"Mister Bald Man," Elena said politely, tugging at the scarred thug's sleeve with her tiny hand, her crimson eyes looking up at him without a trace of fear, "are you trying to hurt my new friend?"
The man looked down.
And for a moment, the world stopped.
The child looking up at him was like nothing he had ever seen.
Silver hair cascaded around her face like moonlight made solid, catching the fluorescent lights and scattering them into tiny rainbows.
Her eyes were crimson, not the dull red of blood, but bright and vivid, like jewels, like something that shouldn't exist in a human child. Her features were so perfectly formed, so impossibly delicate, that she looked less like a girl and more like a painting brought to life.
She was adorable.
Beyond adorable.
The kind of cute that made even hardened criminals pause, made them remember that there were some lines even they shouldn't cross.
He froze.
Hemanth's voice cut through the moment like a whip crack. "You dumbass! Why did you stop?"
The bald man blinked, shaking himself. "Boss... this girl... she's so cute. I can't, I can't hurt her. Not in front of her. It doesn't feel right."
Hemanth pushed past his other men, irritation twisting his features. Because his thugs towered over him, he hadn't been able to see what had distracted his scarred enforcer. Now he stepped forward, ready to berate the man for wasting time.
"We don't have time for kindness," he snarled, his voice carrying the weight of years of violence. "Agency could be here any minute since we are demon llies, If they find us, we lose our chance forever."
Then he saw Elena.
He stopped.
Mid-stride.
Mid-word.
The girl before him was... exquisite.
There was no other word for it.
Silver hair that seemed to glow. Crimson eyes that held depths no child's eyes should possess. Features so perfectly balanced that she looked like something from a dream, from a painting, from a world far removed from this one.
"Look at those eyes," Hemanth breathed, momentarily lost in the sight. "This is what happens when a devil and an angel have a child. Perfect combination."
He stared for another long moment, his criminal mind already racing with possibilities. Then his expression shifted, something dark and calculating sliding into place.
"Bring her too," he ordered.
The headmaster's eyes went wide with horror. He struggled against the men holding him, his aged face pale with outrage.
"What? Why? She's an innocent child! She has nothing to do with this!"
Hemanth turned to him with a smile that made the old man's blood run cold. It was the smile of someone who had long ago abandoned any pretense of humanity.
"None of your business," Hemanth said, his voice flat as he paused, clearly savoring the control he held over the situation.
The old man's expression hardened, anger flashing through his eyes as he stepped forward despite the danger.
"None of my business?" he repeated, his voice rising, edged with fury. "You expect me to stand here in silence while you drag away a child?"
His gaze burned into them, unyielding despite the odds.
"Have you lost all sense of decency?"
Hemanth didn't answer him immediately.
His gaze remained fixed on Elena.
Slow.
Unsettling.
He took a step closer, studying her as if she were something to be evaluated rather than a child.
"Decency?" he said at last, a faint, mocking smile forming. "You still believe that matters?"
His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at her.
"Look at her," he continued, his voice lower now. "Those eyes… that face… she'll grow into something extraordinary."
The smile on his lips twisted, something darker slipping through.
"My son will need a bride someday," he said, almost casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "Someone like her would be… perfect."
The old man's expression darkened, but Hemanth didn't stop.
"When I find something valuable," he added coldly, straightening his sleeve, "I don't leave it behind."
The bald man and his companions exchanged glances.
The bald man reached for Elena, but Hemanth stopped him.
"No, not you." He pointed at the towering giant behind him. "Ban. You take the girl. Your grip is strongest."
Ban, the six-foot-five mountain of a man, stepped forward and scooped Elena into his massive arms. She disappeared against his chest, looking like a doll in the hands of a giant.
And Elena
Elena giggled.
She actually giggled.
To her, this was still a game.
Strange men playing with her, carrying her like she was special, like she was the center of attention. An adventure to add to her collection. She had no concept of danger, no understanding of what these men were capable of, no framework for evil in her four-year-old mind.
The Headmaster struggled against the thugs holding him, his voice rising with desperation. "You're making a mistake! You're going too far! She's just a child!"
But no one in the gathered crowd moved to help.
They had gathered, yes, a ring of onlookers surrounding the scene, their phones raised, recording everything for social media, for evidence, for reasons they couldn't articulate. But none of them stepped forward. None of them interfered. None of them did anything but watch.
They knew who these men were.
Everyone in this city knew.
