By all accounts, the golden dragonling had made the right choice. His charge was safe because of it. And he had been able to repel the attack just as he thought he’d be able to do. That was enough.

But what he hadn’t accounted for was how unfair life generally was.

Two attackers.

Not one.

He’d focused entirely on the first, blocking, shielding, holding his ground like he was supposed to. So when the second one entered his range at the last possible moment, he hadn’t thought much of it.

Or that was what he wanted to believe, as he realized there was no use thinking about it when he really wouldn’t be able to react with his remaining strength.

He was a dragon, anyway. Surely that would count for something, right?

Even as a dragonling, his body wasn’t that fragile. A normal strike shouldn’t have done much.

His body should have held.

But it didn’t.

The blade cut through him with unnatural ease, catching the golden dragonling completely off guard.

Now, Orien was young, but he wasn’t entirely naive and knew from his inheritance that such wouldn’t be impossible when faced with something forged from a dragon.

And as a dragonling, he should’ve been particularly wary of that.

But he realized it too late.

By the time he drove back the one above him, the other had already slipped away.

And now...

Now he had to explain this.

To his aunt.

To his uncle.

To his grandparents.

Just thinking about it made his chest tighten with worry. He didn’t want to disappoint them for being so incompetent.

He flinched slightly when Riley leaned closer, bracing himself for the reprimand. For disappointment. For the quiet look that said he should’ve done better.

Instead—

Riley snapped.

"You’re still holding it in?"

The sharpness in his voice made Orien blink.

"Do you not trust us enough to keep pretending like that?" Riley continued, his tone rising, frustration bleeding through. "If it hurts, say it hurts. What is a child like you doing trying to keep it together like this?"

There was anger there.

Real anger.

His expression was a mix of sadness and rage because Orien had to endure something like this. Worse, even as help arrived, the boy still tried to act strong, as if he weren’t a kid who also deserved protection.

Even now, he had to remind the youngling to consider his feelings as if it were something that needed anyone’s permission.

But Riley’s reaction didn’t really escape Orien’s observant nature, and his chest felt tight for an entirely different reason.

Because his aunt didn’t seem like he was angry at him.

Instead, it seemed like he was just angry that this had happened at all.

Orien stared at him, positively stunned.

The pain had been there the entire time, pulsing, burning, but he’d pushed it down out of the need to stay standing.

But now, under that gaze—

His eyes trembled.

Riley pressed a hand over the wound. Mana slipped into torn flesh, knitting what it touched. Warmth followed, spreading through him as the damage slowly began to close.

And just like that, something gave.

The tension he’d been holding snapped.

His lips quivered. His shoulders shook.

The much larger frame he’d forced himself into—to match the weight of what he’d just done—began to recede, shrinking back to his true size as everything caught up to him at once.

Then, just as the facade cracked, the tears followed.

Not quietly. Not with restraint.

He broke down completely.

Liam didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around him in an attempt to comfort not only Orien but also himself.

They cried together, clinging to each other in the middle of it all.

"It was so hard...!" Orien sobbed, words tumbling out between hiccupping breaths.

"Wuuuu!"

"A-and you guys were so slow... Auntie, you took forever to come!"

"How could you be so late?!"

His voice cracked, rising with the full force of a child who had been trying too hard for too long.

"What if I died?! What if I never saw everyone again?! I didn’t even get to visit the temple one more time—!"

It was messy. Loud. Completely unfiltered.

And somehow, still painfully endearing.

Riley finished healing the smaller injuries, then pulled both of them into a big, relieved embrace.

"You did well," he said quietly. "Both of you did really well."

His voice softened further as he nuzzled against their much smaller heads.

"Thank you for doing your best."

There was a brief pause before he added, more quietly, "And I’m sorry we were late."

He stayed like that for a moment, letting them cry, letting them settle.

"Now... We’ll talk about everything later, okay?"

"I want to hear all about it, especially since Mom and Dad were adamant about how you two have protected everyone."

Riley ruffled the children’s hair as they hiccuped their grievances at each other.

For a brief stretch of time, there was only warmth. Reassurance. Safety.

But if the black dragon wanted to prolong such an atmosphere, he must deal with a few things.

Then, as if remembering the current state of their surroundings, the feeling he had been radiating suddenly shifted.

The seriously annoyed ancient pulled back slightly, and the change in his expression was immediate.

The softness was gone.

In its place was something cold. Controlled. Dangerous.

"Stay inside my ward," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Don’t step out even if it gets interesting."

"At least not until the trash that shouldn’t be left around the office has been dealt with."

His gaze lifted, settling on the unmoving figure ahead.

Malrik.

Even in that haphazard disguise and that sorry attempt at temporarily sealing his own draconic nature, he still reeked of that unique fishy smell that Riley couldn’t possibly miss.

Now, to most other people, he might have been a threat.

But to Riley, particularly in that moment—

He was really nothing.

And for those who had long believed themselves to be everything to everyone, what was the best way to deal the easiest blow?

Hmm...

Well, it was to reduce them and everything they thought they were to nothing.

Oh, and what better way to make them suffer all of that in the hands of someone who had been brushed off as nothing?

Riley stood up languidly and tilted his head as he remembered Thyrran’s findings.

This guy was going to die today.

But even in his wildest dreams, there was simply no way that fucker was going to leave this world as a dragon.

And just as he had robbed others of their dignity even in death, so shall he suffer.

The black dragon clicked his tongue before looking up and sighing loud enough for everyone to hear, "What do we have here? A hydra?"