The Dragon Lord's Aide Wants to Quit [BL]-Chapter 304: Do Not Panic

It was always the same.

Tell someone not to look and they would look. Tell them not to go there and their feet would already be moving. Tell them not to talk and suddenly they had so much to say.

So what more a child who had just been told not to panic?

Especially when the dragonling who said it panicked so hard he passed out himself.

Little Liam found himself trapped in exactly that situation.

The moment he saw the great golden dragonling lying limp on the floor, his breath caught painfully in his chest.

"Lord Orien...?" he gasped, voice thin and shaking.

No response.

Panic surged.

He rushed forward, hands scrambling as he knelt beside him. He had to help. He always helped. He had picked Orien up plenty of times before and swore as his knight that he would always do it. This would be the same.

Only it wasn’t.

The instant Liam tried to reach for him, his balance gave out. His arms felt wrong. Too short. Too awkward. He tipped forward with a startled cry and fell, finding himself on the floor instead.

Huh?

Thwak!

"Ow...!"

Head throbbing and heart pounding, Liam pushed himself upright. Or tried to. His movements felt unfamiliar, clumsy, like his body no longer followed the rules he knew.

Breathing fast, he reached up and touched his head to soothe the expected bump.

And froze.

Because for some reason his expected bump was much bigger.

Like much, much bigger.

"Huh...?" His voice wobbled as he touched again, fingers brushing over shapes that absolutely should not have been there.

In fact, the more Liam touched to inspect the bump on his head, the more panicked he was because for some reason it was more than just bigger, it was even harder and also pointier?

"???"

Fear rushed in hot and dizzying. Did he hit his head too hard? Did something break?

Was he going to die like this?

Should he go to the hospital?

He needed to check.

He needed to see.

Liam turned his head toward the nearby mirror.

And screamed.

The sound ripped out of him, raw and terrified, as he clutched his face. The reflection staring back was not his usual reflection.

Actually, to be precise, it likely wasn’t even human.

It was small. Scaled. Horned.

Definitely not the young boy with brown eyes and fluffy hair.

"AAAAAAA—!"

The scream echoed violently in the enclosed space.

And that was enough.

The golden dragonling on the floor jolted awake.

Orien shot upright with a sharp gasp, eyes snapping open just in time to see a small, unfamiliar creature screaming at him from only a short distance away.

"AAAA—!" Orien screamed back, instinctively scrambling away.

They stared at each other.

Both froze.

Both screamed again.

"What are you?!" Orien shrieked, shocked once again as he seemingly forgot why he passed out in the first place.

"WHAT ARE YOU?!" Liam sobbed back, tears already spilling as he tried to wipe his face with unfamiliar hands.

The child’s chest heaved. His eyes burned. He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand at all.

Liam cried, voice breaking completely. "Lord Orien—! It’s me! Liam! It’s me! Do you not know me anymore?!"

The words hit Orien like a physical blow.

"Oh no. No no no." His own eyes stung immediately. "D-don’t cry! Please don’t cry! I’m sorry! I know it’s you! I was just blind! Just blind! I didn’t see that you’re still brown, very brown in fact! It’s a great color! Very pretty!"

But instead of being comforted the crying only got worse.

Liam curled in on himself, shaking, completely inconsolable.

Orien panicked.

Crying sprites were dangerous. Crying sprites meant something was terribly wrong. And he was supposed to be the great protector.

Think.

Think!

Suddenly, Orien remembered.

Adults.

Adults fixed things.

Orien scrambled over in a rush, nearly tripping over his own claws as he reached for the little sprite. They were about the same size, which made the whole thing far more awkward than heroic, but Orien didn’t stop to think about that. He carefully hooked his claws around Liam’s body, hesitating for half a heartbeat like he was afraid of squeezing too hard.

"Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic," he muttered, clearly panicking.

Mana flared anyway, bright and instinctive, wrapping around both of them like an invisible brace. With a small, indignant huff, Orien powered through, half-dragging, half-hoisting Liam along. He was painfully careful not to pull too hard, but rushed nonetheless.

It wasn’t elegant. It was mostly claws, mana, and sheer stubborn concern. But Orien hauled him along all the same, determination written plainly across his tiny face.

"I’ll fix it," he declared, voice trembling. "I’ll fix it right now."

And with that, the golden dragonling charged the door.

The barricade shattered.

He burst straight into the nearest adult space without knocking.

Lawrence Hale was sitting on the bed with a book in hand.

Renee Hale was folding clothes nearby.

Both of them looked up at the same time.

Just in time to see a wide-eyed, frantic baby dragon standing in their doorway, holding up a small creature in front of him like he was offering it to them.

"!!!"

Lawrence’s book slid from his fingers.

Renee’s laundry dropped to the floor.

Orien looked up at them, eyes glassy and terrified, clutching his bundle tighter.

"Something’s wrong," he blurted out. "I broke the little sprite."