Hemanth and his crew were infamous, drug dealers, murderers, torturers who had operated for years without ever being brought to justice. Witnesses disappeared. Evidence vanished. Anyone who testified against them ended up dead or wishing they were.
Especially the Ban the gripper. Everyone in this city knew his reputation. He had crushed a woman's head with his bare hands once, actually crushed it, her skull exploding under his grip like an egg, her blood and brain spraying across the walls while he laughed. The memory of that horror kept the crowd frozen, silent, complicit.
Better to watch than to die.
Better to record than to intervene.
Better to let someone else's child be taken than to risk everything.
The crowd parted like water before a ship.
The thugs began to move toward the exit, dragging the Headmaster, carrying Elena toward an uncertain fate.
And Elena
Elena was still laughing.
"Tall mountain human!" she giggled at Ban, looking up at his face from her position in his arms. "You look like My Great Grandpa! Can Elena climb you? Can she? Papa says Elena is good at climbing!"
Ban stared at her, confused by this child who showed no fear, who laughed in the arms of a man who had killed dozens.
He didn't know what to make of her.
Then something happened.
Something caught her eye through the gap in the crowd.
Movement.
Familiar movement.
A face she knew.
Papa.
Elena's eyes went wide with recognition and joy.
She pushed against the arm holding her, the arm of a man who could lift a hundred kilograms with ease, who had crushed skulls with his bare hands, whose grip should have been iron.
The arm moved.
Elena slipped free.
She fell.
From the height of a six-foot-five man, she dropped to the hard floor like a stone, hitting the ground with a sickening thud that should have broken bones, should have produced screams, should have ended in tragedy.
She landed on her side, rolled once, and came to a stop.
For a moment, she lay still.
Then she sat up.
Rubbed her head.
"Ouch," she said, more surprised than hurt, her voice carrying that adorable quality that made everyone who heard it want to protect her.
Ban stared at his own hands, his mind struggling to process what had just happened. "What... how did you... how did you free yourself? That's impossible. No child should be able to"
Elena didn't wait for him to finish. She was already on her feet, her crimson eyes scanning the crowd, searching for something, someone
And then she saw him.
Through the forest of legs, past the ring of onlookers, across the sea of strangers, a familiar face. A beloved face. The face she had been looking for since she got lost.
"PAPA!" she screamed, jumping and waving with all her might, trying to make herself seen above the crowd. "PAPA! PAPA! ELENA IS HERE! ELENA FOUND YOU!"
Yuuta heard her.
Yuuta heard her.
Saw her.
His heart stopped and restarted in the same instant.
"ELENA!"
He fought against the crowd, shoving people aside, desperate, frantic, his entire world reduced to the tiny figure jumping and waving in the distance. People protested, cursed, shoved back, but he didn't care. Couldn't care. Nothing mattered except reaching her.
A massive hand reached down.
Grabbed Elena by the head.
Lifted her off the ground.
Hemanth's voice was thunderous with fury. "What the HELL are you doing? Why did you let her go? Are you trying to ruin everything?"
The Ban face was pale with confusion and fear, fear of his boss, fear of punishment, fear of what would happen if he failed. "Sorry, boss. My grip... it slipped. I don't know how, but it slipped. It won't happen again."
Elena squirmed in his grasp, her tiny hands gripping his wrist, her legs kicking in the air. "Mountain human, let me go! My Papa is right there! Let me GO!"
She pushed against his grip.
His hand started to slip again.
He tightened his grip.
Hard.
Harder than before.
Hard enough to hurt.
For the first time since coming to this world, since leaving her mother's kingdom, since discovering ice cream and Papa's cooking and the joy of being loved, Elena felt pain.
Real pain.
Not the minor discomfort of falling down.
Not the temporary ache of a bump from running into things.
Not the kind of pain that went away if you blew on it and gave it a kiss.
This was different.
This was sharp and hot and wrong.
This was the kind of pain that made her eyes water before she could stop them.
This was the kind of pain that made her tiny body go still, frozen by something she didn't understand.
"Ouch," she said.
Her voice was small.
Confused.
Scared.
All at once.
"It hurts."
She said it louder this time, as if saying it louder would make someone hear, would make someone help, would make the pain stop.
"It HURTS...HUMAN."
The words were quiet compared to the noise of the market.
Almost lost in the chaos of hundreds of conversations, the sizzle of food stalls, the rumble of traffic on the nearby street.
