Spank Me Instead (12)
A short distance from the abandoned ruined castle, a massive dragon with shimmering blue scales lay sprawled out. Its body, nearly the size of the castle itself, had flattened everything around it—trees swept away, the ground deeply gouged. From the dragon's cleanly severed neck, crimson blood gushed like a waterfall, forming a small stream that trickled down the slope.
Confirming the dragon was unmistakably dead, Lambert stepped out into the open clearing. At that moment, the dragon's forepaw twitched. Startled, Lambert fired his crossbow straight at it. Bertrand, crawling out while shoving the paw aside, snatched the quarrel right in front of him.
"Whoa! What the hell?"
"Mr. Bertrand...?"
"Oh, Captain...? What are you doing here?"
Bertrand rose slowly, his face a picture of utter embarrassment.
When I first laid out the plan, Atergar called me a lunatic and ranted for ages. And who could blame her? Clinging to a dragon in the dizzying sky and leaping onto another one's back? No sane person would even attempt it.
But it was the cleanest way to kill Lurtjog. No matter how many tricks I pulled, I couldn't fly—not with both feet stuck to the ground. Without instant-killing him in one shot, I'd just piss him off, and if he turned his head toward Rosens, it'd be a catastrophe like no other.
To lop off his head in a single blow, I had to climb aboard. Luckily, Atergar—slow but capable of agile maneuvers as a hatchling—made the perfect ride. Grudgingly admitting there was no other way, she grumbled and transformed into her true form behind the inn.
Her chest, studded with spike-like protrusions (modest for a dragon, about inn-sized?), served as my footholds. I strapped on the Holy Sword at my waist, climbed up, and gripped tight. She'd originally offered to carry me in her claws, but I refused. I needed my arms free to balance through her acrobatics.
"Let's go!"
By now, Marim should've been drawing Lurtjog's attention at the refugee camp. Sure enough, as Atergar took flight, a massive lightning bolt cracked from the south, heralding Lurtjog's arrival.
And so began our chaotic game of tag—predator and prey.
Bracing against the fierce winds buffeting my bare skin, I glanced down. The Vurn Mountains looked like sandcastles built by kids. Right on our tail roared Lurtjog, mad with rage, while Atergar traced hummingbird-insane trajectories, barely dodging his lightning breath.
The breath singed past, frizzing my hair; rockslides thundered in my ears.
"You holding on?!"
"Worry about yourself—watch ahead! Dodge!"
Atergar veered sharply, nearly smashing into a peak. Sky and earth flipped repeatedly, churning my guts. Lurtjog pursued with creepy tenacity, smashing and shredding anything in his path, inching closer.
"He's gonna bite your tail! Climb!"
Just as Lurtjog lunged for her tail, Atergar shot straight up like lightning. The acceleration nearly flung me off the spikes. Bursting through clouds into the upper atmosphere, blinding sunlight stabbed my eyes. I squinted downward: clouds drifted far below, Rosens peeking through like a puddle on the ground.
"Holy shit..."
I couldn't help but gasp, surveying the horizon. What I'd thought was straight now curved gently; earth and sky blurred into hazy oneness at the edge.
So... dragons soared up here freely.
"Dropping! Grip tight!"
Hovering at the apex, Atergar tucked her wings and dove headfirst. My chest compressed; breath caught. Plummeting like a suicide dive, she pierced the clouds. There loomed Lurtjog, castle-sized, glaring up.
Her speed was unreal—"He's right there!"—and we closed to collision distance in a blink.
I could've sworn I saw myself reflected in his eyes when Atergar flared her wings explosively, slamming on the brakes.
"JUMP, YOU PATHETIC HERO!!!!!!"
I kicked off her chest, launching onto Lurtjog's back. The drawn Holy Sword trailed a comet-tail of white light.
Lurtjog's scaled face twisted in horror.
"Y-You...!?"
"Take your pedo cure!"
I swung the raised sword with all my might. The blade was still far from his neck—but that didn't matter. White flames erupted wildly atop it, stretching into a massive blade meters long. It sheared his thick neck like sausage.
Headless, Lurtjog plummeted. I twisted, clinging to his forepaw. Ground rushed up savagely; the ruined castle flickered by—then impact. Bone-shattering pain; world spinning.
Fuck... that hurt like hell...
I lay there till the agony ebbed. Mercifully, nothing broken. Lurtjog's corpse seemed intact too.
Perfect. Dismantle it part by part and sell. Tricky finding buyers and routes, but hey.
Shoving aside his carriage-sized paw, I crawled out—only for a quarrel to whistle in.
"Whoa! What the hell?"
"Mr. Bertrand...?"
Lifting my head, there stood fully armored Lambert Captain, staring blankly.
Wait... why the hell is he here...?
"Oh, Captain...? What are you doing here?"
As I stood slowly, Lambert gaped in disbelief.
"How... are you emerging from there...?"
"Haha, long story." I chucked the quarrel away, trying to laugh it off.
But Lambert wasn't one for half-measures. He blocked my path, demanding firmly:
"Why from beneath the dragon's corpse? And that sword?"
Knowing his by-the-book nature, I sensed no brushing this off.
"It was clearly a dragon fight. What business did you have intervening?"
How to explain...? Truth might not fly... but if I don't convince him, he'll probably draw steel right now.
"Well, see..."
Suddenly, darkness fell; an indescribable pressure crushed us. Hackles rising in chills, we both looked skyward.
"Lurtjog!! I'll kill you!!!!"
Atergar dove wings-wide, jaws agape.
"You crazy bitch! He's already dead! Stop!!"
Ignoring me, eye-searing flames erupted from her maw—not at us, but into Lurtjog's headless corpse. Even as a hatchling, her draconic fire flooded like a deluge, surging toward us.
I bolted to Lambert, raising the Holy Sword. A glowing circular barrier enveloped us just as the flames hit—splitting harmlessly around it.
"Wh-What in the...?!" Lambert stammered, staring at the radiant sword.
"Raaargh!!"
Atergar roared, sweeping the corpse with broom-like breaths. Goddamn crazy bitch... I let her vent; hatchling fire wouldn't dent adult scales much.
Finally, the flames tapered off. Exhausted from overusing her breath, she flopped sideways with a thud, ash billowing.
Dispelling the barrier unleashed hot winds and thick smoke. I eyed Atergar's house-sized haunch, then turned to Lambert—who flinched, gripping his hilt as our gazes met.
"Captain. I'll explain later—just head back to the city."
"Mr. Bertrand... that dragon..."
"Don't worry. I'll handle it."
He nodded curtly and turned away. Once out of sight, I sheathed the sword—then gripped it like a club.
Her reckless breath-weapon stunt pissed me off, even understanding her hate...
I reared back to smack her haunch.
"Hold on, Bertrand."
Someone called, halting me just as I swung.