Reborn in Danmachi as a Dragon-Kin (Rewrite)
Chapter 245

The air thickened, stifling any sound save the distant hum of weary Orario. 

A collective inhale, sharp and startled, ripped through the crowd. 

Then, silence. 

Every face, etched moments before with hardship and resentment, froze in naked disbelief, eyes wide with the sheer, unthinkable audacity of Syr’s words.

“What….” The word was a choked gasp, swallowed by the sudden, heavy quiet.

“Well, if life is so tough, painful, and sad,” Syr chirped, oblivious or indifferent to the shockwave she’d generated, a seemingly innocent smile gracing her features. 

She continued her impromptu speech with unnerving cheerfulness. 

“Then it’s best to kill yourselves. That way, you can’t feel anything anymore.”

Her expression was a picture of pure, unblemished innocence, utterly devoid of malice or even a hint of a joke. 

It felt less like a cruel jest and more like a genuine, albeit terrifyingly misguided, piece of advice.

She turned her clear gaze towards the man whose earlier drunken tirade had drawn the crowd’s attention. 

He stood frozen, his jaw slack, his face pale beneath the grime and sweat.

“Perhaps you will see your sister again in heaven if you kill yourself now,” Syr offered, her voice soft yet disturbingly earnest. 

She leaned slightly forward, as if sharing a fascinating secret, her small fist involuntarily clenching in what looked alarmingly like excitement. 

“And if what the gods say is true, you will be reincarnated someday and get to live again.”

The man recoiled instinctually, stumbling back a step. 

The fog of his drunkenness seemed to dissipate instantly, replaced by the cold clarity of fear.

“I…” he choked, his voice a ragged whisper. 

Words caught in his throat, tangled and incoherent, unable to form any semblance of a response to the bizarre proposition.

Syr’s smile widened slightly at his reaction, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. 

She didn’t press him, her gaze sweeping back to the throng of people.

“Excuse me?” she called out, her voice easily cutting through the heavy quiet. 

“Is there anyone else who wants to die along with this gentleman here? It will bring an end to all your suffering and hardship.” She extended the offer as casually as if she were asking if anyone wanted another pastry.

The crowd remained utterly motionless, silent and stunned. 

They stared at the slight figure of Syr, unsure how to categorize or even comprehend the disturbing presence before them. 

‘She might be a psychopath’ Kaguya, Lyra, and Dimitra all thought in a chillingly synchronous internal chorus from their hidden vantage point.

‘She is good’ Draco’s thought, his opinion slightly contrasting theirs. 

He observed the scene with a detached, analytical gaze, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. 

“That’s one way to deal with crazy people,” he muttered under his breath, subtly praising Syr’s radical tactic. 

“Either ignore them or just be freakier than them.”

From his elevated position, Draco’s mind briefly drifted. 

‘Reincarnation, huh?’ he mused, the mention of the concept in Syr’s jarring speech catching his attention. 

‘Now that’s something I didn’t expect to hear here. If I remember correctly, most of the Danmachi cast are reincarnated individuals from a past era… fascinating’ he thought.

Down below, the man finally managed to claw back some semblance of control over his mind and voice. 

He fumbled, desperately trying to string together coherent words to undo the damage of his outburst.

“I… I didn’t mean to…” he stammered, his sentence trailing off into muddled incoherence. 

He was clearly trying to convey remorse or retraction, but the terror and confusion had robbed him of the ability to articulate it.

“It’s okay, I know,” Syr replied simply, her tone shifting again, this time taking on a light, teasing quality. 

She playfully stuck her tongue out at him, a gesture so incongruous with her preceding words it was jarring. 

“I was just teasing.”

She paused, letting the tension ease slightly, though the crowd remained wary. 

Then, her expression softened visibly, the innocent facade replaced by a look of genuine concern, though still underscored by an unusual intensity. 

“But you know who else generally doesn’t want to die? The adventurers.”

The man flinched, his body shaking slightly as he recalled the angry words he had shouted moments before, the condemnation of the very people Syr now defended.

“They are out there as we speak, fighting for you, you know?” Syr continued, her voice taking on a more serious, heartfelt tone. 

“Of course, they can’t save everyone – no single person or group could. But that is not their fault.” Her gaze swept over the crowd, her eyes holding a deep, unsettling understanding. 

“And nobody blames them more for the lives lost than they blame themselves.”

‘At least, most of them’ Syr added silently in her own mind, a fleeting shadow crossing her unique eyes.

No one in the crowd dared to refute her words. 

Bitter, unwelcome truth permeated the air. 

It was the reality they knew, yet had chosen to lash out against in their pain and fear.

“It’s not nice being misunderstood, is it?” Syr asked, her voice gentle, almost pleading. 

“So I hope you all understand now that those brave men, women, and even children are doing what they can for you all. They are fighting against insurmountable odds every single day.” She finished with a bright, almost blindingly sunny smile that somehow made her message even more impactful.

The man, his face etched with a mix of shame and lingering defensiveness, looked at Syr. 

