but the deep, rumbling breaths of the dragon. But then, faint and muffled beneath the splintered wood, came a sound.

  ?It was a groan. A distinct, pained, high-pitched gasp for air.

  ?"They are alive," Elara whispered, a spark of desperate hope igniting in her eyes.

  ?Down in the crater, the dragon seemed to hear it too. It let out a low, rumbling purr that vibrated the stones beneath their chests. The beast lowered its massive, horned wedge of a head, nudging the broken carriage with its snout. The carriage rolled over twice, wood splintering further.

  ?From inside, a muffled, furious voice rang out. It was a girl's voice, coughing and crying out in pain, but shouting defiance. "Curse you, you overgrown lizard! Get away from me!"

  ?"How in the world is she surviving that?" Alija whispered, genuine awe creeping into her voice. "That beast just batted her around like a ball of yarn."

  ?Castor, get me a read on the inside of that wreckage, Homer ordered internally. And while you are at it, tell me how a creature the size of a commercial airliner managed to sneak up on us back at the camp. Your sensors are supposed to pick up a heartbeat from miles away.

  ?"Processing," Castor’s baritone echoed in his mind. "To answer your second query first: The dragon possesses a highly concentrated, dense internal mana core. This core acts as a localized stealth field, absorbing and bending ambient kinetic and thermal energy. It effectively erased its presence from my passive sensors until it was directly overhead and the physical atmospheric displacement became impossible to mask. It is an evolutionary cloaking mechanism. This is precisely why engaging it without your full nanite output is inadvisable."

  ?Noted. Big stealth lizard. What about the girl in the box?

  ?"Penetrating structural debris... Scan complete," Castor reported. "The occupant is utilizing a localized, high-density magical barrier. It is a protective shell of kinetic energy. However, her internal mana reserves are depleting at an alarming rate to sustain it against the crushing force of the wreckage. Furthermore, the barrier was not deployed fast enough to prevent injury. She has suffered a fractured third rib on her right side, likely from the initial airborne strike. My analysis indicates this barrier is her only functional magical aptitude."

  ?Down below, the dragon seemed to grow bored. It nudged the carriage one last time, let out a massive, sulfurous yawn that revealed rows of teeth the size of greatswords, and slowly curled its gargantuan body around the shattered wooden box. It tucked its horned head beneath its leathery wing, blocking out the cold wind.

  ?Within minutes, the deep, rhythmic rumble of its breathing indicated the apex predator had fallen asleep, hoarding its new toy for a later meal.

  ?Silence descended on the crater, broken only by the whistling wind.

  ?Five minutes passed. Then ten.

  ?The muffled shouting from inside the carriage had completely stopped.

  ?Elara’s face tightened with dread. Alija shook her head slowly. "The barrier probably failed," the disguised demon murmured. "She was crushed."

  ?"No," Homer said firmly, pushing himself up slightly. "She is still alive. Her magic is failing, and she is hurt, but she is breathing. We need to hurry before she suffocates in there."

  ?Both Elara and Alija snapped their heads toward him, looking at him with absolute, bewildered astonishment.

  ?"How could you possibly know that?" Alija demanded, her eyes narrowing. "Even Elara cannot hear her anymore."

  ?Elara waited in tense silence, her piercing gaze demanding an answer. Homer realized his mistake instantly. Castor's bio-scans were not something a normal human could access. He needed a lie, and he needed it fast.

  ?"I am a wind mage," Homer lied smoothly, tapping the side of his head. "I cannot hear her voice, but I can feel the subtle air currents. I can sense the wind stirring from the inside of the carriage. It is faint, but it is moving in rhythm with human lungs. She is breathing."

  ?Alija's expression shifted to a slow, impressed nod. "Ah. Right. Atmospheric sensitivity. Very clever, human."

  ?Elara, however, stared at him for a long, calculating second. Her eyes searched his face, looking for the deception she was so certain he carried. Finally, she looked back down at the sleeping dragon coiled around the carriage.

  ?"We can kill it now," Homer suggested, pointing at the exposed, unarmored skin beneath the dragon's jaw, pretending he believed their current, non-nanite weapons could actually do the job. "Drop down, drive a sword through its throat while it sleeps."

