A Demon and a Dragon

by Virlyce

  Vur smacked the top of Alora’s head, causing her to wince and clutch her scalp. “You forgot Grimmy’s first law: Never question Grimmy’s code of honor.”

  Alora whimpered as tears formed in her eyes. “When I finally meet this Uncle Grimmy, I’m going to bite him.”

  Apollonia cleared her throat, drawing Vur’s attention. “Excuse me, dragon,” she said. “Do you happen to know of a black dragon on this continent? A black dragon captured the devil while it was in transit.”

  Vur shook his head. “I know a black dragon,” he said, “but he’s not here.”

  “A dragon stole my prey?” Mary asked, her eyes narrowing. She turned towards Vur. “And it’s not a part of your roost.” She nodded. “I’m going to hunt it and make it return the devil to me.”

  “…The devil’s not yours in the first place,” Apollonia said.

  But Mary ignored her. The empress inhaled the food on the third plate that Alice had been saving and swallowed it down before walking around the table. She approached Vur, who leaned back to keep his distance. Mary ignored the fact that Vur was trying to avoid her and came even closer until she was standing over him. Her face crept towards his, their noses practically touching as Vur leaned further and further back.

  “What are you doing!?” Tafel shouted as she jumped to her feet. She opened a portal next to herself and reached inside, yanking Mary through. The empress let out a yelp as she fell backwards, landing on Tafel’s feet. “Why were you trying to kiss my husband!?”

  Mary rubbed her nose as she got up. “I wasn’t,” she said. “I was smelling him.”

  “…That’s even weirder,” Tafel said. “Please don’t do that from now on.”

  “I needed a dragon’s scent. Now I won’t get lost.” Mary turned around and took a step but stopped mid-stride. She turned back around and waved at Tafel. “You have to come to my birthday party at the end of the month. I’ll see you later.” Then, before Tafel could reply, Mary dashed towards the exit of the mansion, disappearing from view in an instant.

  ***

  “Now what?”

  Tafel turned her head towards Alice, who was sitting in a chair and holding a closed book in her hands, resting it on her lap. “What do you mean now what?” Tafel asked. She was lying down on top of a bed with frills and plush pillows adorning it. “Now I sleep. It took me twenty hours to cast ten thousand spells. I’m beat.”

  “No, I mean after,” Alice said. “We came here to meet the empress, right? We still haven’t decided who’s right. It’s clear she has no business running an empire.”

  “But that wasn’t what we bet on,” Tafel said. “We agreed to check whether she was an evil person worthy of being overthrown or not. Just because she’s incompetent doesn’t mean she’s evil.”

  “But you do agree that she shouldn’t be running an empire, right?” Alice asked, narrowing her eyes.

  Tafel cleared her throat and rolled onto her side, facing the wall. “I’m tired. We’ll discuss this tomorrow.”

  “Oi,” Alice said as she climbed to her feet. She walked over to Tafel and placed a hand on the demon’s shoulder. With a tug, Tafel flipped over onto her back, but her eyes were shut, her mouth hanging open. Alice’s eye twitched. She reached forward and pinched Tafel’s cheeks, stretching them out like a chipmunk’s, but there was no response. After a few more tugs, soft snores rang out of Tafel’s mouth, but they were garbled due to Alice’s hands. Alice sighed and shook her head before releasing her fingers. “Fine, we’ll discuss this tomorrow.”

  Alice grabbed Tafel’s blanket and brought it up to the demon’s neck, covering her previously exposed skin. She turned around and was about to settle into her own bed when a flash of light coming from beyond the curtain caught her attention. The watch-sized shield on her wrist expanded as a wrinkle appeared on her forehead. Standing on the tips of her toes, she approached the curtain and swung it open. Her own reflection greeted her in the dark glass. “Hmm.”

  There was another flash of light that illuminated a figure in the garden down below. Alice opened the window and leapt outside, landing on all fours as a rune appeared on her forehead. Her eyes turned catlike with golden irises as clawed paws made of yellow aura appeared around her hands and feet. The dark garden appeared as bright as day with the help of her awakening. “Vur? What the heck are you doing?”

