The Red Dragon Just Wants To Do As It Pleases
Chapter 86 - 84: Responsibility

Chapter 86: Chapter 84: Responsibility

After a while, Priest Attilicia, who had been so furious he felt he might burst a blood vessel, slowly regained consciousness.

"Teacher Attilicia," David said with some concern.

If, because of me, I anger the Alchemy Grandmaster—a connection I worked so hard to make—and get barred from freely entering the Alchemy Workshop to ’learn,’ then wouldn’t that be a massive loss?

However, what no one expected was that after waking up, the usually cheerful, kind, and talkative Master Attilicia seemed like a completely different person. With a blank face, he heavily patted David’s large head and forced a slight smile as he managed to say, "Don’t worry about me. I just... received a bit of a shock, that’s all. You are a good child, and a good brother too. During this half-month, study the ways of alchemy well in this workshop. The alchemists here are more than capable of teaching you the basics. If you encounter any problems, you can also ask them for advice. Serxi, I leave this child in your care for now. His access during this period shall be the same as mine."

"Yes!" The alchemists, led by Serxi, quickly responded.

Although we can’t become personal disciples of Master Attilicia like him, it’s not a bad deal to establish a good relationship with a Silver Dragon who clearly comes from such a powerful family with extraordinary backing!

But to David and the other alchemists, these words seemed to imply that the temptation of becoming the final disciple of a renowned Alchemy Grandmaster from the Granyel Continent was still less important to David than going home to care for his sister. This further convinced everyone that the Silver Dragon’s backing was unimaginably terrifying; otherwise, why would Master Attilicia react so strongly to being rejected?

After all, besides Attilicia and David himself, no one knew that the mother of this ’Silver Dragon’ was actually a Red Dragon—the very "Crimson Calamity" they cursed daily due to the unpredictable weather.

"Then you..." David immediately felt relieved, or at least half-relieved. This time, he was genuinely concerned for Priest Attilicia himself.

In all honesty, since my transmigration, Priest Attilicia, apart from my sister, seems to be the person who values and cares about me the most. Even if it’s possibly more due to my ’genius’ and ’natural talent’... right?

"I have some personal matters and need to return to the Hall of Justice for a while to make some decisions and deal with them," Attilicia said. "If fate wills it, we shall meet again... child."

With these words, Priest Attilicia turned, dejected, pushed open the oak doors of the Alchemy Workshop, and walked alone and forlornly towards the Century Aroma Fields, in the direction of the Hall of Justice at the foot of the mountain. He left David, who stood stunned and lost in thought, and the equally bewildered crowd.

It was as if the Priest’s mood had influenced the magical weather, for the "Celestial Manipulation" spell he had cast seemed to malfunction at that moment. The sun, which had been shining brightly just moments before, was swallowed by gathering dark clouds. In the blink of an eye, lightning flashed and a torrential downpour began.

Priest Attilicia, not yet far from the workshop, was drenched like a drowned rat in no time. In theory, he had several spells to avoid such an embarrassing situation, but he used none of them, allowing the downpour to chill him to the bone.

Like a teacher abandoned by a favorite student.

Like a father pushed away by a long-lost son.

Like the young Silver Dragon, all those years ago, suffocating under the persistent, crimson shadow in his heart.

But quickly—and David wasn’t sure if it was his imagination—Priest Attilicia’s previously hunched and slightly stooped back seemed to straighten at a visible pace. What David also didn’t know was that Attilicia, walking in the rain, had already made a decision, one reached even faster than he himself had anticipated and before he even returned to the Hall of Justice. No matter the cost, he would snatch his children back from the clutches of the arrogant and greedy Pafila! This was a responsibility he, as a male, had to face. It was also the burden he, as a father of two, had to bear.

Once this thought, which instantly cleared his mind, took hold, Attilicia, who had evaded the issue for nearly ten years, finally showed the most charming smile of his dragon life, though no one was fortunate enough to witness it. The smile grew wider in the rain, then transformed into unrestrained, wild laughter. He laughed until his whole body trembled, laughed so much that David, standing behind him, was utterly puzzled, and laughed until everyone else exchanged bewildered glances, completely mystified.

But just as the impressive silhouette of the Silver Dragon Priest was about to fade into the horizon at the end of the flower fields, perhaps even the heavens were startled by the Silver Dragon’s almost heaven-defying resolution.

CRACK.

A bolt of lightning streaking across the sky struck the priest directly on his forehead.

Priest Attilicia, smoke emanating from his body, stumbled and nearly collapsed.

"Master Attilicia!" David and the group of alchemist disciples and grand-disciples cried out in shock.

Can you believe it? Our own esteemed Alchemy patriarch, struck by lightning in broad daylight!? How unlucky can one be!

They were about to rush into the storm to help him when they saw Priest Attilicia stand stiffly and, with great effort, raise a hand to stop them. They had already noticed that although Attilicia seemed relatively unharmed, his once radiant golden hair had been turned a glaring silver by the lightning strike.

