v2c4 - 4

Dominica entered through the door.  

Inside Toru stood silently, watching her.  

“Thought you could beat me indoors?”  

“…”  

Wordlessly, Toru stepped forward.  

His left arm was already useless. Fighting with one arm would seem hopeless to any onlooker. Especially against Dominica, who healed wounds instantly.  

“I expected you to entertain me more.”  

Dominica’s expression held no cruelty, no delight in tormenting prey.  

Rather, there was something earnest—a desperate wish.  

“That you’d make me feel alive, as if on a battlefield. That you’d give me the frenzy to charge forward, heedless of all else—”  

“DON’T UNDERESTIMATE ME!”  

Shouting, Toru raised one of his twin short swords and slashed.  

Swiftly, Dominica parried his strike with her right hand. The deflected blow dragged Toru’s body, embedding the sword in the wall.  

“…”  

As Toru yanked it free, Dominica closed in.  

Her weapons—claw-like blades—swung down to cleave Toru in two, but—  

“—Knew you’d do that.”  

Toru dodged effortlessly, stepping forward.  

“You, actually—”  

Closing the gap but not just to Dominica’s range, but near enough to feel each other’s body heat—Toru grinned.  

“Don’t know any techniques, do ya?”  

“…!?”  

Dominica recoiled, but Toru pressed forward, refusing to let the distance open. Nearly pressed together, he pushed his short sword’s tip against her armor.  

“You’re just masking it with insane strength and speed. No technique at all. Your attacks are predictable—see them a few times, and I get used to them.”  

“You—”  

“Technique’s—”  

Toru grinned and said:  

“This kind of thing!”  

Dan! The floor beneath Toru’s feet groaned.  

His powerful step was a scream from the floorboards. Simultaneously, his body channeled the recoil through muscle, accelerating, accelerating, accelerating—in a fraction of a second, the force condensed through him exploded at the tip of his short sword.  

“Nu!?”  

With the sound of something hard shattering, Toru’s sword pierced Dominica’s abdomen.  

The technique was akin to a “one-inch punch” in martial arts. Normal strikes needed distance to accelerate a fist, smashing the foe with impact. But this was different. From a standstill—pressed against the target—a sudden burst of force “broke through.”  

“Scramble, was it?”  

With a grim smile, Toru twisted the sword further.  

No matter her regeneration, it couldn’t be infinite.  

A stab wound, if the weapon stayed in, twisting and shifting, wouldn’t close. Blood would flow, stamina would drain—that was the logic.  

“Gh!?” Dominica stifled a scream rising to her throat. “…Y… you…”  

“You always swing your sword downward. Never thrust. Barely any small maneuvers. Defensively, you only parry, never deflect. Your movements are all linear. Your combat skills are nonexistent. You just seem strong thanks to outrageous power.”  

“…Gh… ugh…”  

Dominica’s hands gripped Toru’s shoulders.  

Her ferocious grip sent pain creaking through his bones, but he pressed on:  

“Like an animal.”  

“…You… you…”  

“Your so-called ‘fight’ isn’t a fight. It’s a ‘hunt.’ Like a predator chasing prey.”  

Toru bared his teeth in a grin.  

Time for the finishing touch.  

“Hey. How long you gonna pretend to be human?”  

“…!!”  

Dominica shoved Toru away forcefully.  

His sword slid out of her abdomen, and he was blown back to the wall.  

The impact squeezed the air from his lungs; Toru coughed briefly, collapsing. But he couldn’t stay still.  

“Thought something was off.”  

Toru rolled to the nearby wall, using it to stand, and said:  

“You felt unnatural. Not like Dominica Škoda, who lost her beloved sister—but like someone mimicking her, playing the part.”  

“…!”  

Dominica opened her mouth reflexively—but, finding no words, let out a long sigh instead.  

“Where… did I slip up?”  

She asked, pressing her abdomen.  

Blue light leaked, and the wound—along with the armor’s damage—vanished.  

“Lots of things. Hard to put into words. For starters, this mansion has no trace of human life. At first, I thought the place itself might be a dragoon’s transformation.”  

