Hey guys, sorry for dropping out for the past two weeks. Life got in the way. No worries, here are the chapters I owe you.

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On the morning when Eliadeos mustered the courage to confess his feelings to his best friend…

Esther fell ill.

His fair little face was flushed bright red, and his breathing was heavy and irregular, like a small animal struggling to breathe after being injured. Yet he didn’t seem to notice, still trying to get up and eat breakfast as if nothing were wrong. Of course, before eating, he had to wash up—good children should always do that. The little one, still half-asleep, began as usual to push herself up with both hands on the edge of the big bed, trying to get down on his back.

But today, for some reason, his feet wouldn’t listen to him at all. Not only were they completely uncooperative, but they were also as limp as noodles. Little El clung to the edge of the bed and reached out slowly for what seemed like forever, but he still couldn’t touch the floor.

Actually, he was just a tiny bit away from the floor, but the little one, fearing for his life, crawled back slowly and wide-eyed under the puzzled gazes of his Dragon Dad and older brother Eli.

He sat cautiously on the edge of the bed and looked down again, gauging the distance to the floor. How strange—the bed hadn’t suddenly gotten any higher, so why couldn’t he reach the bottom? Before the dazed little one could even begin to make sense of this profound mystery in his feverish haze, he lost his balance and tumbled headfirst down.

Eli: “!!!”

Faster than the pain came his father’s magic. Or, to be precise, the cheat code the Dragon Dad had activated for the little one—after all, Level 80 wasn’t something to be taken lightly. His survival instinct proved its worth in that moment; the little one felt as though he’d fallen into a cloud—soft and cushiony, sinking right in. The curly-haired boy felt no fear at all; all that remained was the thought, “Ah, so comfortable,” and he couldn’t help but rub against it a little more.

Then, Esther closed his eyes while floating halfway in the air. The little one felt his eyelids were as hot as a branding iron; he tried his best to keep them open, but he was just so sleepy.

The very next second after the little one closed his eyes, he was picked up by Dragon Dad. Nidhogg had cast a spell the moment his son fell, but before the golden threads could reach him, his son had already managed to save himself. Now, the threads had transformed into a long rope pulling his son close. The warmth radiating from his fingertips made the dragon’s heart suddenly tighten; he held his fragile little one as if cradling a furnace.

“Savvy!”

Before the dragon in the chef’s apron could finish speaking, Old Bones—who never needed sleep—had already emerged from the laboratory. Grumbling, “Do you remember that I really am not a healer?” he resignedly began examining the dragon’s young with the bright, emerald-green light glowing from the tip of his wand.

The final diagnosis was a common fever, though for some reason, this one had struck with fierce intensity, and the distribution of magic within the young dragon’s body seemed slightly unusual.

“What is it?” Nidhogg asked nervously, unwilling to overlook any suspicious detail.

“It’s not particularly strange—if anything, it makes sense—and it’s not a serious threat to his health.” Old Bones waved his hand dismissively; it was just that a portion of the excess magic had, for some reason, concentrated in the head.

To be precise, on both sides of the crown.

But no matter who reached out to touch it, they found nothing there, and Esther himself felt absolutely no pain in that area. Apart from looking a bit wilted, like a sunflower with drooping stems, there were no other signs to cause concern.

He didn’t cry or fuss; he was incredibly cooperative. Even when taking medicine, he’d open his mouth eagerly, like a baby bird facing food—so well-behaved it was heartbreaking.

The dragon parent, however, grew increasingly anxious, feeling that something was wrong, that this wasn’t right.

“What’s wrong? What isn’t right?” Elder Byron was also roused by the commotion. Of course, he hadn’t come here specifically for this matter—it was merely a coincidence—but in any case, he was deeply concerned about the mental state of his dragon friend. Ever since the hatchling arrived, aside from insisting that the hatchling was his own, this dragon had shown no signs of abnormality. He’d been living peacefully in Helheim for so long that Byron had almost forgotten the fear he’d once felt under the dragon’s mental dominance.

“He hasn’t caused a single fuss.” In Nidhogg’s view, a young dragon surrounded by love should be crying loudly and making a racket—to put it simply, just like Eliadeos used to be when he was still the duke’s heir.

Though he was unloved by his parents, no one would question that his grandfather raised him well.

For his son to be this quiet now meant either that the cub was living too cautiously or that he simply didn’t have the strength to make a fuss anymore. Whichever it was, it left Nidhogg restless.

Holding the sick cub, he lay awake night after night, pacing back and forth in the den.

He just hopes this will make him feel a little better.

