Chapter 56
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 55
Chapter Title: Slurrrp (3)
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“Phew… It’s been a while. This refreshing air.”
“Was being with this body so unpleasant…?”
Ignatus pouts her lips with a slightly hurt expression. Every time she taps the ground with her toes for no reason, the mana pouch shakes violently in tandem.
I let out a dry chuckle and gently stroked one of Ignatus’s horns with my index finger.
“It’s not that. That room was just hot and stuffy with no ventilation, and I was stuck in there for days.”
“All told, it was barely two weeks.”
“Two weeks is a pretty long time by human standards, you know?”
“Sigh. That’s why you’re such short-lived creatures.”
Ignatus shakes her head. For all her words, her mood seems lifted—her tail, still plump and mysteriously glossy, sways contentedly.
Three days since I regained my senses. With nothing to do while focusing on recovery by feeding on Ignatus’s mana, we’d shared all sorts of idle talk. Maybe that’s why.
Now it felt like we’d grown closer than mere friends.
As we snickered like that, the mages—who’d heard word ahead of time and waited—welcomed us.
“Finally…! You’ve finally come to, Your Grace Duke Zahav!”
“You’ve been through so much, Master.”
“There’s backlog on the tower reconstruction, but… should we prepare a feast for now?”
A vibe like they’d truly worried for me. Then one of them slips in a practical matter amid it all? Peak mage behavior.
I hadn’t expected treatment like this at the magic tower—not even Zahav territory. It felt oddly ticklish.
Ignatus wore a pleased smile too, it seemed.
“More importantly, Your Grace Duke Zahav. Any tips for shielding your body from mana rampage?”
“Even if it’s a similar mana type, how’d you absorb Master’s ultra-high-output, scorching-hot breath? Is it some Zahav breathing method?”
“Foolish priest. The current Duke Zahav transcends stale family powers. If it’s anything, it’s from the Calypso Territory.”
The disciples’ attention zeroed in on me alone. My expression stiffened a touch.
I flinched as seasoned mages closed in from all sides.
“…Insolent whelps. Can’t you see this body suffered too?”
“No, Master—you just slept it off and spat a few breaths. That’s it.”
“Right. All the real hardship fell to Duke Zahav here… Ah, we’ve got a magic recorder from back then. Care to view?”
“Master, the documents I sorted first! Everything’s stalled without you. The treasury’s bone-dry—we’ve got to—”
Enthusiasm from middle-aged to white-haired elders alike.
…Frankly, it's overwhelming. But Ignatus? She yanked me close, tail ramrod straight.
My head plunged awkwardly into her chest.
Mush.
Softness flooded my face. The milky scent wafting through thin fabric hit me.
No… underwear?
I get it. A millennium without need for chest support. It explains the wild swings.
But that was then. Now, with mana flows in disarray fueling my impulses—as Ignatus herself noted—it really hits different.
She hugged me tight in that awkward pose, growling cutely.
“Eek! I’m hurt! This body is your tower lord and master!”
The fired-up mages deflated, bowing apologies… but Ignatus’s griping was just warming up.
“Executives prowling at this hour? That's problematic to begin with! Wild Hunt’s on hiatus, sure—but this slack?”
Sleep-deprived drowsiness gone, she unloaded pent-up nagging like a dam has just burst.
Even age-seasoned mages floundered… but with my past-life memories, the scene grated a bit.
Sure, Ignatus’s true age dwarfed theirs. Still, these were grown adults older than me.
Plus, sans chest, Ignatus looked like a Karen’s peer—the mages, proper elders.
I poked her side.
“Hey, ease up. They’re just hyped. Nobody’s slacking on you or the tower.”
“Eut, but…”
“No buts. They fought to the brink and dropped. No few of them, no pinning Morteus, no support spells hauling them back up.”
“Hmph.”
Ignatus nodded, grumpy but compliant.
Mages’ gazes brimmed with layered thanks.
Wordlessly, my message was transmitted. Folks would call this a heartfelt message.
…Naturally, did the earth’s last dragon get human sentiment?
“Cute as my disciples are, you have more interest in my friends over this body? Unbearable!”
“What’re you—mmph?!”
Her tail jammed my gaping mouth. Reflex from my habits—I clamped down.
It was from pure instincts, no funny business: tongue curled the tip, my teeth grazed ticklishly.
“Hek?!”
She jolted, mana surging to the tip on reflex.
I gulped it greedily, then flinched—slowly releasing it.
Silver strand stretched from mouth-to-tail. It snapped at its limit; mages clustered, grim-faced.
“Gasp! The Tower Lord’s tail gleams unnaturally!”
“Their room felt a bit humid, toasty… ah.”
“That scale…! Baby gear, senior brother?”