“…I see. Careless of me.”  

Dominica said with a faint, bitter smile.  

“What happened to the real Dominica Škoda?”  

“She passed away.” Dominica—or the thing playing Dominica—said. “Of illness. She died.”  

The thing mimicking Dominica shook its head sadly.  

But the gesture seemed, to Toru, theatrical.  

“She wanted to die. To stand on a battlefield, forget everything, let her soul burn and evaporate in a desperate fight, felled by someone—that was all she had left.”  

All that remained was her pride as a dragoon cavalier. But when the war ended, a dragoon cavalier’s immense power was shunned. Bonding with a dragoon—becoming part of it—was frowned upon, even despised, by orthodox knights.  

She couldn’t protect her beloved sister. Couldn’t even be at her deathbed.  

All that remained was a biological weapon that had forsaken humanity.  

To fulfill her existence—only death in battle would do.  

“Yet she died of illness. Day after day, wracked with regret on her sickbed, blaming herself, blaming, blaming, until she despaired and passed.”  

“I want to fight, to die fighting, it’s all I have left.”

On her sickbed, Dominica had rambled like delirium, but her wish went unfulfilled, and she died.  

“…So, that’s why.”  

Toru narrowed his eyes.  

“That’s why you wanted to ‘fight’?”  

“Yes. Even if just in form, I wanted to realize her wish.”  

The false Dominica said.  

Like displaying a portrait. Like offering a loved one’s favorite item at their grave.  

“It’s all I could think of. I’m not human, after all.”  

“…”  

Toru narrowed his eyes.  

Dominica’s form… softened.  

Enveloped in pale blue light, her human shape crumbled, and something else took form.  

The armored dragon’s—“transformation” magic.  

Bones restructured, mass swelled, skin changed color.  

The expanding frame pressed against walls, floor, ceiling, shoving them aside, cracking the room. The walls gave way, the floor groaned, and—  

“That’s… your true form?”  

“…No.”  

To Toru’s question—the fanged mouth answered with surprising clarity.  

“We have no ‘true form’ to begin with.”  

Filling the room, pushing open walls, floor, and ceiling, the manifested form was nothing short of awe-inspiring.  

Several times a human’s height. Likely dozens of times their weight. Wings, long limbs, horns, a tail—an utterly alien form, yet clad in armor and wielding a sword, truly befitting the name “Dragoon.”  

“This form exists because it was demanded.”  

The white Feyra said.  

“Stronger. Faster. Larger. Thus, having taken this form, I can no longer lose to you—”

Speaking thus… the armored dragon’s massive form trembled slightly.  

As if only now noticing its own faltering state.  

“…What… is…?”  

“Finally.”  

Toru let out a long sigh.  

He released the breathing he’d kept minimal until now. He’d considered breaking a window, but the armored dragon’s shattering of walls and floors saved him the trouble.  

“Chaika fired a spell, right?”  

“…That… was…?”  

“Yeah. A poison spell.”  

Toru said, steadying his breathing.  

“Chaika’s spell alters the air. You move so fast, direct attack spells are hard to land. Even if they hit, cuts or bruises don’t faze you. Fire or lightning attacks would need to level the whole mansion to matter—so we thought. That’s why we used poison.”  

Poison use—apothecary skills—was a saboteur’s specialty.  

“By the way, the short sword I stabbed you with was coated with a different poison.” Toru gestured to his short sword. “We could only guess how much or what kind of poison would affect a dragon. Akari and I took antidotes beforehand, but it’s stuff that’d kill a normal human ten times over. Scary as hell.”  

Toru hadn’t used his trump card, Iron-Blood Transformation, to avoid spreading the poison. An enhanced body was great for combat, but intense movement increased breathing, hastening poison’s spread.  

Also… Akari’s being blown into the mansion was part of the plan. She was meant to retreat early, entering the mansion to seal windows and gaps with resin or cloth, making the interior airtight. The resin-soaked cloth in Chaika’s escape hole served the same purpose. They needed the mansion’s air to be as isolated as possible.  

