Is There a Problem?
The dragon roared. At first listen it was closer to a scream than a true roar — and the moment the cry left its throat, the beast shot up through the mine as if fleeing something in blind panic.
Wounds marked every corner of its body. One wing membrane was torn, and scales had been ripped free in patches all across its hide.
It clawed for the sky, then, whether from those injuries or sheer exhaustion, lost altitude and plummeted toward the ground.
"—All hands, prepare for combat!"
Psyche had gone rigid at the dragon's overwhelming presence, but she forced the order out. She was already wounded from the earlier fight with the Rock Devourers — yet standing idle simply was not an option.
A quick glance told her the count had already bolted. In a way, that was a blessing. At least she would not have to waste manpower trying to protect him.
"Anella! You can hold it, right?"
"You're working a patient way too hard—!"
"Good!"
Anella ignored the scream of her own body, downed a potion, and raised her shield with an arm that had been forced back into working order. Then she waited for the dragon still thrashing in the air to fall.
A moment later, it did.
The impact of the dragon hitting the ground scattered the party in every direction under a violent shockwave — even with Anella braced at the front, shield raised to take the blow.
When Psyche came back to herself, she found the dragon already crunching through the carriage horses, jaws working with wet, deliberate bites.
"Damn it all…"
Psyche shuddered as she stared at the dragon beating its wings before her. A deep, rising fury boiled up from somewhere far inside her chest, and she could not hold it down.
Why is there a dragon here?
A monster of the highest threat class — a creature said to be capable of toppling an entire nation on its own. Every country and the Adventurer Guild tracked their territories and forbade anyone from going near them. The odds that her party had wandered into a dragon's domain by pure accident were vanishingly small.
That left two possibilities: either the dragon in front of her had only recently relocated its territory, or it was newly born and had not yet been entered into the kingdom's management rolls.
Either way, it was rotten luck for them. Realizing that, Psyche bit down hard on her lip.
"Leader, what do we do?"
"…Anella. You're still alive."
"Haha. A tough body is kind of my specialty."
"Then good. Anella. From this moment, I am giving you an order."
Bad luck or not, she could not simply throw everything down and give up. That was not what a knight did.
Psyche rose with her shield and sword in hand.
"—Run."
I will die here.
But the rest of you will flee.
Anella froze for a beat — then immediately gathered their unconscious companions and began to leave.
Ah. At least I chose one good comrade.
What if her companions had insisted they could not leave her behind and tried to stand against the dragon with her? She would have been glad, in that instant. But that would have been all.
She and her companions would have been reduced to ash and dust beneath the dragon's breath.
That would not do. Not at all.
If I am going to die anyway, then I will save as many people as I can.
That was what a knight's loyalty meant. Sacrificing one's own life to save one's lord, one's nation, one's people.
Dying was frightening and sad — but it was not a waste. If this single body of hers could be of use to someone, that was enough.
Seeing her companions run, the dragon spoke — and casually loosed a breath. Psyche saw the searing blast streak toward them and stepped into its path with her shield raised.
"Hraaaaaagh—!"
She somehow weathered a breath hot enough to melt steel outright, then charged the dragon head-on. The blade she swung left not so much as a scratch on its scales and bounced away. The dragon watched with lazy amusement and snorted.
Whip—! Its tail lashed out in a blur and sent Psyche flying. She caught the blow on a half-melted shield, but that did nothing to lessen the force. She slammed into a boulder far away and forced her trembling body back to its feet.
Ragged breaths tore from her mouth. The light was draining from her eyes. Face to face with death, she looked up at the dragon, shaking with terror.
Is this how I die?
If I'd known I was going to go out like this, I should have at least tried dating once—
She raised her shield on that thought — and then, hearing footsteps from somewhere nearby, snapped her head around.
Thud, thud— For a moment she thought one of her companions had come back, unable to leave her behind. Then she realized the footsteps did not belong to anyone in her party, and let out a breath of pure relief.
In the next instant, disgust at herself flooded through her, and she shouted.
"Run! There's a dragon here—!"
Whoosh—!
The dragon flung both wings wide and took to the air.
And fled without so much as a backward glance.
Psyche could only tilt her head, unable to make sense of the sudden turn — and then Evan stepped into view, drawing his sword as if nothing in the world were amiss.
