Chapter 84: The Fury of the Crimson King

The rest of the journey to the Dragon’s Tooth mountains was a silent, agonizing trek. The fragile peace of the campfire had been shattered, replaced by a cold, sharp-edged tension. Natsuki’s declaration of trust in me had not built a bridge; it had drawn a battle line right through the middle of the party.

He tried his best to act as if nothing was wrong, maintaining a determinedly cheerful attitude that was so out of place it was almost painful. He’d point out a rare mountain bird or a strange rock formation, and his comments would be met with a stony silence from Lirael, a noncommittal grunt from Kaelen, and no response at all from Elara, who was now communicating exclusively through curt hand gestures. I just walked behind him, trying to make myself as small as possible, feeling the weight of their collective resentment like a physical cloak.

The higher we climbed, the more my uselessness became apparent. Lirael moved with an impossible, light-footed grace, identifying safe paths and spotting loose rockfalls before they happened. Kaelen scaled sheer rock faces like a lizard to scout ahead, her daggers a flash of steel in the sun. Even Elara was invaluable, whispering short, powerful incantations to create stable handholds or shield us from the biting mountain winds.

And me? I tripped. A lot. My impractical boots, which I was beginning to hate with a fiery passion, seemed determined to find every loose stone and treacherous root. Each time I stumbled, Natsuki would be there to steady me with a kind word and a warm hand on my arm, a gesture that only made the daggers in Lirael’s and Kaelen’s glares twist deeper.

“This is humiliating,” Mochi muttered from inside my satchel, where he was hiding from the wind. “At this rate, the dragon won’t have to kill us. We’ll be defeated by poor-quality footwear.”

After two days of this tense, upward climb, the landscape changed. The vibrant mountain greenery gave way to blackened, scorched earth. The air grew thick with the smell of sulfur and ash. Giant, skeletal remains of unidentifiable beasts lay scattered among the rocks, a grim testament to the new inhabitant of the peak. We were in the dragon’s territory.

We rounded a sharp bend in the path and saw it: the entrance to a massive cave, a gaping, dark wound in the mountainside. The rock around the entrance was melted and glossy, as if it had been exposed to an immense heat. The ground was littered with gold coins, discarded armor, and the charred bones of less fortunate adventurers. This was the lair of the Crimson King.

“This is it,” Natsuki said, his voice a low, grim whisper. He drew his spirit blade, the pure, white light a stark contrast to the oppressive darkness of the cave mouth. “Lirael, Kaelen, scout the entrance. Elara, prepare your defensive wards. Aki…” He turned to me, his expression a mixture of determination and concern. “Stay behind me. No matter what.”

I just nodded, my throat too dry to speak. My mortal body was screaming with a primal fear I had never known. This was real. The threat wasn't a jealous god’s petty tricks; it was a creature of immense, physical power.

As the party moved into a cautious, defensive formation, a deep, rumbling sound echoed from within the cave. It was a sound so low and powerful that it vibrated in my bones, shaking the very stones beneath my feet. It was the sound of a slumbering mountain waking up.

Then, two points of light ignited in the deep blackness of the cave. They were not torches. They were eyes, vast and ancient, glowing with the molten gold of a forge. They blinked slowly, focusing on our small, insignificant party.

A head, larger than a carriage and covered in scales the color of dried blood, emerged from the darkness. A plume of black smoke billowed from its nostrils, carrying the scent of brimstone. The Crimson King was awake.

It unfolded its colossal form, stepping out of its lair and into the pale mountain light. It was magnificent and terrifying. Its body was a mountain of muscle and razor-sharp scales, its wings vast enough to blot out the sun. A row of black, obsidian-like horns crowned its head, and as it opened its mouth to let out a deafening, world-shaking roar, I could see the volcanic fire glowing in the back of its throat.

This was not a grumpy goose of a sky-lizard. This was an S-rank catastrophe. A being of pure, destructive power. My creation, in all its terrible glory.

And it was looking right at Natsuki.