[The Forbidden Hall]
Raiking sat on the obsidian throne cradling the sleeping infant in his arms. Libinea, perched on the throne's armrest, fluttered her fan to ward off the heat—despite being a Phoenix herself. Before them stood the Storm Dragon, towering and menacing in his humanoid form with static electricity crackling across his body.
"Is this the creature causing such chaos in the sect?"
"Keep your voice down—" Libinea began, but her caution came too late.
The baby's eyes had already locked onto the fierce gaze of the beast. Silence gripped the room momentarily, but much like any ticking time bomb, an explosion was inevitable.
WAHHHHHHH!
"Well done, fool," Libinea remarked.
But the turmoil didn't stop there; an intense pressure engulfed the throne hall. The Storm Dragon recognized this force, having endured it many times before.
"M-Master, For-forgive me.."
The Dragon was gripped by panic, his thoughts a whirlwind. He remembered flying over human celebrations during his patrols, noting how the vibrant, noisy bursts of light—mistaken by him for artillery—delighted young humans more than anything else.
Fireworks.
With this revelation, the Storm Dragon called upon his elemental magic. He formed a ball of condensed lightning in his enormous hands and launched it toward the high ceiling.
BOOM!
The lightning didn't damage the roof but instead shattered into hundreds of small, shimmering red and blue spirit-dragons that danced through the hall. The baby's cries stopped as she gazed at the spirits swirling around the throne, her tiny hands reaching out to grasp them.
"Gaga."
As the baby settled, the dragon's heart found tranquility, and the intense aura radiating from Raiking diminished. Yet, this serenity was short-lived, for the dragon caught a whiff of something in the air.
"Human blood."
His head whipped toward the main doors of the Forbidden Hall.
The massive doors creaked open, and Ezmelral entered, followed by a terrified mortal woman clutching her apron.
The Storm Dragon acted without hesitation, driven by an instinct to cleanse the sanctum.
CRACK-BOOM.
Lightning erupted from his body. His humanoid form shattered, transforming instantly into a fearsome creature with sharp teeth and azure scales. He lunged with predatory speed, his jaws set to close around the woman.
CLANG.
The hall lit up with a shockwave of sparks. The Dragon's teeth met not flesh but steel. Ezmelral stood between the beast and the nanny.
She hadn't drawn a weapon; instead, she had raised her forearm, her silver gauntlet firmly wedged in the Dragon's mouth, keeping his jaws apart.
"Stand down," Ezmelral instructed with a composed demeanor.
The Storm Dragon's tail was already in motion, but Ezmelral extended her left arm, causing the air to quiver. A multitude of swords materialized, creating a shockwave as the massive tail collided with the wall of blades.
"Why are you protecting this mortal?" the dragon inquired.
Before Ezmelral could respond, Raiking was already beside them. Neither Ezmelral nor Libinea, even with her Phoenix eyes, had noticed his movement. One moment he was on the dais; the next, he stood between the Nanny and the creatures, his gaze penetrating Martha's very being.
The room fell into a tense silence.
Martha blinked, the fear that had immobilized her moments before was replaced by a more powerful, ancient instinct known as the Nanny Override. She observed the man's awkward hold on the child, arms fully extended without supporting the neck, treating the infant as if it were a cursed object.
"The neck..." she whispered softly.
"What did you say?" the Storm Dragon asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.
"I said give her here!" Martha exclaimed, snatching the bundle from the God of Death. "You're holding her like a sack of turnips! Support the neck!"
Everyone anticipated Raiking would retaliate against the woman for her audacity. However, he remained still. He had already discerned her essence and simply watched as she adjusted her hold, placing one hand beneath the bottom and the other cradling the head, bringing the baby close to her chest.
"There, there," Martha murmured soothingly. "Did the big scary man hold you wrong? Yes, he did. He has no idea, does he?"
Raiking showed no hostility, prompting the Storm Dragon to withdraw his attack and revert to his humanoid form.
"The child... it's not crying," Ezmelral remarked as she dispelled her swords.
The room watched in awe, for typically, any movement would provoke a sonic outburst, yet the child was now giggling.
"Is this some kind of ancient ritual?" the dragon inquired.
Martha glanced up, abruptly realizing she was clutching a baby amidst a room filled with creatures. She swallowed nervously, tightening her hold on the child.
"M-my Lord," she stammered, her voice quivering once more. "Do... do you happen to have any milk?"
The question lingered in the air, weightier than any murderous intent.
They possessed weapons that could slice through reality.
They held treasures capable of purchasing entire kingdoms.
They had an archive of forbidden curses.
But they did not have milk.
"Why do you need such a substance?" Raiking inquired.
"She needs it to grow," Martha explained, adjusting the blanket. "Besides, it can help stop the crying."
Stop the crying.
The words echoed in everyone's mind.
Raiking's mind was already calculating the next steps to combat the baby's screeches, which rang worse than two swords clashing in the heat of battle. He remembered how the emperors of the Upper Realms nourished their offspring. Not with the fluids of ordinary beasts, but with nectar that refined the marrow and cleansed the soul of impurities.
"The Celestial Cow," Raiking murmured.
FWOOSH.
A streak of fire spiraled down from the throne, condensing beside him and materializing into Libinea. She smoothed her robes, her eyes alight with chaotic energy. "Did I hear correctly? Are you heading to the Divine Realm?"
Raiking nodded. "The local resources are insufficient."
"Take me with you," Libinea demanded immediately, snapping her fan open to conceal a grin that was far too sharp. "I haven't seen those self-righteous fools in a millennium."
Martha stood frozen, clutching the baby. Her mind raced. I just asked for milk, she thought frantically. Just simple, two-copper-coin milk. Why are they discussing Divine Realms? What is a Celestial Cow? Is it dangerous?
She bit her tongue. She had scolded him earlier and survived; she wasn't about to push her luck.
"Ezmelral."
"Master!"
"Stay here and learn her techniques. If the child wakes before I return, I expect you to replicate the rocking motion."
"Understood." She paused to glance at the door. "Master, what about the village?"
"The village?"
"The settlement I obtained the Nanny from... I may have used a significant show of force. The mortals were distressed, so it's highly probable they've sent a messenger to the Capital to report an incursion."
Raiking frowned, not wanting the Royal Army to disrupt the tranquility of his mountain with their presence while the baby slept—as noise was something to be avoided. He turned to the Storm Dragon.
"Go to the village and make sure no harm comes to them."
"I will defend the villagers with my life, Master."
Raiking placed a hand on Libinea's shoulder.
"Let's proceed."
In an instant, everything changed; one moment, the God of Death and the Phoenix were standing there, and the next, reality itself seemed to fold. Raiking disappeared into thin air, transcending the concept of distance, while Libinea transformed into a cloud of ash that spiraled away into the void.