Chapter 7: Interlude I part 2

Momonga examined his friend once more, frowning to himself. For once he was glad that the game couldn't let others view his expression. These days he seemed utterly exhausted, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. The slump of his shoulders, the hollow look in his eyes.

This expression wasn't new. It was a specter of death that hung over the man from time to time, driving him into yet another frenzied charge of innovation. A desperation fueled by something that made him spend weeks on end to pull off an objectively pointless task. Nights spent farming so many one-use Items no one could ever use them all, days of hard-eyed concentration just to ensure a single weapon was up to par.

It wasn't safe. It wasn't healthy. It was illogical, something powered by raw emotion rather than any real plan of action. When he finally sat down asked him about it, the old man simply laughed, tossing out one of his casual comments he thought so little of.

"You would be shocked to learn the lengths a human will be willing to go to in order to sustain even the slightest flicker of hope."

Momonga would nod sagely at those sort of phrases, but later he would wonder. What kind of life had the old man led to so wholeheartedly believe such a thing? Some of the Guild Members once had a running contest on who could come up with the best story of 'the pervy old man's past'. Some had been amusing, but others had been frighteningly realistic.

Ulbert, the one who knew the Dragon best, once speculated that the reason Ancient One spent so much time in-game was because he was actually dying of some incredibly painful disease with no known cure. It was entirely possible, considering his age. Tabula assumed he was around eighty or ninety, which would leave him alive during the Dark Age. Perhaps his brush with the terrible wars of that time had scarred him forever, slowly taking more and more of his freedoms away until he was just a mere husk.

It seemed too horrific to be true, and like many of the others Momonga simply laughed Ulbert's idea off and moved on to the next. But some days… some days he wondered. The old Dragon would get this look in his eye sometimes, as if he were looking out upon the most beautiful sight in the world. He would say things, casual comments that made one wonder exactly how different the world was when he was growing up.

Not to mention his playstyle…

Momonga sighed, raising his staff. It was a spire of iron woven with a large gem in the center, the top curving out in a twisted mockery of the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown. It was a good weapon, one of the best in the game, but like everything else Ancient One made, it had more words of flavor text than it did of code.

To anyone who knew the man, it was more than clear that he embraced the world of YGGDRASIL as reality. It wasn't a game to him, it was a lifestyle. He put more hours into Nazarick's development than the rest of the Guild combined, not even counting the resources he burned through upgrading absolutely everything possible.

It didn't seem healthy. It didn't seem sane.

But who was a mere salaryman to question the way someone spent the final years of their life?

And besides. Even if he was a bit odd, his skills at the game were second to none.

In the days of Ainz Ooal Gown's greatest triumphs, the days when the Guild had risen to number one, Ancient One was one of the greatest Players they had ever seen. He led the charge against an entire World, sacking and pillaging Asgard of everything it had.

Momonga had feared retribution. Ancient One just laughed.

They came for revenge, armed with Divine-level gear and a hundred thousand Players. Not just ones from Asgard, but ones from all over YGGDRASIL. An army of people who simply wanted to dethrone the game's top Guild. A hundred thousand people. A fraction of YGGDRASIL's total Player count at the time.

But as ever, that didn't seem to phase the blue Dragon. He calmly removed his most valuable Items, equipped a ring that minimized EXP loss after death, and sat down on Floor 4 to meet them head-on.

Twenty thousand Players died at his claws. Twenty thousand. Merely from him setting up a basic strategic chokepoint and tearing through them all like rice paper. Hundreds died before they realized they couldn't win against him in such large numbers, instead prioritizing getting as many people across as possible.

Yes. That was it. Ancient One's playstyle was essentially one idea, expanded to fit every possible situation.

Change the rules of the game.

If all hundred-thousand Players had mobbed him at once, they could have conceivably killed him. They would have a high death toll, yes, but Ancient One was still just one Player with limited HP, no matter how powerful he was. The Dragon brought no World Items, no gear capable of turning the tide of such a one-sided battle. In a strategy game, in any real war, he would have died to their assault.

But those were the rules. And Ancient One despised rules.

So instead he engineered a different situation. Only around a thousand Players could fit through every few seconds, and that created a bottleneck. The battlefield hadn't changed, but the terms of the encounter had. Ancient One could kill hundreds of Players in a second, while they could only send in a thousand every few. Victory was still possible, but to kill him now required so many sacrifices that no one would dare gamble their own lives on such a foolhardy stunt.

