The atmosphere was suffocating.
Power thrummed in the air like a plucked wire, thick with hostility. They were surrounded—warriors and mages packed the tomb, all eyes burning with restrained aggression. The heat of magic buzzed like a live wire, everyone wound tight, ready to pounce.
At the head of the formation stood a man whose entire body looked like it was about to burst from barely-contained rage: Mace Cador, head of the Cador family. His goatee quivered with every breath. His skin flushed a deep, unflattering shade of crimson—almost purple, like a pig's liver left too long in the sun.
Yarrow's eyes flicked between the furious man and the elegantly defiant Zen, now casually leaning against a collapsed column like she wasn't the center of a powder keg ready to blow.
What the hell did she do this time?
Before he could even piece things together, the bandaged figure of Third Young Master Dick stepped forward, his face wrapped in gauze and voice trembling with fury as he jabbed a finger at Zen.
"Dad! It's her! She destroyed the ancestral statue, assaulted me—twice—and invaded the secret realm without permission!"
Yarrow's expression flattened.
So that's what this was about. Zen beat the kid, shattered a statue… and broke into a magically sealed ancestral ground. Again.
He considered playing it down. "Come on," he thought, "the statue was basically rubble already, and the guy's just roughed up, not dead. A slap on the wrist at best."
But before he could even begin spinning a diplomatic web, Mace's voice came low and cold, barely masking the fury boiling beneath.
"This dragon-blooded lady—" He sneered the word like it was poison. "—I don't believe we've ever offended your clan. So tell me… why did you desecrate our ancestor's tomb and injure my son?"
Yarrow blinked.
Tomb?
He turned—and his gut sank. Overhead, a gaping hole in the ceiling spilled light down like judgment. Rubble littered the ancient stone floor. The coffin beneath had been shattered open, its lid split like a broken ribcage. The remains inside—bones, wrappings, old relics—were now just debris.
"Zen…" Yarrow growled under his breath, pointing at the wreckage. "Did you do that?"
Zen looked up from where she was inspecting her claws. "Yes."
"Don't just say yes so casually! You actually robbed their ancestral tomb?!"
She whipped around, crimson eyes flashing. "If you hadn't ruined the ending of my detective novel, I wouldn't have come looking for you in such a mood."
Yarrow looked like he wanted to strangle her. "You're insane! I spoiled one chapter and you went full tomb raider?!"
"Don't act like you're innocent! You invited this!" she shot back, baring her fangs.
The argument quickly devolved into a sharp, profanity-laced back-and-forth. Somewhere in the middle of their squabble, Mace finally snapped.
"Enough!"
His voice echoed through the tomb, his eyes bloodshot with fury.
"I don't care which ancient dragon-blood line you crawled out of," he spat at Zen. "Defiling our ancestors is unforgivable. If we don't get proper reparation today, you're not leaving here alive!"
Zen let out an annoyed click of her tongue, uncrossing her arms. Her movements were fluid—elegant, yet predatory. A dangerous smile curled her lips as she stepped forward.
"I'm not one to dodge responsibility," she said smoothly. "You want compensation?"
She tilted her head toward Yarrow. "Yarrow, pay them."
"You—what?! You're the one who did this!"
Zen's grin widened, gleaming with a touch of madness. "Aren't you the one who dragged me here in the first place? If you'd just left me with my book, none of this would've happened."
Yarrow ground his teeth and turned to Mace. "Alright. What do you want? Money? Magic relics? Something under the table?"
Mace's eyes gleamed cold. "No. Money isn't enough to mend an ancestral insult."
He raised a hand and pointed directly at Zen.
"She will serve the Cador family for five years—a full term of servitude. That is the only way to restore honor to our name."
The tomb went silent. Yarrow's face froze. Rene's tail flicked nervously behind her. Even Peach Fox looked up from Yarrow's side with wide, stunned eyes.
Zen blinked once.
Then she laughed.
Low, sultry, and full of menace.
Then came the roar.
A pulse of ancient dragon power exploded from her body. The air shimmered, warping from the pressure as the ground itself trembled. Every soldier in the room was hurled backward like dolls—slamming into walls, collapsing in broken heaps.
Even Mace and his sons went down hard. Dick let out a girlish scream as he hit the floor face-first, while Mace struggled to remain upright, fingers clawing at the cracked stone.
"You really thought I was being humble?" Zen's voice rang out like thunder.
Her wings unfurled, stretching wide. Her crimson pupils narrowed into slits, glowing with an ancient heat. The entire tomb was drenched in the oppressive dominance of the Dragon King.