  ?"Absolutely not," Elara whispered harshly, looking at him as if he were insane. "You do not simply assassinate a true dragon. Their scales are harder than refined mythril, and their reflexes are entirely autonomic. The moment a blade touches its skin, it will wake and incinerate this entire mountain. It requires a coordinated strike force of a hundred high-level mages and heavy knights to bring down a beast of this age."

  ?"She is right," Alija agreed, much to Elara's surprise. "We wait. We wait until its sleep cycle is at its deepest, and we extract the girl without waking it. It is the only mathematical way we survive."

  ?So, they waited.

  ?Minutes bled into agonizing hours.

  The temperature on the ridge plummeted, frosting Homer's robes and freezing the condensation on Elara's armor. They lay in perfect, absolute stillness, listening to the deafening, rhythmic snoring of the beast below.

  ?Finally, when the moon began its descent toward the western horizon, Elara signaled.

  ?Now.

  ?They moved like ghosts. Elara went first, her elven grace allowing her to glide over the loose shale without making a single sound. Alija followed, her demon-enhanced agility making her movements equally silent, using the shadows of the massive boulders to mask her descent.

  ?Homer brought up the rear. He used his wind magic to create tiny, localized cushions of air beneath his boots, ensuring his footsteps were entirely muffled as he navigated the treacherous, icy slope.

  ?They reached the floor of the crater. The smell of sulfur and ancient, rotting meat was overpowering.

  ?They crept toward the sleeping behemoth. Up close, the dragon was even more terrifying. Its scales were larger than riot shields. The heat radiating from its body was like standing next to an open blast furnace.

  ?Coiled in the center of the massive, scaled body was the shattered carriage.

  ?Homer reached the carriage first. He pressed his back against the splintered wood, his heart hammering against his ribs. He looked at the heavy iron door of the transport. The metal frame was buckled, and the brass doorknob was bent entirely out of shape.

  ?He gripped the handle and pulled carefully. It didn't budge. The metal groaned in protest, a sharp, whining sound that made Homer wince violently. He froze, his eyes darting to the dragon's massive head resting just twenty feet away.

  ?The beast snuffled, a puff of smoke escaping its nostrils, but its eyes remained shut.

  ?Alija crept up beside him. She saw the jammed door and signaled to the shattered window above it, tapping the glass with a single finger. Homer nodded, reaching up to peer inside. It was too dark, and the wooden lattice was too thick to pull a person through without making a massive racket. No luck there.

  ?Elara slid in next to them. She assessed the bent door frame instantly. She drew her silver sword, not to cut, but to use as a tool.

  ?She gripped the blade carefully, wrapping her thick leather glove around the sharp steel, and brought the heavy, solid pommel of the hilt down directly onto the jammed locking mechanism.

  ?THUD.

  ?The sound was sickeningly loud in the quiet cavern.

  ?All three of them completely froze. Homer stopped breathing. Alija's hand hovered over a throwing dagger she had materialized from beneath her dress. Elara stood perfectly still, her sword still pressed against the door.

  ?They stared at the dragon.

  ?The massive beast let out a long, rumbling exhale, shifting its weight slightly, but the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of its chest continued. It was still asleep.

  ?The lock was broken, but a new, horrifying problem presented itself.

  ?When the dragon had shifted in its sleep, one of its massive, razor-sharp front talons—a single finger as thick as a mature oak tree—had slid forward, resting directly against the bottom edge of the carriage door. They couldn't pull the door open without scraping against the dragon's scales and waking it up.

  ?Homer looked at the massive claw, then at the two women. He raised a hand, making a slow, lifting gesture, tapping his chest to indicate he would use his magic.

  ?Elara nodded sharply, sheathing her sword and preparing to catch the door. Alija crouched low, ready to dive inside and grab the girl.

  ?

  Homer took a deep, silent breath. He closed his eyes, accessing the localized wind currents. He didn't use raw, explosive force. Instead, he gathered the air beneath the dragon's massive talon, compressing it slowly, building a high-density pneumatic jack of pure atmospheric pressure.