And so they stopped attacking him. They gave up hope of winning, ignored the resources they had that might have been able to even the odds, forgot the mechanics of the Dragon's own Skills, and decided to prioritize survival over victory.

Ancient One didn't like his odds, so he changed them. As simple as that.

Except it wasn't simple. Not really. Ancient One just seemed to have a knack for it. A skill he had likely honed over his decades of life. Privately Momonga wondered if that was what made him so interesting to the Developers, that he was capable of walking into a dungeon and doing some odd series of actions, only to walk out with ten times the loot he should have. He actively thrived on using the game's own rules against it, seeing things no one else imagined and trying things no one else thought to.

Of course Momonga knew about his deposit of Caloric Stone. He was just too terrified to ask how he got it.

Because that was the most worrying part about the man's style.

He was batshit crazy.

Touch Me frequently stated that the border between Ancient One's genius and madness was so slim that the two could become entirely interchangeable at times. While the Insectoid had been Guildmaster, he had made it a point to give the Dragon a wiiiide berth. Momonga had taken a decidedly different approach, much to the Paladin's alarm. Rather than leaving him be, he politely asked for his help.

It had been a dangerous move, to be sure, especially in hindsight. Ancient One could cause more destruction by accident than most Players could on purpose. But Momonga knew what Touch Me had never bothered to learn. He knew exactly how to deal with the Dragon's madness, and better, harness it for the good of the Guild.

It was simple.

Give him what he wanted.

As a salaryman, Momonga knew exactly how to tell what people wanted. It was a marketable skill that he had developed over years at work. And as a Guildmaster, it was easy to use it for the betterment of the Guild. If someone didn't want something to be known, say nothing. If someone wanted extra allowances, see what they were willing to give in return. Ancient One didn't actually need all that much, just a fair amount of creative freedom with few hard rules restricting him. Respect that, and he was more than happy to tinker with the game's mechanics in peace.

Touch Me stayed far away from Floor 9 for quite some time once he learned that Ancient One had set up shop there. Ulbert was the only one jaded enough to check up on the Dragon, and even then he occasionally returned with a peculiar tone to his voice, as if he wasn't sure whether to laugh or strangle someone.

Things settled down. Ancient One remained relatively quiet, keeping his experiments to areas they wouldn't cause any harm. When the three-month mark passed with no walls disappearing or Items doing things they were never designed to, Touch Me reached critical paranoia and began insisting the Dragon was up to something.

That was the first argument Momonga ever had with the man. Touch Me was convinced that the Dragon was about to pull some stunt capable of backfiring horribly, citing many previous examples as proof. Momonga tried to defuse the man by pointing out that all of his examples ended up helping more than anything else, even if the Paladin never quite saw it that way.

Ancient One was a good man. A tad unstable, yes, but not deliberately harmful to anyone he considered a friend. He just… had a tendency to view rules and laws as inherently flawed. And Touch Me, a person who practically worshipped the law, was an alien existence that the Dragon didn't really understand.

And even if Ancient One were planning something, telling him to stop would just piss him off, right?

Touch Me fell silent at that, nodding silently. A truth he had likely just realized. That was what had prevented him from ever truly understanding Ancient One—he failed to understand that the only way he could be reasoned with was through a willingness to compromise on some things.

So Momonga sat back and waited. Another month passed. Two. Now even Ulbert was growing restless, something Momonga knew was a sign that this was the calm before the storm. He assumed it was some sort of new strategy, some kind of Item that would bump the wall of World-Tier simply through virtue of how broken it was.

Once upon a time, Momonga underestimated what the oldest Player in the game was capable of.

And then Ancient One blew up a fucking World out of spite.

No. Not out of spite. It was more complicated than that. Asgard had represented everything Ancient One hated—a restriction on his freedom to do what he wanted. They told him he wasn't allowed to enter the Worlds of the Humanoids, even killing him several times to drive the point home.

So he drew back. He feigned acceptance. He bided his time, playing the literal long game. Over the span of several years, he slowly cloaked and hid inconspicuous Items all over Asgard. Then, in the span of ten seconds, he turned the very symbol of Human supremacy into a smoking crater.

That was the day Momonga learned what Touch Me had been so terrified of. The first time he had seen madness dance in Ancient One's eyes, cruel hatred only barely contained by the weight of experience. Momonga knew in that instant that even if this were real life, even if the deaths were real, even if the people burning had lives and souls… Ancient One would still have burned them all.

