A Call From The Death!

It's astonishing, truly. I've never even fallen in love, and here I am, suddenly enthralled by the notion of raising cubs. It's as though I leapt over the entire experience of romantic love and dived headfirst into parenthood. The very thought of nurturing these creatures was something beyond my wildest imaginations previously.

The formidable gaze of the evil dragon, Lance, settled on the little dragon hatchling at his feet. He pondered a future where, after centuries, perhaps even a millennium, this tiny creature might one day look up and affectionately call him "Dad." His thoughts were interrupted by a plaintive plea from the hatchling, "Could you perhaps refrain from hitting me so hard on the head? I've heard from humans that too harsh a treatment in youth can dull a child's wits."

Glancing nervously at Lance, Lucia quickly shielded her head with her dragon claws, fearful of another painful smack from his mighty tail. Though the dragon's punch was harsh enough, a slap from his tail was equaly excruciating.

Her words weren't truly meant to echo those ancient teachings, far from it. Lucia's aim was rather trivial; she hoped to brag to Sister Stinky princess upon her return to the Imperial Capital. She planned to boast about her encounter with the fearsome dragon, claiming she had engaged in direct dialogue with the very idol the Stinky Emperor aspired to surpass. Citing 'learning' was merely a convenient pretext.

Lucia shuddered at the thought of adopting the ancient emperor's philosophy. That man had dared to incite wars among gods, a feat she wouldn't dare attempt. She harbored these thoughts silently, too timid to voice them aloud. Suddenly, she questioned herself, "Did Evil Dragon just refer to himself in those tender terms? Did I hear him right? Should I ask him to clarify?" She hesitated, worried about provoking another of Lance's fierce reactions. The thought of confrontation nearly brought her to tears.

What princess, in any kingdom, endures such frequent chastisements from a dragon? She fantasized about regaining her human form, imagining Lance captivated by her beauty. No longer would he dare to strike her; instead, he might find himself gently coaxing her with treats or even serenading her with lullabies at bedtime. Perhaps, after some time, the mighty evil dragon would even bend a knee in a proposal of marriage, bewitched by her unparalleled beauty, a beauty so lauded by Eva, destined to enchant an entire nation.

Eva, renowned as an exceedingly honest dark curse wizard and undoubtedly the last person you'd expect to utter a falsehood, had always held a certain integrity in her dealings.

"I'm not as violent as you think, don't see me as a villain," she would often plead. However, despite her assertions, the young dragon Lucia couldn't help but harbor doubts. Every time Lance claimed his nonviolence, somehow it ended with Lucia nursing fresh bruises. With a sigh, Lucia muttered in her heart about Lance's dubious gentleness.

Amidst these ruminations, Lucia's attention was abruptly drawn to an ominous sight. "It's smoking. It's actually smoking!" she exclaimed in a mix of fear and awe.

"What's smoking?" came the inquisitive response.

"The black scythe you left in the study," Lucia replied, her voice tinged with alarm. She had stumbled upon the scene quite by accident while evading Lance's gaze. Black smoke was rising from the scythe, mirroring the exact eerie phenomenon that occurred whenever the infamous God of Death from Hell reached out to Lance.

"Is the God of Death from Hell contacting you? But hadn't you resigned from your role as the Death Trainee?" Lucia inquired, her curiosity piqued amidst the creeping dread.

"Don't fret over it," Lance responded dismissively, his powerful claws reaching out to hook the death scythe. With a flick, the black smoke was sent swirling towards a corner of the room where it vanished without a trace. "Well, could it be the God of Death from Hell who is contacting you?" Lucia persisted, unable to shake her concern.

Lamce's reply was curt. "During bedtime, not even Death himself should disrupt my rest. Go to sleep. If it's truly urgent, he will contact me tomorrow."

Lucia couldn't help but marvel at Eva's audacity. How could a mere former trainee, or more accurately, an expired Shinigami trainee, dismiss the god of death with such arrogance? Not even deigning to acknowledge him during her bedtime?

"Could they possibly be trying to give you back wages?" Lucia joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

"You're overthinking it. Solomon is the poorest among the death gods. It's impossible for him to give back wages. It's more likely I'd have to refund the wages I earned during my tenure," Lance quipped back, closing the conversation as he settled in. "Bedtime now, even if death comes knocking, he can wait."

