Rising god
Chapter 55: Not Ready

Chapter 55: Not Ready

The Dragon’s Pit loomed before Baines, a cavernous maw carved into the mountainside, its jagged entrance exhaling a faint, sulfuric warmth. The air thrummed with ancient power, a pulse that seemed to resonate with the very stones.

Baines stood motionless, his sharp gaze fixed on Smallfoot, who now bore a human form that radiated an unfamiliar intensity. ’She’s changed,’ he muttered, his voice barely audible over the distant rumble of the pit.

The transformation was stark, not just her newfound ability to shift into a human guise, but something deeper. Once a 3rd star dragon, comparable to her rider, Smallfoot’s strength now eluded precise measurement. She hovered in a nebulous space, stronger than a 3rd star, but not quite a 4th star.

’Or is there a different ranking for dragons?’ Baines mused, his mind sifting through possibilities. Her aura had shifted, exuding an air of maturity, dominance, and a subtle undercurrent of danger that marked her as a true dragon.

The title no longer felt like a mere label; it was a mantle she wore with undeniable authority.

His curiosity sated for the moment, Baines spoke, his tone clipped and direct. "Alright, take me there."

"Huh?" Smallfoot’s eyes widened, her delicate human features twisting in disbelief.

She had just unveiled a monumental change in her being, a transformation that should have sparked awe or at least a question. Yet Baines stood impassive, his expression as unyielding as the stone around them.

’Does he hate relating with people that much?’ she wondered, a flicker of frustration crossing her mind. With a resigned sigh, she turned and led the way into the Dragon’s Pit, her footsteps echoing softly against the rocky floor.

As they descended into the shadowed depths, Smallfoot broke the silence. "That thing you taught me, it was the same technique you used to mimic the dragon’s tongue, wasn’t it?" She glanced back, hoping for a response, but Baines remained silent, his focus fixed ahead.

Undeterred, she continued, her voice gaining strength. "That technique... it was like a key unlocking something I’d forgotten. Memories of our ancestors and stories came flooding back, which was the story I told you about. Days later, the changes began. My scales thickened, my body grew larger, redder. I remembered the Eye of Truth, the Dragon Fear, the long-lost magic of our kind, I remembered everything."

She paused, her voice resonating with pride. "We are dragons, not subjects to be ruled. After this, I’ll meet the family head and share our history, our true heritage." Her words carried the weight of resolve, as if she were steeling herself for a reckoning.

Turning to Baines, she bowed deeply, her human form graceful yet fierce. "And you," she said, her eyes meeting his, "you helped me achieve this. You helped the Red Dragon Clan reclaim their lost lineage. For that, I thank you."

Baines’s expression darkened, his patience thinning. "All that isn’t my concern. Just show me the lair." His voice was sharp, laced with annoyance.

Smallfoot’s brow furrowed. "Not your concern?" she echoed, her tone tinged with indignation. "But you said you’d help us."

"Help you?" Baines’s aura flared, a sudden, oppressive force that filled the cavern. Smallfoot instinctively stepped back, a tingle of dread crawling up her spine, as if an invisible blade hovered at her throat.

She pressed on, her voice steady despite the tremor in her heart. "Yes, we agreed. I’ll take you to Lady Darka’s lair, and you’ll help us."

Baines halted, his eyes narrowing. "And what will I get from that lair?"

"Anything you want," Smallfoot replied, her voice quickening with urgency. "Weapons, techniques, gold, whatever you desire."

"And if I want the whole lair?" His words were a challenge, delivered with a cold edge.

Smallfoot’s pupils flashed reptilian, her own aura surging in defiance. "Don’t push your boundaries," she growled, her voice low and dangerous. To insult Lady Darka’s lair, the sacred repository of her clan’s legacy, was unthinkable.

"Then we’re done here," Baines hissed, turning on his heel.

"Ah—wait!" Smallfoot’s composure cracked, desperation creeping into her voice as he chased after him. She couldn’t let him walk away, not when he was the key to her clan’s revival.

She was unwilling.

"WAIT," She stretched out her hand as she got before him.

"Let’s talk. You can’t take everything from the lair. It’s our ancestors’ only remaining possession."

Baines didn’t break stride. Smallfoot’s frustration boiled over. "Alright, one-eighth of the lair!" she called, chasing after him.

He didn’t respond, his steps unrelenting.

"One-eighth the lair could fund an extravagant life for 5,000 years!" she said, disbelief coloring her words. Still, he pressed forward, nearing the pit’s entrance.

Smallfoot’s resolve wavered, her voice strained. "One-quarter, that’s the best I can offer." She watched him, hoping for a flicker of interest, but Baines’s face remained an impassive mask.

She didn’t know Baines yet. She was simply just joking.

He didn’t even need to go into all this talk in the first place.

With a thought, he could bind her under his Slave Chain, force her to reveal the lair’s location, and take everything. Yet here she was, offering a mere fraction of its treasures. The absurdity of it grated on him.

It wasn’t just that. If he helped the Darkan family reclaim their heritage, they would rise to a power that could shake the empire, either as a formidable ally or a looming threat. Their glory would be eternal, and their strength would be unmatched. Those words couldn’t be underestimated. They would be dragons again.

And what would he gain? A quarter of a lair’s contents, resources he swore he could make if he put his mind to it. To him, it was a speck of dust in the face of their potential dominance.

But that was all to the side.

Why should he? He owed them nothing. If anything, they were indebted to him for the knowledge and help he’d shared all this time.

To summarize, she was not ready to lose something precious to regain something else precious to them. It didn’t make sense.

"Please, try to understand," Smallfoot pleaded, her voice softening as she hurried to keep pace. "The lair is the cornerstone of our revival. It’s the stepping stone to our clan’s return to greatness."

Baines stopped, turning to face her. "Then try to understand my point of view as well," he said, pointing to himself, his expression devoid of warmth. "I don’t care."

The words landed like a blow. Smallfoot froze, her draconic senses confirming the truth in his voice. He meant every syllable.

To him, their plight, their legacy, was irrelevant unless it served his pursuit of revenge. If the lair didn’t advance his goals, it was nothing more than dust on the road.

Dejected, Smallfoot turned back toward the lair, her mind racing for alternatives to salvage her clan’s hope. She didn’t notice the faint shift in the air behind her.

-Wick,

Baines called.

-Yes, master

-Follow her.

-Yes, master.

Wick’s presence faded, a silent specter trailing Smallfoot into the depths of the pit.

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