Almost swallowed by the indifference of a world that didn't know and didn't care.
But Yuuta heard them.
Every syllable.
Every inflection.
Every ounce of pain in his daughter's voice.
It hurts.
The words echoed in his mind like thunder.
It hurts.
His daughter was in pain.
His daughter was scared.
His daughter was calling for him.
And something inside Yuuta
Something deep and ancient and wrong
Something he didn't know existed
Woke up.
Ban tightened his grip on Elena's head, his massive fingers pressing against her skull with force that made her tiny face scrunch in pain. "What are you doing? Stop moving around!" he growled, his voice rumbling like distant thunder.
The Headmaster struggled against the men holding him, his voice rising with desperation. "You idiot! She's just a child! Let her go!"
But before anyone could react, before anyone could even process what was happening
A powerful strike connected with Ban's chin.
The sound that followed was sickening, a loud, wet crack that echoed through the shopping center like a gunshot. Bone breaking. Cartilage shattering. The unmistakable sound of violence done right.
Ban, the six-foot-five mountain of muscle who had killed more men than most soldiers saw in war, hit the floor like a felled tree. His body crashed against the ground with a thunderous impact that shook the tiles beneath him. He didn't move. Didn't twitch. Didn't breathe.
Hemanth whipped around, his eyes wide with shock.
The crowd gasped.
It had happened so fast, a blur of movement, a flash of red, and the biggest, strongest man in the group was down.
The other thugs stared, frozen in disbelief. The bald man's scarred face twisted with shock. They had never seen anything like this. Ban was their strongest, their enforcer, the one who ended fights before they started. And he was on the ground, unconscious, his jaw hanging at an angle that suggested it would never work properly again.
Standing over him was a man.
A man with crimson eyes that burned like flames, like fire given form, like something ancient and terrible looking out through human eyes.
"Who the fuck are you?" the man said, his voice cold as winter, flat as a blade.
Hemanth felt a chill run down his spine. This wasn't right. This wasn't normal. The man before him looked ordinary, tired clothes, messy hair, the build of someone who had never thrown a punch in his life. But those eyes... those eyes said otherwise.
He looks like a killing monster, Hemanth thought, and for the first time in years, he felt genuine fear.
He shoved it down.
"You!" he snarled, pointing at the stranger. "How dare you harm my men! Boys, kill that bastard!"
The bald man was the first to move. He had been eyeing the Headmaster, but now he turned toward this new threat, his scarred face twisting into a murderous grin. This was what he lived for, violence, pain, the feel of bone breaking beneath his hands.
He towered over Yuuta, his massive frame blocking out the light, his grip legendary, rumors said he could crush a human skull like an egg. He reached out with both hands, aiming for Yuuta's head, ready to end this quickly.
Yuuta dodged.
Not by much, just enough. The bald man's hands closed on empty air.
Then Yuuta grabbed his hand.
The bald man froze.
He looked down at the grip on his wrist, this weak-looking boy, this ordinary man with tired clothes and messy hair, holding onto him like he had any chance in this fight. A smile spread across his scarred face.
Then he started to squeeze.
He would crush this fool's hand first, make him scream, make him beg. Then he would move on to the rest of him, piece by piece, savoring every moment.
But something was wrong.
He squeezed.
Nothing happened.
He squeezed harder.
Yuuta's hand didn't crush. Didn't break. Didn't even flinch.
The bald man looked up, confused, and met those crimson eyes.
They were like blood.
Like a sea of blood.
Like the agony of a thousand deaths reflected in twin pools of red.
And then he felt it.
His grip was weakening.
No, not weakening.
His hand was being crushed.
Yuuta's fingers tightened around his, slow and steady, like a machine that couldn't be stopped. The bones in the bald man's hand began to shift, to grind against each other, to crack.
Crack.
Crack.
Crack.
The sounds echoed through the suddenly silent shopping center, each one louder than the last. The bald man's eyes went wide with agony, his mouth opening in a scream that seemed to take forever to emerge.
"AHHHHH! FUCK! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!" His voice rose to a pitch that didn't belong to a man his size, a sound of pure, unadulterated pain.
Yuuta didn't let go.
Didn't blink.
Didn't react at all.
The lean man, the third thug, quick and vicious, saw his chance. He darted forward and drove his fist into Yuuta's head with all the force he could muster.
The punch connected.
