Nothing happened. When we had arrived to the forest, it was already at the state it was now. Some giant magibeast must have gone berserk. Maybe one fought another like a scene from a Kaiju movie.
“We don’t have much of an alternative. It would be pretty embarrassing for me to admit that I made my attack too powerful.”
“Uh-huh. I wasn’t worried about dignity, Tiamat.”
I didn’t have even the teeniest, tiniest, pint-sized care for that. The problem was that her attack was as powerful as a weapon of mass destruction. If people found out that Tiamat was the culprit of this, it would be a huge deal. With great power came great trouble. Those with this kind of power would be feared and eliminated, or used for nefarious means. Either way, it wouldn’t be sunshine and rainbows.
The various overpowered protagonists would make some effort to conceal their powers if they didn’t live in the realm of fiction. The only excuse for one not to do so would be if their mental capacity was that of a teenager’s. Just as the tall trees catch more wind, life becomes harder the more one showcases their talent. That’s a lesson that anyone learns once they make it out to the real world. It’s exactly why fictional protagonists possess boundless powers, and even act like they don’t have a care in the world. If you were to act that way in real life, people would fear you, use you, and hate you until you die alone. It’s sad, but that’s human nature.
Imagine that there’s someone in your school or workplace who has good grades or is good at their job, but is a massive jerk. Could you ever sincerely enjoy their company? I couldn’t. As an adult, I would maintain some sort of cordial relationship all the while wishing for their destruction.
“In short, you’re saying I should conceal my strength.”
“Yes. I personally don’t think you’ll use it for evil, but I can’t say the same for other people.”
“Mm-hm.”
“Besides, if you kept getting all the praise, I would get jealous. Not very noble of me, I know.”
I played it as a joke, but that was the truth. Tiamat was a good soul and a good partner, that much was indisputable, but having someone extraordinary at your side is an arduous task for someone extra ordinary like me. Doctor Watson, who continued to show unchanging friendship to Sherlock Holmes despite continuously having the disparity in their intellects shoved in his face, must be of truly admirable character.
“You’re an honest man, Eiji. It may be a virtue, but it must not be easy to envy an ally.”
“Especially because you’re an ally. If you were an enemy, I’d just have to hate you. Besides...”
“Besides?”
“Part of me wants to be proud. Of what an amazing partner I have.”
It wasn’t easy because it was complicated. Intricate, perhaps. Apparently, after a mere 31 years, I was nowhere near solving the maze of the human mind.
“I’m a high-maintenance man.” I shrugged.
“You are human, after all. Tia-o.”
Tiamat smiled a smile that made things okay. My partner, indeed, had a big heart. I looked up to that.
As we continued our either fruitful or fruitless (I couldn’t tell which) conversation, something came out of the forest. A gigantic wolf appeared, walking onto the path carved out of the earth by Tiamat’s breath.
It was huge. It was bigger than huge; at least thrice as large as the gagd from earlier. It was covered in silver fur and wore a dauntless expression. Something about the creature seemed kingly.
“A Fenrir. It’s supposed to be high up the ranks of magibeasts,” the dragon explained to me.
While it may sound naïve, even I could tell that the Fenrir had no intention of attacking us. In fact, it seemed more ready for a discussion. When it reached a spot about twenty meters away from us, the wolf stopped.
“Honorable Dragon-god Princess.”
It spoke to us fluently. Yes, it was weird for a wolf to speak, but I wasn’t particularly surprised. Dragons could speak, too! In fact, the wolf’s words surprised me more than the fact that it uttered them.
“It could tell that you’re a woman, Tia.”
“Of course it could. What male would look like this?”
I’m sorry I can’t tell a male dragon from a female dragon.
I had no idea which of her characteristics made it so obvious.
“I beg your pardon. I must inquire, with what purpose have you initiated an attack upon my territory?”
Depending on our response, the wolf would stand its ground and fight. That much was apparent from the determination it exuded. In its eyes I saw the melancholy of someone who had accepted death. Dragon versus wolf... the result of that matchup seemed clear as day. I had just witnessed Tiamat’s breath, too.
...Which seemed like more power than any one creature should have, by the way.
“That’s on me. An unfortunate accident,” Tiamat answered, scratching her chin.
That was no accident. There was no arguing that it was 100% preventable.
“Accident...!?”
“Mm-hm. I wanted to try hunting a gagd. I didn’t know how much power I needed to take it down, so I just went full force. Then, voila. Imagine my surprise.” Tiamat laughed.
Imagine your surprise? Imagine my surprise!
And there she was, blabbing about the whole thing we just swore not to tell a soul. Although, on second thought, we weren’t dealing with another human, and it already knew we were the culprits.
“You...!? Fired a Laser Breath just to take down a gagd!?”
I was glad that Mister Fenrir was also surprised. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of kinship. One-sidedly, of course.
“Mm-hm. What was I to do? It was charging at us, and Eiji could have been caught up in the battle if it came down to close combat.”
She gave me a glance. Okay. That was true. For example, if Tiamat happened to have thrown the gagd towards me via a German Suplex or something, I would have died.
“Human...?”
The Fenrir turned his gaze to me, as if it hadn’t noticed me until this very moment. In fact, I was confident it hadn’t. How could it have noticed anything but Tiamat in this situation?
“Hm. He is technically my godfather.”
“The godfather to a Dragon-god...!”
A dash of fear entered his eyes as they stayed on me.
Wait a minute. Sure, I had named her ‘Tiamat’ but this kind of reaction was unexpected. Had I majorly screwed up?
“Don’t worry about it, Eiji. It’s an old custom. A dragon gives the honor of naming them to someone they’ve come to respect. Then they love, cherish, and hold that person dear like their own parent... Until that person’s bloodline comes to an end.”
Tiamat informed me of this with an almost musical flow. So it was a ridiculously big deal. It didn’t seem like something that should have been taken so lightly. Eh, Tia?
“...Shouldn’t you have explained that in the beginning, Tia? I just named you without a clue of any of that.”
“Old custom, like I said. I’m the dragon that’s hip with the kids, so YOLO. No need to let it bother you.”
“I’m bothered by your outdated choice of words...”
I was getting really tired, all of a sudden.
“Human...”
The next emotion that entered the wolf’s eyes was pity. Ignored, feared, and now pitied. How colorfully the wolf had received my presence. I would have put up ads all over for anyone to take my place.
“Then, Fenrir, the gagd from earlier vanished.”
Ignoring the awkward eye contact between the wolf and I, Tiamat continued. This woman walked at her own pace.
“I want your permission to hunt some gagd in the forest. You’re the master of the forest, are you now?”
That was a request. I couldn’t help but imagine Tiamat firing her Laser Breath left and right under the excuse of experimentation. I was sure that the Fenrir imagined the same.
“If gagd is what you desire, I will have my kin bring it to you. Please, don’t move from here.”
“Hm? That’s easy for me, but I don’t want to impose.”
“It is no trouble whatsoever. Please, remain where you are.”
That seemed about right. You couldn’t really confront Tia with the fact that she would have caused more trouble by acting on her own. I understood, Mister Fenrir. Tiamat acted without much thought. She was incredibly smart and kind, but acted out of the feel of the moment more often than not. This very revelation had just struck me.
“In that case, please and thank you.”
“You can count on us.”
Mister Fenrir gave me a glance as he graciously accepted the responsibility.
I don’t envy you, his eyes seemed to say.