"I'm Caesar, a colossal sucker from Earth."
"On the civilized races' maps, that red-marked Dragon Spine Mountain Range is where I lived like a savage… no, a savage Dragon for almost a year."
"Three days ago I finally walked out of those god-forsaken mountains; not only does that mean I'm no longer some village Dragon, it also means—"
Caesar paused, eyeing the trembling green-skinned orcs in front of him and baring his fang-lined jaws.
"—the noble art of banditry finally has a stage on which to shine."
At this very moment Caesar's massive frame blocked a narrow mountain path.
Ahead of him trundled a merchant caravan of orcs—just two rickety carts.
These green-skins were barely Level 10; confronted by a Gold Rank Dragon, their legs turned to jelly. They knelt, babbling for mercy and invoking "in the name of Gruumsh" and other backwater dialects.
"Less yapping—strip off those cloaks! Don't make me smack you!"
With a claw tip Caesar pointed at the oversized hooded cloak one orc wore—gear tailored to hide non-human features.
It was the common "traveler's cloak" of the borderlands: oil-soaked sackcloth, a deep hood roomy enough to cover orc tusks or elven ears, inner pockets perfect for smugglers and fugitives.
The orcs dared not refuse; they shakily shed the cloaks, even fishing out a few silver coins and placing them respectfully on the ground.
Caesar gave the coins a disgusted glance and flicked them away with a sweep of his tail.
"Who wants your lousy money—do I look like that kind of Dragon to you?"
"Now pick them back up!"
The Rose Guild orcs hastily obeyed. Caesar stowed the carts' meat cargo in his Storage Ring, then graciously let them pass. The traders scrambled off, abandoning even their wagons.
Fortunately the horses were already dead—good news for the orc merchants.
Had Caesar not slaughtered the mounts, he'd have been forced to eat the merchants instead. Though these orcs possessed the Fighting attribute, they yielded no Fighting-affinity factors—utterly useless.
"Osterburg…"
Caesar unfolded the map, narrowing his vertical pupils at the marked human town.
Beside the dot labeled "Osterburg" ran a tiny note: "Shield of Lordaeron, Guardian of the Rift."
Less than half a day's march away, the fortress served as both a military stronghold and a trade hub on the Lordaeron Empire's frontier.
To buy alchemical Materials, acquire decent weapons, or simply eat a proper meal, one had to visit such a place.
But there was a problem.
Though he now possessed a human Soul and high intelligence, his body remained a two-meter-long Gabite.
Strutting into a human city in that shape would earn him a ballista bolt through the skull before he reached the gate.
Not to mention the wanted posters for the "blue demon" terrorizing the region.
While the artist drew like he was using his feet—making Caesar look like a blue toad with legs—those distinctive sapphire scales and dorsal fins were far too conspicuous.
"Hey, I've got an idea."
Caesar turned to Cecilia, who had been hiding behind him munching fruit.
The Silver Dragon girl's cheeks bulged with wild fruit swiped from the orc cart, her face blank and innocent.
"Mm? What plan?"
"Transformation." Caesar was succinct.
"Cough-cough—" Cecilia nearly choked. After swallowing, she protested, "I'm not turning into some weird mount for you to ride!"
Yesterday's stint as a donkey still haunted her.
"Who said anything about riding? I've got legs."
Caesar shook out the huge cloak. "Look, walking in like this is suicide. But what if we disguise ourselves as human adventurers?"
"Disguise?" Cecilia tilted her head. "But you can't use Transformation magic."
A True Dragon of noble blood like Cecilia need only become a silver-haired, red-eyed little girl and she'd fit certain people's tastes.
Caesar, however, had more to consider.
A Garchomp, no matter how it evolved, was still a shark; even as a full-grown Garchomp it remained a big shark—no human form whatsoever.
Unless he someday mastered high-tier illusion spells, "passing for human" was off the table.
"I can't Transform, but I can 'put myself together'."
Caesar flashed an eerily strange grin.
Ten minutes later.
A fierce argument echoed from deep within the woods.
"No! Absolutely not! That's hideous! Dissected body parts?!"
"Less whining. Want that 'frosted sweetbread' and 'honeyed roast'? Want that fizzy sweet water?"
"...Yes."
"Then do as I say! Up you go!"
A short while later.
A "mystery person" roughly two meters twenty tall, wrapped in an oversized black cloak, tottered out of the forest.
The way this "person" walked was downright awkward.
One moment their arms swung in step, the next it looked like stilts; the lower body moved on its own while the upper half stayed stiff as a board.
Strangest of all was the head.
Beneath the hood peeked an exquisitely delicate little face.
Silvery hair, ruby eyes, skin white as snow—she looked a sweet twelve- or thirteen-year-old loli.
But that lovely head and the burly frame simply didn't match.
It was like Schwarzenegger's body with a Hatsune Miku head crudely photoshopped on.
"Stop squirming! My neck's breaking!"
The cute loli head suddenly hissed in a low, fierce whisper.
"Shut up. You're too heavy."
From the "girl's" chest came another deep, muffled voice.
Exactly.
This was Caesar's brilliant plan—"Double Dragon Stack-Attack".
Caesar walked upright as body and limbs.
Cecilia used Transformation to materialize only her head and a bit of neck, perching on Caesar's shoulders as the head.
They wrapped both dragons in the extra-large cloak stolen from the orcs.
To hide Caesar's signature shark hands and feet, thick leather gloves and custom long boots—also looted—were added.
As for that thick tail, it had to be stuffed down trouser and robe, disguised as... well, a slightly perky rear.
"I think I'm gonna puke..."
Cecilia clung to the two fleshy fins on Caesar's head, her little face pale.
No surprise.
Caesar never watched where he stepped; riding him felt like a pirate ship.
"Puke and I'll shove it back down."
"But your fin's jabbing me!"
"That's the dorsal fin. Bear it, we're almost there."
Caesar's voice rumbled up from below."City gates ahead—fix your expression."
"Blow our cover and tonight you'll be eating dirt, not roast."
At that Cecilia sucked in a breath, swallowing her nausea.
In its place she donned a cold, haughty look.
What she'd learned from draconic inheritance—"Pride of a True Dragon".
Using it on mere Mortals was overkill.
"Thought up a name?" Caesar asked.
"Yep!" Cecilia perked up."With a perfect form like this young lady's, obviously'Silver Flash · Ultra Invincible · Queen Cecilia His Majesty'!"
"..."
Caesar stayed silent two seconds.
"Too long—rejected."
"Then... Azure Dragon?"
"Too tacky—rejected."
"So what do you want to be called!" Cecilia yanked his fin.
"We'll go with... Hakime."
"Hakime? Sounds familiar—what's it mean?"
"Nothing special," Caesar lied."Just a cute creature. Enough talk—we're here."
Under Osterburg's huge oak gates travelers queued.
The griffin reliefs above had blurred with weathering; mail-clad soldiers in tabards bearing a rift crest tapped spear-butts on the ground as they checked each arrival.
Tension hung in the air.
News from the mines had reached here, tightening security.
When Miss "Hakime" stepped up, the guard froze.
He craned his neck at the girl two heads taller than himself and swallowed.
Good gods.
What on earth does she eat to grow like this?
But that face... stunning.