__

"Breathe in, breathe out."

Renee’s voice cut through the chaos with practiced calm as she crouched in front of the two trembling children.

"Lord Orien, it’s okay," she continued gently. "Tell me again how it happened."

She asked patiently because they definitely needed a very detailed account for this.

Just moments earlier, the room had been anything but calm.

Orien had burst in without warning, mana flaring wildly as he practically shoved the door open. He had been clutching something, no, someone, out in front of him like the world was ending, voice high and frantic as he repeated himself over and over.

"The little sprite needs help. Right now. We need everyone. We should get everyone. The guardians, too. What if he’s dying? What if this is irreversible? What if this is my fault?"

Lawrence had barely managed to sit up in bed before Renee dropped the clothes she had been folding and rushed forward.

Now, with both children in front of her, Renee took in the scene properly.

She blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Then her lips parted.

And then she smiled.

"Oh," she said brightly. "Son. Congratulations."

Orien froze.

"You’ve actually managed to turn into your drake form," Renee continued, clapping her hands once in delight. "Wow. At such an early age too."

Silence.

The distressed golden dragonling was still holding Liam out in front of him, arms locked, posture rigid, like a tiny dragon statue reenacting a very confused ceremony.

"Huh?" Orien said faintly.

"HUH?!" Liam echoed, eyes wide.

The room went very quiet as the children tried to process what they had just heard.

The carried bundle blinked.

Then he blinked again.

He looked down at himself. At his claws. His tail. The faint warmth humming under his scales.

"...Really?" he asked carefully.

"Really, son," Renee said warmly.

The fear drained from Liam’s face in an instant, replaced by awe.

"Oh! Wow!" he exclaimed, turning eagerly toward his devoted carrier. "Did you hear that, Lord Orien? That means I’m not dying! This is good. This is really good! I’m even a drake now!"

However, unlike the child who was extremely glad about hearing magic was working here, the baby dragon had gone completely silent.

His mind was still stuck somewhere between emergency protocols and the image of the little sprite in tears.

But when Liam opened his mouth again, intending to get Orien’s reaction, what came out instead was a small puff of fire.

It singed the air.

It sprayed directly across the golden dragonling’s fire-immune face.

"!!!"

The room froze.

Lawrence sucked in a sharp breath.

Renee stared.

Orien still continued to stare as Liam’s eyes widened in abject horror.

"..."

"..."

Renee recovered first.

She leaned forward, squinting thoughtfully at the little drake and at the dragonling carefully holding out his son.

Because while this was great news and something to be expected of a drake to change into one, since when in Eryndra were drakes breathing fire?

And just like that, they were back to the beginning.

__

Twice.

Then again, a little louder.

"It was the bead," he said firmly.

Everyone looked at him.

"The bead did it," the golden dragonling repeated, nodding as he was entirely convinced about that fact. "It was there. Then it was not. And then bam! Suddenly, the little sprite was different."

Renee tilted her head. "Different how, exactly?"

Orien frowned, clearly struggling with the sequence of events.

"Well," he said slowly, "first there was the bead. And then there was light. A lot of light. And then there was no light. And then when we opened our eyes, Liam was already like that."

He gestured helplessly at the small drake who was now sitting very still, tail curled tight around himself.

"So that part about the bead eating him...?" Lawrence asked carefully for clarification.

"No," Orien said at once, offended. "That would be ridiculous."

"Then he ate the bead?" Renee tried.

Orien hesitated.

"...Maybe."

Liam blinked. "I ate it?"

"I don’t know," Orien said, rubbing his head in frustration. "It might have been absorbed. Or merged. Or consumed. Or the bead decided to go inside him on its own. The point is, there was light, and then there was none, and then he transformed."

He paused.

"And then," he added stiffly, "we screamed."

There was a beat.

"And cried," Orien continued, then coughed loudly. "But that part isn’t important."

The golden dragonling didn’t want to point out exactly how hard they screamed and cried. It was already enough that he acknowledged it happened.

Hmph!

Renee smiled faintly but didn’t comment.

"The bead," Orien insisted again. "If there is a cause, it must be the bead."

"But where is it now?" Lawrence asked, glancing around the room.

Orien froze.

He looked left.

Then right.

Then down.

His eyes widened.

"Well it should be there," he said urgently. "If it’s not gone then it should be there." It was rather acceptable-looking. Red. Shiny."

He began gesturing with both paws, describing the size of the bead, the way it glowed, the way it felt warm even before everything happened.

"It was this big," he said, holding his claws apart. "And it was smooth. It used to be mine until I gave it to the little sprite."

However, before he could even finish describing everything about the bead, the air around them suddenly shifted.

His paw remained frozen in the air.

Everyone felt it.

"???"

A familiar presence settled behind them, unmistakable.

"Huh?" Orien said faintly, slowly turning his head.

"...Uncle?"