Yuuta stumbled back, finally releasing the bald man's ruined hand. But he didn't fall. Didn't go down. Just stood there, blood trickling from a cut on his brow, breathing heavily.
The bald man cradled his crushed hand, his face pale with shock and pain. "Fuck... what the hell is this guy? Is he on something? Fuck, it hurts!"
Hemanth screamed at them, his composure completely shattered. "What the hell are you doing?! Can't you deal with one man?! He broke your fucking bone, you idiot! Kill him!"
The lean man didn't wait for further orders. He moved in, fast and precise, driving punch after punch into Yuuta's abdomen, left, right, left, right, each one landing with brutal force.
Yuuta took them.
One after another.
His body absorbing blows that should have dropped him, that should have broken ribs, that should have ended the fight.
Then he moved.
One punch.
That's all it took.
His fist connected with the lean man's face with a force that seemed impossible from someone his size. Teeth scattered across the floor like bloody confetti. The man's nose collapsed, bone and cartilage rearranging into something that would never be right again. He dropped like a stone, unconscious before he hit the ground.
The bald man stared, his ruined hand forgotten for a moment. "Boss... something is wrong with this man. Something is very wrong."
Yuuta walked slowly toward Hemanth, each step deliberate, measured, inevitable.
His crimson eyes had narrowed to something that didn't look human anymore, the eyes of a wolf tracking prey, of a predator who had forgotten he was prey.
His killing intent was absolute, radiating from him like heat from a fire, like cold from a glacier.
If he didn't stop himself soon, he might go completely insane, become a beast without thought or reason, driven only by the need to destroy.
He didn't feel any pain.
Didn't feel anything at all.
His senses had shut down, overwhelmed by the red haze that consumed his vision. There was only the target. Only the man who had hurt his daughter. Only the need to make him stop existing.
Hemanth's hand remained in his pocket, fingers wrapped around whatever weapon he had hidden there. His eyes darted between Yuuta and his fallen men, calculating, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Then a voice stopped Yuuta.
Not Hemanth's voice.
Something else.
He turned toward the sound.
Ban lay on the ground like a lifeless body, his massive form crumpled and still from the punch that had shattered his jaw. But in his hand, his massive, unconscious hand, Elena was still trapped, still trying to free herself, pushing at his fingers with all her tiny strength.
And then he saw her face.
His daughter's face.
Scared.
Confused.
Wanting her Papa.
The red haze began to clear.
Yuuta blinked once.
Twice.
Then all at once, the pain hit him like a freight train.
His hand burned, the skin torn, the bones aching from the force he had used to crush the bald man's grip. His head throbbed where the lean man's punches had landed, each pulse of blood a spike of agony behind his eyes. It was like waking from surgery, like being a patient who had felt nothing during the operation and now experienced every cut, every stitch, every violation of their flesh.
He grabbed his injured hand, his face twisting with pain. "Ouch... fuck, it hurts like hell. Damn it!"
Hemanth and the bald man stared at him in utter confusion.
What was happening? One moment this man was an unstoppable killing machine, the next he was crying about pain like a normal person? What kind of creature was he?
"Papa!" Elena's voice cut through the chaos, high and desperate. "Papa! Help Elena! Please!"
Yuuta rushed to her side, ignoring the protests of his battered body.
He carefully, gently, pried Ban's unconscious fingers away from his daughter, freeing her from that massive grip.
The moment she was loose, he pulled her into his arms, hugging her so tightly that she squeaked.
Her tiny arms wrapped around his neck, holding on just as fiercely.
"Papa got hurt," she whispered against his shoulder, her small voice trembling. "Papa... it's blood. It hurts, right? Elena knows it hurts."
Yuuta shook his head, forcing a smile despite the agony. "It's not hurt, little princess. It's actually ketchup. Papa was eating a burger and got messy."
Elena pulled back just enough to look at his face, her crimson eyes searching for the truth. "Ketchup?"
"Definitely ketchup. The spiciest ketchup in the world."
She giggled, the sound fragile but real, and hugged him again.
Hemanth watched this scene with growing fury. This man, this father, had destroyed his operation, broken his men, humiliated him in front of dozens of witnesses. And now he was standing there hugging his daughter like nothing had happened?
Hemanth's hand moved to his pocket.
He had something there.
Something he had been saving for exactly this kind of moment.
Something that would end this fight, no matter what this monster was.
His fingers closed around it.
His hand came out of his pocket.
