Chương 161: Miss Red Copper Dragon's Confession

Chapter 161 Miss Red Copper Dragon's Confession (Part 2)

"You're still alive? How is that possible?!"

"Seduce me? You think you can seduce me? How naive!"

"I'll let you die again!"

Richard's sit-ups were getting too much for Berengar to handle. He roared and was about to launch another attack.

You have successfully bewitched the Weaver of the Styx Needle.

However, Richard no longer had any reason to engage in close combat with this madman.

He stood up and ran, chugging a life potion as he ran, then muttered to himself, trying to talk to his opponent.

If they can neutralize the needle's effect, Grace will regain her fighting strength, and they will have a chance to win again!

However, after several attempts, the magic needle did not respond to him.

What happened?

[The Flute of the God of Mischief: Ahem, it's like this, although I successfully opened this little sister's heart, my method was a bit inappropriate, so she's holding back her anger and wants to vent a little bit —] Richard's eyes widened: "Huh? What method did you use?"

[The Flute of the God of Mischief: It just talked about some of her dark history. You wouldn't believe it, she was incredibly funny when she was young. She was clearly a needle, but she fantasized that she was a sword, believed that she had the True Eye of the Evil King embedded in her body, and that a Black Flame Dragon was sealed within her.] Richard: "?"

This... this sounds like chuunibyou (middle school syndrome)?

Can even magical artifacts get chuunibyou (middle school syndrome)?

[Weaving the Styx Needle: You... you stop talking! I don't want to hear this anymore! I can't take it! I've been isolating myself here for centuries, how come anyone still remembers this! No, I guess I'll just self-destruct! World, destroy it!] [The Flute of the God of Mischief: Hmm, world, let it be destroyed~] Richard: "???"

What does that mean?

Miss Needle, what are you doing?

And flute, can you please stop causing trouble?!

Just as Richard was wondering what was going on, Berenga, who was chasing him from behind, suddenly let out a sharp, explosive sound.

"Ugh! This... this is!"

Richard turned his head and was surprised to see that the Styx Needle, which had been firmly held in Berenga's hand, suddenly burst into purple flames, burning Berenga so badly that she jumped up and down and threw it to the ground with a cry of pain.

And then———— boom!

Rumble!

A terrifying shockwave exploded from the tiny needle, sweeping across the entire secret room!

Immediately afterwards, the room itself began to creak and groan, and the ceiling and the surrounding walls collapsed!

Seeing this, Richard quickly used his power to heal himself, and then cast a Featherfall spell on the ceiling above his head.

Then, he lost consciousness amidst the rising smoke and dust.

Oh shit.

Wow, that really is explosive! Are all gadgets for those with chuunibyou (middle school syndrome) this terrifying?

I don't know how much time passed.

Richard opened his eyes again and saw that the once luxurious and spacious secret room was now a ruin.

Phew, that was close!

It would be ridiculous if he wasn't killed by cultists but instead crushed to death by bricks.

He let out a long breath, got up, and looked around. He found himself in a closed space enclosed by collapsed walls and pillars. Inside, besides himself, was the unconscious Grace, and— Berenga, who had exited Butcher form and was crushed in half by a pillar, his buttocks embedded in a nearby mound of earth, along with his two unconscious henchmen.

Oh hoo.

It looks like he still has a breath left?

Richard used magical tricks to clean the dust off his body, then checked on Grace and, finding her to be alright for the time being, went to Berengar.

"Why is this happening—how is this possible—my butt hurts so much—" With only half a body remaining, Berenga stared blankly at Richard.

"You—how did you do that? What kind of method is that?!"

Richard grinned.

"What, didn't the great Aidan tell you this moment would come?"

A strange light flashed in Berenga's eyes, and he remained silent for a long time.

Finally, he said, "His judgment has never been wrong, but—I failed the test. You may proceed."

Damn cultists.

Richard, not wanting to waste any more words, drew his sword and slashed, ending the life of the murderous warrior.

He then walked up to the other man's two henchmen and beheaded them one by one.

At this point, all the enemies had been eliminated.

He won the final victory, probably.

Richard let out a long sigh of relief, relaxed, and turned to look at the text on his retina.

These three cultists were all of a higher level than him. Although Berenga's death wasn't entirely his fault, they still gave him a total of 70 experience points!