  ?

  He raised his hands slowly. The air shimmered.

  ?With agonizing slowness, the dragon's massive finger began to lift. A millimeter. Then an inch. Then a foot.

  ?Homer strained, sweat beading on his forehead despite the freezing air. The sheer weight of the limb was staggering.

  ?

  Now! Homer signaled frantically with his eyes.

  ?

  Elara pulled the carriage door open. It swung outward with a soft creak. Alija darted inside like a shadow.

  ?

  A second later, Alija emerged, carrying the occupant carefully in her arms.

  ?It was an elf.

  She was dressed in the fine, white and gold silken robes of a High Priestess, though the fabric was torn and stained with soot. Blood trickled from a nasty gash on her temple, matting her blonde hair. Her left ankle was bent at a highly unnatural, agonizing angle, and deep purple bruises mottled her exposed arms.

  ?

  To Homer’s eyes, she looked incredibly young, like a teenager who had dressed up in her mother's ceremonial robes.

  ?"Do not be deceived by her physiological markers, Architect," Castor noted quietly. "Cellular density and mana residue indicate this subject is approximately three hundred years old."

  ?

  Good to know, Homer thought, his arms shaking as he maintained the invisible pillar of air holding the dragon's claw aloft.

  ?Alija carefully adjusted her grip on the unconscious priestess. Elara stepped forward, helping to support the girl's weight. Once they were clear, Elara reached out and gently pushed the carriage door back into its frame.

  ?Homer slowly, painstakingly released the pressurized air. The dragon's massive talon lowered back down, coming to rest against the stone floor with a soft thud.

  ?They shared a look of profound, adrenaline-fueled relief. They had actually done it.

  ?Homer gestured toward the ridge. They needed to walk away fast, but with absolute care, to ensure they made no noise on the loose shale.

  ?They took exactly three steps away from the carriage.

  ?"ARCHITECT. RUN!" Castor’s voice didn't just echo in Homer’s mind; it exploded like a siren, filled with unprecedented, synthetic panic.

  ?

  Homer didn't hesitate. "RUN!" he screamed aloud, shattering the silence of the cavern.

  ?Elara and Alija didn't ask questions. The sheer terror in Homer's voice was enough. They bolted for the rocky incline, Alija carrying the priestess with terrifying speed.

  ?

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  Behind them, the cavern erupted.

  ?

  The dragon was awake.

  ?

  Two massive, vertical-slit eyes snapped open, glowing with a blinding, radioactive blue light that illuminated the entire crater. The beast uncoiled with terrifying, explosive speed, its massive wings snapping open and displacing so much air it nearly knocked Homer off his feet.

  ?It let out a roar that defied description. It wasn't just loud; it was a physical weapon. The soundwaves hit them like a solid wall, shattering the remaining glass in the carriage and causing the stone beneath their feet to crack.

  ?They ran as fast as their legs could carry them, scrambling up the steep, icy slope of the crater.

  ?

  The dragon locked its glowing eyes on the thieves stealing its meal. It didn't take flight. It simply lowered its massive head, its jaw unhinging.

  ?"Energy spike detected!" Castor warned, feeding a rapid thermal overlay directly into Homer's optic nerves. "Mana is gathering at the base of the tail!"

  ?Homer risked a glance backward. He could see it perfectly. A brilliant, terrifying line of icy blue light was traveling rapidly up the jagged ridges of the dragon's spine, starting at the tip of its tail and rushing toward its throat like a lit fuse.

  ?"Dodge left!" Homer roared.

  ?The dragon released the breath.

  ?It wasn't fire. It was a concentrated beam of absolute, molecular zero. A torrent of jagged ice and freezing wind blasted from its maw, carving a massive, frozen trench into the stone wall of the crater, completely missing them by a mere ten feet as they threw themselves sideways behind a massive boulder. The air temperature plummeted so rapidly Homer felt his eyelashes freeze together.

  ?

  The dragon roared in frustration, its massive claws tearing chunks of stone from the earth as it charged up the slope after them.

