The Dragon Realm grew even darker under the torrential rain.
The entire sky looked like a monstrous beast, baring its fangs and opening its maw to devour everything around.
Chu Zao walked the perimeter with Chao Huangmu.
He held a mechanical umbrella in his hand.
Psionic power could block the rain.
But in such a dangerous place, the less psionic energy used, the better.
Who knew where that so-called ‘God’ was watching them from?
Chao Huangmu was carried on Chu Zao’s back—in a white crossbody bag.
Speaking of that white bag, Chu Zao had brought it planning to collect samples from polluted planets with his father after their fieldwork ended, before all this happened.
Unexpectedly, Chao Huangmu, turned into a little black dragon, could fit in perfectly. The lock could even fasten his tail.
There was no running away now, not that Chao Huangmu was trying to.
The little black dragon tilted his head up, chin resting on the bag’s edge.
Since they’d gotten back, he hadn’t said a word, looking just like a stuffed animal.
It wasn’t until Chu Zao made a round, even flew up to look around, that Chao Huangmu finally tried to assert his presence.
He opened his mouth and let out a low howl—“Awo—”
Chu Zao looked down at him.
Little Chu Zao blinked. With the way Chao Huangmu looked and his size, he was really just like his ghost bear, so Chu Zao couldn’t help being more indulgent—not even bonking him on the head.
Chao Huangmu looked up at Chu Zao, tail flicking.
Was this necessary?
What was this?
Imprisonment play?
But that “awo” was totally lacking in presence.
It needed to be louder, to show his protest.
In fact, even for pure-blooded Soul Clan, seeing the true form was rare. Their psionic projections were their strongest attack mode; this form was actually weak, totally different from the Crown Clan.
So Chao Huangmu prepared himself.
Before Chu Zao could speak, a clear, precise sound rang out: “Woof—!”
Chu Zao: …
Chao Huangmu: …
“You just…?”
Chu Zao, not quite sure, asked again, staring at Chao Huangmu.
Was this necessary?
Chao Huangmu’s eyes widened; he covered his mouth with his paw, visible panic showing on his little dragon face.
But the next second, he sensed something off, and wriggled out of Chu Zao’s bag. Spreading his wings, two flaps, and suddenly the little black dragon turned into a human. Chao Huangmu, always tall, nearly sent the mechanical umbrella flying.
Chao Huangmu stared at Chu Zao, and after a long moment, decided on his most habitual expression. The youth gave Chu Zao a bright smile.
“What are you looking for?”
He was still himself, still felt the same.
But his head was different now.
Chu Zao looked back at Chao Huangmu. Outside, rain battered the umbrella above their heads, pouring hard.
The moment Chao Huangmu changed back, Chu Zao reached out and grabbed his wrist, descending.
At Chao Huangmu’s question, Chu Zao looked up at him.
His little face was calm.
“Didn’t you hear before? You were there when I said it, right?”
So now his head wasn’t working, nor were his ears?
Chao Huangmu’s bright smile stiffened, shut down by Chu Zao’s bluntness.
The pounding headache earlier had meant Chao Huangmu hadn’t heard much.
After landing, Chu Zao crooked a finger at him.
“Bow your head.”
Why did he have to bow his head?
Even needing a mate, he wouldn’t be so obedient.
So, thinking so, Chao Huangmu dropped his head. Chu Zao ruffled his black hair to check the state of his head, and fastened the lock again. He didn’t mean to do it, but this guy always looked ready to bolt.
The snap of the lock jolted Chao Huangmu to attention.
A soft hand stroked atop his head. Chu Zao didn’t take flight, but stood on tiptoe, honey-gold eyes earnest, so near—not just the scent, but a damp warmth all over him.
Chao Huangmu’s eyes slowly widened.
A loud noise erupted behind—thunder or something else.
Chu Zao let go at once, turning rapidly to look.
And in that moment, Chao Huangmu’s mind whirled with countless thoughts. The two stood under the umbrella, both damp.
He didn’t know what to do.
When Chu Zao glanced back, Chao Huangmu was pulling gemstones from his pocket, glancing at them, putting them back, taking them out again, then back once more.
