I grinned and held out my palm, and the scabbard settled onto it. I hadn’t realized when Kallen carried it around, but now that I held it myself, it was surprisingly heavy.
Because I hadn’t braced at all, my hand nearly dropped as soon as I took the sword.
It wasn’t a weapon I was used to, but I still slid the scabbard diagonally into my belt and fixed it in place.
"Miya, let’s go."
"Miyaaa...!"
When I spoke in a solemn voice, Miya wrapped her tail around a rock spur and coiled her head around my left arm. Then she began slowly stretching her body.
Kallen, seeing Miya’s length-control for the first time, quickly lit up with curiosity. Even so, she gripped Miya’s tail—wrapped around the rock—tight.
"Mlak!!"
Miya, of course, was startled by the rough hand and screamed. I stroked the surprised snake’s forehead and let out a low laugh.
"She’s holding you so you don’t fall. That kid is insanely strong, so you can trust her."
"...Myaak!"
Even with my defense, Miya didn’t seem to relax. She cried sharply upward, but her thin body kept lengthening without pause.
Still, because I’d ridden this monster-rope once before, the descent was steady. I went down at elevator speed and could set my feet on the ground lightly.
The moment I arrived, I went straight for the crossbow. I tried pushing it with all my strength, but something that took two grown men to move wasn’t going to budge for my slender arms.
"For fuck’s sake—how do I stop this thing?"
Muttering in irritation, I examined the crossbow’s structure.
The part under magic kept loading bolts automatically and drawing the bowstring even without a human hand. And calling it a bowstring was generous—it was a rope as thick as an adult forearm.
A pleasant little sigh slipped out of me.
"Kallen, you clever kid."
I drew the sword she’d lent me, shrrk, sliding it free of the scabbard. Sharpened to a fine edge, it carried an elegant poise.
In an awkward stance, I gripped the hilt with both hands. I had no strength and no experience, so I poured everything into focus instead. I raised the blade high, then brought it down with all I had onto the rope.
Thankfully, a sword gifted by a dragon shone even in a beginner’s hands. The keen edge severed the rope in a single blow despite my pathetic strength.
As the taut bowstring snapped and the tension vanished, the crossbow lurched with a hollow thunk. The bolt that had been auto-loaded couldn’t fire—it only twitched uselessly in place.
"Done. Now I just have to climb back up—."
"Fuck, who are you? What the hell are you... a human—attacking humans?"
Damn it. Holding a real blade for the first time had me so tense I only noticed someone approaching now.
When I shifted my eyes slightly, it was the man Miya had hit in the shoulder. Even with one shoulder blown away, he’d gotten back up and was thrusting a longsword at my throat.
But instead of fear, irritation surged up. Lately it felt like there were way too many people trying to take my head.
He was soaked in cold sweat, but his face was brutish, like a soldier’s. He stared at me with bulging eyes, like he wanted to kill me on the spot.
"You... who the hell are you. Why are you on the dragons’ side—ngh...?"
In the past, I would’ve shrunk back from a huge body and a vicious face, but for some reason, I wasn’t afraid of him.
Pupils shaking with fear. Eyelids trembling. The way his right forearm was locked tight, and the way he was loading his weight onto his left heel as he prepared—like I could see exactly °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° when and how he was going to attack.
"Hiiiyuuung...."
"Mmwk... mmmwk...."
More than anything, the two small reptiles in my arms were grinding their teeth. Touch him and we’ll kill you, they warned, in their own grave little way.
The man, unaware of my dependable bodyguards, shoved the blade even closer to my throat.
"Talk! Who are you?! Which side are you—ngh—on, huh?!"
"You already know, so why ask again? I’m on the dragons’ side. Satisfied?"
There was a knife at my neck, but all that came out of my mouth was a crooked answer.
Because his face was full of fear and tension.
Which meant he was full of openings—so many that if someone distracted him for even a moment, I could handle him.
I was about to keep him talking and pull his attention around when, in my newly steady ears, a different sound arrived.
"......"
I held my breath and listened. Step. Step. Footfalls with weight.
Someone was approaching, very quietly, hiding their presence.
At the strangely familiar sound, the corner of my mouth lifted.
At my smile, the man snapped, rage bursting out like a seizure.
"This bastard—laughing? I’ll kill you right—urk!!"
The face that had been terrified a moment ago was instantly washed over with shock.
