CHAPTER 121: I AM... ROYALLY SCREWED

"This is as far as I go," the coachman said flatly.

With a resigned sigh, I climbed down from the carriage.

"If you don’t come back before midnight, I’ll assume you’re dead and return to the palace," he added, his voice devoid of even a trace of sympathy for my predicament.

"Orders from the princess?" I asked, though his silence spoke volumes.

Figured.

Damn that bitch.

Sighing again, I turned to face the ominous cave looming ahead. It was clear—one of two outcomes awaited me. Either I’d die trying to kill it, or it’d kill me trying to defend itself.

The idea of me killing it? Laughable.

"...Wait." I paused, glancing down at the sword strapped to my waist.

Now that I thought about it, this whole setup—the sword, the armor, even the boots—had been provided by the princess. The same princess who wants me dead.

My chest tightened with suspicion.

Wait a second...

I unsheathed the sword and swung it at the nearest tree.

Snap!

The blade shattered like brittle glass.

"No..."

It broke.

It actually fucking broke.

A hollow laugh escaped my lips, teetering on the edge of hysteria. "Of course," I muttered, gripping my forehead as if that would stop me from losing my mind. "I should’ve expected this. I should’ve fucking expected this!"

Clenching my jaw, I turned on my heel and marched back to the carriage. The coachman, of course, had a sturdy, well-forged sword strapped to his waist. My last, desperate hope.

"Sir, I don’t think this sword will—"

Before I could finish, his sharp glare stopped me in my tracks.

What is wrong with me? Why did I even bother?

The sword had come from the princess. And so had this bastard.

"Here."

The coachman tossed something toward me. Instinctively, I caught it—a dagger.

"A word of advice," he said, "That blade is laced with deadly poison. One strike is enough to kill a fully grown Warthorn."

He paused, then added coldly, "And don’t even think about running. I have orders to kill you on the spot at the first sign of abandonment." His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword as if to emphasize the point.

"...But didn’t you say you’d return to the palace if I didn’t come back by midnight?" I asked, frowning.

He scoffed. "After I’ve seen you walk into the cave. Don’t make me repeat myself."

I sighed heavily.

I hate her.

I really, really hate that bitch.

Clutching the dagger, I trudged toward the cave.

On our way here, we had passed a village, Lymieo—the last settlement before this forsaken place. I overheard conversations from the locals, and none of it had been comforting.

Apparently, the dragon inside that cave wasn’t fully grown yet—a fact that might have seemed like good news under different circumstances.

But it wasn’t.

Not when the dragon in question was a member of one of the deadliest species in existence.

The Blue Flame Throwers.

I’d never seen one in real life, but I’d read enough books to know they were bad news. It didn’t matter what stage of growth they were in; their flames were always lethal.

And now, here I was, walking into a death trap with a broken sword, a poisoned dagger, and no real hope of survival.

"Oh, great," I muttered, staring at the entrance looming high above me.

To reach it, I’d have to climb the mountain. But there was a problem.

This dagger.

It wasn’t just dangerous—it was lethal. One careless slip, just the tiniest prick, and I’d be paralyzed on the spot.

"...What do I do?" I murmured, glancing at the blade in my hand. I couldn’t keep it close while climbing. The risk was too high—one misstep, one accidental graze, and I’d be done for.

I sighed heavily. I’d been sighing so much lately I was starting to feel like a crotchety old man.

After a moment of thought, I ripped a strip from the bottom of my shirt. Carefully, I wrapped the fabric around the sharp edge of the dagger. Once the blade was securely covered, I gripped its hilt between my teeth. With my hands free, I reached for the rough, solid rocks and began my ascent.

Step by step, I climbed.

...

...

"Haaah," I exhaled, finally hauling myself over the top. I collapsed onto the ground, sprawling flat on my back. My gaze drifted upward, taking in the vast expanse of the sky above me.

"One of these days," I muttered, voice low and venomous, "I’m going to chain that damned princess in a cave and let goblins have their fun with her."

I wasn’t joking. I meant every word.

Another sigh escaped my lips. I forced myself up, brushing dirt from my clothes as I turned to face the gaping maw of the cave before me.

It stared back, dark and foreboding, almost as if it were inviting me in.

"ROARRRRRRRRRR!"

The sound froze me in place. And I wasn’t even inside yet.

"That... does not sound like a baby dragon," I muttered, pulling the dagger from my mouth and gripping it firmly. My eyes narrowed, scanning the ominous entrance.

With careful, deliberate steps, I entered the cave.

...

...

"SRIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!"

The sound pierced through the air like a jagged knife. My head snapped upward.

And then I saw it.

Countless eyes. Blood-red and glinting with malice. Its body glistened, slick and slimy, shifting in the dim light. I couldn’t make out its full form in the darkness, but I didn’t need to. What I could see was more than enough.

Fear gripped me. My legs moved before my brain could process the terror, and I ran.

I ran as if my life depended on it—because it did.

"SKIIIIIIIIIIII!" The screech came again, closer this time, echoing through the cavern. But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. My feet carried me deeper into the unknown, heart pounding like a war drum in my chest.

In all the dreams I’d had—whether as Ryan or Leo—I’d never faced anything remotely like this. Not once.

I knew I wouldn’t survive.

But...

At least I wanted to see the dragon before I died.

If I had to go, I’d rather it be at the claws of a dragon than... whatever the hell that thing was.

Not that it made anything better.

"Fuck my life," I whispered through clenched teeth, forcing my legs to keep moving.