96

“…Oh.”

Hamel reached toward the bed and parted his lips, but words wouldn’t come. The nameless monster he’d hunted for seven years—the object of his hatred—was his mother, the woman he had believed dead.

He was stunned. Joy and sorrow tangled with hatred and regret until his mind couldn’t steady. The world he’d trusted felt like it was collapsing; the goal he’d staked his life on had, from the start, been wrong.

‘…I was wrong from the beginning.’

Not only had he misidentified his target for revenge, but revenge itself had been the wrong aim. The gap between truth and misconception wouldn’t close easily. The relief that his mother was alive flickered only briefly before guilt and grief swelled—she had sacrificed herself for him.

‘I…had died once, hadn’t I.’

He had been revived by her sacrifice. And the strength he’d gained after drinking the dragon’s blood David gave him—was that hers too? From the beginning, faint dragon blood had flowed in his veins. It had been too weak for full dragonian transformation; he couldn’t properly manipulate mana or auras. The scattered pieces suddenly snapped into place.

He could deny it, but there was no reason to.

─tread

Hamel took a step toward the bed and opened his mouth again. “Uh… Mommy.”

─sskrrr

The thing’s scales rippled once as if answering him; it remained engrossed in something. Hamel—no, his mother—approached slowly. Coiled against her body was a book.

[The Boy Who Held a Dragon’s Power]

It was Hamel’s favorite fairy tale.

─srrrk

A white tentacle turned the page. An irregular, rhythmic sound escaped the tentacle-covered head.

Ah.

Hamel staggered and grabbed the bed. She’d been reading him that story earlier. Did she still have those memories? Had she recognized him? Questions swirled. He strained to lift his head and reached out; his fingertips trembled. His hand met the white scales with a soft thud—hard and cold. He clenched his teeth.

She stopped turning the pages, tilted her head, and extended a tentacle to stroke his hair.

“…!”

Hamel’s eyes widened. He bit down on his lip, but tears still welled and spilled. His shoulders shook helplessly as she patted his back for a long time.

─clank

Hamel locked the basement door and climbed the stairs, a clinking flask in his hand—dragon’s blood. ‘That was lucky.’ He tucked it into his bosom reverently. He’d emptied every flask on the northern journey and had none left, but while searching other rooms he’d found more in the study.

He could now summon dragon power without a catalyst, but to draw stronger reserves he’d need dragon’s blood. ‘In an emergency, it’ll be the key to saving a life.’

His steps slowed. He stopped and turned back.

‘—Mother.’

He wanted to take her to the mansion at once, but it wasn’t a simple choice. Making her existence public carried too many risks. Even David might target her immediately. His mother had survived far into the dragonian transformation; she was closer to a half-dragon than a dragonian—a being with dragon-like power almost on par with his own. Anyone could come after her; the order or the royal court might react unpredictably.

‘For now, maintain the current state.’

His chest ached, but the basement had kept her safe for years. There was nowhere safer for the moment. ‘This is the best until I save my mother.’ He quickened his steps again.

The diary he’d glimpsed came to mind: their father’s desperate attempts to turn her back into a person, the records scattered through the laboratory, the research on demons and magi, the dragon’s blood locked in the safe. It had all been for her. David had said he died at the basement entrance while their father was still human—before becoming a workshop monster. Had he tried to protect their mother to the end?

‘Or maybe…’

Hamel remembered the end of the book: their father, exhausted, as if intending to end everything. But the frantic handwriting, the tear-stained ink, the years of relentless research argued otherwise. Such perseverance implied a desire to protect someone precious. Hamel wanted to believe their father had fought to save her until the very end. Now that will fell to him.

He already knew the method.

‘Dragon Heart.’

Obtain a completed dragon’s heart, or an equivalent byproduct. Then she could escape her incomplete half-dragon state and become whole—whether dragon or human.

‘The most likely possibility is…’

The byproduct route. Fully grown dragons had long vanished. Just as Hamel grew closer to a dragon after absorbing Karaxis, perhaps his mother could accept remnants of other dragons and return to her original form.

A new target rose: half-dragons. The earth dragon Deoriasia. The storm dragon Diabolos. The sea-king Rekarishika. Among the dragon descendants still on this land, those closest to true dragons—mixed-blood half-dragons—were now his prey.

Hunting such calamities would be nearly impossible. Still, he had to do it. This wasn’t about possibility; it was necessity.

Just as Hamel steeled himself,

“Hamel!”