He clenched his fist, choking out one final, desperate act of protest, clinging to the justification for his earlier anger.

“But… but they shouldn’t tell us they are going to protect us if they can’t do it!” he protested, his voice raspy. 

“Like that Astraea Familia, shouting justice this, justice that. Isn’t making promises they can’t keep just to look good bad? It gives us a false sense of being protected!”

Up above, Lyra and Kaguya stiffened, their faces burning with instant rage at the mention of their familia, the unjust accusation like a physical blow. 

But Draco and Dimitra placed a hand on their shoulders, restraining them, urging them through silent looks to simply continue observing.

“So what?” Syr countered, her earlier softness hardening slightly, though still devoid of aggression. 

She saw through the man’s words, recognizing them as a desperate shield against the crushing guilt of having stoned members of the Astraea and Bahamut familias the previous day.

“We need people to look out for each other, whatever the reason,” Syr declared, her voice rising slightly, carrying conviction. 

“It doesn’t matter if their goodness is just for show or not. Any effort, any act of protection, is needed now more than ever.”

The man, along with the entire crowd, was rendered speechless by her plain, uncompromising declaration. 

They had expected a philosophical debate, maybe an apology; instead, they got a stark, practical truth.

Syr placed a hand over her chest, tilting her head slightly as she glanced off into the hazy distance, towards the towering Babel tower.

“In times like this, anyone who makes an effort has the right to be called a hero,” she said, her voice full of quiet strength. 

“They are fighting out there, against despair. So don’t we need to do the same? Battle against the depression that is trying to take over our own hearts?” Her gaze returned to the crowd, her eyes holding sadness mixed with resolve. 

“Even if we all can’t be heroes who face monsters in the dungeon, the least we can do is stand by those who do. Not against them.”

Those simple, direct words struck a bitter, resonant blow deep within the hearts of the civilians gathered there. 

The awful, heavy feeling of guilt, for their recent cruelty and lashing out against the very people who risked their lives for them, settled like a physical weight. 

They had been offered protection, preached justice, and they had responded with stones and condemnation. 

Syr’s words were a mirror reflecting their own shame.

“She truly is one impressive person,” Dimitra murmured from their hidden perch, her voice filled with genuine awe. 

She quietly clapped her hands together once in silent applause. 

This was what the adventurers, what they, had wanted to convey, but in the chaos and pain, they had never been given the chance, or perhaps lacked the skill, to do so effectively. 

Dimitra was deeply impressed by Syr’s effortless delivery, her ability to cut through the noise and reach the core of the matter, even if the motivation behind it was, characteristically for Syr, shrouded in mystery. 

It was a positive thing for Orario, regardless.

Lyra and Kaguya, their initial rage having subsided, felt a different kind of heat rise to their cheeks – embarrassment. 

They were members of the Astraea Familia, self-proclaimed envoys of justice, yet they had to listen to someone else deliver the damning, necessary truth that they themselves should have spoken long ago. 

This should have been their duty, part of their mission. 

However, both Lyra and Kaguya were acutely aware that, due to their unique circumstances and upbringing, they weren’t particularly adept at dealing with people or navigating complex emotional situations. 

That role had always fallen to Alise, their captain, who possessed a natural talent for connecting with people and handling such delicate matters.

Suddenly, Draco’s voice, sharp and urgent, cut through their introspection. 

“Everyone, get ready to fight.” His casual demeanor vanished, replaced by the coiled tension of a predator.

The sudden shift pulled Lyra, Kaguya, and Dimitra’s attention instantly away from the crowd below and towards him.

“Is it the Evilus?” Dimitra asked, her hand instinctively going to her bow. 

They had been expecting this, bracing for a potential attack that would prey on the city’s vulnerability.

Draco gave a curt nod. 

A large, unprotected crowd of people struggling with despair was the perfect, enticing bait for the forces of the evilus.

That was precisely why they had remained hidden, watching and waiting.

He had kept his search magic active, a constant, low-level thrum of awareness spreading out from him, ready to detect any unnatural movements or hostile presences in the surrounding area.

Wasting no time, Draco rapidly issued instructions in low. 

He assigned Lyra, Kaguya, and Dimitra to their ambush positions, strategically placing them to intercept the approaching enemies from different angles. 

His own role, he decided, would be to take to the skies above the crowd. 

He needed to act as an overhead guardian and, crucially, intercept any enemies that managed to slip through the net his companions were forming before they reached the vulnerable civilians. 

A panicked crowd would become an uncontrollable stampede, making their task of protecting everyone with only four people virtually impossible.

‘I thought that some Freya Familia guards would be around to protect Syr’ Draco thought, a flicker of surprise mixed with irritation crossing his face. 

‘But I guess I was expecting too much. Only Anya seems capable’ 

Taking a deep breath to project his voice, Draco cleared his throat.

“Greetings, people of Orario!” he announced, his voice echoing commandingly from above, instantly grabbing the attention of every single person in the square below. 

“My name is Draco, Captain of the Bahamut Familia!”