Then, with his hair disheveled, he staggered onward, step by painstaking step, stubbornly and determinedly heading towards the Hall of Justice.

And that image of a figure, weather-beaten and disheveled yet resolute, was silently etched into David’s heart. He felt a strange urge to follow but stopped himself out of respect for an elder he revered.

BANG!

The great door of the Hall of Justice was kicked open. The one who entered was Attilicia, a follower and priest of the god of justice.

The priest, somewhat disheveled and now with silver hair, approached the nearly barren shrine of the god of justice. Staring at Tyr’s statue, he bellowed, "My god Tyr! I need your help! Please grant me the power to defeat Pafila!"

For a long moment, there was no response, just like the countless times he had prayed before.

"Heh, still the same, huh?" he chuckled, a rare, extreme wrath, befitting a Silver Dragon, suddenly flaring within him. This believer, usually so kind and upholding justice and goodness, kicked over the long table laden with candles, spices, books, and codices. "Tyr! Where the hell did you go?!"

"Huh?"

The enraged Attilicia then overturned the shrine adorned with daggers and longswords and stomped it into a ruined mess. "Serves you right for having no believers! Fuck you! Damn it, Tyr! You’re fucking dead!!!"

Attilicia, so incandescent with rage he seemed like a completely different dragon, stumbled into his bedroom, which also served as his private alchemy laboratory, after his tirade.

On this night, battered by a relentless storm, the lights in the alchemy laboratory flickered uncertainly all through the sleepless hours.

The next day, when the storm had passed and the sun’s rays pierced through the thick ash clouds at sunrise, Priest Attilicia, who had been busy all night, once again kicked open the great door of the Hall of Justice. He was girt with bottles of alchemical potions, his entire body laden with newly crafted enchanted weapons from the previous night—such as a Holy Flame Silver Crossbow and two Gleaming Longswords—looking like a walking armory. Attilicia looked up at the dawn sun, twisted his somewhat stiff, creaking neck, and muttered to himself, "Indeed, in the end, kindness and justice must be upheld by one’s own strength!"

Now, aside from myself, probably very few friends or kin would dare to venture with me again into that ’dragon’s den,’ not after already experiencing one hellish mission of rescuing this unlucky Silver Dragon from the clutches of that Crimson Calamity on the Old Continent. But even if I am the only one left, some things must be done.

"Saphistouin, my child, and my daughter whom I’ve never met," he vowed, "please wait a little longer. Wait for me to make a trip to the Gloomy Region to ’borrow’ a Phantom Cloak from the Drogsin Matriarchs. Then, I will go to Katjana Volcano on the Old Continent... and from the clutches of your damnable mother... I will rescue you. Definitely!!!"

「Half a month later, deep within Spider Nest City in the Gloomy Region.」

CREAK. The rusty cell door was opened and then slammed shut with force.

THUD. A silver-haired Drow, shackled with both Cold Iron Handcuffs and a Demonsbane Wristband, was thrown in, tumbling to the ground.

The Drow sat there bewildered, muttering to herself, This is nothing like I imagined! I haven’t even reached the Old Continent to face Pafila yet. Is a mere Drogsin Matriarch truly this powerful? I’ve been so careless!!!

At this moment, the only thing she felt grateful for was: Thank goodness I heeded my son Saphistouin’s words about the Drow and transformed into a Drow Elf—a female Drow Elf—before venturing into the Gloomy Region. Otherwise, I can’t even bear to imagine the terrible fate that would have befallen me if captured.

Even so, her current predicament was incredibly dire.

She heard Drow outside the cell chatting and laughing. "What’s the deal with the new one? She looks quite pitiable."

This comment made Attilicia stiffen. Could these Drow be so perverted that they wouldn’t spare me even in female form? she thought.

"Quit your dirty thoughts. She’s dangerous, probably some lunatic from a Celestial cult. Daring to attack Matriarch Flavia, a member of the Drogsin council, while loaded with alchemy potions? She was most likely used by one of the council’s bigwigs."

"Is that so? Looks like Spider Nest City is in for another turbulent period of undercurrents."

"Let them fight. Even if they end up fighting those High Elves, what’s it got to do with us jailers, forgotten by all Elves?"

"True, heh heh."

"Is that one really off-limits? I don’t mind females, you know."

"I heard she’s going to be sacrificed on the altar to the great Spider Queen in a few days. You dare touch the Spider Queen’s meal ahead of time and leave your drool on it? Just try it!"

"Heh, then forget it. I’ll find a male to blow off some steam."

"Let’s go, together."

Once those filthy Drow had abandoned their posts, Attilicia, nearly stupefied by what she’d heard, spat softly in disgust. As expected, an irredeemable bunch of filthy creatures. I wish I could burn this city of sin to the ground!

But remembering what the two Drow had said, Attilicia’s face filled with dejection and despair. To be sacrificed in only a few days? How useless am I... Someone, please save me... *whimper*... *whimper*...

In a neglected corner of the Gloomy Region, Priest Attilicia, now transformed into a Drow Elf, once again alone and vulnerable, whimpered and cried until she was a complete mess of tears.