“You moved around while poisoned, even making yourself bigger. Magic can’t create something from nothing, so you’re probably absorbing air, dust, moisture… all that, right? Naturally—the poison spreads faster.”  

“…Guh.”  

The Dragoon staggered, but braced itself with its forelimb—no, arm.  

“I see… I was… outdone…?”  

“Hope we entertained you.”  

“…Ha… haha…” The Dragoon bared its fangs, laughing hollowly. “I apologize for underestimating you…”  

“Glad to hear it.”  

“But… not yet!”  

The armored dragon declared.  

The next instant—it stretched its body as if bursting, roaring as it blew away the room’s walls and ceiling with its mass.  

Oooooooohhh!! 

Shattered debris ricocheted, torn wallpaper fluttered.  

In an instant, the room was half-demolished, losing most of its roof and walls as outside air rushed in.  

Of course, with poison already coursing through it, fresh air wouldn’t restore the armored dragon’s strength—and unlike cuts or fractures, poison spread throughout the body couldn’t be erased by “transformation.”  

“Here… I come!”  

Staggering, the armored dragon raised its sword, spread its wings, and lunged at Toru.  

But…  

“Here, manifest—‘The Slicer’!”  

Chaika’s voice rang out high.  

Waiting outside, her cutting spell tore through the Dragoon’s wing.  

“Ngh…!”  

The Dragoon lost balance mid-air.  

Toward its massive form—  

“—!”  

Toru leaped while protecting his broken left arm, he could only jump half his usual height, but it sufficed.  

Toru aimed his short sword at the falling armored dragon’s forehead, poised to thrust.  

And—  

“OHHHH!”  

With a spirited cry, he drove the tip of the blade forward.  

A crimson flower bloomed on the giant Feyra’s forehead.

Due to its complex structure, fully disassembling the projector took longer than expected.  

Akari had intended to smash it, but destroying the remains inside would defeat the purpose, and since Chaika had painstakingly repaired it, she objected—so in the end, Chaika took the time and effort to extract the fragments of the remains hidden deep within the projector, namely two crystal containers seemingly sealing what appeared to be the Gaz Emperor’s eyeballs.  

“Are they real?”  

“Probably.” Chaika nodded.  

“Well, That's what makes the effort worth it.”  

Toru said, glancing back at the courtyard.  

There lay—the dragoon, its forehead split.  

Toru addressed the white Feyra:  

“Promise kept. We’re taking it.”  

“…Yes.”  

The dragoon responded in a surprisingly calm tone.  

There was no trace of agony, rage, or regret.  

A Feyra’s expression was unreadable to begin with, but now, with the Dragoon facing away from Toru and the others, even guessing its thoughts was impossible.  

“Feels like I’m cleared up, too. My thanks.”  

The silver Feyra… said suddenly.  

The poison seemed mostly gone. Truly an absurd creature.  

“But one thing I don’t get. Why didn’t you finish me off?”  

Its voice was genuinely curious.  

“I ain’t obliged to assist in suicide.”  

Toru spat out.  

“…Suicide?”  

“If all you just wanted to soothe Dominica Škoda’s soul, it was over when the moment I saw through you. No need to go back to dragon form and keep fighting.”  

The dragoon’s defeat was sealed when the poison took effect.  

Yet it—no, she (likely female)—had refused to stop fighting.    

Wasn’t it because the armored dragon itself, having lost Dominica, had lost its purpose for living?  

“…I see. Perhaps so.”  

The dragoon said, almost impressed.  

“I might’ve been dependent on Dominica.” Its confessional tone was vague—like an elder reflecting on half a lifetime. “By becoming one with Dominica, I thought her desires were mine, that fulfilling her desires was my desire. So when Dominica lost her purpose… I did as well.”  

 Dragoons, with dulled pain senses and immense defensive power, were near-immortal.  

Thus, despite their intelligence, they developed little culture or civilization, nor complex emotions. For them, contracts with humans—dragoon cavaliers—were deeply satisfying. Humans’ intense joy, anger, sorrow, and desperation imbued their hollow spirits with searing passion.  