This truly gave Esther a sense of peace he’d never felt before, as if even his sleep had become more restful. Esther had only ever seen scenes like this in other children’s hospital rooms before; he didn’t know how to describe how envious he’d been back then, but now he didn’t have to, because he had a dad too! Children never doubt their father’s love. The reason he was so quiet now was simply that he had long since grown accustomed to being sick; whether it was getting injections or taking medicine, these were just part of his daily life—nothing to make a fuss about.

At least little El felt it was no big deal; he could still eat and drink and talk to his good friend. It was just that what the other person said always seemed to be veiled by a hazy barrier, forcing him to strain very, very hard to make out what they were saying.

If he slacked off even just a little, his head would fill with a buzzing hum.

After that, Esther had no recollection of anything; all that remained was his gentle breathing—the little boy’s joyful, determined proof.

Eliadeos had come to say goodbye to his friend. He was leaving, and before he went, he confessed everything to his friend. But the other person didn’t respond at all—just as he’d guessed, someone as bad as him simply wasn’t worthy of forgiveness.

He fully understood Esther’s choice, but he still made one last plea for himself: “I’m truly, truly sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I’m leaving today, so I can’t let you take your anger out on me anymore, but I’ll be waiting for you at the Church of Light. You can come punish me whenever you want—or bring Mr. Dragon along, if you’d like.”

Yes, the Church of Light’s ship had arrived.

No matter how much reluctance filled Eliadeos’s heart, he had no choice but to wave goodbye to his friend, who was still ill. The sight of him curled up, sleeping quietly, would likely be their last parting.

Leading the party to pick them up this time was the other Holy Son, Lucius.

At this very moment, the fanatic stood on the towering foredeck of the *Salvation*, his imposing frame tightly wrapped in a white church robe embroidered with symbols of the Light, appearing both rigid and solemn.

The sea breeze ruffled his long hair, revealing the sun-shaped markings on his forehead—a sign of his affiliation with the New Faction.

The two most powerful factions within the Church of Light today are the Conservatives and the New Faction. The Conservatives emphasize devotion to the Goddess of Light, while the New Faction demands extreme loyalty to her, requiring every part of one’s body to bear her mark; even marriage is viewed as betrayal.

Simply put, they are the moderate doves and the extreme hawks.

Behind Lucius, the hawk, fluttered several white banners embroidered with the Sun Cross, flapping loudly on the masts. The Templar Knights accompanying the fleet wore silver armor that glinted coldly in the sunlight.

The imposing fleet was ultimately blocked off near the coast, able only to glimpse the black silhouettes of a distant archipelago from afar.

This was the closest a foreign fleet could approach Helheim. In fact, had Elder Byron not “kidnapped” the Lich Savvy first—leaving the Dragon Clan in the wrong—they would already be at one with the Church of Light, in the literal sense of the word. From the dragons’ perspective, even this distance was unbearable.

After all, those were their young!

So precious that every young dragon, until reaching adulthood, was directly bound to the dragon clan’s entire offensive system.

Elder Byron made a solemn declaration at the meeting of tribal leaders: should any mishap occur, they would certainly awaken the ancient dragons of the Chaos Abyss. Regardless of who killed their young, the moment any misfortune struck, the Dragon Clan would declare war on the entire tribe, with absolutely no room for negotiation.

The Dragons’ approach was domineering and unreasonable, yet it effectively ensured the safety of their young; incidents of young dragons being maliciously harmed by outsiders were rare.

Now, all clans are even more wary, for everyone knows that Nidhogg has emerged from the Chaos Abyss.

Naturally, his young are also within the Dragon Clan’s sphere of protection—indeed, they are of the utmost importance. For the Dragon Clan cannot bear the cost of losing a young dragon, nor can they bear the loss of an ancient dragon.

The entire Helheim’s Tooth was shrouded in a mysterious, deep purple aura, a hue refracted by the unique open-pit magical mines found here.

The ten-day voyage across the sea had not diminished the Holy Son’s majesty in the slightest.

“He must have used Glory Magic,” Elder Byron said, bending down to adjust the collar of the Holy Son, Ilai, who had also been dressed in brand-new attire. “It’s an old trick of those Strong Elves; I can tell at a glance.”

Eli said nothing, because…

His neck was being squeezed just a little too tightly.

Before the Silver Dragon Elder—whose grip was disproportionately strong for his slender frame—could nearly strangle the Holy Son, the Lich Savvy took over the task of adjusting his clothes, saving the precarious bridge between the Dragon Clan and the Church of Light.