The sound of steel leaving its scabbard rang out across the field. Even the fleeing dragon must have heard it; it twisted only its head back and loosed a cry that was almost a scream.
And in the next instant, both of the dragon's wings were sheared clean off. Wingless, the beast crashed to the ground — and, unable to bear its own weight, blacked out cold.
Once he was sure it had fallen, Evan glanced back at Psyche. She had been ready to die. Looking into his eyes, she swallowed hard.
"—Are you all right?"
"Y-you…"
"You seem fine enough."
Evan gave her one brief look, then headed straight for where the dragon had gone down. Psyche watched his back for a long moment. Only after her head had cooled did she finally grasp what had just happened.
The skill to drop a dragon with a single sword… and a sword art that cuts an enemy no matter the distance…
That was not a power any Lower Class adventurer should possess.
She stared after Evan vanishing into the distance and swallowed again.
"…I didn't mess anything up, did I?"
She began replaying her own conduct from the start.
My heart was pounding.
Afraid someone might have noticed what I had done, I walked like a criminal on the run.
I didn't stutter, did I?
The image of Psyche collapsed on the ground rose unbidden, and I dropped my head with a heated breath. Her armor had been completely wrecked from the fierce fighting, her clothes torn to shreds — and past the rags, a firm, full fruit had been peeking out, and it would not leave my head.
"I'm sick. I'm seriously sick."
I shook the thought off and spotted the dragon far ahead, sprawled out and crawling on both arms. I approached it at an unhurried pace.
"I finally got to talk to a girl for the first time in ages — I didn't mess anything up, right?"
"Yeah. Doesn't seem like I did. I didn't stutter, and I didn't just stare at her chest either."
We were not having the same conversation. Realizing that, the dragon sucked in a desperate breath and cried out toward me, thrashing in something close to pure pleading.
"So why can't I get a girlfriend? Do you know?"
I tilted my head and kept walking toward the dragon, as if I could not hear a word it was saying. Watching that, the terrified beast seized on a sudden idea and opened its mouth at once.
"…What?"
At that, I stopped short and looked at the dragon. Even for me, that was not something I could let slide past.
"Wait. You're a girl?"
"Then how exactly are you going to help?"
"Oh, for—"
Slash—! Deciding I had heard enough, I swung my sword and took the dragon's head clean off. I sheathed the blade with a click and muttered under my breath.
"What good is kidnapping supposed to do? I want pure love."
If all I had wanted was a woman I could buy with force, money, or power, I would have gone to a brothel from the start. But that was not what I wanted. I did not want a prostitute.
I wanted the kind of heroine who walked out of legend. A woman who stood at a hero's side, supported him, shared his path, and built history together with him. I wanted to build a pure love story with someone like that.
"I just want a girlfriend…"
Sniffling, I confirmed the dragon was dead, then slowly got to my feet.
Even after Evan left, Psyche sat staring blankly for a long while at the place he had gone. She only came back to herself when he reappeared from the same direction he had vanished into.
"Mm…"
"No, but how in the world…"
"Um, Psyche… is it all right if I call you that?"
"…You may speak however you like. To someone like me."
"Then I'll go with Psyche. Um, Psyche. I'm sorry, but your clothes…"
At his words, she finally looked down at herself. After two brutal battles in a row, her armor and even the garments beneath it had been torn away almost completely.
Realizing what state she was in, Psyche flushed scarlet and covered her chest. Evan shrugged out of the outer coat he was wearing and held it out to her.
"Th-thank you…"
"Ah — no, it's fine."
"Th-the dragon?"
"It's over that way."
Evan pointed casually back the way he had come. Psyche swallowed and peered past him. A wall of rock blocked the view, but there was still a chance the dragon might be alive…
"—There they are!"
Just then, the count who had fled first returned at the head of his soldiers. Seeing the army, Psyche finally let herself relax and blew out a long breath.
The count approached with his men and asked the two of them where the dragon was. Evan told him the same way he had told Psyche.
At the news that the dragon was right over there, the count swallowed hard and advanced with his troops.
And a short while later—
"…Evan, was it?"
"Yes? What is it?"
"The dragon… it's dead."
"Yes. I killed it."
Evan tilted his head as if to ask whether there was some kind of problem — and both the count and Psyche could only gape at him, mouths hanging open in disbelief.