But—  

“Just because Dominica lost her purpose doesn’t mean you had to abandon yours.” Toru said with a sigh.“Anything’s fine. Goals, purposes...Hell...they’re probably just means to live, anyway.”  

“Is that how it works?”  

“Probably. Dunno for sure.”  

Toru said, scratching his cheek.  

He wasn’t in a position to lecture others about life’s purpose or goals. Not long ago, he’d lost his own and sulked.  

But that made him understand certain feelings.  

“Of course, I get the feeling of not dying when you should’ve. Time you let go of being a knight act and set Dominica free.”  

In the final moment, Toru deliberately angled his sword’s tip—splitting the dragon’s forehead but not piercing the skull to destroy the brain.  

Why he made that split-second choice, even Toru didn’t know. Maybe he couldn’t hate this monster posing as Dominica Škoda.  

Showing mercy due to emotion was a failure as a saboteur.  

But… saboteurs were cold, not cruel.  

Killing an unthreatening opponent in the heat of the moment would be the real issue.  

“…”  

The dragoon’s massive form was enveloped in pale blue light.  

Horns. Wings. Tail. Its imposing frame began to vanish—like snow or ice melting. Shrinking rapidly, it looked oddly frail.  

“Dominica…-san?”  

Chaika started to rush forward but was stopped by Akari.  

A dragon’s magic was transformation magic. It could freely change size.  

So—shrinking smaller and smaller until disappearing might be possible.  

Leaving no corpse, only a lingering presence, becoming legend with truth known to few—perhaps that was the nature of an armored dragon.  

And then…  

“So, that’s that.”  

—The figure sat up abruptly and said:  

“I’ve decided to stop mimicking Dominica, but…”  

“…”  

Toru, Chaika, and Akari froze, eyes wide.  

Turning to the trio, it continued:  

“Honestly, I’m wondering what to do now. Going back to being a regular dragon feels off. I want something like… a reason to live. A goal? What do you think?”  

“—Hang on.” Toru said, exasperated. “Got one question.”  

“What?”  

“You… you’re that Dragoon, right?”  

“What else would I look like?”  

It said—but no matter how you looked, it was a human girl. An exceptionally cute one, with an exceptionally cheeky air. She wore white-based clothes, styled like a refashioned version of Dominica’s armor. Mid-teens, maybe somehow about Chaika’s age in appearance. But her long blonde hair and blood-red crimson eyes gave off an aura opposite to Chaika’s. If Chaika was the moon, she was the sun. Her mere presence was striking.  

Traces of Dominica lingered, and her features resembled Lucie’s, but… there was no fragility. Instead, an odd resilience.  

In any case—  

“Looks 100% human to me.”  

“Well, this form’s easier for chatting with you guys.”  

“Even your speech pattern changed.”  

“I said I stopped mimicking Dominica.”  

“…”  

What the hell is this thing?  

The tragic air from her Dominica guise—or the obvious dragon form—was gone. It was hard to believe it was the same being.  

But—  

(…Ah, I get it.)  

Toru suddenly understood.  

This was mimicry, too.  

Dragoons were strong. So strong they didn’t need to band together—thus, they lacked social bonds. That meant they lacked individuality gained through interaction. They had innate traits, but personalities shaped by contrast with others were real, too.  

So this dragoon was mimicking an obvious human “personality.”  

Having decided to stop imitating Dominica, it was playing a personality unlike hers—one distinct enough to feel it had “stopped.”  

“—Oh! Got an idea.”  

Clapping her hands, the armored dragon said:  

“You, Toru. I’ll kill you.”  

Her tone was breezing casually as suggesting a stroll.  

“…...What?”  

“Uh, what’s it called? Revenge? Payback? You beat me, right? Feels human-ish.”  

Hahahahaha! The armored dragon laughed carefree.  

Truly, not a shred of earlier tragedy remained.  

“The hell?! If you actually came at me, I’d be dead in seconds!”  

Toru shouted, pointing to his broken left arm.  

Currently splinted and slung in a bandage, it’d take time to heal. Of course, the same tactic wouldn’t work twice; if the armored dragon got serious, Toru could be killed instantly.  