  The figure in the garden turned its head. “Oh, hi, Alice.”

  Alice stood up and shook off the aura surrounding her limbs as she strode towards Vur. “Were you using lightning magic just now?”

  “Yeah,” Vur said as he pointed his finger up at the sky. A lightning bolt that was as wide as a tree shot out of his finger tip, turning the night into day for a brief moment before disappearing.

  “Why didn’t it make a sound?” Alice asked as she rubbed her eyes. “And warn me next time you do that, please.”

  “If it made a sound, then I’d wake people up,” Vur said. “And people don’t like waking up, so I made it not make sounds.”

  “Is that even possible? I thought thunder accompanied lightning by default.”

  Vur nodded. “It’s possible if you believe.”

  Alice sighed. “Why are you playing with lightning this late at night?”

  Vur scratched his head and looked off to the side. His eyebrows knit together, and he crossed his arms over his chest before staring Alice in the eyes. He nodded as if reassuring himself before asking, “What’s the purpose of training?”

  “To get stronger,” Alice said. Her eyes widened. “Wait. You were training?”

  Vur snorted and puffed his chest out. “A dragon doesn’t need to train,” he said as he placed his hands on his hips. He ignored Alice’s stare and tilted his chin up at the sky. “Mm, but if one were to train, how does that make them stronger?”

  “Well…,” Alice said and placed her hand on her chin, tilting her head down. “I’ll keep it simple since it’s you. When people do strength training, their strength goes up. When people study, their intelligence increases. When people do skill training, their proficiency with the skill increases. You shooting lightning bolts at the sky for no reason would be classified as skill training.”

  Vur furrowed his brow. “I don’t get it,” he said. “How will repeatedly shooting lightning bolts at the sky make me better at shooting lightning bolts?”

  “It becomes more natural,” Alice said. “The more you do it, the faster you’ll be able to shoot them out. The chance of failure greatly decreases as well, and if you aim at a target, your accuracy should increase.”

  The wrinkle on Vur’s forehead deepened as he tilted his head. “But shooting lightning bolts is already as natural as breathing? Why do people practice?”

  Alice exhaled, trying to suppress the hot feeling in her chest that wanted to boil over into her arm and channel itself into Vur’s face through her hand. “It’s not natural for normal people.”

  Vur sighed and stared at the ground. “That’s right. I’m amazing, aren’t I?” He shook his head and clicked his tongue before meeting Alice’s heated glare. “Does that mean training is useless for me?”

  “Don’t sound so disappointed,” Alice said through gritted teeth. She unclenched her hands that she hadn’t realized she had clenched and exhaled again. “Even for you, there are some merits to training. You know how Tafel lost to Mary because her portal was slashed apart? She could’ve teleported herself away, but she didn’t. Do you know why?”

  “Mary was too fast?”

  “That was part of it,” Alice said. “But even if Mary approached her at the same speed, as long as Tafel trained herself to teleport her body away instead of relying on portals, she could’ve avoided Mary’s attack. People have instincts much like animals, but compared to animals, our instincts are horrible. Some people literally freeze up and stop moving when they’re in danger. Training overrides your instincts, allowing you to unconsciously make a better choice than your instincts would in a situation.”

&
nbsp; Vur blinked at Alice. “My instincts have never failed me though.”

  “That’s because your body is stupidly strong,” Alice said. “If someone who had the same strength as you and a higher level of training competed in hand-to-hand combat against you, they’d win. If Mary challenged you to a swordfight, there’s absolutely no way you’d win.”

  Vur snorted. “I can win without a sword.”

  “Yes, that’s right, but I’m saying, if you were to compete in swordplay, you’d lose.”

  Vur pursed his lips. “Swords are for people without claws to make themselves feel better about not having claws. A dragon would never compete in swordplay because it’s demeaning to them.”

  “Sure, make up all the excuses that you want,” Alice said. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’d lose. Mary’s had more training than you, and that’s the important part about training. Whoever has more training wins if all else is equal. You’ve never lost because your natural strength, mana capacity, and gift for wielding magic is greater than all of your opponent’s and their training combined.”