This is Richard's biggest single income since he traveled to the present day!

With his experience bar full, Richard didn't hesitate and immediately chose to level up!

Your bard level has been increased to 8.

Your Charm has increased by 1 point, and you have gained 1 free attribute point.

[You have learned a 4th-tier spell: Coercion - You can designate a visible creature within 10 meters, forcing it to move to a location with no apparent fatal risk and perform a series of actions for up to 1 minute.] Note: "As long as there's no obvious fatal risk, right? Very well, then I'll force you to wear women's clothing and confess to that two-headed ogre!" - A certain bard with a penchant for the extreme.

Are they spells that force commands?

That's good; it should be very useful in battle.

Richard happily accepted the spell, then brought up his current stats: Name: Richard Targaryen Race: Human [Profession: Bard Iv8 (Experience 375/440)] [Attributes: Strength 16 (+1), Agility 20, Constitution 18, Intelligence 15, Perception 16, Charisma 21] [Standard Skills: Performance (Proficient), Persuasion, Elvish, Thief's Slang, Stream Rock Smash (Proficient), Rose Sword Technique] Extraordinary Skills - Spells: Harsh Words (Tier 0), Light Spell (Tier 0), Repair Spell (Tier 0), Magical Trick (Tier 0), Charm Spell (Tier 1), Maniacal Laughter Spell (Tier 1), Repose Spell (Tier 1), Inspirational Spell (Tier 1), Feather Fall Spell (Tier 1) Tier 1), Requiem (Tier 2), Vajra Shield (Tier 2), Shattering Sonic Wave (Tier 2), Silver Light Whisper (Tier 2), Scorching Metal (Tier 2), Echo (Tier 2), Guardian Rune (Tier 3), Summon Horde (Tier 3), Dispel Magic (Tier 3), Spring Rain Song (Tier 3), Phantom Assassin (Tier 4), Psychedelic Melody (Tier 4), Compulsion (Tier 4) [Extraordinary Skills - Combat Techniques: Wild Slash (Tier 1), Charged Heavy Strike (Tier 2), Power of the Fountain (Tier 2), Vortex Power (Tier 3)] [Talents: Enhanced Dark Vision, Beast Intuition, Luck, Robust Physique, Interspecies Affinity, Rear Eyes] Specialties: Eye of Insight, Battlefield Spellcasting, Lightning Speed, Athlete, Powerful Spells, Swordsmanship Prodigy [Title: Fearless Man, Rogue] Free attribute points: 2 Richard was very satisfied after reading it.

If you ignore skills above level 4 and only look at attributes, talents, and specializations, he feels that even level 10 professionals are far inferior to him.

After learning something new in the future, perhaps I'll be able to take on Berenga in her Butcher form one-on-one.

A moment later, he closed the panel and began searching for Berenga's body.

He wanted to find the Needle that wove the River Styx, even if it was just a fragment.

However, after searching for a long time, they found nothing.

Could it be that it was blown up in the self-destruction? Not a single piece left? No way, please don't!

[The Flute of the God of Mischief: No, my friend, she's shrewd. She said she'd self-destruct, but she just wanted to vent her anger. —As for where she is now? Well, she thought you were alright, so she merged into your body.]

"ha?"

Just as Richard was pondering the flute's words, Grace woke up behind him.

At that moment, she was physically and mentally weak, but when she saw Richard, she felt a dual attraction, both physically and spiritually.

at last---- She could no longer hold back, got up and rushed over, hugging Richard tightly in her arms!

"Great, little poet, you're still here!"

"Huh? Yeah, I'm still here. We won—" Richard turned his head and looked at Grace's dazed eyes, feeling the two passionate breasts pressing against his back, and felt a little strange.

During his previous near-death experiences, he had enjoyed Grace's hugs, lap pillows, or face wash.

But back then, Grace's expression was either pure joy or a mischievous older sister's grin, never like this— Then, the flute continued its previous statement: Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying you got pricked by a needle. That needle, as a creation of Death, was originally half-real and half-illusory, which is why it was able to hide inside that ghost's body before. Now it's just moved house and moved into your soul.

[Also, after she vented her anger, she seems to have returned to her withdrawn state. She probably won't come out to chat with you or send you the gift again.] However, you won't get nothing at all.

