Just as Irene was about to dispel her Polymorph, she heard this somewhat anxious call. Looking toward the source of the voice, she saw Christine's expression suddenly turn a bit strange. Meeting her gaze, he said in a low voice, “I... there's one more thing...”
Irene raised an eyebrow.
Christine stood up from the stone chair, his small black leather shoes stepping on the fragments of the shattered stone table as he walked toward Irene step by step.
As the distance between them closed, Christine felt the tips of his ears begin to burn.
Although he had planned all of this long ago—gifting his daughter a hand-knitted hat as a “small gift” to make up for the regrets of all these years—
...he was, after all, a first-time father.
When dealing with the simple-minded Daviel, he could still coax and trick him, calmly handling the situation using the various experiences he had gathered from his travels over the years.
But facing this daughter, whose aura was so powerful she looked like she had slaughtered her way through the Material Plane, Christine felt his little heart beat faster and faster.
To knit this woolen hat, he had gone so far as to use up the very last of his remaining silk produced by the spirit worms on the Ancient Elven Tree.
Wearing clothes woven from this silk not only granted the favor of nature but also improved meditation efficiency and sleep quality.
To other races, the seemingly useless ability to improve sleep quality might be optional, but to dragons, who slept for years, decades, or even centuries at a time, it held an unparalleled allure.
After all, what dragon would complain about their sleep quality being a little better?
Walking up to Irene in a few steps, Christine let his hands hang down, tightly clutching the knitted hat. With an anxious expression on his face, he quickly thought about how to bring it up without sounding too abrupt.
“What do you want to say?” Irene finally couldn't watch any longer and asked.
“Your Grace... actually... I prepared a gift for you!” As if finally summoning his courage, Christine raised his voice, the slight flush on the tips of his ears exceptionally noticeable at this moment.
Irene instinctively looked at the green knitted hat in Christine's hands. In fact, she had noticed it long ago; its vibrant, healthy green color made it hard to miss.
She had originally wondered which unlucky soul this was prepared for, but she hadn't expected...
The unlucky soul was actually herself!
“Is it this... green hat?” Irene asked, holding onto the last shred of hope.
“Yes, Your Grace Irene!” Christine seemed to have finally made up his mind. Clutching the knitted hat with both hands, he held it out to Irene, his golden eyes filled with determination.
“Uh...” Irene hesitated for a moment. To avoid unnecessary trouble, she took it anyway, casting a brief glance at the exceptionally well-crafted hat.
“This gift of yours, the meaning behind it is rather... wonderful.”
“Wonderful?” Christine, who had let out a long sigh of relief after handing over the gift, was taken aback for a moment before quickly flashing a satisfied smile. “I'm glad you like it. Quick, try it on! I knitted it myself.”
“...”
Irene really wanted to say no, but looking at Christine's expectant gaze, she found it hard to refuse for a moment.
As she hesitated, a sudden movement came from behind, and a wave of heat blew past, fluttering her long hair and robes.
Irene turned her head to see that Daviel had crouched down at some point. Hot white steam puffed from his nostrils as his massive eyes stared straight at them, looking exactly like a bystander eagerly watching a drama unfold.
At that moment, Irene felt as if a light bulb had suddenly lit up above her head.
She spoke up, “Daviel, why aren't you wearing the underpants anymore?”
“Huh?” Caught off guard while enjoying the drama, Daviel blanked for a moment, then scratched his head and looked at Christine. “Charlotte said wearing underpants on my head is unsightly, so I stopped wearing them.”
“Doesn't it feel weird?” Irene asked leadingly.
“It felt a bit weird at first,” Daviel answered honestly, completely unaware of what Irene was plotting. “But I've gotten used to it over the past few days.”
“It's just that my head feels like it's missing something, a bit chilly.”
“Mhm... then that's perfect.” Like a villain whose scheme had succeeded, Irene's lips curled upward as she turned back to face Christine.
“Miss Charlotte, thank you for this meticulously crafted gift. I like it very much, but...” Irene glanced backward. “I think my younger brother, Daviel, needs this hat more than I do.”
“I would like to pass this gift along to my brother. I hope you don't mind?”
“I don't mind, of course I don't mind.” Christine waved his hands in a blur in front of his chest, the smile remaining on his face.
But in his heart, he felt a bit lonely.
He could already tell that his daughter didn't seem to like this hand-knitted hat very much.
‘Is my craftsmanship really that bad?’
‘It seems if I want to close the distance between father and daughter, I'll have to use the backup plan.’
Feeling rejected, Christine's eyes glazed over slightly. ‘I wonder if my daughter would be interested in little dresses...’
“Alright, it's time to set off.”
Irene's voice echoed in his ears, sounding much deeper and heavier than before.
Christine barely snapped out of his thoughts. Before he could even say “okay,” a sudden, massive claw covered in black scales blocked his vision.
By the time he realized what was happening, he found himself already clutched inside the claw.
Only his head poked out.
From this bizarre angle, he saw Arthas, who was similarly clutched in the other claw.
Christine craned his neck and was shocked to find that his daughter had reverted to her true form, while he was being held in her claw like a little chick.
Irene's massive draconic eyes seemed to notice his gaze. After giving him a sidelong glance, her dragon wings beat violently, kicking up a hurricane that sent sand and dust swirling across the entire rocky desert.
As the gale raged and the ground rapidly receded, Christine panicked and cried out, “Your Grace Irene, what... what are you doing?”
“What am I doing?” Irene turned her neck to look at the tiny figure in her claw. “Heading to the Underdark, of course.”
“You didn't think I could just open a portal directly to the Underdark without coordinates or an anchor, did you?”
“Come on, that's so unmagical!”
“Anyone with a basic understanding of space magic knows how dangerous that is. One wrong move, and you'll end up fused inside a crack in a rock!”
“Even so, we don't have to travel like this!” Buffeted by the howling wind, Christine tried his best to yell, but his voice inevitably cracked. “Put me down first! I have a flying magic carpet, I can travel on my own!”
“No, that's too slow,” Irene retorted without hesitation, speeding up even more.
“Then... then can't you at least let me ride on your back? Traveling like this... is way too unladylike!” Christine's long silver hair whipped wildly in the wind, and the small round hat perched askew on his head looked like it was about to fly away at any moment.
‘You're a white dragon and you want to ride on my back? In your dreams!’ Irene grumbled in her heart. Instead of answering Christine directly, she said in a deep tone, “Hold on tight, I'm accelerating!”
Her dragon wings beat violently once more, and her speed instantly surged by a massive margin.
A series of ear-splitting sonic booms began to detonate continuously inside their heads.
“Ahhh!!! Slow down!!!”
A sharp scream echoed from the horizon, accompanied by an exquisite small round hat drifting away in the wind.
On the ground, the dust gradually settled. Fido, who remained where he stood, watched the tiny black dot disappear into the distance and reached out to catch the small round hat drifting on the breeze.
Focusing his gaze on the round hat, he suddenly felt that not being assigned to go to the Underdark was a truly wonderful thing.
“Whoa, Sis's running skills have really improved. She's almost catching up to me.”
Daviel said to Fido and Gar while carefully smoothing out the creases on the green knitted hat with his foreclaws, “You two, get on my back. It's time for us to head back too!”
He seemed extremely satisfied with this hat, which was enchanted with multiple high-tier spells that allowed it to change size at will.
“Hop on, and don't touch my tail.” Daviel suddenly paused and turned his head, shouting warily at Gar, who was about to climb up along his tail,
“Rubing the scales on a tail means courtship! I don't want to get gay with you guys!”
Rate on N.U.
