"WOAH, A REAL DWAGON!"

Toby's voice cracked with pure excitement as he stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own feet. His small hands flew up to grip the sides of his head like his brain couldn't process what his eyes were seeing.

In front of him—towering over the entire manor like some ancient god of destruction—was Rusty. But not the melon-sized purple blob. This was a 'monster'.

His dragon form stretched upward, massive and grotesque, his purple gelatinous body rippling like a living ocean. Wings like stained glass windows spread wide enough to cast shadows over half the manor grounds.

Rows of razor-sharp fangs dripped with viscous purple slime, each drop sizzling when it hit the ground. His eyes glowed with predatory intelligence, pupils narrowed to slits.

Toby's legs shook, but his face split in the biggest, most idiotic grin Viktor had ever seen.

"A dwagon! A REAL dwagon! Papa, did you see?!"

Viktor stood nearby, one hand in hisblack pant's pocket. His dark eyes flicked toward Toby, then Rusty, then back. A small smirk tugged at his lips.

'Kids are weird.'

Most people would be pissing themselves. Most 'adults' were—he could hear terrified whimpering from the treeline where villagers hid.

But this eight-year-old was treating it like the world's biggest birthday present.

"Papa!" Toby spun around, eyes sparkling. "Is this 'your' dragon?! Can I touch it?!"

"Toby."

The kid froze mid-sentence.

Viktor walked forward, ruffling Toby's messy hair. "Your mother and Bella already went to the tower. Riding 'that'." He jerked his thumb toward Rusty though more like he had teleported Mira and Bella there leaving Kaida in manor to take care of Toby until he came to fetch him himself.

Toby's eyes went impossibly wider. "WITHOUT ME?!"

Viktor's smirk widened. "Should we go?"

"YES! YES YES—"

"But what about that fat angel?"

The words came out so innocently that Viktor almost choked.

He turned.

There, about ten paces away, stood Gareth. Or rather, 'trembled' Gareth.

The man looked like he'd seen death. His eyes were bloodshot, pupils dilated. His hands shook violently. His mouth hung open, drool leaking from one corner. His nose wasn't forming right—cartilage just giving up, nostrils flaring and collapsing with each panicked breath.

He was staring at Rusty. Just 'staring'. Frozen like a rabbit that had locked eyes with a wolf.

Viktor sighed. "He'll accompany us after sometime."

Gareth's head snapped toward Viktor, neck cracking. "Y-Young Lord—I can't—that 'thing'—"

"It's a dragon."

"I KNOW WHAT IT IS!"

Viktor raised an eyebrow. Gareth immediately clamped his mouth shut.

Viktor's gaze shifted past Gareth to the treeline. Hidden behind bushes, crouched behind tree trunks—a dozen men. Villagers. Farmers. Traders who'd been unlucky enough to pass through when Rusty went full Kaiju mode.

Every single one looked about to shit themselves.

One man had fallen backward, crawling away without making noise. Another pressed against a tree, eyes squeezed shut, lips moving in prayer. A third had given up, sitting cross-legged, brain refusing to process reality.

Viktor stared at them. Then smiled. Not his usual cocky smile. This was 'cold'. Calculated.

'Perfect.'

He needed this. The hunters were coming—adventurers, mercenaries, glory-seekers. Once word about the Tower spread, they'd all come crawling.

And Viktor needed to send a message: 'Don't. Fuck. With. Me.'

Yeah, until you are a beautiful woman, that is.

He couldn't just tell people that. Words were cheap. He needed proof. He needed 'fear'.

What better way than letting rumors spread? About the terrifying lord who commanded 'dragons'.

'Not that Rusty's a real dragon. Just a really big, really scary slime that looks like one.'

But these villagers didn't know that. And the hunters wouldn't either.

All they'd hear were stories. About the dragon. The roar that shook the earth. The teeth that could tear through steel.

And they'd stay the fuck away from his manor.

Viktor turned back to Rusty, scooping Toby up with one arm—the kid yelped—and walked toward the massive purple beast.

Rusty's head lowered, eyes focusing on Viktor. A low rumble emanated from deep within. Recognition.

"Take him to Mira," Viktor said, voice carrying command. "Make sure he's safe."

"Kyuu."

Rusty's body moved. It was 'wrong' to watch. His gelatinous form rippled, flowing like liquid. A section extended outward, wrapping around Toby like a giant jelly hand.

"WHOA!"

The purple slime engulfed him—not swallowing, just 'holding'. Like a seatbelt made of dragon.

Rusty lifted Toby into the air, pulling him toward a saddle-like indentation on the dragon's back.

Toby was 'cackling'. "THIS IS AMAZING! I'M FLYING!"

Viktor stepped back. Inside, just for a second, something warm flickered.

'Kid's got balls.'

Then Rusty 'roared'.

RRRROOOOOAAAAAARRRRR!

The sound was 'deafening'. A physical shockwave slamming into everything in fifty meters.

Trees 'bent'. Leaves exploded. The manor's windows rattled.

And every person standing—

'Flew backward'.

Gareth launched off his feet, crashing into dirt five meters away with a pained "GURK!"

Villagers tumbled through bushes, slammed into trees.

Even Viktor felt it. The force hit like a freight train. For a split second his footing wavered. Hair whipped backward, coat flaring.

But he didn't fall. His boots dug into gravel, knees bending, one hand instinctively on his sword hilt.

The shockwave passed. Viktor straightened slowly.

'That bastard slime is showing off.'

Rusty's wings 'flared'.

WHOOOOOM!

The dragon launched into the sky. The ground cracked. Dust and gravel exploded outward in a crater.

Toby's laughter echoed as Rusty shot upward like a missile, wings beating—

And then they were 'gone'.

A purple blur shrinking rapidly toward the Tower's glow.

Within seconds, they vanished.

Silence.

Viktor stood watching the empty sky. Then turned.

His hair still settling. Expression calm.

He looked toward the treeline. Villagers slowly picking themselves up. Groaning. Whimpering. One crying.

Viktor walked toward them. Every step made someone flinch.

By the time he stopped at the manor's edge, they were all staring. Terrified. Awestruck. 'Broken'.

Good.

Viktor's lips curved into a smile. Not predatory. Not cruel. Just... 'pleasant'. Like a shopkeeper greeting customers.

"So," he said, voice carrying easily, friendly and warm in a way that made it 'worse', "shall we talk about the work?"

Silence.

Viktor's dark eyes swept over the cowering forms scattered across the manor grounds. The dragon's roar had done its job—perfectly. Some were still picking themselves up from where they'd been thrown. Others sat frozen, eyes wide with primal terror.

The villagers who were mostly men seemed to look at him in absolute fear. One tried to speak, mouth opening and closing like a dying fish, but before their breaking voice could utter more came a voice from Kaida who came out from within the manor.

"I checked the herbs, they seem alright. I have arranged them in the hallway—"

She halted mid-step, red hair catching the sunlight as her crimson eyes swept from the trembling villagers to Gareth sprawled in the dirt, then back to Viktor.

"What's with them—"

But she wasn't able to complete her sentence as Viktor passed beside her with hands in pockets, entering the manor as he told in that casual, dangerous tone, "Drag those who can't move. They're wasting time."

Kaida blinked.

All the villagers—at least a dozen strong men, weathered from farm work and labor—blinked in confusion. Gareth, still trying to remember how to breathe properly, blinked from his position on the ground.

Their eyes focused on Kaida. The red-haired woman they seemed to recognize as a guard under some squadron or something from the capital. Former knight. Warrior woman.

But their eyes widened when she moved.

"W-WAIT—!?"

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