His psionic black dragon behind him seemed lost, uncertain where to look, fidgeting with all sorts of small, inexplicable gestures—
The psionic black dragon wouldn’t even look at him. It fished a small fish from the nearby stream, then, catching itself, tossed the fish back, as Chu Zao looked on in bafflement.
Little Fish: ??? My god!
Chao Huangmu glanced at him, then looked away, wanting to speak but at a loss for words, completely helpless.
That helplessness was rather cute.
Chu Zao thought.
But most important—the thunderclap behind them was huge.
Was it thunder?
Chu Zao wondered, and asked Chao Huangmu.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“I—I—”
Chao Huangmu suddenly began pulling out gems from his pocket.
Then pushed them all into Chu Zao’s arms.
Like a soaked little black dragon, he gave all his gems to the one he liked.
“These are all I have—”
But having just been attacked, and with his headache still raging, Chao Huangmu’s gemstone stash was meager. He looked a bit embarrassed, his handsome face tinged with regret.
“But there’ll be more later.”
He looked up and smiled again—now wasn’t the time to be mumbling about finding a mate or fighting over gems.
“All yours, will you be my mate? I’ll treat you well.”
Chu Zao: …
What?
“Strange, even if I don’t remember…”
Mate, wanting a mate—his mind boiling, frenzied for a mate.
Chao Huangmu kept talking.
“Kisses, touches, even going further—of course, if you don’t want me to kiss your face or lips, I can kiss somewhere else—”
Absolute disaster.
Chao Huangmu thought, telling himself not to be so easy to read, not to be so obvious, but even so, at this moment, he felt that kneeling down and kissing his feet would be exciting.
He must be sick—
He didn’t even finish the thought before seeing Chu Zao’s cheeks flush faintly. Chu Zao suddenly reached out, covering Chao Huangmu’s mouth.
“Wha—what?!”
What was all this?!
Little Chu Zao’s eyes widened—
Thinking—So that’s it.
So this is it—
Was this early romance?
No, not really, because, strictly, for the Crown Clan, coming-of-age was near, and his own ceremony was just a day or two away.
But—Chu Zao looked at Chao Huangmu.
Would Brother Mu be beaten to death by dad?
Chu Zao blinked, pondering the question seriously, unable to respond for a moment.
Then, the next instant, he yanked his hand back, staring in horror at Chao Huangmu, then his own palm.
He’d been licked.
Chao Huangmu spoke fluently now, tongue drawing across his lips, his words flowing, explanation eager: “You smell so good, I couldn’t help myself—”
Grinning, he leaned closer, all previous poise gone, like a giant animal desperate for forgiveness after messing up, since his head was pounding, and it took everything to think at all—“Or you can hit me, like before, not as easy now, I guess?”
Chao Huangmu looked at the psionic form behind him.
“Should I turn back?”
After all, going further needed consent, approval—whether it was kisses or greater intimacy.
He’d just forgotten that—such an ass.
But—
“Chao Huangmu,” Chu Zao looked at him, truly, calmly, with a future king’s steadiness, asking, “Are you a pervert?”
Chao Huangmu looked at him being so calm, with no disgust, no rejection, just a genuine question—he even raised his own hand.
A few seconds later, Chu Zao’s voice got louder.
“Why are you blushing?”
Blushing like that, Chao Huangmu looked even more perverted!
Chu Zao didn’t get to say more before another deafening noise.
Lightning flashed across the sky, thunder rolled through clouds, but this time Chu Zao knew it wasn’t just a storm.
Because Chu Zao’s eyes widened.
“What…is that?”
Chu Zao’s eyes glowed faintly.
The direction of the communal grounds seemed shrouded in light fog, compressing inward. Amid the endless rain, Chu Zao saw something familiar.
Fragments of translucent, reflective psionic energy loosely connecting toward the communal ground.
But soon starting to shatter.
That was—transparent psionic threads?
Crown Clan psionic threads?
Which meant—Desmond.
Desmond…
Such a coincidental name.
But since it was so different from Crown Clan, Chu Zao hadn’t given it a thought.
“Hurry!”
Chu Zao grabbed Chao Huangmu behind him.
“We have to go back.”
Chao Huangmu was yanked stumbling, swept up before he could react: “Huh?”
Something had happened—and—
“That’s my great-grandfather!”
*
Communal ground.
Just after Chu Zao and Chao Huangmu left.