In it was a pocket knife, not large, but sharp, deadly, more than enough to end a life.
"You will pay for what you did, brat," he snarled, and dashed toward them.
Yuuta looked up, his eyes widening in horror as he saw the knife descending. He didn't know where it would hit, face, head, chest, but it didn't matter. It would hurt. It would probably kill him. And Elena was in his arms, exposed, vulnerable, right there.
Hemanth screamed as he ran, the sound primal and furious. Around them, people scattered in panic, the sight of a drawn knife sending them fleeing for safety. The shopping center became a chaos of screams and running feet and overturned displays.
He lifted his hand.
The knife caught the light, glittering as it began its descent toward Yuuta's head.
Yuuta closed his eyes.
He pulled Elena closer, wrapping his body around hers, using himself as a shield. If the knife hit him, fine. If it killed him, fine. But it would not touch her. Would not.
The Headmaster closed his eyes too, unable to watch the murder of an innocent family.
Then
Hemanth stopped.
His hand froze mid-swing, the knife hanging in the air, unable to move another inch.
"What?" he gasped, confusion replacing fury. "What's happening? Why can't I move my hand?"
Yuuta slowly opened his eyes.
The knife was suspended in mid-air, held in place by something he couldn't see. Hemanth strained against it, his face turning red, but he couldn't move. Couldn't push forward. Couldn't do anything.
Behind him, a figure stood.
Silver hair.
Violet eyes.
Cold, terrible grace.
Elena peeked over Yuuta's shoulder and her face lit up. "Papa! It's Mama! Mama is here!" She waved her tiny hand frantically.
"Mama! Mama! Over here!"
Yuuta's eyes widened as he saw her, Erza, standing behind Hemanth, one hand wrapped around his wrist, holding him in place like he was a child throwing a tantrum. She must have been watching from a distance. She must have seen everything. And now, at the moment of greatest danger, she had stepped in.
"Erza..." His voice came out rough, cracked with emotion. Relief. Hope. Something warmer that he couldn't name.
She looked at him.
Just for a moment.
And in that moment, something passed between them, an understanding, a connection, a feeling that needed no words.
Her lips curved into the smallest, gentlest smile he had ever seen on her face.
Hemanth twisted, trying to see who held him. "Who are you? Don't you know what happens to people who interfere with me? I'll kill you! I'll kill your whole family!"
Erza's gaze shifted to him.
The warmth vanished.
"You disgusting, nasty human," she said, her voice cold enough to freeze blood. "Do you know what happens to those who stand in my way?"
She showed him.
Not with words.
With a vision.
For just a moment, a fraction of a heartbeat, Hemanth saw what she really was. A dragon. Massive. Terrible. Ancient beyond comprehension. Its eyes burned into his soul, and he saw his own death reflected in them, saw himself crushed, burned, erased from existence like he had never been.
He saw what real death looked like.
"You were just a spectator until you drew that knife," Erza continued, her voice carrying the weight of eternity. "I was content to watch. To see how my fool of a Mortal would handle things." Her eyes narrowed. "But the moment you decided to use that weapon, you put your life on the line. And now..."
She squeezed his wrist.
Just slightly.
Hemanth screamed.
Not from pain, from fear. Pure, absolute, primal fear.
Sweat poured down his face. His legs trembled.
His mind, for the first time in his criminal career, completely shut down.
The knife slipped from his nerveless fingers.
It hit the floor with a metallic clatter that seemed to echo through the sudden silence.
Hemanth stood there, frozen, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to do anything but shake like a leaf in a storm.
Hemanth stood frozen, his mind still trapped in the vision Erza had shown him, a dragon of impossible size, eyes that burned like dying stars, death itself wearing the form of a beautiful woman.
He had seen his own end, felt his own annihilation, experienced the absolute certainty of his own extinction. It had broken something inside him, at least for those few seconds.
The bald man's voice cut through his trance, desperate and pained. "Boss! Boss!"
Hemanth blinked, the vision fading like mist in morning sun, and looked around wildly.
His men were in ruins, Ban unconscious on the floor with his jaw hanging at a wrong angle, the lean man bleeding from a face that would never be the same, and the bald man clutching his own shattered hand, fingers bent in directions fingers should never bend, bones visible through torn skin.
The damage that ordinary-looking man had done was horrifying, the kind of destruction that shouldn't have been possible.
In the distance, security teams were approaching fast, their boots echoing against the shopping center floors.
