Chapter 37
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: Five Days (4)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
#37
Dragon's Intimidation!
An on-off passive that paralyzes beings weaker than the user and sharply slashes their stats.
It was a unique trait every character with dragon blood possessed—a symbol of their race's overwhelming cheat status.
『Dragon's Intimidation crushes you!』
『Movement speed greatly decreases.』
『Physical abilities decrease.』
Proide really was a dragon.
He had felt her intimidation when they first met Ilrak, but the weight was on another level this time.
The pressure blooming over her maid outfit spread out in all directions.
"Eek?!"
"M-My body... why is it suddenly..."
Kael and Bilmois froze like travelers who'd stumbled upon a tiger.
She was an incredibly powerful dragon.
Running into one like her at this point in the story was trouble in itself.
Even in her polymorphed human form, the intimidation was this intense.
"Excuse us. We'll just be passing through."
Confirming that everyone had frozen, Proide stepped into the workshop.
Her footsteps made no sound.
Standing face-to-face with Ilrak, she lifted her skirt hem and offered an elegant curtsy.
"I'm delighted we're reuniting so soon, Miss Ilrak."
"...Why are you here? If you're the head maid, shouldn't you be tending to Alto's lair?"
Ilrak furrowed her brow.
Her tail, twitching restlessly against the floor, betrayed her unease.
Bran licked his lips at the mention of "head maid."
'Just as I expected.'
His intuition had been spot on.
The one who'd scarred Ilrak's body and driven her from Alto's lair.
A pureblood dragon who bizarrely called herself a maid.
Proide clasped her hands demurely and replied.
"It's fine now that I've rescued the young master. I came here on my master's orders."
"What did Alto order you to do?"
"To bring you back swiftly, Miss Ilrak. By force if necessary."
Silence fell.
Bran's eyes widened.
What was this? Some hidden-camera prank show?
Ilrak, who'd been stunned, narrowed her eyes sharply.
"What the hell does that mean? Why would Alto want me?"
"My master was deeply shocked after witnessing your fight with me. He lamented that even as a half-blood, he never imagined you'd be so frail. If left as is, you might become a disgrace to House Zarheim, so he said he'd train you from the ground up himself."
"Train me? Alto?"
"Yes. He's truly kind-hearted. He vowed to take full responsibility until you blossom into a true fire dragon."
This time, Bran's eyes narrowed.
How much effort had he put into scouting her, only for this dragon to pop out of nowhere?
'This isn't in the game. Must be because Ilrak raided the lair.'
And the direction it was heading was utterly ridiculous.
True fire dragon, my ass.
Proide continued.
"So, if you'd kindly come along, I'd be grateful."
"Bullshit. I'm not going!"
"Haa... Just as I expected."
Proide let out a deep sigh.
She seemed to have anticipated this.
The moment she parted her clasped hands, golden sparks crackled across the back of her hand.
"Then I have no choice but to use force."
"Kuh...!"
Ilrak flinched, shoulders hunching.
Her tension was uncharacteristic.
The charred wounds etched across her body hadn't fully healed yet.
Just as Proide raised her hand, face stripped of its smile—
"No, you don't."
Bran's voice rang out from right beside her.
Proide jolted, turning her head.
Bran had closed the distance unnoticed, arms crossed as he watched the two.
"She and I have prior arrangements. Very important ones."
"......How?"
Proide's eyes widened round.
Like someone whose pet hamster had suddenly started talking.
A mere human shrugging off dragon intimidation? It was understandable.
Honestly, it wasn't easy for Bran either.
Messages flashed relentlessly before his desperately feigned composure.
『You consumed lion's mane tonic. Mental strength rises while the effect lasts.』
『Heart of Harmeno activates. Plant-based beneficial effects are doubled!』
『High mental strength overcomes Dragon's Intimidation!』
『Shook off the pressure of the strong. Tenacity of the Weed activates!』
『Mental strength growth rate slightly increases.』
Good thing he carried emergency stimulants.