  ?The blue light began to race up its spine again.

  ?"Second charge initiated!" Castor yelled. "Trajectory locked on the High Elf!"

  ?

  Elara had stumbled on the icy rocks, her heavy armor dragging her down. She pushed herself up, looking back in horror as the dragon's glowing maw locked directly onto her position. She raised her shield, knowing it would be utterly useless against the coming blast of absolute zero.

  ?Homer didn't think. He acted.

  ?He couldn't use his nanites to attack the beast, but he could manipulate the environment. He threw his hands forward, channeling a massive, concentrated burst of wind magic directly at Elara.

  ?

  The invisible wall of air hit the High Elf knight like a battering ram. She was blasted off her feet, thrown violently ten yards to the right, tumbling safely behind a jagged outcropping of rock.

  ?A split second later, the dragon's ice breath obliterated the exact spot where Elara had been standing, flash-freezing the stone and shattering the ground into a million crystalline shards.

  ?

  Elara groaned, pushing herself up from the snow. She looked at the frozen wasteland where she had just been, then looked up at Homer, her eyes wide with shock.

  ?"Keep moving!" Homer shouted, signaling furiously.

  ?He needed to draw the beast's attention away from the women carrying the injured priestess. He spotted a massive, shattered pine log resting near the edge of the crater.

  ?

  Using his wind magic, Homer wrapped a violent cyclone around the heavy timber. He hoisted it into the air and launched it like a javelin directly at the charging beast.

  ?

  The massive log flew through the air and struck the dragon squarely in its glowing blue eye.

  ?The log shattered into splinters upon impact. It did absolutely no physical damage, but the sheer annoyance of it worked perfectly.

  ?The dragon let out a deafening shriek of rage, shaking its massive head. Its glowing eyes snapped away from the fleeing women and locked entirely onto Homer, the insignificant insect throwing sticks at it. The beast dug its claws into the stone and charged directly at him.

  ?

  "Idiot!" Alija shouted from the safety of the upper ridge.

  ?

  She carefully but rapidly set the unconscious priestess down behind a thick cluster of boulders.

  ?Elara arrived beside her a second later, panting heavily. She looked back down into the crater, watching Homer desperately dodging the massive, snapping jaws of the dragon, drawing it further away from their escape route.

  ?"What is she doing?" Elara asked, her voice cracking with disbelief as she watched Homer prepare to throw another rock. "He is drawing the aggro. He is ready to sacrifice his life for us."

  ?

  Alija drew a pair of wicked, curved daggers from beneath her linen dress. The illusion of the innocent traveler was entirely gone, replaced by the cold, lethal intent of an ancient warrior.

  ?

  "His kind was always like that," Alija said, her voice dripping with dark reverence. "And I am not leaving a friend behind to die in the mud. Not like your kind did eons ago."

  ?Elara blinked, entirely missing the profound, ancient demon lore hidden in Alija's statement. In the chaos of the moment, the High Elf knight simply assumed the half-elf was comparing her to a cowardly, unreliable government official who had abandoned a mission.

  ?

  The insult stung Elara's pride far more than the freezing wind.

  ?

  "Damn it," Elara cursed loudly, drawing her glowing silver sword.

  ?

  She didn't run toward safety. Instead, the High Elf knight and the disguised Demon General's sister charged back down the icy slope, directly toward the enraged true dragon.

  ?

  They crested a small ridge and saw Homer down below. He was running backward, throwing anything he could find using his wind magic. Sharp stones, shattered tree branches, chunks of ice—they all flew at the dragon in a frantic barrage.

  ?

  It was a completely pathetic display. The projectiles bounced off the dragon's dense, mythril-hard scales without leaving a single scratch, serving only to annoy the gargantuan beast even further.

  ?The dragon opened its jaws, the blue light racing up its spine for a third time, preparing to erase the annoying human from existence.

  The icy blue light raced up the jagged ridges of the true dragon’s spine for the third time, illuminating the freezing mountain air with a deadly, radioactive glow. Homer stood his ground on the steep slope, his hands raised, desperately throwing useless chunks of rock and shattered ice with his wind magic. The gargantuan beast opened its jaws, the absolute zero energy coalescing in its throat.