They’d watched as Chu Zao hugged Desmond before leaving.
Clan members hidden in every corner poked their heads out.
“What’s with that little one?”
“Desmond, this isn’t like you.”
“Is there some new arrangement? Normally, every action you take has its reason.”
Even as they spoke, they stared at the departing little one.
Desmond had always thought it was just their unfamiliarity with real youngsters. Only seeing one now, after all these years, triggered his protective instincts, but clearly their only special reaction was for that cub.
Because Chao Huangmu, following Chu Zao, got no special treatment from them.
“Oh, and, what’s up with that dragon beside the little one?”
“If I remember right, aren’t they about the same age? What’s going on? Puppy love?”
“Strictly, probably not puppy love? The little one’s nearly of age now…”
Desmond glanced at those stuck in the communal ground by rain and waved them away.
To be honest, he wanted to snatch the kid.
But for a better impression, Desmond felt they shouldn’t meddle. At least let the young ones interact as normal, even fall in love; as guardians, they had to allow some freedom.
His face unchanged, Desmond thought so quite naturally. Leaning at the door, recalling how that tiny figure hugged him for comfort, Desmond chuckled softly.
Until faint sounds came behind.
“Should we prepare to move Annailin to the holding room?”
Other clansmen heard Annailin’s voice and spoke up.
The holding room—the last stop for those without hope.
In that room, they should be dead, but lingered on here, only in pain.
The mood instantly turned somber.
But—
“Hey—”
A hoarse voice sounded, faint but unmistakable, real, from deep in the dark room.
“The little one—who bullied him.”
Everyone, Desmond included, looked into the room.
Annailin, chained and bloodstained, had just been unconscious and crazed, but now, slightly clearer, he slowly lifted his head, murderous.
He was not fully lucid, but his mind was full of that tiny angel cub. His trembling wings, hugging him and crying pitifully. Someone who would, upon hearing his voice, stagger up, and run to be held.
Annailin once hated getting close to Chu Zao.
Damn it.
That didn’t mean seeing it wouldn’t enrage him.
Who bullied him?
“…Damn, a medical miracle—”
“You’re not dead?”
Just look at these clanmates.
Breath caught, Annailin: …
He nearly lost it again.
“Enough.”
Desmond responded, stepping into the room.
“Annailin, how do you feel?”
“…Alright. How long was I out?”
Annailin looked at himself, ragged, voice rough.
“It’s been a whole day. There wasn’t a pause; you looked ready to go at any moment.”
Dan rushed in, sighing with relief at Annailin’s condition.
“We were preparing for your funeral.”
Their power out of control, it was usually dangerous, but there were still lulls. Annailin, since returning, had been constantly crazed—a very bad sign.
“That so?”
Annailin murmured, dazed.
But he woke, and seemed to be regaining full sanity.
Not like when most lost control.
Desmond had been through this once.
Strange.
Desmond thought.
His was an accident—so was Annailin’s?
And these accidents all happened after Chu Zao appeared.
Was it all connected?
But before they could think more,
Explosive thunder drew all the clan’s attention.
They looked skyward.
“This rainy season came too soon. Don’t you think something’s off?”
“Sure odd—”
Halfway through, they all shuddered.
Someone frowned deeply, pressing his forehead; another braced on the wall.
Desmond vaulted out the window, looking up.
The dragon that fled earlier was circling the clouds, red eyes staring down. Around it, countless blood-red eyes seemed to open.
Desmond had never seen this.
But this was clearly wrong.
The rain curtain seemed to shrink against them, pressing inward. The dim sky made it harder to see; the voices of those who’d lost consciousness faded, as if devoured by the oncoming force.
For ‘God,’ the mindless Crown Clan were just food to be crushed. He’d waited for the Crown Clan here to lose themselves entirely, to devour their forgotten spirits. But Chu Zao arrived at the worst time.
He’d appeared by the Crown Clan in the interstellar, and with his power to cleanse pollution, ‘God’ didn’t dare leave him there and had to draw him in here. But the Crown Clan here hadn’t yet completely gone mad. Now he was caught in a dilemma.
Such devilish luck.
Still, even when meeting and stripped of all memory, the Crown Clan here, tormented for thousands of years, didn’t recognize him.