The Headmaster's assistant had arrived with armed guards, military-trained personnel moving in formation, weapons drawn and ready, their faces set in the expression of people who dealt with violence for a living.
The chaos had drawn every authority in the vicinity, and they were closing in.
Hemanth tried to pull away, to run, to escape while he still could.
He couldn't move.
Erza's grip on his wrist was like iron, no, stronger than iron. Like the grip of a god who had decided he wasn't going anywhere, who had judged him and found him wanting and was now simply waiting for the consequences to arrive. He strained against it, pulled with every ounce of strength in his body, but she didn't even seem to notice.
She was eating a chicken leg.
With her free hand.
Chewing slowly, deliberately, completely unconcerned with his struggles or the approaching authorities or anything except the food in her hand.
Watching the approaching security teams with mild interest, like someone observing ants from a great height.
She wasn't in the mood to fight.
Wasn't in the mood to do anything except hold him in place until the authorities arrived to deal with him.
This was beneath her, really, dealing with human criminals like some kind of street-level enforcer, getting involved in the petty violence of creatures who lived and died in the blink of an eye.
But here she was, holding a drug lord like he was a child throwing a tantrum, because somehow, impossibly, she cared about the outcome.
Hemanth's eyes darted left and right, panic rising like floodwaters. "No," he whispered, the word barely audible.
"No, I can't get caught today. I can't."
His free hand, the one Erza wasn't holding, moved to his pocket.
Came out with something small.
A capsule.
Suspicious. Tiny. The kind of thing people took when they were desperate.
He bit down on it.
The capsule shattered in his mouth, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then the blood inside, a small drop, barely anything, exploded with energy. It rushed through his mouth, down his throat, into his veins, and suddenly his entire body was on fire.
His strength surged.
It wasn't natural. It wasn't human. The pill had contained something, blood, but not ordinary blood. Something ancient. Something dark. Something that burned as it spread through him, unlocking doors in his body that should have stayed closed.
Erza felt it immediately.
The sudden spike in his strength was noticeable even to her, and the gap between them was wider than between an ant and a whale. She could have held him forever if she wanted, could have kept him pinned until the sun burned out. But the change was wrong. Unnatural. The aura coming off him now was nasty, corrupted, the kind of energy that belonged in the darkest corners of her world.
Her eyes began to glow.
Violet light, faint but growing, as she stared at him with the full weight of her ancient perception. She was sensing him now, truly sensing him, peeling back the layers of his humanity to see what lurked beneath.
And what she saw made her grip tighten.
Not because she needed to.
Because she wanted to crush him.
Hemanth strained against her hold with all his borrowed strength, his face twisted with desperation. But Erza was stronger. Always stronger. Her grip tightened further, her fingers pressing into his wrist hard enough to crack bone, her glowing eyes fixed on his with the promise of death.
He couldn't free himself.
Couldn't move.
Couldn't do anything.
But his eyes scanned left and right, looking for anything, anything at all
And he saw them.
Yuuta and Elena.
Still sitting on the floor where Yuuta had collapsed after the fight, holding each other, the father protecting his daughter even now, even battered and bleeding and broken. They were close. Close enough.
Hemanth's leg shot out.
The kick connected with Yuuta's side with brutal, desperate force, sending him flying across the floor. He hit the ground hard, rolling, and Elena tumbled away from him, screaming.
Erza's eyes went wide.
Her grip loosened.
Just for a second.
Just long enough.
Hemanth wrenched free and ran.
He ran faster than any human should be able to run, his borrowed power surging through his legs, propelling him toward the exit like a bullet from a gun.
Security guards fired, shots rang out, aimed at his legs, but he didn't stop, didn't slow, didn't even flinch. The bullets hit, tore through flesh, but he kept going, kept running, disappearing into the maze of the shopping center before anyone could react.
The bald man wasn't so lucky.
He tried to follow his boss, hobbling on his ruined hand, but a bullet caught him in the leg and he went down hard, screaming, his escape impossible. Security swarmed him, guns raised, and within seconds he was pinned, caught, finished. His screams echoed through the shopping center as they cuffed him, as they read him his rights, as his life of violence finally caught up with him.
Erza didn't care about any of that.
She was already kneeling beside Yuuta.
Her heart, her ancient, frozen, untouchable heart, was pounding with something she didn't recognize.
Fear.
Panic.
A sudden, overwhelming terror that she had never felt before, not in centuries, not ever. It consumed her, flooded her, drowned out everything else.
