Jonah Taunts

‘…In any case, throw everything at my Lindwyrm. I’ll leave the first part to you.’

A single, beautiful White Dragon floated in the pitch-black night sky.

—Lindwyrm, one half of the Paired Dragons, stood ready.

“There it is…”

In contrast to Fafnir, who melted into the darkness, the Lindwyrm radiated a brilliance that even felt divine.

Looking, even Patricia, Henrik, and Kuu—who had been frightened of the height until a moment ago—were captivated by that White Dragon.

“GROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAR!”

As if in greeting, Lindwyrm let out a roar.

That cry was not inferior to the Fafnir they’d heard on Mount Baldia; rather, it felt even more valiant and fierce.

‘Lindwyrm…’

Unlike Lindwyrm, Fafnir murmured into their heads in a way Jonah and the others could understand.

It likely reached Lindwyrm as well.

As proof of that.

“…What’s the matter? Going out of your way to speak so roundabout like this?”

“…!? That voice!?”

A voice different from Fafnir’s echoed in their minds.

This voice, it turned out, belonged to the Lindwyrm.

Even so, the wording and the voice quality were somewhat childish.

Could it be, as Fafnir had said, that Lindwyrm is among the younger of dragons?

“Ah, I see. You went and brought prey for me, just for my sake.”

“Wh-what the—!?”

Patricia flew into a rage at Lindwyrm’s proclamation as it licked its lips.

She had already forgotten not only any fear of the dragon but that they were far up in the sky.

“Quiet. I’m talking to Fafnir. Prey, you can shove off.”

“Just let him talk… Jo-Jonah!?”

“Let’s leave it to Fafnir for now.”

Soothing the still-angry Patricia, Jonah stared at Lindwyrm.

Are that White Dragon’s words meant seriously…?

To Jonah’s onyx eyes, Lindwyrm only seemed to be suffering.

“Honestly… for prey, you’re getting way too cocky.”

“Is that so? But you also call humans “prey” all the time. Persistently so.”

“…What are you getting at?”

“Guhaha, nothing.”

Stung by Fafnir’s remark, Lindwyrm glared sharply.

It seemed he’d been hit on the mark.

That could be taken to mean the opposite—that he doesn’t actually think of humans as mere prey.

Still, there must be a reason Lindwyrm insists on calling humans “prey.”

What that reason was, neither Fafnir nor Jonah and the others knew.

“Well, fine. So? What brings you to me at this point? Don’t tell me you came to fight me… after having lost.”

Looking down on them, Lindwyrm theatrically spread its forelegs and taunted.

Its manner and attitude were more human than draconic.

“Ah, that’s right. I’ll end you so you don’t commit any more taboos.”

“Oh? You think you can do that?”

“I can.”

“Then go ahead and try. …Though I have no intention of dealing with someone like you.”

Saying that, Lindwyrm turned away.

It seemed it seriously intended to leave from here.

As if.

“Looks like he’s running away because he doesn’t want to fight Fafnir, huh.”

“…! …Hey Fafnir. What’s that exceptionally tiny prey?”

Apparently displeased by Jonah’s words, Lindwyrm turned and glared at Jonah.

An eye that would make an ordinary human freeze and tremble in despair on the spot.

But such things did not work on Jonah.

To Jonah, who had faced injustices no mere human could resist and had struck them down with yet more injustice.

To Jonah, who is still tormented by such injustice—small, ephemeral, and therefore stronger than anyone.

“Don’t pick a fight just because I spoke the truth.”

“GROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAARRRR!”

“Don’t be ridiculous! There’s no way someone like me would run from the likes of Fafnir!”

With that roar that seemed to rend the darkness, Lindwyrm’s scream reverberated inside Jonah’s head.

Meanwhile, Jonah put on an expression as if nothing were amiss.

“Then just fight. You and Fafnir, the two of you, one-on-one.”