His vision brightened and several faces came into view: Daniel, Ono, Lena, Antonio. They greeted him with worried, then relieved expressions. Hamel managed a faint smile and nodded.

“I’m back.”

“You look fine. So? What was down there?”

Ono cut straight to the point. The others shot him a look, but Ono didn’t flinch. Hamel snorted softly.

“Yes. I’ll tell you.”

He began to explain. He couldn’t hide this from them—his path now had a clear aim: hunting half-dragons. It was different from his old, vague pursuit of demons and justice. Dragon hunting wasn’t tied to ancient cults or world-ending plots. Half-dragons could be violent, but they seldom sought conflict with humans. This goal sprang from Hamel’s own desire; joining him meant risking one’s life. He owed them honesty.

When he finished, the group fell silent. No immediate reply could match the suddenness of his revelation.

Daniel broke the quiet with a tilt of his head. “It’s shocking, but we didn’t follow you for justice in the first place.”

“True. I owe you too…”

Ono glanced away, embarrassed; Lena nodded. “A dragon, the progenitor of magic? That sounds interesting.”

“Gah. Half-dragons… I wanted to see one myself. Tell me later!” Antonio muttered, half-disappointed.

Hamel couldn’t respond for a long moment, then nodded in thanks. “I always say the same thing, but… thank you.”

“No need for thanks between us.”

Daniel laughed and slung an arm around Hamel’s shoulder, then looked over at Ono. “By the way, Ono—did you actually think you owed Hamel something all this time?”

“…No, that was just something I said to fit the mood.”

“Still, don’t be embarrassed.”

Ono ground his teeth and called out, “I’ll sew your mouth shut today for sure!”

“Well, then don’t—why are you yelling?”

Their laughter rang out. Their goal had changed, but their bonds had not. They remained Hamel’s companions.

The next day.

“Shoot.”

─whish

Dozens of arrows pierced the target. Hamel watched the soldiers’ demonstration at the camp a short distance from the mansion as archers loosed and spearmen drilled under Dain’s orders. Sweat beaded on the troops; Dain eyed Hamel cautiously.

“How does it look?”

“It looks fine.” Hamel nodded calmly.

These soldiers exceeded the average domain’s band. The Blue Mane clan archers were outstanding—stamina, mobility, composure, rate of fire, and accuracy rivaled northern rangers. The recruits from the semi-domain still had rough stances but strong, work-honed bodies.

Dain relaxed a little. “Formation work and tactical drills still need work, but the fundamentals have improved a lot.”

“Please keep training them. Also add hunting techniques and formations against non-human beings.”

“Non-human… you mean demons?”

“Yes, and a few others. After seeing the world beyond, I thought it necessary.”

On Hamel’s journey, demons and their worshippers had been everywhere. The chaos didn’t feel confined to the north or east. ‘Marvas… and that raven.’ Something was shifting. According to David, a massive power structure might be moving. ‘Well, demon worshippers always cry the end is near, but…’

Hamel shook off the heavy thought. “Ono will tell you the details—he was part of the order’s knightly force.”

Dain nodded solemnly; Hamel trusted him to train the soldiers well.

Ono, overhearing, blinked. “…You want me to teach them?”

“If it’s knightly training, aren’t you the best candidate, Ono?”

Ono hesitated, then leaned in and asked quietly, “So when do you plan to go dragon hunting?”

“Ah.” Hamel nodded as if he understood, then shrugged. “I need to prepare.”

He sounded as though he’d leave at once, but realistically he couldn’t. Half-dragons weren’t true dragons; they were near-mythic beings. Tracking their movements would take time. The day before he’d asked Antonio to seek information from contacts—Professor Agnes of the Magic Tower and Bishop Arcen at the temple. There would be time while they sent word.

“Will you help?” Hamel asked.

Ono scratched his head and sighed. “All right. I’ll do it.”

“Thank you.”

Ono muttered a list of necessities and began planning; he always finished what he was given.

At that moment Antonio ran into the drill ground, supported by the deacon. “Hamel!”

“Antonio? What’s going on?” Hamel tilted his head.

Catching his breath, Antonio blurted, “A missive—Countess Eirin is coming to the domain in person…”

Before he could finish,

─clip clop

Riders appeared along the southern road that led to Rangbaster, banners bearing an oak shield and axe. At the front rode a familiar-faced girl.

“…Aileen Rangbaster.”

The heir of the near-extinct house had come to visit Haidern.