It wasn’t that hydras, as a whole, were useless.

But this one?

This one definitely was.

To be fair, there weren’t even that many of them left, so it wasn’t exactly right to generalize. According to the MBE’s records—and even common knowledge—hydras were considered endangered. Theories about their dwindling numbers ranged from a lack of interest in procreation to the simple fact that they didn’t do well in shared environments due to how inherently dangerous they were.

Those explanations weren’t unreasonable.

But if Riley were being honest, he had a feeling that their dwindling numbers wasn’t so much due to an inability to evolve with the times, but more so because someone simply didn’t want to be reminded of their existence.

If weaker species could adapt and survive, then why not hydras?

After all, what were hydras known for?

Regeneration.

The kind that made them infamous. Cut off one head, and two more would take its place. That alone was enough to keep most people on edge.

But what many tended to overlook—because they were too focused on the spectacle of multiplying heads—was something far more dangerous.

Poison.

Like poisonous everything.

Blood, fangs, claws, tongues. Everything.

Hydras weren’t just regenerating monsters.

They were walking, breathing sources of miasma.

And in truth, the poison was the bigger problem.

Because the heads? Those could be managed. Cauterize the wound, and the regeneration stopped.

Heck, worst case scenario, just don’t touch a head to avoid increasing the prowess of the enemy.

Simple.

At least in theory.

But for more theoretical approaches, if one could incinerate the entire hydra in one go, then regeneration would be closer to impossible.

Riley remembered the lengthy discussion they’d once had in class.

Sure, they eventually sidelined the incineration idea for technical reasons. But it still wasn’t fundamentally wrong.

Also, it wasn’t because the human race couldn’t do something as simple as roasting such ginormous creatures, but mainly because hydras weren’t just your regular reptilian beasts.

They were amphibious by nature and capable of wielding powerful water magic. Setting one on fire was already difficult. Keeping it burning was worse.

It was the same with saying that roasting fish wasn’t exactly complicated.

But roasting something that actively tried to put itself out?

That was another matter entirely. Especially when the ability to extinguish was on a whole other level.

So the idea had been set aside and the discussion went another way.

Back then, as a student who didn’t know better and in a class where the professors were intellectuals but also very human, they simply weren’t privy to the most guarded secrets of the other races.

It was the unfortunate reality about being passionate about something but ultimately not having access to pertinent information due to confidentiality.

Then again, back then, they thought they already knew enough.

How naive, really.

But as Riley Hale, who just happened to be an Iltheran and now also a Dravaryn, spared a glance at the restrained scum, he thought, well, that wasn’t the case for him now, right?

After all—

If he had flames that were almost impossible to extinguish...

Then wouldn’t this be the perfect opportunity to revisit that discarded theory?

For the sake of science, of course.

Yep. Definitely.

Ah, but first he would return a few favors for the sake of fairness.

__

"What do we have here? A hydra?"

Malrik’s eyes widened at the words he couldn’t believe he was hearing.

At first, he thought he was simply imagining things. It wasn’t impossible in the face of relatively stressful but ideally manageable moments. Even for someone as powerful as him, such things could still happen.

But the repetition of the word "hydra" didn’t stop even as he acknowledged the hallucination.

No, instead it kept on going as more and more impudent beings started repeating it with their own dirty mouths.

"A hydra?"

"...What?!"

"He said there’s a hydra here!"

They kept on muttering to themselves and to each other. It was getting on Malrik’s nerves because there definitely weren’t any hydras there!

Inside his mind, he was screaming. While he didn’t want to get discovered and opted to hide the fact that he was a dragon, it was still unthinkable for him to be called that.

He thought about it like the disgusting word it was that had absolutely nothing to do with a prestigious dragon like him.

The desire to scratch at and pick at his body to check for any indicators of being a hydra flared up. He felt like his veins would pop because the impulse to do it was being hindered by the fact that he couldn’t move.

His skin felt like it was crawling, and he wanted nothing more than to compulsively scrub at his flesh until the accusation was gone, but his body remained a rigid, frozen statue.

But just when he thought it was as annoying as it could get, something happened inside that invisible prison.

A gust of wind that had no reason to pass through—especially when the dragon lord’s mana didn’t even penetrate the space he was trapped in—just blew by. It was a targeted, sharp breeze that pushed back the hood he was wearing.

There was a brief pause.

A heavy kind of silence that stretched just long enough for Malrik to feel the cool air brush against his forehead before the realization hit.

Something was wrong.

The hood was gone.

The reaction from the crowd was immediate.

The onlookers, who had been huddled together in fear just moments ago, were now staring openly. Some covered their mouths. Others leaned in, whispering in hushed but unmistakably sharp tones. Shock spread quickly, followed by something closer to disdain.

The shift in atmosphere was suffocating.

Malrik felt his heart slam against his ribs.

He couldn’t move. Not properly. Only the smallest motions—his eyes, the tightening of his jaw—were left to him, and even those felt restrained under the invisible force holding him in place.

Instinctively, he tried to struggle.

Tried to lift his arm.

Tried to reach for his head and pull the hood back where it belonged.

Nothing.

Not even a twitch.

And just like that, the sensation settled in.

Layer by layer, his dignity was being stripped away in front of an audience.

However, deluded beyond belief, he tried to calm himself down.

This... wasn’t entirely bad.

Wasn’t this what he’d wanted anyway?

Hadn’t he planned for nothing to be traced back to Chancellor Malrik Veyth?

He told himself he was just being too tense.

He shouldn’t worry because, as someone who’d managed to hide his draconic side just in time, there would be no reason for the dragon lord to personally concern himself with him.

As such, as someone who wouldn’t immediately appear as a dragon, Kael wouldn’t be able to get rid of him without due process. Especially not in front of all these witnesses.

Malrik snickered inwardly.

Kael Dravaryn, despite all that power, allowed himself to be subjected to laws.

In the end, power meant nothing if one allowed it to be bound by rules.

Now, he was going to pay for it dearly.

All Malrik needed was time and one opening.

Just a single access point to water and he’d be able to flee to safety. He just had to take this in stride and keep his composure.

Now, that truly would’ve been his stellar plan.

If not for that blasted human.

The very same one that Malrik watched with extreme distaste.

Maybe it was his sudden fixation, but he thought he saw that for a split second, there was a hint of something in his expression.

A smile?

The proud alleged dragon hadn’t been sure because it vanished just as he thought he saw it.

Now, all that was there was shock.

Pure, exaggerated shock.

His eyes widened as if he’d just uncovered something unthinkable, and his hand lifted, trembling as he pointed.

"Cha-chancellor?! Isn’t that Chancellor Malrik?!"