  ?It was preparing to erase him from the mountain entirely.

  ?

  Before the dragon could unleash the freezing torrent, a brilliant, roaring sphere of pure magical fire streaked through the air from the upper ridge.

  ?Elara, having completely abandoned her retreat, had charged back into range. She thrust her left hand forward, her face twisted in desperate concentration, channeling every ounce of her offensive mana into a single, blinding fireball.

  ?

  The sphere of flames struck the dragon directly across its glowing vertical-slit eyes.

  ?

  The beast shrieked—a sound like grinding tectonic plates—and snapped its head back in surprise. The fiery explosion didn't penetrate the beast's mythril-hard scales or damage its corneas, but the sudden, blinding flash of heat disrupted its focus. The icy energy gathered in its throat sputtered and fizzled out, releasing nothing more than a harmless cloud of chilled steam into the night air.

  ?Elara lowered her hand, her chest heaving as she watched the fire dissipate against the dragon's armored snout without leaving so much as a scorch mark.

  ?"This is hopeless," Elara panted, her voice trembling as the sheer, insurmountable reality of the power gap settled over her. "Our magic is nothing to it."

  ?But Alija had not stopped moving.

  ?While the dragon was momentarily blinded by Elara's fire, the disguised demon launched herself from the top of a massive boulder. She moved with terrifying, unnatural agility, soaring through the frigid air like a launched javelin. She drew both of her wicked, curved daggers, crossing them in front of her as she descended directly toward the thickest part of the dragon's armored neck.

  ?With a fierce, guttural battle cry that echoed with ancient fury, Alija delivered a devastating, downward strike fueled by her immense demonic strength.

  ?CLANG.

  ?

  The sound of the impact was deafening. Sparks showered into the dark as the enchanted steel of her daggers met the dragon's ancient scales. But the blades didn't pierce. They didn't even leave a scratch. The scales were simply too dense, too infused with centuries of concentrated mana.

  ?The dragon shook off the lingering smoke from Elara's fire and whipped its massive head around, locking its glowing eyes on the tiny creature that had just bounced off its neck.

  ?

  As Alija landed gracefully on the icy stone, the dragon spun. Its massive, spiked tail whipped around with the speed and force of a falling redwood tree.

  ?Alija saw it coming. She crossed her daggers in front of her chest in a desperate block, bracing her legs against the rock.

  ?

  The tail swept her away instantly. The sheer kinetic force of the impact shattered the stone beneath her boots and launched her backward through the air like a ragdoll. She flew over the lip of the crater and crashed violently into the dense treeline. Homer heard the sickening sound of multiple thick pine trunks snapping in half as her body tore through the timber before she finally came to a halt.

  ?She did not get back up.

  ?"No!" Elara screamed, watching the traveler get launched into the darkness.

  ?Driven by pure, desperate adrenaline and the unyielding duty of a sworn knight, Elara gripped her glowing silver sword with both hands and charged directly down the slope at the gargantuan beast.

  ?

  To Homer, watching from his position in the snow, the scene was almost tragically comical. It looked exactly like a furious toddler brandishing a shiny toy sword, attempting to fight a towering, heavily muscled gladiator.

  ?The dragon didn't even bother charging a breath attack. It simply looked down at the charging High Elf, raised its massive, tree-trunk-sized arm, and brought its razor-sharp claws down to smite her into the stone.

  ?

  Homer did not hesitate. The time for playing the helpless human was over.

  ?

  He thrust both hands forward, bypassing his subtle spellcasting and drawing directly upon the raw, unrefined power hidden within his blood. He condensed the atmospheric pressure into a hyper-dense, localized dome of solid air directly above Elara.

  ?The dragon's massive claw slammed into the invisible wind shield.

  ?

  The air rippled with a deafening BOOM. The shield held, stopping the colossal limb dead in its tracks, but the concussive shockwave of the impact radiated outward in a violent circle.

