My Dad Is a Popular Villain in a Comic Book - Chapter 20.1

A massive demonic dragon crouched within the cavern. Its entire body was covered in pristine white scales, each flashing with a cold glint. Behind its neck flowed white hair, but a closer look revealed it to be terrifying white-hot flames rather than harmless fur. The demonic dragon’s wings were folded tight, and its long, slender tail was steadier and more powerful than a python’s, topped with towering black spikes.

The dragon rested its head on two overlapping, razor-sharp claws. With every breath, it exhaled the scent of death and destruction. As if disturbed from its slumber, a terrifying, bone-chilling low growl emanated from its throat, urging intruders to retreat, while it opened eyes like abyssal scarlet pupils to stare at the newcomers.

That hair-raising growl was abruptly extinguished. The demonic dragon stared straight at the white-haired boy before it.

Albin was stunned by the colossal creature; his feet felt as if they had taken root, and he completely forgot to run. His face was flushed red from fever, fine beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. His lips were pale, he exhaled puffs of hot air, and his body shivered uncontrollably from the cold. Yet, a look of growing excitement appeared on his face. His eyes, like rubies, suddenly widened, shimmering with a brilliant light; the flush on his face looked more like sheer exhilaration than illness.

“A dragon…” he whispered uncontrollably, his breathing rapid. “It’s a real dragon…”

Many children have yearned for such powerful and mysterious creatures since they were small. Children don’t differentiate between regional varieties or historical breeds; as long as it was a dragon, they thought it was the height of cool. Albin was no exception. Just as no one could refuse magic, who could refuse a dragon?

In the world of his past life, technology was highly developed. In dragon-themed amusement parks, the props were increasingly lifelike not just in set design, but with light effects, mist, temperature control, and flexible, articulated models. He had always dragged his brother to play there, time and again.

But as he witnessed a real demonic dragon, feeling the visual impact and the tremors running through his body, he instantly felt those models were stiff and lifeless, and the simulated roars emitting from leaky speakers were worlds apart from reality.

“So cool!” His sparkling eyes scrutinized the demonic dragon before him; he nearly wanted to run over in excitement. Those dragon eyes are looking right at me! And they’re reflecting my image! Too cool!

However, the infant in his arms woke up and began to wail. Albin barely managed to collect his senses, took a cautious step back, and lowered his head to soothe the child. The infant grabbed his finger and went quiet again. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like he’s hungry. Albin let out a sigh of relief.

The demonic dragon ahead seemed too lazy to bother with a human whelp like him, closing its eyes once more to rest.

Albin looked around. This was clearly not his pre-arranged extraction point; it looked more like the deep interior of the forest. He seemed to have lost his way. He tried to recall the map in his head, but it was as simple as a stick figure, and without a way to orient himself, he really wasn’t sure where he was. This is bad. The temperature is too low; if I’m lost for too long, the baby won’t be able to take it.

Albin felt his head throbbing heavily. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold on, but he had to get out as soon as possible. If only I could ask someone for directions. But this was noble hunting ground; commoners wouldn’t be here. If he asked an attendant, wouldn’t he just be walking into a trap?

As he pondered, his gaze landed on the demonic dragon before him. I don’t necessarily have to ask a person, right? I can speak the Monster Tongue! This had to be the most practical foreign language in this world.

With that thought in mind, Albin walked forward with extreme caution. “Mr. Dragon? Ms. Dragon? Hello.”

The demonic dragon didn’t lift its head, only slitting its eyes to glance at him. The dragon pupils at close range looked even deeper and more magnificent like a crater filled with churning magma, where crimson ripples flowed like blood. Albin held his breath; his feverish, dizzy state made him feel even more like he was being swallowed by a volcano.

[Stay away from me.]

The demonic dragon growled at him. The voice emitted by the dragon’s vocal cords was deep and melodic, yet carried a bone-piercing chill, like a blizzard blowing down from a snow-capped peak, triggering an instinctive sense of danger. Regardless of whether one could understand the meaning, the desire to repel was palpable.

“I—I just want to ask for directions,” Albin said, like a small fan standing in front of his idol, asking timidly. “Mr. Dragon, I’m lost. Do you know how to get out of here? There should be a path near the forest, and I want to go there.” His voice sounded somewhat weak and listless.

The demonic dragon watched him for a moment, lifted a claw to point in a direction, and then closed its eyes again.

Joy emerged in Albin’s dazed eyes. Mr. Dragon looks dangerous, but he’s actually quite nice! The monsters he had encountered so far all seemed pretty good; they weren’t dangerous at all, just like his father had claimed. The demonic dragon’s amiable attitude boosted his confidence, so he leaned in closer and asked: “Then… Mr. Dragon, since you live here, have you seen my dad? He’s a white-haired, red-eyed man with long hair. I want to see him so much.”