His thick chest split with a wet thud, and the long blade of a sword protruded through. It had aimed precisely for the left chest from behind.
Pierced cleanly through a vital point, the man convulsed a few times and went limp. With a heavy thump, the bulky body collapsed.
In his place stood another big man.
"Ceryl. Are you all right?"
However much he’d been sweating, his rough brown hair was plastered to his face.
I let out a dry laugh at him.
"I told you to bring food. You’ve completely dried out in just a few days."
Margon swept his eyes over me quickly, then turned away with an awkward smile.
Then, still unable to shake off the shadow smeared across their faces, he lifted the men who were flailing on the ground one by one and tossed them off the cliff.
The bodyguards in my arms were reassuring, but the moment an ally with a back the size of a refrigerator showed up, my strength just drained out of me.
Watching the back of that damned, stubborn escort knight—who showed up to save me every time things got dangerous—made my nose sting.
After finishing the last one, Margon turned back to me in a stiff, uncertain posture. His eyes looked like they had a thousand things to say, but he couldn’t say any of them.
"...Margon, why did you come back?"
I asked with simple, honest confusion.
I didn’t need him to explain why he’d left me, but I hadn’t expected him to return.
Margon couldn’t answer easily and scrubbed his face. He set his left arm on his waist and sighed hard, then threw his gaze far away.
After a fidgety mess of reactions, he dropped down beside me. And as if he wasn’t going to bother with politeness anymore, he spoke in a blunt, rough tone.
"That bastard made a scene. Told me to come back right away and protect you."
I didn’t need him to explain who “that bastard” was.
Who else would raise hell about protecting me, if not the yellow-haired one.
Just thinking of him made my mood sink, and bitterness spread in my mouth. That three-syllable name would probably be a thorn in my throat for the rest of my life.
"Leobin... did you have a dream or something?"
"It wasn’t a dream. That was Leobin. I’m sure of it."
At the certainty in his voice, I lifted my gaze.
Margon stared blankly into the air, eyes unfocused like he was still dreaming. Maybe he was remembering Leobin—he even gave a crooked little smile.
"I grew up with him since we were kids. But I’d never seen him like that before."
"...Yeah?"
I pressed my lips into a tight line. Because Leobin’s last 모습 surfaced in my mind.
He’d been breathing, but you couldn’t call it living. A corpse body that couldn’t even die when it wanted.
It was so cruel I couldn’t stand to watch it anymore—
"He was wearing something really fancy, you know? Fine silk, glittering jewels. Anyone would’ve thought he was a rich family’s son."
Margon spoke with a voice laced with faint amusement.
I turned sharply, eyes wide. The Leobin Margon described was nothing like the last one I’d seen.
"Fancy clothes?"
"Yeah. But he was all dressed up and holding some kind of club. I thought it was just a stick, but it was a pathetic crutch."
"......"
"Turns out it was treasure, he said. Not something he picked up somewhere."
For Leobin, who could barely move, I’d woven together a crude crutch out of branches I’d picked up in the forest.
Even after he took it, he’d smiled brightly and said he’d keep it forever. When we buried Leobin’s body, there hadn’t been anything else appropriate to give him, and I’d ended up burying it with him.
I squeezed my eyes shut as heat surged up behind them. Drops fell to the ground, pattering.
"With that, he chased me around all night, hitting me with it. Telling me you were in danger, so I had to hurry back."
"......"
"It gave me a bad feeling. And sure enough, humans were pulling wagons through the gorge. So I followed them."
I’d wanted to give peace to Leobin, who couldn’t die and was bound to me.
Even if it meant ending his life with my own hands, I’d wanted to give him freedom that way, if nothing else.
I buried my face in my hands and whispered low.
"That idiot. I told you to rest...."
Leobin, who I’d thought was free through death, was still carrying out his promise to protect me—even in death.
Hot tears soaked my palms. Guilt surged up like a tide until it was hard to breathe.
What should I have done? What could I do for Leobin now that he was dead?
After a moment, a hand with heavy weight pressed firmly down on my shoulder.
"Don’t cry. Leobin looked peaceful. The calmest face I’ve ever seen."
At that clumsy comfort, I lifted my drenched eyes to meet Margon’s.
A stubborn face that didn’t know how to lie nodded with a faint smile.
"Leobin told me to make sure I passed this along if I saw you."
"...What did he say."
"He said thanks to you, he didn’t get lost—and he arrived safely."