He hadn't learned mana reinforcement skills yet, so this was his best option for now.
Ilrak's eyes widened.
"B-Bran?!"
"And Ilrak is my comrade. I can't let you take her if she doesn't want to go."
Bran pressed on, ignoring her surprise.
Ilrak's ears flushed red at "comrade."
"...What touching friendship. I never imagined Miss Ilrak would have a human friend."
Proide turned to Bran.
"But know this: what you're doing is extremely dangerous. My reasonableness is only to avoid tarnishing my master's honor and House Zarheim's reputation."
Electricity still coursed through her hands.
When their eyes met, he felt a sting—it figured; she wasn't a fire dragon but a thunder dragon.
"I am a dragon too. The thunder roaring through my veins craves blood without rest. Suppressing this urge daily is no easy feat."
"An urge, huh."
"Yes. So please, provoke me no further. Seeing a mortal—especially a fragile child like you—act so boldly..."
Proide leaned down, meeting Bran's gaze.
A sunny scent wafted from her apron.
Golden irises glinted through her crescent-moon eyes.
She brought her face close enough to share breath and smiled faintly.
"...makes me just want to gobble you up."
Chills raced up Bran's limbs.
This was no joke.
In her true form, she'd swallow him whole in one bite.
Proide's face drew even closer.
"Up close, you're quite adorable. Maybe I should just..."
"Ugh!"
Then it happened.
Proide's eyes twisted in pain.
Startled, she whipped her head around.
Ilrak had sneaked up and gripped her shoulder.
"Hands off."
A creaking sound came from under Ilrak's hand.
Likely enough force to crush rock.
Ilrak growled.
"I'll kill you."
Proide flinched.
An expression Bran had never seen on her.
Ilrak's furious face was twisted like a demon fresh from hell.
"......Your strength is indeed impressive."
Proide politely withdrew her hand and straightened.
Ilrak yanked Bran to her side with her tail the instant they parted.
Proide bowed apologetically to them both.
"My apologies. I was rude to your friend, Miss Ilrak."
"Can't be helped. I must look tasty to a dragon."
"I won't deny it."
"Fuck."
"In any case, I must ask your understanding. With my master's orders, I have to take you back. I don't want more commotion, so won't you come quietly?"
This time, persuasion.
Ilrak's eyes wavered briefly.
Resisting would demolish Bilmois's newly remodeled workshop.
As Ilrak hesitated, Bran spoke up.
"Mind if I make a proposal?"
"A proposal? What kind?"
"If Alto's worried about Ilrak's weakness, she just needs to get stronger, right? The prior arrangement I mentioned? It's a training promise."
Bran drew his index finger like a sword.
"Give us just one day. I guarantee results better than Alto's training. If my method works in your eyes, Proide, leave Ilrak be."
"...What changes in one day?"
"Plenty."
Bran answered without hesitation.
Ilrak looked flustered but didn't interrupt.
Proide smiled.
"Impressive confidence. But that's no reason to defy my master's orders."
"Hm... I didn't want to bring this up, but lean in for a sec?"
"Hm?"
Proide bent down.
The moment Bran whispered in her ear, her narrowed eyes flew wide.
"How do you know that...!"
"I've got connections. Alto's old worry, right?"
Bran grinned.
Thank goodness he enjoyed savoring every character detail.
Proide hummed thoughtfully, then nodded.
"Very well. As head maid, I'll suggest it to my master. But if results aren't clear, I'll take Miss Ilrak as planned."
"Deal."
"Wh-What? You two scheming without me... Ack!"
Ilrak yelped in protest.
Bran had poked her side wound to shut her up.
"But you'll need solid proof. How do you plan to demonstrate?"
"How about this? Ilrak spars you. If your polymorph slips even a little, we call it proven."
"......Pardon?"
"Literal. If it slips, your true feelings show. If a weak dragonblood draws out a pureblood's sincerity, isn't that proof enough of her strength?"