"Foolish. Fragile. Human. Do not mistake restraint for weakness."
The pressure climbed higher. Dick was sobbing now, his body writhing under the weight of Zen's aura. Mace was wheezing, eyes bulging as he tried to speak but failed.
"Zen! Stop it!" Yarrow barked, struggling to keep his own voice steady under the crushing force.
"Oh? Showing sympathy now?" Zen looked at him sideways, her fangs peeking through a wicked grin.
"No," Yarrow growled. "Peach Fox is about to pass out."
He held the trembling beast girl in his arms—her breathing shallow, her body limp. Nearby, Rene was huddled in a corner, wide-eyed and visibly shaken, but faring better thanks to her divine lineage.
Zen sighed, retracting her aura slightly. "Tch. Fine. Only because she's cute."
The air eased slightly—barely—but enough for Mace to collapse forward, gasping, sweat streaming down his face.
Yarrow shook his head slowly.
"Next time you pick a fight," he muttered, "maybe don't go full apocalypse mode over a book spoiler."
Zen just licked her lips.
"There's more than one way to punish someone for betrayal, Yarrow."
"Tch."
Zen flicked her fingers with a casual disdain that carried the weight of an empire. The suffocating pressure that had nearly crushed the room receded like a receding tide—slow, reluctant, and still charged with latent threat.
The moment the air cleared, the soldiers collapsed to their knees, gasping for breath like drowning men finally breaking the surface. Their faces were pale, eyes wide and unfocused. Many of them had already wet their armor.
Mace, drenched in sweat and trembling from head to toe, stared at Zen with a mix of fury and fear. His carefully cultivated noble image had long since crumbled. He looked like a man who had been stripped bare and tossed into a storm.
"You… you arrogant, ignorant woman!" he finally spat, veins bulging on his neck as he pointed a shaking finger. "Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?! The Cador family is no common house. We are under the protection of the Echino family, who serve none other than the Silver Moon Dragon King! Their family head is a close friend of mine! And you—"
Yarrow, cradling a barely-conscious Peach Fox in his arms, blinked in disbelief. "Wait. Did he… just name drop her own name… to her?"
Zen raised an eyebrow.
"So noisy." Her voice was velvet over blades, cool and sharp. "And here I don't remember agreeing to babysit any human families."
A soft snap echoed through the tomb as blue lightning crackled at her fingertip. With a lazy wave, she sent a bolt of pure current arcing toward Mace's chest—elegant, beautiful, and lethal.
The bolt never reached its mark.
Crack—!
A flash of gold flared in the air, and a shimmering shield materialized in front of Mace. The impact rang like a bell through the tomb. The one who intercepted it stood firm, only retreating two steps from the force before planting his feet and raising his eyes.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. With gray, spiraling dragon horns and wings tucked behind his back, the newcomer's presence was cold steel—restrained power cloaked in discipline. A dragon tail curled behind him with precision, and his golden vertical pupils locked onto Zen with quiet, unflinching scrutiny.
His face could have been carved from stone—angular, severe, and utterly without warmth.
Jarvis.
The chief steward of the Echino family.
And unmistakably one of her kind.
Mace scrambled to his feet behind him, emboldened now that a "true dragon" had arrived. "You saw it, Jarvis! She dared to strike me! She must be one of yours—this kind of arrogance, this insanity! You must report her to the patriarch. She should be—"
Jarvis didn't even turn around. His voice cut through the rambling like a guillotine.
"Enough."
Mace froze mid-rant.
Jarvis's gaze remained fixed on Zen. But there was no accusation in his eyes—only calculation, and something far more dangerous: recognition.
"Silver Moon blood Zen ," he said softly. "There's no mistaking it."
Zen exhaled slowly, like she was getting bored.
"Should I be flattered you remembered my name, Jarvis?" she said, voice laced with amusement. "Or insulted that your humans have been throwing it around like a discount warding spell?"
Mace paled. "Wait… what…?"
Zen stepped forward, and the stone beneath her heel cracked slightly under the pressure.
"I'm not here for your little feudal dramas. But if you think you can hide behind dragon names like mine and demand obedience…" She leaned in, her lips curling in a slow, amused smile. "Then you are the ones who need discipline."
The silence that followed was so absolute it felt like the tomb itself was holding its breath.
Jarvis's wings twitched ever so slightly.
"I won't interfere," he said finally, stepping aside. "But don't expect your name alone to protect you forever, Zen."
Zen's grin sharpened. "Who said I ever needed protection?"