Once Eliadeos’s neck was freed, he hurriedly turned around, gazing intently toward the island’s highest peak.

That was the direction of Nidhogg and Esther’s lair.

He was truly worried about El; even as he left, El’s illness still didn’t seem to have improved.

Once the Church of Light’s fleet had anchored offshore, Elder Byron couldn’t wait to snap his wrist and open the familiar portal.

Eliadeos was still looking around in vain, and he actually saw the shadow of a dragon flying toward them at breakneck speed. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the black ancient dragon, but the sentimental green dragon teacher. He had come to say goodbye after hearing the news; everything had happened too suddenly, leaving no time to say farewell.

The green dragon—who always claimed to be weak, though he was actually much larger than any of the Church of Light’s ships—clutched the young Holy Child and wept uncontrollably.

He genuinely loved every youngling in the childcare squad and had prepared a mountain of farewell gifts for Eliadeos, nearly drowning the young Holy Child in them.

“I know the Church of Light won’t let you go without these, but, but…” The green dragon spoke incoherently between sobs, finally pulling out the gift Esther had asked him to bring.

—A bowl of potato chips mixed with beef jerky.

The golden, salty, and crispy potato chips had slightly curled edges, paired with savory, well-seasoned beef jerky. The blend of salty and sweet flavors was irresistible, and it had recently become little Esther’s absolute favorite. Of course, his fever was very likely caused by eating too many of these beef jerky strips from the Dwarven Tavis Valley. According to authoritative statistics from the Adventurers’ Guild, every pound of Tavis black beef jerky provides an effect equivalent to one hour of “Stamina Boost.”

It’s simply too potent for the body. It’s just right for dragon cubs, but for cubs of other races, it’s hard to say. At least, that’s the theory put forward by the Lich Savvy: the sudden change in weather, combined with the child’s delicate constitution and inability to handle such a surge of magical energy, left him unable to digest it.

Now, this bowl of snacks—recently popularized by El—is served in a crystal punch bowl half a meter wide. Its translucent pearl-white hue and intricate parrot carvings catch the sunlight, casting a blue-green opal glow; the bowl itself is a work of art. Yet this punch bowl, meant for serving wine or display, is used by the dragons merely to hold snacks.

The bowl is heaped so high it spills over the rim, and the edges are adorned with star stickers—the little one’s favorite.

It’s the kind of gift only Esther could give.

Eliadeos could almost picture him, his eyes shining like gold, earnestly urging, “Eat on the way! Don’t worry about getting hungry!”

For El, nothing in this world mattered more than a good meal.

Amid the aroma of beef jerky and the sound of the Green Dragon gasping for breath, the Holy Son El finally stepped through the teleportation gate that had been open for quite some time.

On the other side of the gate awaited the ultra-luxurious reception prepared for El by the Holy Son Lucius.

It was also his way of offering an apology.

This Holy Son, trained to perfection by the Church, was defined above all by his absolute loyalty to the Goddess of Light. This was also one of the reasons he had initially been unable to tolerate the existence of Eliadeos—for it implied either that he was no longer favored by the Goddess of Light, or that Eliadeos was a blasphemous imposter. Naturally, he could only believe the latter.

But now things were different. A fervent glow shone in the eyes of the Holy Son Lucius. The once-merciful One was finally about to awaken, and she naturally deserved to have more Holy Maidens and Holy Sons to serve Him.

As for his “colleagues,” the Holy Son Lucius’s attitude underwent a complete 180-degree turnaround.

He even managed to secure from the Pope-Teacher a position originally intended for Saint Madeline, declaring his intention to personally travel to Dragon Island to welcome Saint Son Ilae. His aim was both to “clear up past misunderstandings” with him and to serve as Ilae’s guide, preventing him from following Saint Madeline’s erroneous path.

Yes, Saint Madeline could easily win the goodwill of many, but Saint Lucius was certainly not among them. In his view, having married and borne children, she was inherently burdened with the original sin of infidelity.

Of course, he would never say this openly; he would only think it in his heart.

For this meeting, destined to be portrayed by church history as a “sacred encounter,” the Holy Son Lucius was committed to making everything perfect.

He pretended it was the first time he had seen or even heard of Eliadeos.

After Lucius gave his men a nod, two Knights Templar clad in silver armor stepped forward respectfully and unfurled a white carpet embroidered with patterns of light for the young Prince, symbolizing the sacred path.

The moment Eliadeos took his first step onto the carpet, two hundred Knights of the Temple knelt on one knee. Amid the choir’s hymns welcoming the Holy Son, they performed a standard knightly salute in perfect unison. The clanging of armor sounded like thunder, blending strangely with the choir’s singing to create a scene of unparalleled epic grandeur.