“Oh, right. Sorry. Here, I’ll fix it first.”  

Saying that, she toddled over, grabbed Toru’s broken arm.  

“Ow!? St—”  

“Bite~”  

Ripping the bandage, tossing the splint, and unbelievably—  

“Here goes.”  

With a word, the girl bit Toru’s broken arm.  

“GYAAAAAH!?”  

Toru screamed as the pain of the fracture and her “fangs”—no, buckteeth—piercing him hit at once.  

“Stop, it’ll tear—huh?”  

The pain faded.  

No, more—the swelling from the fracture was visibly subsiding.  

“What…the?”  

“*Mmph, mmmph-mmmf, shorry, shis ish how it worksh.”  

“Can’t understand. Let go.”  

“Pwah!”  

Finally releasing Toru’s arm, the armored dragon girl said:  

“So, it’s not like a real contract where we swap body parts, so the effect stops when I let go. I bit you, made it ‘part of me,’ and healed it with magic.”  

“…”  

Toru stared at his bitten arm.  

Tiny holes from her buckteeth still oozed blood, but the fracture was gone, swelling vanished.  

Absurdly convenient magic.  

“…Uh.” Toru said, bemused. “Am I supposed to thank you?”  

“No prob. All fixed.”  

The dragoon girl grinned brightly.  

“So, let’s fight?”  

“No way!”  

Toru yelled at the still-grinning dragoon.  

“No good?”  

“Find another life goal. Something peaceful.”  

Toru said, rolling down his sleeve, previously raised for the splint.  

“Exactly.” Akari cut in from the side. “Dragoon. I won’t forgive you for leaving more lip marks on Anii-sama’s body. Especially the neck—I’ve had dibs on that spot for ages, so I claim priority.”  

“Shut up, please! You’re making this pointlessly complicated.”  

Pushing Akari back, Toru faced the girl.  

“Hey… dragoon.”  

“What?”  

“What’s your name?”  

“Oh…”  

Her expression turned vague.  

“We don’t have names. If I had to say, maybe ‘East’s Six-Four-Five’?”  

“What’s that? What did Dominica call you?”  

“Dominica was me, and I was Dominica. Between dragoon cavalier and dragoon, names weren’t needed.”  

“…”  

Toru looked skyward, thinking briefly.  

“Fredrika, maybe.”  

“…?”  

To the girl’s puzzled look, Toru said:  

“Something like Dominica’s vibe. How’s Fredrika?”  

“What? You’re naming me?”  

“Calling you ‘hey’ or ‘you’ gets confusing.”  

Toru said.  

“Anyway, no fighting. If you must fight, go find another ‘remains’ or something.”  

“Oh, makes sense.”  

Clapping her hands, the girl—Fredrika—said.  

Toru’s group fought for the “remains.” If there were more, and they had to fight to get them, Toru’s group wouldn’t refuse.  

“Then, let’s do this.”  

Fredrika casually patted Toru’s chest.  

“…Huh?”  

“You’re after ‘remains,’ right?”  

“Yeah, but—”  

“Then sticking with you guys makes it easier to get ‘remains.’”  

“…Wait a sec.”  

So, she’d snatch the “remains” Chaika’s group aimed for, saying, “Fight me if you want them”?  

“That logic’s messed up.”  

“Huh? Really? It’s rational.”  

Fredrika tilted her head.  

Despite her human-like appearance and speech, this showed her Feyra nature. Clearly wrong, but unaware of it.  

“Ugh… Chaika, say something.”  

“Mui?”  

Caught off guard, Chaika’s eyes widened—  

“Fredrika.”  

“What?”  

Fredrika responded.  

She’d accepted the name quickly.  

“Nice to meet you.”  

“Woi!?”  

Chaika said cheerfully.  

Toru let out a scream-like yelp.  

Akari still looked displeased.  

And—  

“Yeah, nice to meet you.”

(TN : It's not official coloured tho, but anyways enjoy.)

Fredrika smiles cheerfully.

And so, with Chaika Gaz at the helm, the journey to find the "corpse" became a group of four.