Proide's face hardened.
Ilrak looked horrified.
But the silence was brief.
Proide's lips curved faintly.
"Fine. I accept."
Bran's proposal was accepted.
It added another time attack to his packed schedule, which sucked, but it beat watching Ilrak get snatched away.
And he had faith it'd work.
"You should fold your clothes properly. Do you do laundry on time?"
"Th-That... Heh heh."
"No 'heh heh.' Your gaunt face says you skip meals. There's a kitchen, so I'll buy ingredients later."
With time to kill, Proide started housework like a pro maid hired for the forge.
Scattered clothes and dishes vanished in organized efficiency—clear expertise.
She'd talked about holding back ferocity, but she just loved caretaking.
"Sir Kael, was it? Any favorite foods?"
"Eek... I-I eat anything fine!"
"Excellent. Unlike our picky miss. As a child, even Master tried fixing it, but without meat..."
"Shut it already!"
Ilrak snapped, unable to listen.
They'd moved to another room with Bran, but voices carried.
"Block it out or something. So annoying..."
"She doesn't seem like a bad dragon, though."
"Better than Alto, sure. But seriously, what's your plan with that proposal?"
Ilrak rubbed her forehead.
She, who needed to power up by dawn, was stressed beyond normal.
"Never beaten her once?"
"Duh! She acts all sweet, but she's no soft dragon. Ever felt claws wrapped in lightning? Ugh...!"
Terrible matchup for Ilrak.
Pitying her shuddering at the memories.
"We got this, Ilrak. Grab the axe first."
"Haa... Fine."
Ilrak sighed and gripped the axe haft.
Bran was about to ask if she'd need both hands.
Clunk!
The axe came out effortlessly and swung up in a flash.
"What."
"Huh? What's wrong?"
"No... Isn't it heavy?"
"Hm? Not sure it's that heavy. Kinda hefty?"
Ilrak tilted her head.
Despite her words, it felt light as a feather.
Thud. She spun it like a trick, slinging the haft over one shoulder.
A heroic flair that screamed "dragon slayer."
Bran's face lit up.
"Perfect."
"Fits nice in my hands... First time with a weapon, but I'll make good use of it."
He knew she was strong, but this?
The blade was forged from insanely dense ore.
Good thing he hadn't tried sneaking a lift and triggered Power of the Great Tree.
"Let's start. Axe up, follow me."
"Okay."
Bran and Ilrak moved to the front yard of the forge.
Just a hundred paces from Dragonheart Road, fierce heat winds blew.
"Ilrak, to get stronger, first master your heat."
"Heat?"
"Yeah. That stuff bursting from your heart when you're active or emotional."
Ilrak was a fire dragon dragonblood.
Her heart, mirroring her father's, was a superheater rivaling Dragonheart Road or ancient volcanoes.
Venting it just because it hurt was insane waste.
"You've always been desperate just to vent it. Tossing away a resource that could fuel you— no wonder your stamina tanks. Master this, and you can fight explosively longer."
"No feel for it yet. How?"
"First, build circuits in your body for the heat to flow. Aligning and stabilizing them is this training's main goal."
With that, Bran pulled out a book.
Its blazing red cover bore "Scorching Days" in rough script.
Not as rare as primordial tomes, but hard-won.
Thanks, Mr. Leodorn.
"Written by someone possessed by a fire spirit. Details controlling inner heat. Includes circuit-building methods."
"Human knowledge helpful?"
"Of course."
Bran nodded firmly.
His keen eyes burned with certainty.
Slowly raising his hand, he placed it on Ilrak's abdomen.
"Stay still. Trying something."
"Wh-What now?"
"Finding paths for the heat. Brace for hard work after. Hm... Tricky."
Good he'd learned mana.
Kael might do better, but he'd melt from the heat.
Bran focused, tracing her veins' heat.
Hot. Solid.