  ?The kinetic backlash hit Elara squarely in the chest. She was lifted completely off her feet and thrown backward, tumbling head over heels through the snow. Her armored head struck a solid chunk of ice with a dull thud, and she immediately went limp, sliding to a halt at the bottom of the crater.

  ?

  "Architect," Castor’s voice was instantly calm, shifting from urgent warnings to a clinical, cold assessment. "Physiological monitors confirm that all three allied subjects—Elara, Alija, and the injured priestess—have lost consciousness. You are entirely unobserved."

  ?

  Good, Homer thought, dropping all pretense of the struggling wind mage. He stood up straight, his face hardening into a mask of lethal, ancient focus. Take the limiters off.

  ?

  "Nanite suppression protocols disengaged," Castor confirmed. "Full offensive capabilities are online. Proceed with extreme prejudice."

  ?

  Homer raised his right hand toward the pitch-black sky. He didn't chant. He didn't draw a magical circle. He simply calculated the temperature, the moisture in the clouds, and the molecular density required to pierce mythril-grade biological armor.

  Using his raw nanite manipulation, he rapidly condensed the freezing moisture directly above the dragon's head. Within a fraction of a second, the air froze into a massive, hyper-dense stalactite of solid ice. It was the size of a cathedral spire, jagged, terrifyingly sharp, and heavier than a warship.

  ?

  The dragon looked up, its glowing blue eyes widening slightly as it sensed the sudden, overwhelming mass materializing above it. It opened its jaws to roar.

  ?

  Homer violently flicked his wrist downward.

  ?

  The massive icicle dropped at supersonic speed.

  ?

  The impact was cataclysmic. The spear of hyper-dense ice struck the dragon precisely in the center of its skull, driving downward with a force so intense it shattered the beast's impenetrable cranial plating instantly.

  ?

  The ice drove straight through the beast's brain and pinned its massive head directly to the bedrock of the crater.

  ?

  The dragon didn't even have time to scream. Its body seized in a massive, violent spasm, its wings flailing wildly for a brief moment before it collapsed completely. Thick, steaming blue-black blood and gray brain matter oozed rapidly from beneath the shattered ice, pooling over the frosted stones.

  ?

  The apex predator was dead.

  ?

  Homer slowly lowered his hand, his breathing steady. The silence that rushed back into the mountain crater was deafening. He looked at the gargantuan corpse, the massive spike of ice protruding from its skull like a grisly monument.

  ?

  Well, Homer thought, rubbing the back of his neck. That was messy. Castor, how in the world do we explain this to the women when they wake up? They know I am just a baseline human.

  ?

  "Look to your immediate left, along the upper ridge of the crater wall," Castor instructed calmly.

  ?

  Homer turned his head. Hanging from the jagged overhangs of the mountain above them were dozens of naturally formed, massive ice stalactites, created by centuries of freezing winds and condensation.

  ?

  "They are remarkably similar in visual composition," Castor observed. "While ours is molecularly denser, the naked eye cannot discern the difference. When the subjects awaken, we will deploy a carefully constructed fabrication. You will state that you utilized your wind magic to dislodge one of those natural ice formations from the ceiling. You will claim that the dragon already possessed a pre-existing, severe injury on the top of its cranial plating—likely from a previous territorial dispute—and you simply seized a miraculous opportunity, guiding the falling ice directly into its vulnerable wound."

  ?

  Homer looked at the massive spike buried in the dragon's head. It is a massive stretch. Our ice looks so solid, it practically gleams. They probably won't believe it.

  "They will have no alternative theory," Castor countered smoothly. "Given their rigid understanding of this era's magical limitations, a lucky strike exploiting a prior injury is the only outcome their minds will accept without breaking reality."

  ?

  Alright. We stick to the script.

  ?

  Homer jogged over to where Elara was lying in the snow. She was breathing steadily, just deeply unconscious from the concussion. He used his wind magic to gently lift her armored body, letting her float a few feet off the ground. He did the same for Alija, pulling the disguised demon from the splintered trees, and finally retrieved the heavily injured high priestess from her hiding spot behind the boulders.

  ?