Lucia sighed, reflecting on Lance's blend of arrogance, dominance, and apparent poverty. She turned away, facing the wall, her back to Lance, and let sleep overtake her. As she drifted off, Lucia pondered the grim realities of her captivity, the repeated beatings, the unseized opportunities for escape, and the mundane tasks of the morrow, like cleaning the turtle's shell. She resolved to ask Lance for a brush first thing in the morning and, with that final thought, curled up in her dragon form and succumbed to a deep, uneasy slumber.

In the cozy warmth of the dragon's nest, she discovered that she didn't even need a blanket to stay warm while sleeping. The morning light filtered softly through the entrance as she heard a familiar voice break the silence.

"Good morning, little dragon."

"Good morning, dragon. Not good morning, Lance," she replied with a groggy defiance, still irked at being roused by the evil dragon Lance yet again.

The young dragon, stifling a yawn, stretched her limbs and dutifully followed Lance towards the mouth of the lair. As they emerged, the early morning sun bathed her face in golden light, prompting another yawn and a playful wave of her claw towards the sky. "Good morning, Father Sun," she greeted cheerily.

Lance, leading the way, glanced back with a hint of amusement at her sleepy salutation. "Calling Father Sun? You're quick to claim kinship with deities now."

"In this world, the god who symbolizes the sun is the god of light," he mused, more to himself than to her. "Most myths align on that."

She trotted beside him, her mind slowly waking. "And is the God of Light actually the sun, or...?"

Lance shrugged, a grin curling the edge of his snout. "In the realm of myths, anything's possible. Hard to say for sure."

The young dragon, now a bit more alert, seized the moment to question their early rising. "Lance, does it really have to be so early to maintain good health? I think sleeping until you wake up naturally is also a good way to be healthy, don't you think?"

"I think what you said makes sense," Lance conceded, which was unexpected.

"Then tomorrow, is it okay if we sleep in to maintain good health?" she pushed hopefully.

"Okay."

She blinked, surprised by his agreeable mood. Today's Lance was surprisingly easy to talk to.

As they faced the rising sun together, it seemed they were off to a good start in keeping healthy. The session of morning health training, influenced perhaps by the previous day's rigorous practice with Lance, concluded swiftly.

Next on the agenda was to listen to the roar of the dragon. Lance had mentioned the day before that hearing the 'Evil Dragon Roar' would help her grow stronger. As the sun climbed higher, she braced herself, not just for the roar but for whatever lessons this new day might bring.

She listened, the sound of the ocean gently rousing her from sleep. With a splash, she awoke fully, dog paddling back to the shore, relieved to realize that her back wasn't hurting. Apparently, she hadn't hit it when she fainted.

For breakfast, green onion pancakes were on the menu. They tasted okay, though they couldn't compare to the deliciousness of the barbecue they had last night. Marly, her ravenous companion, wolfed down two pieces and then scampered off to the orchard, his preferences for meat clearly aligning with hers.

Before breakfast, she took the time to feed Marly, who had explicitly mentioned she didn't want Marly to bring her breakfast due to his notorious gossiping.

"In our morning class, we continued learning the dragon text through pinyin. You learned about 'dragon' last night," her instructor began. "Today, you'll learn dragon words that can be combined with 'dragon.'"

She nodded, her thoughts drifting to her parents far away in the imperial capital. They would hardly believe that she was in the clutches of the evil dragon for the third time. She chuckled inwardly, "God, he's turned into a teacher now, instructing me in dragon literature."

"Don't get distracted," the dragon's voice snapped her back to reality.

"Don't get distracted," she repeated to herself, a grin spreading across her face. "Learning Dragon Literature actually makes me happy."

As the lesson concluded, a sudden disturbance caught their attention. Solomon, the god of death from hell, was reaching out to Lance via the death scythe once more.

"I ignored his projection call last night, and now he's trying again," Lance murmured, watching as the Death Scythe flew from his horn and hovered in the air before him.

Lying aside, Lucia noticed something unusual about Lance. He seemed smaller than before. She hadn't understood it last night, but now it was clear. His size reduction meant his identity wasn't just that of a dragon; he was a druid capable of transforming into a dragon.

The dark sickle's screen flickered to life, revealing the grim figure of Hell's Death, cloaked in black robes, appearing before Lance through a projection.

It was the Grim Reaper Death God from the previous night.

Despite Lance having resigned from the role of a [Death Trainee], Hell's Death still sought him out. She wondered if the god was here to reclaim the scythe of [Apprentice of Death].

"Why do you look so dreadful again?" Lance quipped, eyeing the grim figure.

In hell, it seemed, one could say almost anything, even if it meant chastising an evil dragon.