Her defined abs felt sculpted metal, not flesh.
Enviable body.
"Ilrak. Humans are weak, like you think."
"What?"
"That's why we strive endlessly to grow stronger. To trample, protect, survive... Our struggles become knowledge, passed generation to generation."
Ilrak, who'd averted her gaze, looked down again.
His narrowed eyes desperately probed her inner heat.
"Being dragonblood means you inherit that human pinnacle fully. Nothing shameful."
"Bran."
"Trust me."
Then, something stirred under his sizzling palm.
A subtly different temperature, vast space.
Perfect plot for heat paths.
Looking up at Ilrak, Bran grinned.
"This method works."
Sunset yielded to night.
Deep into the early hours past midnight, as the dim new moon hung over the crater.
"......Time's up."
Proide rose from folding laundry on the balcony.
Waiting three extra hours past the promise was her mercy.
Click. Finishing her chore, she headed to the promised inner courtyard.
"Ah. You're here?"
"You..."
Bran's voice came.
Proide turned toward the sound and flinched.
Ilrak was a mess, heaving like a forge bellows.
"Cough... Heave...!"
"Miss Ilrak."
She looked rolled over hot coals.
Red glows like molten iron flickered inside wounds across her body.
Her double-headed axe, propped as support, shimmered with heat haze.
Proide's gaze shifted to Bran beside her.
"You. What did you do to her?"
"Training."
"Training? What kind of...!"
Proide gasped.
Impossible to guess what regimen wrecked her like this.
Kael, scurrying after, covered his mouth.
"I-Ilrak...?!"
"My god."
Bilmois couldn't hide his shock.
Though blind, he sensed her dire state.
Only Bran stayed calm.
Patting Ilrak's back approvingly, he nodded to the courtyard center.
"Shall we begin?"
"......Exactly what I want."
Proide nodded.
Polite demeanor, but anger edged her voice.
Surprised she'd pushed her charge this hard?
Glaring at them, she said.
"Should've taken you sooner. I won't hold back—brace yourselves."
"Yeah... Hoo, do what you want."
Ilrak waved dismissively.
She staggered to position, looking ready to collapse.
Proide and Ilrak faced off thirty paces apart.
Proide erect as ever.
Ilrak crouched, axe gripped.
As the duel neared start, Ilrak spoke.
"Proide."
"Yes?"
"If I win... Hoo, any prize?"
"......A prize?"
"Yeah. Feels unfair otherwise."
Ilrak bared teeth in a grin.
A line that begged knowing what happened in training.
"A prize now? Pathetic—you've lost it. If you win, what's mine is yours."
"Good... Promised?"
"Yes. But it won't happen."
One strike to end it.
Proide unclasped her hands.
Crackle!
Lightning erupted, coiling her arms.
"Eek!"
"D-Did lightning strike?!"
Kael and Bilmois freaked.
Magic-like technique that scarred Ilrak unforgettable.
But today's Ilrak gripped her haft calmly, no curses or flinching.
"Alright. Let's go."
Confirming readiness, Bran nodded.
His mouth opened.
"Star—"
Too late.
Both vanished.
Lightning and heat wind clashed dead center.
Or slightly offset—one step.
Proide's eyes widened.
"What."
Ilrak's axe loomed.
Blazing heat arced red toward her.
Faster than her.
Reach and get severed.
Only haze lingered where Ilrak stood, writhing.
No steam—the usual vent gone.
Gritting teeth, Proide accelerated back.
"Kuh!"
The axe swung simultaneously.
Kwaaaaa—!
A searing crescent moon rose.
Proide, rebounding, landed on the ground.
Finally, Bran's word finished.
"—t."
The fight was over.
Bran eyed Proide's heaving form.
Golden scales sprouted, wings tearing her back.
"Haa... Haa...!"
Clear polymorph release.
No leisure on her softened face now.
Fastest duel in the world.
Muttering, Bran chuckled.
"Duel over."