A Summit That's Not a Summit
Tunus Palace had been at a complete loss ever since hearing that the Red Dragon was coming. And who could blame them? The Red Dragon wasn't just some head of state—he was the undisputed leader of a faith, a god in the flesh. Yet here he was, the god himself gracing the palace, not some priest or avatar. No one knew how to handle the protocol.
But.
No need.
The Red Dragon dismissed their frantic thoughts with a single sentence, his voice laced with clear annoyance, as if their attempts to attend and bless him were an unwelcome intrusion. The Sea King immediately ordered the servants to withdraw.
[…Then, come inside. You should come along too.]
He led the Red Dragon and Leviathan into the royal palace, stopping in a reception hall that doubled as a lobby to face them. Staring at the pair, the Sea King's mind froze even harder.
What was the Red Dragon doing here? Bringing his daughter along felt like a blatant provocation—like flaunting that she was firmly in his grasp. The Sea King couldn't help but stay on guard.
But.
[First off, to clear up any misunderstandings—our reason for coming here is simple.]
Leviathan spoke up, her tone stiff and businesslike, a far cry from how she'd addressed her father before. It announced her role as the Red Dragon's secretary and administrator.
[….]
The Sea King stared at her, at a loss for words.
[We're running an experiment nearby. One to separate the Red Dragon's divinity.]
When he finally processed her words, the Sea King let out a dumbfounded sputter.
[…W-what?]
Separate his divinity? In a world where countless mortals dreamed of ascending to immortality, why would anyone willingly revert to mortality? It made no sense from there.
[Here, this is the structure of the magic circle we'll use for the experiment.]
Leviathan handed him a blueprint. The Sea King, no slouch in magic himself, finally saw how the pieces fit together.
[…Hah.]
He couldn't help but let out a hollow laugh. The Red Dragon was dead serious. He truly wanted that divinity stripped away—something others coveted like mad, he saw as nothing more than cumbersome jewelry.
[…So after the experiment, you're asking for temporary protection here?]
[Exactly.]
The Sea King pondered her words. Conducting the experiment underwater made sense. Unleashing that scale of magic on land could spell disaster—who knew what might happen? In the worst case, it could warp space like the domain of chaos that had appeared next to Aidon. The ocean depths would at least dampen the backlash.
But.
'…Protection? Here?'
That was a different matter entirely. Protecting the Red Dragon in Tunus? With enemies already lining up against him, taking a friendly stance could invite attacks from all sides. Even if their deep-sea stronghold was called impregnable, a coordinated, all-out assault could change that. Especially if the experiment succeeded and left the Red Dragon weakened—expecting him to fend off those foes might be too much to hope for.
[…I need a little time to think it over.]
The Sea King delayed his decision. It was only natural. The weak had no say—but they could buy time. Especially since Leviathan was Tunus-born; she wouldn't lead them to ruin. That meant the Red Dragon's plans would have some limits too.
…Oh?
The Red Dragon let out an amused scoff at the Sea King's words, laced with a mocking question: Do you really think you have the authority for that? The Sea King felt a chill he hadn't in ages, but glancing at Leviathan standing steadfast by his side, he thought it might be worth a shot.
And finally.
…Do you really need time to—
[—I'm gonna marry this guy and have kids with him.]
The Red Dragon. The Sea King.
…What?
[…W-what did you just—]
—I'm marrying him, having his kids, and living happily ever after.
They both sensed something had gone terribly wrong.
*
'…Marriage? Kids?'
The Red Dragon finally snapped at Leviathan's words. She'd lost her damn mind. Have kids? Why bother with something so annoying? They'd come here to remind the Sea King what dragons were and declare the divinity-separation experiment. So why the hell was marriage and kids suddenly on the table?
He couldn't make sense of it.
But.
[You're insane! Marrying the Red Dragon? Leviathan, what the hell have you been up to out there to even think that?!]
The Sea King's reaction was even more explosive than expected. Shock turned to despair, despair to rage—his emotions shifted visibly.
'…Ah.'
Only then did the Red Dragon start to understand why Leviathan had said it. The Sea King had clearly planned to use her as a hostage to stall. With her here, he figured the Red Dragon wouldn't risk touching Tunus. Buy a little time that way.
But if marriage was on the table?
That leverage vanished. It became a political no-brainer to fully back the Red Dragon's decisions.
…Oh?
The Red Dragon couldn't help but admire Leviathan's ploy.
…Did you hear that, Sea King? Your daughter says so herself—do you still need time to 'think'?
This was why he backed her play. It wasn't some real confession born of emotion. It was calculated for the political gains—the efficiency of the moment. The Red Dragon agreed with her logic and went along.
Unlike the Red Dragon, though, the Sea King's head felt ready to explode. His precious daughter—the smartest of his kids, or so he'd thought—suddenly declaring she'd bear the Red Dragon's children? The Red Dragon was older than him, an ancient primal dragon still kicking. Not father-age, not grandfather-age… practically ancestral. Marrying that?
No way this was normal.
[Don't lie to me, Leviathan.]
Reaching that point, the Sea King drew a conclusion. This was just Leviathan countering his tactic. She had no real intention; it was purely to turn the situation in her favor.
That was the only explanation.
But.
[No? I'm dead serious. I've even picked names for the kids.]
Her mental assault didn't stop.
[Two girls and two boys. That's what I want. Who knows what they'll be like, but if they take after me, maybe they'll end up living here in Tunus?]
She rattled off what she'd birth with that old, cunning dragon and how they'd live. How does a sane mind come up with this?
The Sea King's head throbbed for real.
But what annoyed him more?
[I've already slept with the Red Dragon. Might just be a matter of time before I'm knocked up.]
…That he still had sanity left to attack.
[…W-what?!]
[Exactly what I said. The Red Dragon treats me like a pillow, lays down all hungry—]
[—S-stop…! I don't want to hear it!]
Hearing his daughter's affair—and from her own mouth, no less. The Sea King's mind had no defense. His pampered princess, raised like royalty, fooling around with some calamity-branded monster?
How did this happen?
Plain fact.
The Red Dragon accepted it without batting an eye. There was nothing normal about any of this.
And.
[So, give us your blessing. If he ascends to full godhood, no more kids. You've gotta see your grandkids before you go, Dad.]
She'd already trashed everything and was spouting even crazier nonsense.
[Ah… ah… aah…]
The Sea King's resolve crumbled completely.
[Anyway, that's a yes, right? Come on, Red Dragon. I'll show you to my old place.]
Hm. Somewhere I can sleep well? I'm beat.
[Of course! Might even be comfier than the citadel!]
Ignoring the Sea King entirely, they headed inside like it was nothing. Probably to the annex where Leviathan used to live.
'No… no way….'
Leviathan had changed. His daughter, who'd left harboring resentment toward him, had come back utterly warped after hanging around that bizarre old dragon.
How could the heavens allow this? How could they twist his daughter like this?
'Gods, save us. Please, please….'
But the Sea King realized he was powerless. Outmatched in strength, influence—everything. All he could do was watch his daughter walk away, drowning in despair.