Not because he was evil, not because he didn't care about their lives. Helheim would never suffer the same fate, Ancient One would never harm an innocent without first seeking another way out of conflict. But he didn't see Asgard as a World of innocents. He had warned them, he had tried to bargain. When they proceeded to force their agendas on him anyway, they ceased being innocents.

They forfeited their honor. They became the enemy.

And Ancient One had no mercy for honorless enemies.

Momonga shuddered, shaking his head. His thoughts had turned down a rather macabre path. Instead of dwelling more on them, he pulled up his menu to distract himself.

He was hardly as insane as Ancient One was to willingly charge into the Demon World, a new area specifically made to be full of monsters that were capable of giving tremendous amounts of EXP upon their deaths. Monsters whose Stats were well over those of a Level 100 Player when they were within their home world.

The irony of the situation was that Demons were more or less trash mobs once they left the Demon World. Archer or Demiurge could conceivably receive a tremendous boost if they entered that World, of course, but that was something no one was willing to test unless the Devs were planning some cruel trick for anyone who brought their beloved NPC into the hellzone.

…Yeah, you can probably imagine how well Ancient One reacted to the idea that one of his precious NPCs might be taken from him.

"Hey, Momonga, are you coming or not?"

Momonga blinked, torn from his thoughts. Right. Reality. It still existed.

The lich sighed, setting down his staff. "You know, Ancient-san… I think I'll pass on this one. I need to keep Nazarick in one piece, still. You can have plenty of fun on your own, though, no need for me to be there."

The Dragon nodded, the swirling portal to the Demon World behind him shrieking ominously. "Well… if you're sure…"

"Positive."

He nodded once. "Well, good luck then. See you in a while!"

And with that, the Dragon dove into the portal.

Archer stood silently by her Lord's side, resisting the urge to hum happily in delight. Hardened warrior or not, she was still a woman, and having a job that placed her by the side of her beloved was something she delighted in.

She didn't understand much of what went on around her. She didn't get why her body ached for his touch yet seemed incapable of movement. But she knew one thing. She loved the Ancient One.

She loved him.

She loved him.

ShE LoVeD HIm…

Archer shivered in delight as the feeling washed over her. She lived for the feeling. Breathed for it. Her Reality Marble revolved around it, her very soul aching from its intensity. Once she had lived an empty life, devoid of all but the desire to save others. But when he entered her life… no more could she think of anything but him. It was intoxicating, this feeling of love, and she knew that if she lost focus for even an instant it would overwhelm her.

She lived for him. And the very thought of that was enough to awaken her deepest desires.

Archer scowled as her nether regions began humming pleasantly. Yes, she was an Archdemon, and yes, she was capable of more than she ever though possible. But her body was in constant heat, twitching every time her beloved so much as brushed her skin. Many nights were spent satisfying her carnal urges to thoughts of him, her body eternally unsatisfied no matter how long she spent trying to sooth the aching burn.

It simultaneously got better and worse when Noa arrived. On the one hand, it was much easier to resist the urge with someone else around. On the other, Archer's new brain seemed to have no problem fantasizing about other people having sex in front of her. Especially when Archer's own feelings towards the little Spirit shifted to those of a sister—the depravity of seeing her own younger sibling violated by the man Archer loved was more than enough to start a whole new wave of hunger.

Apparently nothing was too depraved for her new libido to find it interesting, including the forced subjugation of her younger sister. And honestly, with how little Archer had been 'eating' since her ascension, it was no wonder she was practically starved. Archdemons could absolutely survive off of normal food. But it was like feeding a carnivore substitute meat. Sure, it gave all the nutrients needed to survive, but it wasn't satisfying.

Was this how Sakura felt? This constant, demanding ache that filled her mind with filthy thoughts, only growing more and more insistent as time went on? The overwhelming desire to beg, beg, until her body was stuffed with enough semen to satisfy her cravings?

Archer forced back the thoughts, her breath coming in heavy pants. Noa tilted her head in concern. The adorable Spirit was far from pure, but Archer still didn't want to worry her. So she forced her mind to shift from the idea of Ancient One nailing Sakura to a wall, instead picturing the girl herself.

Archer missed her friend, the gentle Magus having been a calming influence through the years. She never returned Sakura's feelings, seeing as she was entirely straight, but she could at least find a decent match for the girl. Archer's hair was already turning white by then, her pale skin becoming tan from constant Reinforcement. She wasn't a fool, she knew the road she was travelling down had only one ending. Her present was becoming the future she had seen during the Grail War all those years ago.