He struggled to keep his consciousness clear, asking expectantly. The demonic dragon opened its eyes to watch him, but for a long while, there was no reply.

Albin’s spirits gradually dampened. Mr. Dragon hasn’t seen him either. The forest was so big; where on earth had his father gone? With his limbs lacking strength, he could barely hold the infant in his arms and quickly adjusted his posture.

“Then I’ll be going, Mr. Dragon. Thank you so much for today!” He turned to leave, and then, feeling a pang of reluctance, he looked back one last time. Dragons are truly cool. “Mr. Dragon, I will definitely come to visit you if I get the chance! You are super cool! I like you so much…”

Saying goodbye to the demonic dragon, Albin stumbled toward the cave entrance. He felt like every step was on cotton, and his breathing grew increasingly labored. The moment he stepped out of the cave, the sunlight dazzled him, and Albin collapsed to the ground. His consciousness drifted, and only in his final moment did he manage to protect the infant in his arms.

The abrupt sound of a fall and the baby’s crying drew the demonic dragon’s gaze. Seeing the boy curled up on the ground in agony, breathing rapidly, the demonic dragon subconsciously extended a hand. The shadow of the dragon’s claw loomed over Albin, but Albin was completely unconscious.

The demonic dragon touched him gently; Albin was burning up, his brow furrowed, and his body trembling. He looked like a newborn cub, soaking wet and shivering. The demonic dragon rose abruptly, lifted Albin up, and placed him in front of itself, bringing the infant in the swaddle inside as well to avoid the cold winds outside.

The demonic dragon curled its tail, using the inner side devoid of spikes to surround Albin, while its dragon wings covered them like a roof. However, seeing Albin’s look of discomfort, and feeling that the cave might still be freezing for a small child, the demonic dragon felt irritated.

It rose briefly, flew out of the cave, plucked a few trees and crushed them, and blew dragon breath onto the wood scraps.

BOOM—

Under the black flame it exhaled, the wood scraps instantly turned to charcoal ash and scattered in the wind; not a single spark survived. The demonic dragon stared deeply at the charred ground. It tried again, bringing new trees and exhaling a more restrained dragon breath.

After several attempts, the demonic dragon returned with a small campfire, crawled back into the cave, and curled itself around Albin once more. The crackling fire gradually dispelled the chill in the cave.

But Albin still wore an expression of discomfort. His consciousness hovered on the edge of a coma; he couldn’t perceive external events, but he couldn’t sink into a peaceful sleep either. He felt as if he were being roasted while caught in a blizzard, struggling incessantly.

“Dad… Brother…”

The demonic dragon dimmed its white flames, bringing its head close to the boy as if responding to him by stroking his hair, soothing him.

His cold, hard, scale-covered tail was hugged tightly by Albin.

Zeman, a demon who had transformed but still retained his sanity, looked down at the white-haired boy clinging to the tip of his tail with his hands and feet.

The dragon’s tail was mainly scales, but the tip was covered in some white, fluffy fur, the only soft part on his scale-covered body. Albin was holding it like a pillow or a blanket; he didn’t know where he had picked up this habit. Even though he was burning up with fever, he would obediently cover his belly. Occasionally, when he regained a shred of consciousness, he would open his eyes into a blurry slit, see the long white fur, call out “Dad” in a muddled but joyful tone, nuzzle his hot cheek against it, and hold the tail even tighter.

“Dad, don’t go…”

Zeman looked at him, feeling a whirlwind of complex emotions.

He had only been away for half a day, yet this child had fallen ill, hadn’t kept warm, and while so deathly ill, had still been wandering in the woods on a freezing day with a baby from who-knows-where. Albin had also treated everything he said as nothing but wind. He had clearly told Albin that monsters were all dangerous creatures, and to use the God-Slaying Spear to protect himself if he saw one. Yet, this kid had seen a demonic dragon, seen such a conspicuous star-marking sign, and instead had run right up to it, without any fear of being swallowed in one bite.

This child… really is an idiot, after all.

This made it impossible for him to feel at ease.

A little while later, Albin’s consciousness might have cleared slightly. His dim, crimson pupils opened, peeking past the tail tip to see the giant dragon head in front of him. He froze blankly, and just when Zeman thought he had been terrified, Albin broke into a silly smile.

“Dragon! Dragon—”

He lay motionless, pulling the “blanket” over his face as if that were enough to hide himself, revealing only two intoxicated scarlet eyes that peeked at him stealthily. Occasionally, he would emit various interjections, making unknown sound effects with his mouth, and then fall back asleep. No matter what he dreamt of, he would twist and turn like a caterpillar, the excitement seeming to diminish his pain.

Regarding his own transformed state, Zeman felt that it was, without a doubt, horrifying.