A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd, confusion mixing with renewed fear.

“What is happening?” someone whispered, their voice trembling.

“How is he flying?” another asked, pointing up at the sight of the winged demi-human silhouetted against the sky. 

“I have never seen a demi-human like that!”

“Wait, isn’t he that person with the Astraea Familia yesterday?” someone else said, a flicker of recognition tightening their expression.

Down on the ground, Syr’s head snapped up. 

Spotting Draco above, she beamed, a bright, almost childlike smile replacing her earlier intensity. 

“Draco-san!” she yelled, waving enthusiastically at him from below. 

But Draco remained focused, his expression unreadable, his gaze scanning the area beyond the crowd. 

He ignored her greeting completely.

“Hmmph,” Syr huffed, her shoulders slumping slightly, her expression turning into a remarkably childish pout at his lack of reaction.

“Quiet!” Draco roared, his voice seemingly amplified. 

He unleashed a subtle, low-level burst of pressure, not intended to harm, but to subdue their panicked murmuring and command their immediate attention.

The effect was instantaneous and absolute. 

The crowd fell silent, every individual frozen stiff, their eyes wide with a primal fear that transcended their earlier despair. 

The sudden, oppressive weight of his aura pressed down on them, stealing their breath and locking their limbs.

When everyone had fallen utterly quiet, paralyzed by the sudden pressure, Draco continued speaking, his voice firm and authoritative.

“Now, I need you all to listen quietly and remain calm,” he instructed. 

“There is a group of evilus soldiers approaching this area.” He paused, letting the chilling information sink in, watching their faces contort with dawning terror.

“The Evilus is coming! We should ru….!” someone shrieked, their survival instinct overriding the fear induced by his aura. 

But before the panic could spread, Draco increased the pressure focused on that single individual just enough to render them unconscious. 

The person crumpled to the ground, reinforcing the message.

Draco didn’t have the time or the patience for gentle persuasion. 

In this situation, speed and control were paramount. 

His methods were blunt, but effective.

“I thought I said to remain calm,” Draco said, his tone low and slightly threatening, a subtle edge of warning woven into his voice. 

He lightly increased the overall pressure on the others, just enough to keep their instinct to immediately flee in check without causing them to collapse entirely.

“Now, a few of my allies have gone to intercept them, but some might slip through,” he explained, his gaze sweeping over the huddled figures below. 

“So, I will need you all to slowly and calmly follow that girl, Syr, to the tavern she works at.” He glanced down at Syr, who was looking up at him, her expression a mixture of confusion and questioning.

“Syr,” he addressed her directly, his voice carrying clearly. 

“I seem to recall you promised safety to anyone who came to your tavern. It’s the closest safe place from here, assuming the other camps are being attacked.” He nodded towards her. 

“So, please lead them there. I will escort you all from above, after dealing with the closest enemies.” As he finished speaking, he gradually lifted the oppressive pressure of his draconic aura, allowing the crowd to breathe again, though they remained unnaturally still.

Immediately after delivering his instructions, Draco didn’t wait for a response. 

With a powerful beat of his wings, he shot upwards, positioning himself high above the square. His eyes, sharp and focused, immediately began scanning the surrounding rooftops and alleys, searching for the tell-tale signs of the evilus soldiers who might have bypassed the ambush Lyra, Kaguya, and Dimitra were setting. 

He was the last line of defense before they reached the terrified civilians.

Down below, Anya, standing near Syr, just stared up at the rapidly ascending figure of Draco, a memory flashing unbidden through her mind.

“Allen…” she murmured softly, a hint of longing in her voice. 

But she quickly shook her head, dismissing the thought. 

There was work to be done.

As soon as Draco left, the heavy pressure on everyone was completely lifted, and the crowd gasped, taking in shuddering breaths.

“Such a meanie,” Syr muttered under her breath, still feeling a touch indignant at being ignored. “I will definitely get you to look at me next time, Draco-san.”

Then, she turned back to the crowd, her posture straightening, her voice regaining its earlier clarity and strength. 

“Alright everyone,” she said, her voice projecting confidence. 

“You heard him. Don’t panic and follow me. We are going to the Hostess of Fertility.” She gestured towards the direction of the tavern. 

“Don’t worry about the evilus. If it’s the Bahamut Familia, they are strong and will protect us until we safely reach the tavern.”

Her earlier, unsettling frankness, followed by her surprising defense of the adventurers and her calmness in the face of the looming threat, had unexpectedly earned her a degree of trust from the bewildered crowd. 

Combined with the simple, direct instruction from the terrifying, flying captain of the Bahamut Familia, it was enough to break their paralysis.

“This way!” Syr called out, already moving towards her supply cart. 

Quickly packing up the few remaining items she had brought to distribute, she began to lead the civilian throng, a small but determined figure guiding them towards the promised, fragile safety of her tavern. 

The crowd, still shaken but galvanized by fear and the unexpected leadership offered to them, slowly began to shuffle forward, following her like a bewildered flock.

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