The turning point came soon after that. Rin left in tears, and Archer didn't chase after. Better that the Magus hate her than be torn apart by her inevitable death.

And then… hell.

In life, Archer had willingly accepted her fate in order to uphold her ideals. She traded her soul for the ability to bring others back to life, an ability she retained up until Alaya came to claim her.

The fact that she went willingly into the flames was what ended up breaking her, in the end.

For every life she ever saved, she was forced to take ten thousand more. For every good deed performed, her hands stained the waters a hundred times over. Alaya seemed to take a vindictive pleasure in keeping her around as its own personal attack dog, even as her mind collapsed in despair and she became naught but an unfeeling machine.

The Grail War came and went ten thousand times, each time teaching her something new. Not just the fifth War, either, but every single Grail War ever waged. Her Reality Marble filled with the Phantasms of countless 'heroes', from the self-proclaimed King to the Devil's Bodhisattva. Her blades cut open monsters, men, heroes, villains, family… all to slow Humanity's endless crawl towards destruction.

But at the depths of her despair… when all hope was lost, and eternity yawned endlessly into a bottomless void… she saw light.

It was chance. One in a million. She was sent into a world just close enough, given enough power to completely slaughter the world of the Grand Order. As a Counter Guardian, given enough Prana to drown a continent, not even the likes of Passionlip or Solomon could stop her slaugher. But even as the world burned, even as she turned away from the hell of her own making… she was saved.

A Dragon. Incorporeal, distant, distorted from the space between Worlds. He felt her agony, her rage, her quiet resignation, and decided to ask what was wrong. He didn't blink at the bloodstained world, didn't bat an eye at her dripping blades. All he wanted to know was if she was all right.

An offer was made, once he realized her situation. An offer to pull her away from Alaya, shielding her forever from its' wrath. To remake her within a world where Alaya held no sway, where she could live forever by his side.

She was suspicious. She was almost certain it was a scam.

But she didn't care.

Anything was better than this hell.

She didn't know what he did in the brief time he was gone. And she didn't want to ask. All she knew was that in the span of the next few minutes, she was gently carried away from her life of blood and death. He wiped her soul clean of its stain, forming for her a new body made of raw power. No chains were added, no evil contract levied. All he did was place her inside the empty shell and allowed it to take form.

She was saved for the last time.

She forever forfeited her humanity that day. Forever cut herself away from the threat of Alaya. She learned more of the ancient Dragon who had saved her, seeking out what had made him tick. But the more closely she looked, the more she saw only kindness. The more she tried to guard her heart, the more he brushed her defenses away.

He stole her heart so easily it wasn't even fair. He wound her around his finger without even noticing. Within a week of her salvation, she had fallen hard.

He held her close, adoring her as only he could. He spoiled her, finding beautiful treasures to gift her. He fawned over her, pouring an endless amount of time and resources into letting her regain her former strength. He took her with on his journeys, trusting her completely to watch his back.

How could she resist swearing herself to him forever? She was only a Maiden, and the Dragon she served promised an endless flow of adoration if she but surrendered herself to it. No longer could she picture a life without him, her broken ideals left far behind. Now she lived for him, standing lovingly by his side no matter what.

But they couldn't be together. Not as things were. She knew that, the Dragon knew that, the World knew that. Without Alaya, this World's Gaia reigned supreme. Only the chosen few were capable of free movement, and those like her were not among their number.

The World was divided into a number of castes, she was soon told by one of the others like her. The NPC, or Needs Protection Caste, was severely limited in what they could do. In the presence of another caste, they were unable to move. Archer was a special case in that she could move around Monsters, but even then her movements were restricted to only a few motions. They could cast Spells and were capable of being resurrected, though they could never do so on their own.

Then there were those such as her beloved, the 'Pureias'. They had the blessing of the World's Gaia, empowered in order to fight off otherworldly threats. They returned to life every time they fell, their very existence sustained by the World Tree. They could act with impunity,

But unfortunately, this blessing came at a cost. The strain they placed on the World Tree was intense, and as such, they could not live permanently within the world of Yggdrasil. She didn't know where they went

In terms of her previous World, the NPCs would be Servants, the Pureias would be Masters, and the Developers would be gods. A loose equivalence, yes, an accurate one.

Occasionally Archer would find herself wondering something odd, or be on the verge of some incredible realization. But for some reason, it never came. It was as if she were actively being prevented from discovering something vital to the World itself. It was frustrating, but she supposed it was for the best.

