Chapter 82: The Dragon’s Fury and the Human’s Deception

“Hey, human, how do you feel?”

Deep within a cave nestled in the vast Alastor Forest, Fafnir cradled Brunhilde in her arms, using her magic to heal his wounds.

Given that Brunhilde possessed no magical circuits within his body, an excessive influx of magic would cause his form to collapse under the unbearable strain.

Thus, Fafnir was compelled to heal his wounds gradually, bit by painstaking bit.

Never before had Fafnir imagined she would exhibit such patience for a mere human.

“What a nuisance,” she muttered. “Humans are indeed such foolish and fragile creatures. I truly don’t comprehend how you inferior beings have managed to survive this long.”

Once the treatment concluded, Fafnir unceremoniously tossed Brunhilde onto the bed, then clapped her hands together with a disdainful gesture, her face a mask of utter contempt.

Brunhilde had initially intended to challenge Fafnir, ‘How could I possibly have been injured if not for you?’

Yet, a deep-seated fear of provoking Fafnir’s wrath gnawed at him, ultimately leaving him to respond with a soft, noncommittal ‘Mm,’ before closing his eyes, ready to surrender to sleep.

This was his sole respite.

However, Fafnir clearly had no intention of being ignored by Brunhilde.

She could have simply disregarded this human, leaving him to his fate within the cave, but she had chosen otherwise.

Instead, she had rescued him, meticulously repaired the cavern for this wretched human—who was less than an ant—made his bed, and personally tended to his wounds.

And yet this human, this vile wretch, dared to offer nothing more than a dismissive ‘Mm’ without a single word of gratitude.

A surge of fury welled within Fafnir.

Gazing at Brunhilde, who lay naked and bound by chains, Fafnir reached out, seizing his throat and lifting him effortlessly.

Dark magic coiled around Fafnir’s hand, swirling menacingly about Brunhilde’s neck.

Her crimson eyes locked onto Brunhilde’s bewildered gaze.

‘How laughable,’ she thought. ‘I’ve been so good to him, yet he looks at me with such an expression.’

Fafnir felt as though she had been utterly insulted, and in a fit of savage anger, she delivered a resounding slap across Brunhilde’s face.

“Slap!”

The sharp crack of the slap echoed through the cave, as Fafnir glared at Brunhilde, who struggled futilely in mid-air.

“Human, I graciously healed you. Do you not even intend to utter a single word of thanks?”

Brunhilde clutched at Fafnir’s hand, thrashing desperately, his eyes fixed on Fafnir with an agonizing plea, hoping his beseeching gaze might compel her to release him.

“I fail to comprehend what is so appealing about humans that makes you cling to life so tenaciously,” Fafnir sneered. “For a creature as ugly, foolish, selfish, and weak as you, being noticed by me is a blessing earned through eighteen generations of your ancestors’ good deeds and accumulated virtue. Yet, you remain unsatisfied—what an utter fool!”

“Ugh… ugh…” Brunhilde strained with all his might to voice a sound, but with Fafnir’s grip unyielding on his throat, he could utter nothing, only struggle weakly and plead with his eyes.

It hurt so much; it was unbearable.

He couldn’t breathe.

Soon, Brunhilde’s mind was utterly devoid of any thought other than his suffering, the suffocating sensation, and the impending terror of death.

‘Save me, it hurts so much, someone please save me, I beg you.’

‘I’m suffocating.’

‘I can’t breathe.’

Watching Brunhilde’s face slowly turn crimson, Fafnir finally let out a cold snort, released her grip, and once more flung Brunhilde onto the bed.

“Human, do you know what to say now?”

Fafnir observed Brunhilde with cold eyes as he gasped for breath, trembling uncontrollably, granting him not a moment’s reprieve.

Brunhilde coughed several times, tears welling in the corners of his eyes, and nodded fearfully.

He fought to suppress the urge to weep, subtly shifting towards Fafnir, pressing his forehead firmly against the bed with his legs pressed together, adopting a prostrate posture to express his gratitude.

“Y-yes, thank you very much, Lady Fafnir. I am profoundly grateful for your willingness to show such mercy to a lowly creature like myself. Your immense kindness is something I shall never forget, for all eternity.”

“Hmph.”

Fafnir let out a cold snort, yet within her, a profound sense of satisfaction bloomed.

‘Precisely,’ she mused. ‘This is how weak and pathetic creatures like humans ought to behave—prostrate themselves before the strong, eternally grateful for their benefaction. This is the only way humans can survive.’

‘Indeed, this is precisely the destiny humanity deserves.’

“Very well, rise. I do not wish for such an incident to recur.”

“Y-yes, thank you very much.”

Only then did Brunhilde breathe a sigh of relief, quickly sitting upright.

Yet, he remained rigidly seated, daring to do nothing, uncertain when he might inadvertently provoke Fafnir’s wrath or how he could possibly please her.

He simply waited in quiet apprehension for Fafnir’s next command.

Fafnir, thoroughly pleased by Brunhilde’s flattery, felt her anger considerably dissipate.

She approached Brunhilde, wiped clean the foot of the bed, and sat down, patting the empty space beside her.

Brunhilde immediately understood her unspoken invitation and moved closer.

