Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 260: Dragon Slayer III

Chapter 260: Dragon Slayer III

Atticus gritted his teeth as he saw that tiny chicken endure the burst of flame with a terrified scream. If only the dragon had waited a few seconds longer to strike!

His weapon was just completed, and there was no better time for him to use it, but that stupid overgrown reptile had to open its mouth and shoot flames. There was nothing Atticus could do for Zephyr at this point but to mentally pray he didn’t suffer too much pain before dying a fiery death.

Atticus didn’t care much for Zephyr, but Daphne would be heartbroken and devastated to know that her not-so-baby griffin died so terribly. The only thing Atticus could do now was to avenge him, so as to give Daphne a peace of mind and to ensure his sacrifice wasn’t in vain.

Atticus launched himself into the air and sent the mighty spear, crafted from hundreds of swords and metal, straight at the dragon’s skull with every intention to kill. The dragon barely had time to react; one of its pupils swiveled up to catch sight of Atticus and his makeshift weapon and it jerked back, stopping the fiery onslaught against Zephyr, but it was too little too late.

Atticus had infused the bulk of his magic into the tip, allowing it to carve through the scales and pierce through bone.

The spear shot straight through the thinnest part of its neck, drenching Atticus’s body in a spurt of dragon blood. The dragon tried to spew out flame, but Atticus purposely aimed the weapon right through its throat, rendering its flame useless.

The dragon let out one last weak roar of disbelief as it tried to bite Atticus, but Atticus simply fired another blow of magic against its eyes, causing it to scream in pain.

At long last, it was over. The dragon began to fall through the skies.

Atticus wanted to heave a sigh of relief, but he had to look for Zephyr. The battle had caused fumes and smoke to rise, covering the skies with a thick layer of haze. It obstructed his vision but Atticus tried his best to scan the ground, looking for his feathers.

Hopefully, there was still something of Zephyr to bury. He deserved that much.

"What happened to you?" An annoyingly familiar voice asked. "You look like you took a bath in blood!"

To Atticus’s utmost surprise, Zephyr was alive and well. In fact, he seemed to look even more energetic than before. His wings were bigger now.

"I should be the one saying this!" Atticus demanded, wiping an exhausted hand over his face.

Dragon blood shouldn’t cause hallucinations, so Atticus had no way to explain how Zephyr remained unharmed after being blasted by dragon fire with no room to escape.

He, however, took to Zephyr’s advice and quickly swung the dragon’s blood off himself. The layer of magic he had used to allow himself flight had also encased him in somewhat of a barrier. It wouldn’t have been able to completely block hits but it was effective enough in keeping grime off himself.

"Yuck!" Zephyr gagged as the remainder of the dragon’s blood splattered on him, courtesy of Atticus. It smelled awful, foul and putrid like rotten eggs mixed with human blood.

Atticus, of course, paid him no mind. "How are you not burnt to death?" he asked.

"I don’t know?" Zephyr shrugged, wiping the stains off him as best as he could. "But I’m not complaining!"

"I am!" Atticus groaned. If he had known Zephyr had a possible immunity to dragonfire, then he wouldn’t have worried about him.

"Hey! I’m telling Daphne that you want me dead!" Zephyr exclaimed huffily, his feathers ruffling in the breeze.

"Keep talking and I’ll make sure you’ll never speak again," Atticus warned. "Now let’s go back to Daphne. I don’t want her alone with her disgusting siblings for a second longer than needed."

***

The thunderous applause that rang through the forest opening could easily rival the dragon’s roar back when it still terrorized the town. Once Atticus and Zephyr were barely visible, the surviving townsfolk had already rushed straight for them, gathering at the edge as they waited for their heroes to land.

Daphne stood right at the front of the crowd, her face lit up like a night of star showers, unable to conceal the relief and joy that danced in her eyes.

Without much care for the rest of the people, Atticus soared right for his wife. Magic fizzled away from his figure right before he hugged her― he didn’t want magic to come between them. His arms wrapped around her waist tightly and she reciprocated, hers coming around him so that she could bury her face right in the crook of his neck.

"You scared me," she murmured. Atticus could clearly hear the sobs and tears that her voice carried, still trembling from her worry.

He ran a hand soothingly up and down her back, calming her down and lightly shushing her choked sobs.

"You have such little faith in me," he muttered, chuckling when she pulled back to smack him square in the chest. He only laughed harder, wiping his thumbs under her reddened, swollen eyes to get rid of the tears that had already begun to freeflow.

"I saw one of you get hit by the fire," Daphne said, sniffling. Even though they had already pulled apart from their hug, her fingers still gripped Atticus’s clothes tightly at his waist, afraid that if she let go, this would all be just a dream and she would wake in a world where he was dead.

"I suppose the dragon was just craving roasted chicken," Atticus idly commented. "The poor lizard didn’t even get a chance to have its last meal."

"I am right here, you know?" Zephyr huffed from behind them, causing Daphne to rise to her tiptoes so that she could look over Atticus’s shoulder. Her lovely husband, possessive as ever, stood a little straighter so that Daphne would be much too short to peer over.

She pouted, swatting him on the shoulder before he eventually relented. Zephyr had made his way over as well, his red wings dragging behind him across the dirt.

"Your wings!" Daphne gasped. "They’ve grown!"

"Who knew that dragonfire could cause that?" Atticus mused. "He’s not even a phoenix."

Zephyr, who cared not for Atticus and his words of warning, moved forward and pulled Daphne straight into a large, bear hug. Daphne was instantly crushed into his warm embrace, her face buried against Zephyr’s chest as she awkwardly patted him as a form of comfort.

"Get your slimy hands off my wife before I relieve you of them," Atticus said lowly, his words venomous. He made sure not to speak too loudly lest the crowd came up with even more speculations than they no doubt already did.

"I was so scared!" Zephyr all but wailed. If it weren’t for the fact that Atticus was sure it was all a dramaticized act, he might’ve even thought that the pathetic bird was crying. "I thought I would die and never see you again!"

"Oh, you poor baby," Daphne cooed, akin to how a mother would pacify a child. "You’ve done a wonderful job."

Atticus could only roll his eyes. Hopefully, their act of heroism would be able to tank this blow.

But of course, more fuel would always be doused into a growing fire.

"Sister Daphne, what are you doing?!"