  With all three women hovering safely in a localized current of air, Homer carefully navigated his way down the treacherous mountain paths, descending below the freezing altitude to find a sheltered, heavily wooded grove to set up a secure camp.

  ?

  He laid them out on thick bedrolls near a hastily built fire. The immediate threat was gone, but the medical crisis was just beginning.

  ?

  Homer knelt beside the young Elven priestess. She was pale, shivering violently, and her breathing was ragged.

  ?Castor, run a full diagnostic.

  ?"The subject is in critical condition," the AI reported. "The left ankle is severely crushed. Furthermore, the extremity has suffered acute frostbite from the exposure on the mountain. In this era, a standard medical practitioner would resort to immediate amputation to prevent necrotic spread. Additionally, the fractured third rib threatens to puncture the right lung."

  ?Homer opened the medical supplies he had purchased in San Pedro—a collection of strong-smelling salves and bandages. "I am not letting them cut off a young girl's foot just because their medicine is stuck in the dark ages."

  ?

  He placed his hands over the priestess's ruined ankle. He couldn't perform a perfect, miraculous healing—Elara and Alija would instantly recognize high-tier holy magic. He had to be surgical.

  ?

  He deployed a microscopic swarm of nanites directly into her bloodstream through her pores. He guided them to the ankle, instructing the machines to fuse the shattered bone fragments back

  together and rapidly restore the deadened circulation to cure the frostbite. However, to maintain his cover, he intentionally left the surrounding tissue heavily swollen, inflamed, and deeply bruised.

  ?

  There, Homer thought, wiping sweat from his brow. If they ask, it was just a severe dislocation, and I popped it back into place. Not serious at all.

  ?

  He moved to her chest, repeating the process. He used the nanites to perfectly mend the fractured rib, ensuring the lung was safe from puncture, but he left the sprawling, ugly purple bruises blossoming across her skin untouched.

  ?

  By the time he finished, the sky was beginning to lighten with the pale gray of dawn.

  ?Alija was the first to stir.

  ?

  She groaned, shifting on her bedroll, her hand instinctively reaching for a dagger that was no longer in her hand. She sat up abruptly, wincing as her bruised back protested the sudden movement. She looked around the quiet, warm grove, her eyes landing on Homer, who was sitting casually by the crackling fire, stirring a small iron pot.

  ?"Good morning," Homer said cheerfully, ladling a generous portion of steaming broth into a wooden bowl. He walked over and handed it to the bewildered demon. "Fire Bird soup. Drink up. You took quite a hit against those trees."

  ?

  Alija took the bowl with trembling hands, staring at him as if he were a ghost. "How..." She swallowed hard, looking around the camp. Elara was sleeping soundly, and the priestess was breathing evenly. "How are we alive? The dragon... it was about to incinerate you."

  ?

  Homer sat back down on his log, adopting a look of humble exhaustion. He fed her the elaborate lie exactly as Castor had drafted it. He explained the falling stalactite, his desperate gust of wind, and the incredibly lucky strike upon a pre-existing wound on the beast's skull.

  ?Alija stared at him over the rim of her bowl. Her ancient, tactical mind raced, searching for the flaw in his story. But as Castor had predicted, the sheer impossibility of a human killing a dragon in any other way forced her to accept the incredibly lucky narrative.

  ?

  "You," Alija whispered, shaking her head in profound disbelief. "You have the most absurd, terrifying luck of any creature I have ever met in my long life."

  ?

  A couple of minutes later, Elara awoke with a sharp gasp.

  ?Her hand flew to her sword hilt as she bolted upright, her eyes wide with lingering terror. She saw Homer and Alija sitting calmly by the fire. She demanded answers.

  ?Homer repeated the lie verbatim.

  ?

  Elara did not believe him. She stood up, ignoring the throbbing ache in her head, and declared she was going to verify the kill. She marched out of the grove, determined to climb back up the ridge to the crater.

  ?

  She returned nearly an hour later.

  ?She was deathly pale. Her armor clanked softly as she walked into the camp like a woman walking to the gallows. She had seen the gargantuan corpse. She had seen the massive, gleaming spike of ice pinning its head to the stone. She had seen the absolute devastation.