If her time on Earth had taught her anything it was that there were some things she was never meant to know.

So she accepted her lot in her new life, silently adoring her Dragon and basking in his affection. No matter what form he took, the slightest display of love was enough to make her feel like a teenage girl with a crush.

But unlike when that had happened in the past (so sue her, she was a teenager and Chulainn had a nice ass), time spent with him didn't serve to disillusion her from her feelings. On the contrary. No man was perfect, in fact their imperfections were what set them apart from the rest. She knew that perfectly well. But the small idiosyncrasies that only she knew about… the small oddities that defined him… they were what made her love Ancient One the most.

He sang to himself when he was working, a soft tenor barely audible above the clang of steel on steel. He tripped on his giant feet from time to time, looking adorably confused every time it happened. He often spoke to thin air as if addressing some mischievous prankster, commending them for their work even as some terrible monstrosity bore down upon him.

Her beloved wasn't perfect. No one ever could be. But he was perfect for her, and that was all she cared about.

That and his magnificent abs~

The traitorous whisper of thought made her instantly flush, forcing back the images it provoked. Sure, his muscles might as well be carved from marble, and sure, she would definitely love to run her hands over them, but she cared more about his personality, his wonderfully giving nature, his constant care and support, his… his… his…

…Goddammit.

Archer huffed quietly to herself, closing her eyes and trying to shove the haze of Lust into the back of her mind once more. No matter how many times she tried, it would always return. Using copious amounts of Prana made it worse, which thankfully wasn't the problem this time.

No, the problem this time was that now she couldn't stop stealing sidelong glanced at her Dragon's delicious abs. The furs he wore over himself were meant more to cover vital areas than hide anything in particular, so every time he moved she could see flashes of his chiseled muscles. Despite herself, she could feel herself run a tongue over suddenly dry lips.

Mmm…

Tasty…

No.

Archer shook her head vigorously, pointedly tucking her tail into her belt loops. Since her usual tricks weren't working, it was time to try something a bit more extreme.

Archer closed her eyes, trying to tune out the constant ache of desire slowly building in her abdomen. The pleasant hum of arousal certainly wasn't helping much either. A simple mantra was chanted, focusing her mind and thoughts.

I am the bone of my sword…

The only Magecraft this World's version of Gaia would allow… one that it didn't even know existed.

Archer's eyes fluttered open to see the familiar sight of her Reality Marble. Far removed from the once-desolate wasteland, the World was alive in more ways than she could possibly count. The gears that had once floated high in the sky had fallen to earth, landing in a wide variety of positions. Some were flat against the ground, others stuck up at odd angles from where they were embedded in the dirt. They had grown old and rusted, grass covering the ones that had fallen and flowers sprouting between the gaps in their teeth.

Blades were everywhere, but no longer was there a single hill around which the Marble was centered. Or rather… no hill of dirt. Instead, a large glittering blue mound stretched high in the clear sky. It rose and fell, the soft breaths of a sleeping beast. A Dragon, slumbering peacefully in the sun-drenched field.

She didn't know if there were any blades beneath him. He was never awake to ask. The hilts probably didn't even bother him, though, and his thick scales would prevent him from even noticing their presence.

No longer was her world centered around a single ideal. No longer was her world a constant tick of endless eternities spent waiting. Her life had finally begun.

Archer let her eyes trail over the glittering expanse of the ancient Dragon, and slowly the trails of Lust slipped away. The Dragon was slightly different from the real thing, she noted for the hundredth time. It was sleeker, smoother, and slightly smaller. It was curled around the trunk of a magnificent tree, forever guarding it from harm. And between its front paws, there was a spot Archer knew would be perfect to rest upon. To relax, to close her eyes and sleep in the safety of her beloved's hold.

Exhaling, Archer returned to reality.

"Archer-nee?" Concern tinged a normally blank voice, the slight bit of emotion all the little Spirit ever seemed to show. "Are you all right?"

"Fine, Noa." Archer looked over to the girl, smiling faintly. "Just… issues."

"Issues?" Noa blinked. "Is that what you call drooling over Dragon-sama's abs?"

Archer twitched, her flat tone hitting harder than any of Rin's teasing. The blunt, disarming honesty Noa spoke with was abrasive at times, and she didn't really understand the concept of subtlety. Or tact.

"I wasn't drooling." Archer's mouth was already moving, a snappy comeback and a half-dozen biting retorts already lining up on the tip of her tongue. They died ignoble deaths at Noa's innocent expression, forcing her to improvise. "I was… um…"

…Dammit. Improvising without being deliberately offensive wasn't Archer's strong suit. Too many lives with Rin had taken their toll.