At the very least, with her within you, you will gain a powerful influence over spiritual beings, making it twice as effective whether you inflict harm or release goodwill.

After saying this, the flute of the god of mischief quieted down and returned to its usual appearance, which was similar to ordinary wood.

Richard blinked.

No, this works too?

Did you get my permission to live inside my body?

Damn it, come out here! The little bit of benefit you gave me isn't even enough to cover the rent!

That being said, Richard really couldn't do anything about this temperamental needle these days.

He had no choice but to accept reality and turn his attention to the problems at hand.

At least, he now understood why Grace was behaving this way.

After all, Grace and Zoya were in similar situations to Werner; they were essentially wandering souls, and naturally, they would be drawn to the Needle of the Styx.

Add to that his innate talent for getting along with other races— Thinking of this, he turned to face Grace and nudged her shoulder.

"What's wrong, my little poet?"

There's something I need to make clear to you— Richard told Grace without reservation that the artifact had become part of his soul.

Then he said frankly, "Anyway, your current state is probably affected by that needle. To avoid this effect from escalating, let's keep our distance for now, okay?"

Grace smiled, her eyes narrowing.

"So, you don't like it?"

Richard raised an eyebrow, hesitated for a few seconds, and then said, "I still really like my body, but wouldn't this make it seem like I'm hypnotizing you? As a proud dragon, you should mind this kind of thing, right?"

"What if I say I don't mind?"

"?"'

Grace stared directly at Richard. His dragon eyes, which usually held a hint of laziness and a mischievous smile, were now veiled with a layer of damp mist, like cherries soaked in honey.

After a few seconds of silence, she reached out and gently traced Richard's cheek with her finger, saying with a half-smile, "My little poet, I've figured it out—"

"I've really fallen in love with you."

"It's not the kind of love a dragon has for treasure, but the kind of love a woman has for a man."

Richard's throat tightened slightly, and he felt a sweet, cloying fragrance wafting from his nose, causing his heart to beat a little faster.

Grace tilted her head slightly: "When did it start?"

"Perhaps it was a little bit there when you first played the Requiem, but back then I was more interested in having fun with you."

"Back then, I didn't believe that dragons and humans could really become partners. After all, humans are so fragile and short-lived, turning into bones in the blink of an eye—rather than wasting time falling in love with them, I might as well tease them as I pleased."

"However, after accompanying you this far, I realized how terribly wrong I was—" Grace recalled her experiences with Richard.

Together they robbed the vault, together they sought revenge, together they escaped the pursuit of the Church of Wealth, together they defeated vampires in the paintings, together they battled cultists, and most importantly— They made Zoya jump up and down with laughter!

All of the above are stories unique to the poet and the bronze dragon, stories that cannot be summarized as two people having fun together, and stories that cannot be written without either of them.

Grace's red lips curled slightly: "Vulnerability and transience have never been obstacles; they only make me more clearly aware that my heart is already bound to yours, rejoicing in your joy and grieving in your peril."

"I can no longer leave you. From now on, I must cherish every single moment with you."

"Ha, Zoya is screaming in my head right now, but she was right before, this superfluous feeling can now be called love — please believe me, this is no longer a joke, Le Zilong is very serious this time~" Finally, Grace lightly tapped the ground with her left hand.

The spell, learned from the druids, caused vines and grass to grow all around, forming a verdant bed out of thin air, isolating the rubble and dust.

Then she untied the ribbon in her hair, leaned back, and gently lay down on the grass, her fiery red hair naturally cascading down her sides like a blooming rose.

She stopped speaking, simply smiling at Richard, awaiting his reply.

Richard's gaze swept over her curvaceous figure, across her valley, past her smooth collarbone, and finally along her swan-like neck, settling on Miss Copper Dragon's fiery red pupils.

What beautiful eyes!

So, how should he respond to such a pair of eyes?

What a joke!

"What poet in this world could resist a dragon?"

Richard shrugged and smiled, then bent down and embraced Grace on the lawn.

Everything that followed defies description.

It can only be said that when feelings run deep, things naturally fall into place. What starts as a trickle eventually becomes a mighty river, continuously nourishing the fertile land.

The words are divided into two parts.

Inside Grace's body, Zoya's experience was... well, let's just say it was a complicated affair.