She knelt beside him, her hands reaching for him before she even realized what she was doing.
Yuuta was conscious, barely.
He was rubbing his head, groaning, trying to push himself up. But the damage was worse than that. The fall had reopened every wound he had suffered today.
His hand, the one that had crushed the bald man's grip, was bleeding freely again, the torn skin gaping, blood pouring down his wrist.
His head, where the lean man had punched him repeatedly, was bleeding down his face, mixing with sweat and dirt.
He looked like something from a battlefield, like a man who should be dead but somehow wasn't.
Elena was panicking, her small hands fluttering uselessly, not knowing what to do, her face pale with fear.
"Mama! Mama!" Her voice was high and scared, cracking with the kind of terror only children feel when their safe world shatters.
"Papa got hurt! Mama, Papa got hurt!"
Erza's voice came out cold, controlled, the mask firmly in place despite everything. "I can see clearly. I'm not blind."
But inside
Inside, she was panicking more than Elena.
More than she had ever panicked in her entire existence.
She grabbed his injured hand.
Lifted it to her mouth.
And spat on it.
A Note for Curious Readers:
Dragon saliva contains magical healing properties. It has pain-killing effects and healing magic that works like a high-powered blessing. It kills bacteria instantly, closes wounds faster than any modern medicine, and promotes rapid tissue regeneration. If you have cancer or any dangerous disease and your wife is a dragon, one kiss from her could restore your health completely.
Just thought you should know.
The effect was immediate.
Where her saliva touched his wound, the bleeding slowed. Stopped. The torn skin began to knit together, visible even as they watched, the magic working at a speed that defied everything modern medicine knew about healing.
Yuuta gasped.
The pain didn't vanish, not completely, but it faded, receded, became something manageable rather than overwhelming. He looked at his hand, at the wound that was closing before his eyes, and then at Erza.
At her face.
At her eyes.
At the queen who had just used her magic to heal him.
Again.
"My queen..."
His voice came out rough and weak, barely more than a whisper.
Erza froze.
Only then did she realize something was wrong.
Her vision was blurry.
A strange warmth lingered beneath her eyes.
Confused, she raised a hand and touched her cheek.
It was wet.
A small droplet rested on her fingertip.
For a moment, she simply stared at it.
A tear.
Erza's eyes widened slightly.
She did not understand.
Why was she crying?
The moment she had seen Yuuta injured, something inside her had shattered. Fear had gripped her heart so suddenly and so violently that she had almost stopped breathing. The sight of blood on his body had filled her mind with panic. She had not thought. She had not hesitated. She had rushed forward and poured healing magic into him as though her life depended on it.
Only now, seeing him alive and speaking, did she realize how terrified she had been.
Terrified of losing him.
The realization made her chest tighten.
Erza immediately turned her face away.
"Don't say anything, idiot mortal." Her voice was cold, but it wavered. Just slightly. Just enough. "You've caused enough trouble for one day."
Erza looked away, her face hidden behind that mask of cold indifference.
But her cheeks
Her cheeks were pink.
Elena threw herself at both of them, wrapping her tiny arms around as much of them as she could reach.
"Papa! Mama! Elena was so scared!"
Yuuta laughed, a broken, exhausted sound, and hugged her back with his good arm.
Erza didn't move.
Didn't join the hug.
But she didn't pull away either.
And when she thought no one was looking
Her hand reached out.
Just slightly.
Just enough to touch Yuuta's shoulder.
to be Continued..
[End of chapter]
Yuuta:
Hey guys, thank you so much! We finally hit 300 collections!
Whew, that's amazing, really appreciate all of you!
Haha, I feel like doing a little happy dance!
Erza:
Tch.
That's nice…
More importantly, did you check the fandom rankings?
I'm ranked #2 now.
Yuuta:
Wait, wait, hold up! I was #2 yesterday!
How did you jump ahead of me?!
This is sabotage.
Elena:
Papa~ Papa~!
Look, look! Elena got 63,000 popularity points!
Hehe~ Elena win, right? Do I get cake now?
(Yuuta and Erza slowly turn pale. A gloomy aura forms as they crouch in the corner, defeated.)
Yuuta:
Even my own daughter…?
Erza:
Ridiculous… She's just a toddler.
Elena:
Huh? What happened?
Why are you sitting like sad potatoes?
Did someone take your snacks? Mama Papa??