Noa nodded wordlessly, patting her on the shoulder. "It's all right. Dragon-sama is amazing."

Archer floundered for a moment, genuinely taken aback. Technically, she had been ogling her beloved, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with that, but still… the impulse to keep her little sister as innocent as possible remained even through her many lifetimes.

"…I wasn't drooling." Archer repeated unconvincingly. "I was… making sure he wasn't hurt."

Well… technically it was true. To an extent. That was what she started out doing, at least. But the plan went out the window when her lesser brain kicked in.

"Of course." Noa agreed blankly. "And that requires a visit to your Reality Marble."

Archer's mouth opened and closed several times, finally shutting with a click. She had no words for that. Fortunately, she was saved from answering as their Dragon finally closed the chest he had been loading things into with a dull thump. Both of them waited patiently, his attention on them preventing them from uttering a single word.

"Girls…" He began lowly. "From here on out, I'm going to have to go out alone."

Archer froze, her stomach dropping into a cold pit.

"I'm going to face monsters you could never hope to touch, in a location you might never come back from if you enter." He continued. "I'm not sure if it'll help… but there are worse things to do than try."

Archer wanted to speak out, to object, but the words stuck in her throat. No matter. Her beloved knew her well enough to understand her pleas.

"It's all right, love." He murmured, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll be fine. My kind can return from death, remember? I'll be fine. And don't worry about me trying to pointlessly shield you from this either, not even Momonga is coming with me. This is just something I'm not willing to risk you two on. If you died… I don't know what I'd do."

Noa blinked once. She probably didn't understand why he was explaining, she simply accepted his decision as soon as he made it. Sometimes Archer wished she had that sort of simplicity when it came to the hard decisions in life. It would make it a lot easier to accept the obvious conclusion that she had to stay behind.

Stay behind and wait, like some fragile waif waiting for her knight to return.

…Except in this metaphor, she would probably be the knight, Noa would be the waif, and the Dragon she went off to fight would end up charming both of them.

Dammit, now she was just confusing herself.

Archer huffed quietly, stepping forward. It was one of the only actions she could freely take. The ancient Dragon sighed, glancing at Noa. "Love… why don't you go back to the mansion, or help Shalltear with her duties for a while? Archer and I need to speak."

Noa nodded, slipping away. She understood the difference in opinion present, even if she wasn't quite sure why they disagreed.

Silence fell, finally broken by Ancient One. He sighed, stepping forward and gently wrapping his arms around her. "Archer… you know I love you." He whispered, pressing his lips to her ear. "I would do anything for you, my beautiful Emiya."

Even though Archer was frozen in place by the World's restrictions, Archer knew for a fact she would be just as frozen even if it had no hold on her at all. His touch was filling her mind, blurring her thoughts and making her heart skip in delight. If she were capable of speech, she would be just as tongue-tied. If she were capable of expression, hers would be just as blank.

In direct contact with the man she loved, with him directly professing his love to her, and she still had no idea what to do.

Dammit, why did Kiritsugu never teach her what the hell to do in a relationship?

…Oh, right, because he killed his own wife in a misguided quest for world peace. After having an affair with his coworker and deliberately alienating King Arthur from ever getting involved.

Huh. Maybe having no idea what to do with a love life was a genetic trait or something.

"I am afraid." The ancient Dragon continued softly, his hold on her tightening.

Archer's warm fuzzy feeling dissolved, reality sinking in. An admittance of fear from the most powerful being alive. Because he was just as mortal as anyone else, stuck in the same burning world even as the days until their demise ticked down. Not unable to leave… but unwilling to leave them.

"I don't know what's going to happen to us, love." Ancient One continued, voice barely a murmur. "I don't know if we'll make it through. But if there's one thing we can do, it's hope. Hope for the best."

The world felt very small within the Dragon's arms. Very safe. It felt as if she could curl into him and remain forever ignorant of the world around her.

But she couldn't. And no matter how amazing her life with her beloved had been… what would happen after it ended?

Would she perish alongside him, as she always secretly wished she could? Would she return to the Throne of Heroes to become Alaya's dog once more? Or would the ancient Dragon's hopes be rewarded, the miracle he spoke of saving them all?

Only time would tell.

Time Archer would spend in his arms, wishing their time together would never end.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she leaned her head on his shoulder.

I love you too, you silly Dragon.

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