  Vur hummed and rubbed his chin. “So…, training will help me?”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”

  Vur’s eyes lit up. “If I train my lightning bolt enough, can I shoot down a star?”

  “Eh…, sure, if you believe,” Alice said, turning her head away. She sighed as Vur shot another lightning bolt into the sky. Now even Vur, one of the laziest people she knew, was training to get stronger. Maybe she’d join Tafel’s practice tomorrow.

  ***

  Lindyss lay on a bed of grass, splaying her limbs out in the sun. She yawned and adjusted the sunglasses on her face that had slid down. A smile appeared on her lips as her shoulders relaxed. A low rumble sent tremors down her back, but she ignored it. A few seconds later, the rumbling grew louder, and the ground shook as if Lindyss was lying on a massage chair. “That feels great,” she said without opening her eyes. “Whatever you’re doing, keep it up.”

  The trembling stopped. A shadow fell over Lindyss, causing her to sigh and open her eyes. A massive black dragon’s head towered over her. “Can you not?” she asked. “You’re blocking the sun.”

  A low rumble escaped out of Grimmy’s throat as he chuckled, causing the ground to tremble. He grinned at the cursed elf. “Don’t you want to see?”

  “No,” Lindyss said. “I got a good look at it from the sky. I’m not interested in spiders.”

  “What’s wrong with spiders?” Erin asked, her head poking out from underneath Lindyss’ hair. “Fairies love spiders. They eat all the pesky bugs.”

  “They seem to have missed the fairies,” Lindyss said, pushing Erin’s head down with her finger.

  “One day, you’re going to tell me why you hate fairies so much,” Erin said with a muffled voice. “And then I’ll fix your trauma!”

  “You want to know?” Grimmy asked, raising his brow as he used one claw to lift Lindyss’ hair, revealing the trembling fairy queen. “I know why she hates fairies.”

  Lindyss glared at Grimmy. “Don’t you dare tell her.”

  “Well,” Grimmy said, showing his teeth as he smiled, “how much are you willing to pay me to keep my mouth shut?” He exhaled through his nose, puffing a blast of air that knocked Erin away from Lindyss. “And how much are you willing to pay to find out?”

  “I can give you a staff of polymorph,” Erin said, her face pale. She seemed to shrink under Grimmy’s gaze, her feet disappearing into the dirt beneath her. There was an audible gulp as she swallowed. “I, I mean, t-two staves of polymorph.”

  “Stop bullying the fairy,” Lindyss said, snatching Erin and shoving the fairy into her robes out of Grimmy’s sight. Before Erin could say anything, Lindyss glared at her. “No, I wouldn’t care if he bullied you under normal circumstances, but this involves me.” She stood up and placed her hands on her hips, meeting Grimmy’s twinkling eyes. “Alright, you win. What did you want me to see?”

  “Look,” Grimmy said as he took out a translucent jar. Within, a curled-up demon was sobbing into its hands. “It’s a being from another dimension.”

  “Yes, yes,” Lindyss said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve seen it.”

  “That’s not the reaction you should be having,” Grimmy said and tutted. “You should be wondering whether or not it has a soul. Aren’t you curious?”

  Lindyss’ face paled. “If you stick that thing’s soul inside of me, I swear I’ll stop being your friend for real,” she said. “It’s only been a few years since I’ve been able to enjoy the sun since who knows when. I’m not going to give that up again.” She took a step back as Grimmy’s grin widened. “I’ll seriously fight you.”

  Grimmy sighed before shaking his head. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Even though I want to, it’s not possible. Devils don’t have souls.”

  “Darn,” a small voice said from within Lindyss’ robes.

  Lindyss ignored it and crossed her arms over her chest. “Then what’s so special about it?”

  “It can move and talk and think as if it had a soul,” Grimmy said, gesturing towards the jar. “Isn’t that amazing? Usually, a living being without a soul is just a vegetable, but this devil isn’t. Think of the implications.”

  Lindyss furrowed her brow as she tilted her head. “It’d be ethical to kill it?”

  “Why is that the first implication you thought of!?” Erin shouted as her head appeared from Lindyss’ shirt’s collar. “It’s never okay to kill anything!”