  ?

  Elara didn't say a single word. She walked directly to the fire, grabbed an empty wooden bowl, and aggressively ladled herself a massive portion of the Fire Bird soup.

  ?She sat on a rock, staring blankly into the flames, and began to eat with frantic, mechanical speed. She finished the bowl in record time, stood up, and immediately poured herself another.

  ?

  Then another.

  ?Then another.

  ?"I anticipated this," Castor noted dryly in Homer's mind as the High Elf knight began her fourth bowl. "The subject is experiencing a severe metabolic response to acute cognitive dissonance. Her reality has been fractured, and she is attempting to self-soothe through rapid caloric intake."

  ?

  If this keeps up, Homer thought, watching her shovel the broth into her mouth with intense, terrifying focus, before we even reach Muntinlupa, the Elf is going to develop some kind of severe mental illness from all of our deception.

  ?Alija, leaning back against a tree, watched Elara with a mixture of amusement and genuine concern. "Where in the world do you put all that soup on that skinny body?" the disguised demon asked, raising an eyebrow.

  ?

  Homer quickly gestured with his hands, motioning for Alija to stop talking and leave the traumatized knight alone.

  ?Alija ignored him entirely, pointing an accusatory finger at the pot. "Look at her! If this keeps up, there will be absolutely no soup left for the injured priestess!"

  ?

  Elara froze, her spoon halfway to her mouth. She slowly turned her head, fixing Alija with a glare so intensely angry and unhinged it could have melted the snow around them. Without breaking eye contact with the disguised demon, Elara aggressively shoved the entire spoonful of soup into her mouth, chewing the Fire Bird meat with a furious, defiant rhythm.

  ?

  By the time the sun had climbed to the very top of the sky, bathing the grove in warm, golden light, the young priestess finally woke up.

  ?

  She let out a soft groan, shifting on the bedroll. Her eyes fluttered open, taking in the trees, the fire, and the three strange faces looking down at her. She was entirely disoriented, still trapped in the hazy fog of shock and pain.

  ?Elara, having finally finished her stress-eating binge, immediately snapped back into her role as a dutiful knight of the Council. She knelt beside the bedroll, gently helping the young, blonde elf sit up against a saddlebag.

  ?"Easy now, Your Grace," Elara said softly, her voice filled with respectful reverence for the priestess's high station. "You are safe. You are far from the beast's lair."

  ?The priestess blinked, her hands trembling as she touched the bandages Homer had wrapped around her bruised ribs. She looked at her ankle, surprised to find it completely whole, albeit swollen and tightly bound.

  ?"I... I remember falling," the priestess stammered, her voice melodic but weak. "The dragon... it took my carriage. My guards..." Tears welled in her eyes. "I thought I was going to die in the dark. How did I survive?"

  ?She looked up, her gaze sweeping past Elara to look at the other two. "Who... who saved me? Who is my hero?"

  ?

  Elara’s face immediately tightened. A profound, deep-seated annoyance flared in her eyes. She clearly wanted to claim the glory, or at least attribute the rescue to the combined might of the High Council.

  ?Instead, with a heavy, deeply resentful sigh, Elara pointed a gauntleted finger directly across the campfire.

  ?

  She pointed at Homer, who was currently occupied with tearing a stale piece of bread into a fresh, final bowl of soup for the newly awakened girl.

  ?

  The priestess looked at Homer, her eyes wide with overwhelming gratitude and awe. "You? A human?"

  ?

  Homer stopped stirring. He looked at the starry-eyed priestess, then at the furious High Elf, and finally at Alija, who was covering her mouth to hide a massive, highly entertained grin.

  ?

  Homer casually wiped his hands on his robes and offered a polite, deferential bow.

  ?"Do not thank me, Your Grace," Homer deflected smoothly, gesturing respectfully toward Elara. "I am just a simple traveler. I was merely doing exactly what the High Elf Commander told me to do.

  She organized the entire rescue."

  ?Elara let out a loud, incredibly un-knightly snort, crossing her arms tightly over her chest and glaring furiously at the fire.