“Hush! Master’s a full adult now. Let us simply watch warmly.”
A weird misunderstanding brewed.
I jabbed Ignatus’s waist in panic.
“Hey! Fix this!”
“What’m I supposed to do…?”
Me, her, mages—all flailing in shock.
Aaron sighed gustily, stepping up from where he’d hung back.
“Patriarch. And Your Grace Duke Ignatus, tower elders. A word?”
“Karen! Karen!”
“Oho…! Enoch’s servant, yes? Some clever fix?”
Karen, fielding our hopeful stares, spoke firmly.
“Records say dragons rarely breed without a specific season or prep. Unlike humans, nursing them is not easy. Everyone, don’t leap ahead now.”
“...?”
What the hell is this explanation? I blinked, lost in the situation.
“House Zahav blood ignores women barren of their heirs.”
“Karen…?”
I thought she could be my shield? This is more like a spear-thrust.
Ridiculous—yet all nodded sagely.
“Makes sense. Blood that thick? Instincts would be dialed to eleven.”
“Whew. Brainstormed three papers on rearing legendary dragon-hybrids… trash ’em?”
“…Glossy tail? Master’s flinch?”
“Shush. Man-woman stuff ain’t just procreation. Priest, that age and still pure?”
“Blame marriage to magic.”
Misunderstandings cleared. Sorta. Fundamentally it's still the same mess…
My headshake paused as Ignatus’s eyes bulged—enlightened.
“Aha! Interest in the grown me, but mere interest…!”
“...”
What now, Ignatus?
Fresh air turned stifling, who-knows-how-manyth sigh today. Waved lightly at the smug Karen.
With a sudden thought—I spoke.
“Oh, right. Morteus’s dragon heart tumbled deep into the valley, but the bones stayed put?”
“Mm? Aye. Bits melted, crumbled—but grounded solid.”
“Ignatus. Be real: I was a huge help this time.”
“Beyond huge—without you, there would be no sleep for this body, no Wild Hunt to stand, no near-millennium peace.”
“A big stake then? Tower meds and potions leave change.”
“Saving you? That's off-books. Duty. …Why bother bringing it up? You need something.”
“Spot on. Your 2 mil gold promised? Time dragged—so heading back soonish. Gift gotta come first, though.”
“Already…? That's regrettable and inevitable. Ducal pillar yourself. the Dungeons can’t idle long.”
“Roughly.”
“Got it. Post-sorty, this body will visit Zahav. …What do you desire? This body, tower, the entire west—has a massive debt. Most if not anything goes to repay you.”
“Eh, nothing big…”
I dragged it out, gauging her vibe.
“I fancy some of Morteus' bones?”
“...?”
“Can’t brawl bare forever right? Dragon bone screams legendary gear.”
“...”
Ignatus jaw-dropped.
Did I said something wrong? Others mirrored: shock, denial, horror, resignation.
Blinking at nonsense, her voice quavered.
“S-so… you want this body to carve up my father’s bones for you to wear…?”
“Yeah, I want that.”
“Horror! Traitor, mad evil dragon or not—how?!”
Ignatus shuddered, genuinely aghast.
Elders matched: gratitude vaporized, psychopath stares.
Then it had dawn on me.
“Ah.”
Past-life novels aside—no dragon-bone gear culture here?
Dragon-fang weapons exist, though!
Use the scales, teeth are fine as well—but smelting your dead dad’s bones? Is it taboo?
Indignation surged… but yeah, fang arms? I guess they're only from a dragon's discards. Not their Own bits.
Threadless? Use their hair.
Bag sticks? Teeth it.
My pitch? Chain my foe’s bones to a plate and a skull-jaw helm.
Mad cannibal vibes, it was plain obvious to anyone who witnesses it.
“No, that’s not…”
I was truely blindsided. How to untangle this mess? Karen however advanced, resolute.
Leave it to her vibes—I nodded, half-stepped back. Then.
“Great dragon and disciples. Hear me once more.”
“Y-yes. Enoch’s servant. Did I misheard? Or was there a hidden meaning?”
“Naturally, Your Grace Duke Ignatus.”
With a flawless bow and a steadfast tone.
“Zahav blood just instinctively trophies worthy foes they deem equals—preserve them and display them.”
“???”
“Prior patriarch wall-to-wall dungeon boss heads were taxidermied… Young master—no, current Patriarch—always scowled at ’em. His motive clear now.”
“...”
No friggin’ way.
Before I could halt, Karen beamed proudly.
“Patriarch views the mere evil dragon barely trophy-worthy! ‘Gear’ talk? His shyness masking the truth—misunderstand not! Zahav blood shuns arms, armor outright!”
“Gasp!”
Ignatus’s eyes flew wide—understanding.
…That’s not it, dude.