Seabirds circled overhead, and the sea breeze billowed the cloaks of both Holy Sons. Holy Son Lucius had always strived to present himself with the utmost decorum, yet it was Eliadeos’s smaller cloak that appeared more composed, for it was fastened with a special wind-resistant chain given to him by Esther.

Adorned with stars and moons on both ends, it possessed the powerful magic of a dragon.

It was something El had asked his father, who was busy cooking, to cast amidst his hectic schedule. The little boy took a few steps back and looked at his masterpiece with satisfaction, saying, “Now it’s perfect.”

The magic of the ancient dragon is indeed far more powerful than any ordinary magical item could ever compare to.

Eliadeos could clearly feel countless probing gazes fixed upon him—some filled with awe, others with curiosity, and still others with a complexity too deep for words. But there was no doubt about it: he was no longer the person he once was.

He was… um, how did El put it again? Eliadeos couldn’t quite grasp it—this was the first invisible barrier the brilliant young Saint had encountered in his studies. Only the Great Dragon could converse with El using that rhythmically rich language. It must be a language unique to the Ancient Dragons, he thought.

Although Esther had always insisted he was human.

But no human child could effortlessly lift a young dragon twice their size—of that, Eliadeos was certain.

After the grand welcoming ceremony concluded, Elder Byron—who, accompanied by only a few dragons, had already overwhelmed the entire ship of Templar Knights in sheer presence—unceremoniously issued an order to leave.

Even from this distance, the mere thought that Helheim—where the young dragons were—lay behind them triggered the dragons’ instinctive protective instincts, putting them on high alert. It was a restless agitation hard to describe; yet a dragon’s anxiety never consumes itself—it only destroys others.

The Church officials, sensing the dragons’ hostile aura, were equally on high alert. They hurriedly escorted the two Holy Sons out of Helheim, barely exchanging even their usual vague, rambling pleasantries.

From the Church of Light’s perspective, this was clearly an extreme breach of etiquette.

But the dragons’ disregard for formalities was nothing new.

By the time they remembered to go through the motions with the Younger Saint, Eliadeos had already left the Lich Master to handle them and returned to his cabin on the ship ahead of them.

He didn’t know where his cabin was, but clearly, heading for the highest and finest spot couldn’t be wrong.

According to the traditions of the Church of Light, the finest quarters were always reserved for those of the highest standing, and at that moment, he and the Holy Son, Lucius, were undoubtedly the highest-ranking individuals aboard the entire ship. Given Lucius’s character, he would surely cede the finest suite to the younger Eliadeos, for humility was one of the seven virtues cherished by the Goddess.

The fleet set sail once more, the bow cutting through the wind and waves. Eliadeos pushed open the door and walked straight into his suite, still holding that enormous punch bowl in his hands. The aroma of the food inside was truly tempting, yet he felt so deeply distressed.

Because he didn’t know what Esther really meant—had he forgiven him? Or was he using the beef jerky to sever ties with him once and for all?

The Little Saint wasn’t very optimistic; he felt the latter was more likely. The more he thought about it, the more distressed he became, almost unable to breathe—until a familiar voice, one he suspected might be a hallucination, sounded in his ear: “What’s wrong, Elae?”

Then, he clearly saw Esther, wearing the exact same cloak as him. his white, tousled curls, his slightly flushed cheeks, and his beaming smile. He said, “Did you sneak a bite of the beef jerky?”

Only then did Eliadeos realize that this wasn’t the parting gift El had given him, but the little snack they’ll shared on the road.

“It’s okay,” Esther said with the utmost nonchalance, “I couldn’t resist either.” As he spoke, he reached out his guilty little hand toward the beef jerky, which tasted better the more he chewed it.

No matter how you look at it, it’s all the beef jerky’s fault!

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Author’s Note: 

A little nonsense skit:

Why go out even when the kid is sick?

Dragon Dad: Because the kid can’t be without his best friend, and because he can’t be without the healer.

The Old Lich Smiles: Having you is truly a blessing from my past life.

Dragon Dad: Thanks, I’m just that awesome—no need to thank me.

PS: Don’t worry, Dragon Dad is on the ship too—he boarded legally 2333. It’s just that Eli doesn’t know it yet. From *The Dragon’s Revenge* (not really)

Another PS: I’ve never actually eaten that evil combination of potato chips and beef jerky myself, but I’ve seen it online. It looks so delicious… sniff, I want some.