“Lady Fafnir, what are your commands?”

“Heh, humans truly are creatures who only learn from a beating.”

Fafnir scoffed, paying no mind to Brunhilde’s expression as she continued speaking to herself.

“Never mind. I no longer wish to speak of such vile creatures as humans; they only sully my mouth. Hey, human, tell me, what have you decided about the matter I spoke to you of?”

Brunhilde stiffened, then instantly grasped Fafnir’s meaning.

The reason Brunhilde was imprisoned here, bound by Fafnir’s chains, and adorned with a collar, was for one singular purpose: Fafnir desired him to become her wife.

Fafnir had been captivated by the handsome human youth at first glance.

Though she inherently viewed humans as base creatures, this particular human exerted a strange allure over Fafnir, compelling her to approach him and claim him as her own.

“Human, why are you silent? I’ve given you so long to consider; do you truly have nothing to say?”

Fafnir watched Brunhilde with an amused glint in her eyes, her fingers lightly tapping the bed frame, producing a rhythmic “tap, tap, tap.”

Yet, at that moment, Brunhilde’s mind was consumed by what Roalsa had told him.

Roalsa had instructed him to find a way to ingratiate himself with Fafnir, to extract more information from her, to discover Fafnir’s weaknesses, all so that Roalsa could ultimately defeat her.

While Brunhilde harbored considerable doubt about Roalsa’s plan, he currently had no other recourse.

Regardless of whether Roalsa could succeed, he had to take this chance.

Brunhilde yearned to escape the daily terror of living under Fafnir’s shadow.

Now, a chance to break free from Fafnir’s clutches had presented itself, and whether it proved viable or not, it was his only opportunity; Brunhilde had to seize it.

“Human! Answer me!”

Fafnir’s patience had worn thin.

She had only just disciplined this human mere minutes ago, yet he was already ignoring her again, a fact that filled Fafnir with a sense of frustration.

Brunhilde was jolted from his thoughts by Fafnir’s voice.

Seeing Fafnir’s enraged expression, he immediately realized the gravity of the situation.

“Forgive me, Lady Fafnir, I was merely overcome with emotion…”

“Overcome with emotion?”

Fafnir narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing Brunhilde.

“Tell me, what precisely has moved you so?”

“During the days Lady Fafnir bade me reflect, I pondered extensively in solitude.

I have come to a profound understanding of my errors.

For a noble dragon like Lady Fafnir to even cast her gaze upon a lowly human such as myself is truly the fortune of three lifetimes.

Yet, I shamelessly dared to refuse Lady Fafnir—I am truly, deeply sorry.”

“Now, for Lady Fafnir to ask me this question again indicates that I hold a place in your heart, and I am genuinely moved beyond words.”

Brunhilde, while carefully observing Fafnir’s expression, swiftly concocted a flattering lie in his mind.

A proud creature like Fafnir would undoubtedly become so utterly intoxicated by flattery that she would entirely disregard any logical inconsistencies.

“Is that so? Then what was the meaning of your ignoring me just now?”

Fafnir regarded Brunhilde with a skeptical gaze, awaiting a plausible explanation.

“You wouldn’t be deceiving me, would you?”

“I despise deceit above all else. If you dare to lie to me, I promise you, I will make your life a living hell.”

Dark, suffocating tendrils of black energy coiled around Fafnir’s fingertips, emanating a putrid stench as if to threaten Brunhilde.

This was Fafnir’s venom; if she wished, she could utterly corrode Brunhilde’s internal organs, reducing them to bloody pulp, leaving him unable to live or die.

“Therefore, you had best choose your answer carefully, human.”

Brunhilde swallowed hard, knowing there was no turning back now.

Since that was the case, he had but one path: to commit fully and stake all his hopes on Roalsa.

“Forgive me, Lady Fafnir. I am truly exhausted. Having just been rescued from the collapsed cave, I am still gripped by lingering trepidation, which has left my mind muddled, preventing me from showing you the respect you deserve.”

“I am truly sorry, Lady Fafnir…”

Brunhilde, suppressing his fear, gently took Fafnir’s hand.

Fafnir instinctively recoiled, yet she forced herself to endure the revulsion, allowing Brunhilde to lift her hand.

Fafnir wanted to see what this human intended to do.

“Are you attempting to curry favor with me, human?”

Brunhilde, maintaining as much warmth in his voice as possible, answered Fafnir, then pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.

“Yes, Lady Fafnir. I am profoundly grateful that a lowly creature such as myself could capture your attention.”

“Since that is the case, I shall forgive your transgression of freely touching me.”

Fafnir’s throat moved.

She instinctively desired to wash her hands.

Even though a layer of black light had covered Fafnir’s hands during Brunhilde’s treatment, actively cleansing her palms.

“Thank you very much, Lady Fafnir. I promise you, I will certainly become a wife who pleases you.”

As Brunhilde spoke, he knew that his game of espionage with Fafnir had officially begun, starting from this very moment.

Fafnir, naturally, had no inkling of Brunhilde’s true intentions.

She made an effort not to look at Brunhilde’s hand, as only one thought ceaselessly echoed in her mind:

‘How utterly filthy; I desperately want to wash my hands.’