Chapter 79: Saving the Cat Girl

She was a cat beastman, looking to be around nine or ten years old. She had soft golden fur, delicate pink ears, and big, vibrant green eyes that were wide with absolute terror.

She was wearing a luxurious white silk dress decorated with fine gold embroidery, but her guards were lying unconscious fifty feet away, knocked out by falling stone debris.

She was completely frozen in fear, staring up at the dragon’s fiery jaw, unable to move a single muscle.

The dragon unleashed its crimson flame. A massive wave of dark red fire rushed down the street like a liquid river of death, threatening to swallow the girl and my workshop whole.

I moved.

I activated my golden mana, channeling it straight down into my boots. I vanished from the edge of the shadow, appearing right beside the cat girl in a fraction of a second.

I grabbed her around her small waist, pulling her slender body against mine and diving behind a thick granite pillar just as the outer edge of the crimson flame slammed into the stone, turning the air around us scorching hot.

The cat girl gasped, burying her face into my brown coat, her small body trembling like a leaf.

I did not have time to comfort her. I stepped out from behind the stone pillar, standing directly in front of the roaring black dragon.

I raised my right hand, pointing my index finger straight at the dragon’s open throat where the corrupted black mana threads were pulsing wild.

“CLOSE,” I commanded, my voice cold, sharp, and absolute.

A thick, invisible thread of my refined golden mana shot out from my fingertip, traveling through the air like a razor-sharp needle. It bypassed the dragon’s dense, magic-resistant scales entirely, entering its chest and slamming straight onto its main internal mana valve.

Click.

It was a total, absolute lock.

The dragon’s massive internal mana circulation stopped instantly. The crimson flames gathering inside its mouth backfired, exploding harmlessly inside its lungs.

The bright crimson glow in the monster’s eyes vanished, replaced by a dull, lifeless grey. Its giant leathery wings folded limp, and its heart stopped beating in less than a second.

The thirty-ton black dragon fell straight out of the sky, crashing onto the stone street with a deafening impact that shook the entire city block.

CRASH!

Thick clouds of grey dust and smoke billowed across the plaza, covering the street in total darkness.

Silence fell over the district.

The crocodile guards, the beastmen mages, and the hiding citizens slowly peeked out from their shelters, staring in absolute, stunned disbelief at the massive dead dragon lying motionless in the middle of the road.

Behind the stone pillar, the young cat girl slowly opened her eyes. She sat on the dusty ground, looking up at me with wide green eyes filled with shock and wonder.

Her small pink nose twitched softly, inhaling the air around me.

She took in my unique scent, a subtle, pleasant mixture of clean brass polish, fresh oak wood, and the faint, warm ozone smell of golden mana. Her fluffy cat tail twitched once, her ears raising high as she stared at my face as if she had just seen a god.

I did not pay attention to her gaze.

I stepped through the thick smoke toward the dragon’s massive corpse. Keeping my body hidden from the distant guards, I pulled a thin iron picking wire from my sleeve and jammed it into the soft scale gap near the base of the dragon’s neck.

Click.

I popped open the internal chest bone, reached my hand deep inside the warm muscle cavity, and grabbed the dragon’s glowing crimson core.

It was a high level dragon core, pulsing with massive thermal energy and raw fire power.

I quickly pulled it out and slid the heavy core directly into my secret magic storage pouch before the dust cleared. It was going to be the ultimate heat power source for my furnace back at the shop.

I turned back, glancing at the cat girl who was still sitting on the ground, staring at me with her mouth slightly open.

“Are you okay, cat girl?” I asked softly.

Before she could form a single word, I turned around, pulled up my coat collar, and melted back into the thick grey smoke, disappearing straight back into my shop before the imperial guards could arrive to question anyone.

I slipped back into the shop through the front doorway, making sure my boots made almost no sound on the floorboards.

The thick grey smoke from the burning street was still floating through the open entrance, carrying the sharp stink of ash and melted stone.

Outside, people were shouting in panic, and the heavy metal boots of crocodile guards were clanking loudly against the cobblestones.

Inside the showroom, everything was strangely quiet.

I looked over at the corner behind the mahogany counter. The empty wooden rain barrel was still sitting there, and two long grey furry legs were still sticking straight up into the air. They were trembling so hard that the whole barrel was vibrating against the wall.

“Master Assistant,” I called out, wiping a streak of black soot off my cheek with my sleeve. “You can come out now. The dragon is dead.”

The grey legs froze. For three long seconds, nothing happened. Then, a muffled, raspy voice echoed from deep inside the iron barrel.

“Are you sure, Silvester?” Tibbar asked, his voice sounding small and squashed. “Are you absolutely certain it is not pretending to be dead so it can eat me when I stand up?”

“It is lying flat on the road,” I said, walking over to the counter and picking up a clean rag to wipe down my tools. “Its head is smashed against the stone fountain, and it is definitely not breathing. The guards are already surrounding it.”

A loud grunt came from inside the barrel. The old rabbit man struggled frantically for a moment, kicking his feet in the air until he managed to tip the heavy barrel over onto its side.

He rolled out onto the floorboards like a sack of potatoes, the wooden laundry bucket still stuck firmly over his head and ears.

He yanked the wooden bucket off with a loud pop, his long grey ears springing back up into the air.

They were completely covered in grey dust and cobwebs. He sat on the floor, gasping for air and clutching his chest with both paws while his purple eyes darted wildly around the room.

“Oh my god,” Tibbar wheezed, patting his blue vest to see if he was still intact. “That was the single most terrifying moment of my entire life. I saw my whole life flash before my eyes! I saw my childhood carrot garden! I saw my first tax payment! I saw the time I accidentally dropped a rotten egg in the guard captain’s soup!”

“You put a bucket on your head and jumped into a barrel,” I pointed out, setting my rag down. “That was your grand survival plan?”

“It was a brilliant tactical decision!” Tibbar defended himself, scrambling up onto his feet and dusting off his trousers. “Dragons do not eat wooden barrels! Everyone knows that! It is basic beast knowledge!”

He hurried over to the front door, sticking his long snout out into the cool air to peek down the street. His jaw dropped so low it almost touched his chest.

In the middle of the main avenue, right in front of the tea house, sat the massive black dragon. Its obsidian scales were dull and lifeless, and thick clouds of white steam were rising from its skin as the cold air cooled its dark body.

Dozens of crocodile guards were standing around the giant corpse with heavy iron chains, while three high level imperial mages in red robes walked around the tail, waving their silver staves and chanting complex inspection spells.

“It really is dead,” Tibbar whispered in complete shock. “How did it die so fast? The high magic barrier shattered like glass, but then the beast just collapsed out of nowhere! Did the imperial guards hit it with a hidden ballista?”

“Must have been a heart attack,” I said smoothly, walking past him to check the iron hinges on our front door. “Big flying lizards probably have weak blood vessels.”

Tibbar turned around, looking at me with a suspicious glare in his purple eyes. “A dragon having a heart attack right when it was about to burn our shop into charcoal? That is awfully convenient, little master.”

“Luck is a useful tool in business,” I replied, grabbing the wooden handle and locking the front door tight. “Come on. Help me close the window shutters. The guards are going to clear the street, and I want to spend the rest of the day working down in the cellar.”

We pulled the heavy iron shutters across the wide display window, latching them securely from the inside.

Once the showroom was dark and quiet, I lit a brass oil lamp and led Tibbar down the steep stone stairs into the basement beneath the shop.

Enjoying the journey? Don’t let the adventure stop here!