As that force reached Desmond’s group, the dragon struck them. Desmond didn’t hesitate—their bodies were their sharpest weapons. Instantly, they tore the dragon apart, flesh flying, with others instinctively finishing it off.
But an even greater surge of blood burst forth. The flying flesh froze in mid-air, morphing instantly into countless blood-red eyes—opening around them.
Before they could react, the eyes became mouths, trying to tear Desmond and the others apart.
“Hell, what are these things?!”
Dan leapt back.
Shaking off the blood, they eyed the encroaching things.
“No idea, but must be tied to our past, and the others—there’s no more sound.”
Were they finally freed?
After all that agony, was death finally here?
Desmond couldn’t be sure.
—No need to struggle.
—You have no past, isn’t it better to be freed?
—Bow to destiny, surrender to reality.
—Most have chosen so.
—As beings who remember nothing, total surrender is the right, painless choice.
‘God’ had succeeded too many times, with the Crown Clan as well—a power from the universe’s depths, his influence clearest when the Crown Coronet was most damaged.
Those omnipresent eyes and mouths from the dead dragon’s flesh hovered all around, their lips muttering softly, probing for a moment to fully devour.
The feeling was agony.
A real confrontation with their vanishing consciousness.
Desmond reached out and crushed an eye, snarling, “Get lost!”
A burst of power from him blasted many of the devourers back, but left him bloodied.
His eye was sliced; his always wild, cold face now gloomed, blood streaking down his pale cheeks like tears.
No easy task, and with so few left, the attack backfired even harder.
They truly countered each other, but in the end, his influence on the Crown Clan was stronger.
‘God’ couldn’t tell when Chu Zao would return, or how long the false outside could fool him.
A gigantic blood-red eye opened in the sky, blinking.
Countless voices stormed their minds—
‘Why can’t you remember?’
‘Because all you want to recall, all those memories, are rejecting you, repelling your attempts to remember.’
One moment’s daze, and the attacks pressed in again.
But—
‘You’ll remember. The place you search for might be waiting for you.’
The young boy’s voice seemed to echo again in their ears.
Desmond’s leg muscles tensed; next instant, he leapt, instinctively trying to grab something. He surprised even himself—it was a new feeling. But he set it aside and went for the eye.
It was more trouble than expected.
‘God’ raged, preparing to strike again.
And Desmond tore through the rain, bloody and storm-eyed, spinning to assault the eye.
The other clansmen, coming to their senses, reacted swiftly.
The swallowing eyes and mouths wounded them, but the pressing force couldn’t finish the job.
To vanish just like this? To be devoured by this weirdness?
Unacceptable.
Completely unacceptable—
How could we just disappear, knowing nothing, confused about everything?
Not even sure why we’re here.
Why can’t we remember anything?
Desmond clenched his teeth; everyone looked battered—did their existence mean nothing?
Shouldn’t be so.
“We—” They didn’t know what, but they would find what they sought…
And beyond the sundered rain, a young boy tugged another person close, racing their way, honey-colored eyes meeting Desmond’s gaze across a few meters.
Desmond’s eyes widened, wanting to speak.
And the nearly-shattered transparent psionic filament Chu Zao was chasing, brittle like aged plastic, still clung to Desmond.
Rain shimmered—not rain, but the light of broken Crown Clan psionic threads reflected to Chu Zao’s eyes.
Desmond saw Chu Zao drawing his bow, aiming at the sky’s eye. Wings drenched, like a bedraggled white bird in the storm, he staggered through the air. Seeing them soaked with blood, his eyes burned with fury.
Chu Zao still hadn’t grown into his father’s always unruffled composure. He raged, thinking of all he knew, thinking of the suffering Crown Clan voices.
The once-proud Crown Clan, stripped of the past, of everything that made them, fallen here for thousands of years—even elder after elder died never knowing who they were or where they came from—too tragic.
The golden crown erupted in radiance—
For a moment, as if golden snow fell amidst the storm, landing on them.
Desmond instinctively wanted to shield the young one, but in his eyes, Chu Zao was reflected.
He was still holding onto—certain they could find it…what they searched for in the past.
“Don’t bully—great-grandfather.”
Chu Zao pulled the bowstring taut.
Don’t bully Zao Zao’s great-grandfather!