  Lindyss shrugged. “It was just a joke,” she said. “Calm down.” She nodded at Grimmy. “In other words, this devil is simply a golem with an extremely high level of intelligence. It sounds like it can be disobedient though; what’s the point? Golems are already effective.”

  “Maybe you’ll understand after I do this,” Grimmy said as he lifted the jar above his head. The devil trembled upon seeing Grimmy’s gaping maw underneath it. Black flames flew through the air, scorching the bottom of the container. The devil hopped up and down in silence, but its mouth was opened as if it were screaming. Grimmy stopped blowing flames and lowered the jar. “Do you understand now?”

  Erin’s face paled as she sank back inside of Lindyss’ shirt, determined to never appear in front of Grimmy again. Lindyss shook her head. “I don’t get it. Are they tastier since their flesh isn’t tainted by impure souls?”

  Grimmy heaved a sigh as he moved the jar to the side and collapsed onto his belly, resting his chin on his front paws. “And you call yourself a necromancer.” He gestured at the jar by lifting one claw. “This soulless body can feel things. What’s the greatest issue with the undead?”

  “A warm body,” Lindyss said, her eyes lighting up as she stared at the crying devil. “Can it reproduce too?”

  “Now you’re getting it,” Grimmy said, a smile breaking across his face.

  “Instead of maintaining a dead body with mana, we can put a soul inside of a devil instead,” Lindyss said. Her brow furrowed before she narrowed her eyes at Grimmy. “I thought you didn’t like devils and wanted to stop whoever was summoning them.”

  “Did I say that?” Grimmy asked. “You must’ve misheard. Besides, I already know who’s behind this.”

  ***

  Mary sat atop a hill overlooking a town. A frown was etched in her face, her eyes narrowed at the citizens walking to-and-fro through the streets. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply, her chest expanding from the excessive air. She exhaled through her mouth and relaxed her face before staring up at the sky. With a clank, she leaned back, letting her armor hit the ground. She held her sword up in front of her face and sighed. “Why does everyone smell like a dragon…?”

  “Your sense of smell is too weak,” her sword said in response, its edge flashing with a blue light. “You have to devote more time to developing your nose. Instead of becoming one with a carrot, become one with a wolf. Train harder!”

  Mary pursed her lips as she sat up. She crossed
her legs and placed her hands against her greaves. “Woof.”

  “…That was terrible. Train harder!”

  “Woof!”

  ***

  Alora stretched her limbs above her head and yawned. She pressed her hand into the mattress underneath herself and smiled before bouncing up and down a few times. “Beds have to be the greatest invention humans have ever come up with,” she said as she arched her back and stretched again. “I bet Dad would love something like this. I wonder if he’ll take care of the annoying trio more often if I made him one. What do you think, Vur?”

  There was no response.

  Alora blinked a few times before rubbing her eyes. “Vur?” she asked, rotating her body to scan the room. She was all alone. “…Alright, that’s fine too—make me seem like I’m crazy by talking to myself.” With a thump, her feet hit the ground as she hopped out of bed. “At least no one’s listening.”

  Alora tilted her head up and inhaled deeply through her nostrils. Her brow wrinkled as she exhaled and inhaled again. “Gosh, human noses suck at smelling things,” she said and shook her head as she approached the curtains. She lifted it aside and pressed her face up against the glass while muttering, “I want to turn back into a dragon….” Her eyes lit up upon seeing Vur in the garden. She pushed with her palms, and the window fell outwards along with its frame. Her body wiggled as she crawled through the opening she created and promptly fell to the ground headfirst with a yelp. She clutched her forehead as she climbed to her feet. “…Dumb wingless body.”

  “Hey, Vur!” Alora shouted as she limped over to the only patch of grass that wasn’t ruined in the garden. Vur was splayed out in the center of it, his eyes empty as he stared up at the sky with his mouth hanging open. “Vur…?” Alora leaned forward and nudged his rib. “Are you alright?”

  Vur blinked and shook his head like a dog, shaking off the dazed state that he was in. He created a ball of water above his palm and drank it. Then he stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “Alora? What are you doing here?”