The impact of his transformation went beyond the inability to use mana and physical alienation. As the former Saint of the Temple of the Sun, he had chosen to slay the Sun God he had worshipped for twenty years; perhaps from that moment on, he had already fallen into becoming a monster.

He could no longer show himself in this state to anyone from his past; people would only fear the demonic dragon and come one after another to kill him. The “Zeman” revered by the masses had already died that day.

The one left behind was merely a collection of the gods’ malice disliked by humans, destined to destroy his homeland, and devoid of any meaning for existence. If there was any significance to his living, it was to wait for death.

Self-loathing, he could not understand the excitement Albin felt upon seeing the demonic dragon.

Yet, the “Zeman” that Albin knew was not the glorious hero “Zeman,” but the him who now had nothing. Even when facing his most wretched self, this child had never shown a hint of fear; those eyes always gazed at him with brilliance. He regretted not meeting this child sooner; as he was now, he could not be a father to this child for long. When his agreement with this child was fulfilled, his final mission would also end.

Yet, he felt fortunate for it as well.

He was fortunate that when he was in the sea of violent demonic energy, habituated to endurance and pain, trapped in a vortex, and facing such a storm alone, he could still be surrounded by some kind of gentle emotion given by this child.

It was like… a form of deathbed comfort.

This child was like a miracle that had descended beside him a miracle that could fall into danger at any moment if one wasn’t careful.

The demonic dragon’s head rested next to the white-haired boy, his breathing becoming lighter and lighter.

Albin was pressed against him, but his physical condition remained terrible. Zeman pondered ways to heal him. For fevers and such illnesses, the most common treatment was bloodletting. Commoners didn’t even need to hire professional doctors; any barbershop in town could provide the service. Zeman did not trust this therapy; it meant that even if he grabbed a doctor, it would be useless.

He needed healing magic, but the healing magic of other temples could only treat external injuries; only the priests of the Healing Temple had the ability to cure diseases. Among the 12 main gods, there was a God of Healing. The followers of the God of Healing were numerous, but only a tiny portion could become priests. Coupled with the fact that the positions of High Priest and Saint in the Healing Temple had been vacant for years, with no one presiding over the big picture, the Healing Temple was besieged by believers seeking medical help before it could even expand, keeping the priests busy and exhausted.

Some families with severely ill members would even go bankrupt, traveling thousands of miles to reach the Healing Temple. Therefore, finding a priest of the Healing Temple nearby was absolutely impossible. However, in his memory, the Healing Temple had once taught the uses of certain herbs, which had also been recorded in the Temple of the Sun.

He needed to get hold of those herbs. Zeman fixed his gaze on a monster outside the cave, one rich in demonic energy.

In the forest.

The fox had followed Albin all the way, prepared to enter the trap himself. But to his surprise, he hadn’t seen a single human shadow, only a terrifying demonic dragon.

Since when was there such a powerful monster here?

Since Emerald had only mentioned the parts related to Albin, the fox really hadn’t recognized the origin of the giant dragon before him. He was standing on edge due to the creature’s imposing presence. Forget about the trap; that kid is about to fall into a monster’s mouth himself!

The fox had to believe that the child really hadn’t intended to catch him. Seeing that the demonic dragon had already started a fire, and not knowing when he would roast the little guy, the fox began to wonder whether he should save a human or not. He despised humans and didn’t want to save one at all. But if he didn’t, Emerald that idiot would certainly be heartbroken if he found out later.

He looked at the red scarf still hanging on his neck, which was extraordinarily cumbersome. This touch of red was bright, pure, and dazzling, just like Albin’s pupils. Ever since meeting Albin, a sense of strange jealousy had been churning within the fox. He was, in a way, jealous of his past self, and jealous of his present self.

While both were treated as prey during noble hunts, he had met two boys with vastly different intentions. He was a small-minded fellow with an intense sense of jealousy. He was jealous of Emerald’s stupidity and innocence. He was jealous that humans weren’t cursed by the gods, loathed human greed, and wanted all humans to die. He was also jealous of his present self, wanting to drag his present self into the same predicament as the past, wanting Albin to betray him to prove that he wasn’t the only unlucky one, that it was all the humans’ fault.

That human child, so different from what I remember, wouldn’t be so bad if he just died right now.

As long as that child died, humans would still be nothing but rotten trash in my eyes.

Just as he struggled internally, the demonic dragon’s blood-red eyes suddenly looked straight at him.

[Come over.]

The world of monsters was far more cruel than that of humans; submission to the strong was an instinct they had evolved for survival. The fox didn’t consider himself weak; he, like Emerald, feared nothing death included and was a high-level monster with a humanoid form. But he was not one to show off, and his abilities were not attack-oriented, so he didn’t plan on clashing with a demonic dragon at this time.

He approached submissively, elegantly bowing just as he did when serving as a butler in front of the Earl. [Lord Demonic Dragon, do you have any orders?]