Chapter Forty-Five: The Secret of the Fire Trident

Shaya was born a mountain hunter, adept at skinning and boning his prey with practiced skill. Yet he had never hunted a dragon before. This massive creature before him had him sizing up his options for a long while, forming a plan before daring to proceed.

He first used his fire fork to cut dozens of scales from the dragon’s body. Each scale was sizable—the smallest no less than a basin—and he harvested more than thirty before stopping, realizing he’d only taken a small patch from the dragon’s hide.

He paused, and suddenly a strange idea struck him.

Dragon scale armor… It was simply a matter of smoothing, piercing, and fastening the scales together. Though he lacked the skill for such craftsmanship, he had another method.

Yes!

He would cut a large piece of skin with the scales still attached, then throw it over himself.

Wouldn’t that be a dragon-hide cloak with dragon scale armor in one? With this solution, why bother seeking out dwarves?

Once he thought of it, Shaya acted immediately. His fire fork was sharp, and soon the unfortunate dragon was butchered, its hide in tatters. Sweating profusely, he finally cut a large swath from the dragon’s belly, the skin covered in scales, though the fresh blood made it somewhat revolting. But Shaya, who had already smeared himself with dragon blood, cared little for such gore.

Grinning, he wrapped the hide around himself and spun in place. Suddenly remembering the sparkling glass stones in the cave, he rushed in, grabbed a few large ones, and checked his reflection.

He was tall and broad, draped in scaly hide.

“Hmph… the more I look, the more I resemble a fat-headed fish. Damn! Fish do have scales all over their bodies…”

It looked dreadful. Shaya sat down and began cutting the hide, quickly fashioning a crude vest. Though the design was rough, it could easily be worn under his clothes, invisible from the outside.

“Ha! Who says I’m a country bumpkin? I don’t need dwarves to make dragon scale armor for me!”

Shaya danced in triumph.

In his excitement, he dropped the fire fork, which landed with a bang on his foot. Overjoyed, he suffered for it, howling in pain and hopping about, then sat down and realized something was amiss. He snatched up the fire fork.

“Huh? Why is it getting heavier?” Shaya puzzled, frowning.

Originally, the fire fork was quite light, meant for stoking furnaces. For Shaya’s formidable strength, it felt like a toothpick—sharp, but unwieldy in its lightness.

Now, however, he perceived a satisfying heft in his hand!

Shaya was used to wielding axes weighing dozens of pounds!

Realizing the fire fork’s peculiar transformation, he knew it wasn’t his imagination. He pondered a moment, then walked back to the dragon’s corpse, noticing the pieces of flesh he’d cut earlier and was stunned.

Those pieces, sliced with the fire fork, had become dried meat! As if they’d been cured in the wind for months, not a trace of moisture remained—just shriveled chunks.

“The blood’s gone?!” Shaya immediately understood the problem. He slashed another wound in the dragon, watched the blood flow, and pressed the fire fork to it…

Sure enough! The dragon blood touched the fire fork and was instantly absorbed—no trace left on the fork! It was as if the fire fork had become an infinite sponge, soaking up the blood at a touch!

“Damn it!” Shaya exclaimed, instinctively flicking the fire fork.

A deep, resonant hum echoed through the cave, startling him. The sound was uncannily similar to the roar he’d heard from Dora earlier.

A dragon’s roar?!

Even with his limited experience, Shaya realized this was no ordinary tool; it was a treasure. Joy surged within him, and he threw his head back, laughing wildly.

“When I return to Wildfire Town, I’ll find a blacksmith to forge it anew—make it into a battle axe! This fire fork looks ridiculous. What master wields a fire fork in a duel? I’d be laughed out of town! Only a magnificent battle axe befits my status!”

Shaya imagined himself clad in dragon scale armor, wielding a battle axe, his imposing figure, and couldn’t help but drool.

* * *

Shaya lingered in the cave for a long time. Outside, Miserable and Dodoro were growing impatient.

Earlier, Ada had emerged alone, barely nodding before drifting away. Miserable grew worried and wanted to approach the cave, but Dodoro dared not.

Seeing the dragon’s tail still outside the cave, Dodoro felt a sudden urge to wet himself, refusing to take a single step forward.

Miserable ran to the cave entrance alone, only to hear a deep dragon’s roar inside, which made her legs go weak. But worry overcame her, and she called out in a low voice, “Shaya! Shaya, are you alright?”

Then came Shaya’s raucous laughter.

Her vision blurred, and she saw Shaya stride out of the cave. Miserable glanced at him and screamed, her face flushed, spinning away and running, only to trip and fall.

Shaya, dissatisfied with the dragon hide earlier, had turned it into a vest, but after changing, he hadn’t bothered to dress properly. He forgot to fasten his trousers and belt, and as he strode out, his appendage swayed in the breeze…

Miserable had never witnessed such a scene, and fled in terror.

Dodoro hurried over to help her up, his face eager to please. “Your Highness…”

Miserable’s expression changed, nervous as she looked at him. “You! You really do know me?!”

Dodoro’s smile bloomed like a chrysanthemum. “Your Highness, I am a mage. In Osgiliath, I once glimpsed you in the cathedral, when you left with the crown prince… Though it was only from afar, how could anyone forget your beauty?”

Hearing Shaya’s laughter from the cave, Miserable grew anxious, clamping a hand over Dodoro’s mouth and whispered urgently, “Shut up! Don’t say another word!”

She glanced at the cave, worried, and took a breath, gritting her teeth to ask, “Your name?”

“Dodoro! My name is Dodoro! A first-level earth mage, at your service, Your Highness!” Dodoro was ecstatic.

“Very well, Dodoro.” Miserable narrowed her eyes. In that moment, her usual pitiful demeanor vanished, replaced by a flash of innate authority. “Listen carefully, Mage Dodoro: regarding my identity, you are not to mention a word to that fellow! Not a single word! Also, he… he still thinks I’m a man, so you… do you understand?”

Dodoro shrank back, thinking, My god! He thinks she’s a man? How poor must his eyesight be? Is this thief truly an idiot?

Yet to be robbed by an idiot was hard to swallow.

“Did you hear me?” Miserable was anxious.

“Yes, yes! I absolutely won’t say a word!” Dodoro quickly found a reason: Surely Her Highness is disguising herself to avoid the thief’s lustful advances! Oh dear, I mustn’t divulge this secret! If the thief becomes smitten, and anything happens to Her Highness… I’d be guilty!

He imagined the royal disgrace, being held responsible for revealing her identity…

The pyres before the cathedral, the executioner’s block…

Dodoro shivered violently. “I won’t say a word! Not a word!!”

“Good! If you dare reveal anything, I’ll have my brother kill you! You’ll lose your head!” Miserable added, still uneasy.

“Uh… What if you yourself accidentally let it slip?”

“I… I’ll still have your head!”

“…” Dodoro blinked, sighing sincerely, “Your Highness is indeed fair and just. Truly admirable!”