Chapter 38: The Otaku Goes Back Into the Trees (And Learns "True" Is a Word People Abuse)
Morning in Southval arrived the way competent towns did.
Quietly.
With routine.
With people pretending the forest wasn't watching them back.
Meliodas stood at the window of their rented room and watched the eastern wall lanterns burn down to embers. The sky was still dark-blue, not quite sunrise, and the town below was already moving—bakers lighting ovens, guards rotating shifts, merchants loading carts like productivity could bully fear into leaving.
Behind him, Kaelen sat up on his bed, hair a mess, eyes sharper than he wanted them to be at this hour.
The mage sat in the corner again, book open, not reading. He hadn't slept well. Meliodas could smell it on him—not sweat, not panic, just that tense stillness of someone whose mind didn't have an "off" switch anymore.
Bud lay curled on Meliodas's lap, palm-sized, warm, glow faint. Not asleep. Just… resting with intent.
The town was calm.
The forest was not.
It wasn't hostile either.
It was restrained.
Held.
Like a hand hovering over a knife.
Meliodas's {Observation Haki} stayed thin—he didn't push it deep. He didn't want to poke something that had already made it clear it could decide to be a problem whenever it wanted. Yesterday's pressure had direction. That was the part that bothered him.
Pressure without direction was weather.
Pressure with direction was judgment.
Kaelen broke the silence quietly. "Are we going out again?"
Meliodas didn't turn from the window. "Not like yesterday."
Kaelen hesitated. "Then… how?"
"Carefully," Meliodas said, as if that answered everything.
It didn't.
But Kaelen nodded anyway, because Kaelen had accepted—somewhere between demons, wolves, and politics—that his master's version of "careful" was still usually safer than everyone else's version of "brave."
The mage's voice was flat. "The captain's recon team will go. Let them."
Meliodas finally looked at him. "I'm not racing a B-rank recon team."
The mage's eyes narrowed. "Then what are you doing?"
Meliodas shrugged slightly. "Confirming what we're actually dealing with."
He didn't add: because everyone keeps using words wrong and I don't like building plans on someone else's exaggeration.
He'd learned that saying things like that out loud got you labeled "suspicious," and he already had enough labels.
Kaelen stood and started tightening his gear with practiced motions. "If we go, I go."
Meliodas didn't argue.
Bud shifted, claws flexing gently against Meliodas's pants, and sent a pulse through their bond that was simple and clear.
Ready.
Meliodas rested a thumb against Bud's tiny back, more habit than comfort.
Then the door knocked.
Not loud.
Not polite.
Confident enough to assume the door would obey.
Meliodas didn't need {Hyperawareness} to know who it was.
Kaelen did, though—he tensed, eyes flicking to the window like he was calculating escape routes.
The mage's shoulders tightened too, expression carefully blank.
Meliodas opened the door.
Rem stood there like a rumor given legs.
Travel leathers again. Dust on her boots. Her gauntlets strapped and ready. Cat ears upright, tail swaying lazily like she wasn't standing outside the room of a wanted prince.
She smiled at Meliodas, bright and completely unbothered by the concept of boundaries.
"Good," she said. "You're awake."
Meliodas stared at her. "How did you—"
Rem lifted a finger. "Don't ask."
"That's not—"
"I tracked you," she said cheerfully, like that was normal. "You leave a very distinct trail."
Kaelen's face went slightly pale. "That's—"
"A joke," Rem said immediately, eyes sparkling.
Then she leaned closer, lowered her voice, and added with perfect seriousness:
"Not a joke."
Kaelen looked like he wanted to lie down.
The mage's eyes narrowed in the specific way that meant he was adding Rem to the list of things he didn't trust.
Bud lifted his head and glared at her like a tiny, glowing judge.
Rem's gaze dropped to Bud and softened instantly. "You're still cute."
Bud's glow sharpened—offended.
Meliodas sighed once, the deep kind.
"What do you want, Rem?"
Rem stepped inside like she already lived here.
Kaelen stared at the doorframe, as if considering whether reality could be appealed.
Rem didn't sit at first. She paced once, tail flicking, then stopped in front of Meliodas.
"I heard you went to the burned clearing," she said.
Meliodas's expression didn't change. "People talk."
"People always talk," Rem replied. "But they don't always talk about the same thing."
She pointed vaguely east.
"They're calling it a true dragon now."
Kaelen's jaw tightened. "That phrase again…"
The mage's voice was quiet. "Careful with that word."
Rem's ears flicked at him. "Why?"
The mage didn't answer.
Rem didn't press him. She pressed Meliodas instead.
"You're going again," she said, not a question.
Meliodas stared at her. "And you're here to stop me?"
Rem blinked, then looked insulted. "Stop you? No."
Kaelen's eyes widened. "Then why are you here?"
Rem's tail swayed like a metronome deciding to become personal.
"Because," she said lightly, "I want to be there when the quiet man does something that makes everyone else shut up."
Meliodas narrowed his eyes. "That's a terrible reason."
"It's a great reason," Rem corrected.
Then—before anyone could respond—she walked right up to Meliodas and leaned her head against his shoulder like she'd decided it was her assigned seat in the universe.
Not teasing.
Not a quick brush.
A settled, stubborn, serious lean.
Meliodas froze.
Kaelen made a strangled noise. "Rem—"
The mage looked away again like his soul had resigned.
Bud's claws tightened in Meliodas's shirt.
Rem sighed happily. "Warm."
Meliodas's voice came out careful. "You can't just—"
"I can," Rem said simply. "I am."
Meliodas didn't move her.
Not because he couldn't.
Because touching Rem's tail had already proven that cultural misunderstandings in this world had sharper teeth than drakes.
Also because {Adorable} was a traitor and the room felt like it was judging him even though there were only three people and one tiny dragon.
He cleared his throat.
"Fine," he said flatly. "But if we die, I'm haunting you."
Rem's eyes sparkled. "Deal."
Kaelen rubbed his face with both hands.
The mage muttered, "We are going to die in a social incident."
Meliodas didn't disagree.
They left through the east gate under the excuse of "provisional C-rank observation."
The guards didn't question it too hard—Southval's captain had already laid groundwork, and the town was in that state where people trusted competence because panic didn't feed anyone.
The fields were damp with morning dew. Farmers pretended not to stare. Hunters pretended they weren't jealous. Children watched Rem like she was a heroine out of a story.
Rem waved at them like she was.
Kaelen kept his hood up. He was learning the art of being invisible in daylight—ironically harder than being invisible at night.
The mage stayed a step behind, quiet, eyes always drifting to the treeline.
Meliodas kept his posture relaxed and his awareness half-open.
Bud stayed palm-sized on his shoulder, glow faint, eyes bright.
As they approached the ridge line, the air changed.
Wildlife didn't stop completely.
It just… reorganized itself.
Bird calls shifted farther away. Small creatures moved with caution. The forest didn't feel empty.
It felt respected.
Rem's ears flattened slightly. Her tail slowed.
Kaelen swallowed. "It's like yesterday."
Meliodas nodded once. "Pressure has direction."
Rem glanced at him sideways. "You say weird things like they're normal."
"I say accurate things," Meliodas replied.
Rem's mouth curved. "That's worse."
They crossed the ridge and moved toward the burned clearing again, but this time they didn't stop there.
Meliodas didn't need the ground to tell him the story again.
He needed eyes on the source.
The deeper they went, the more the forest felt like it had rules.
Not laws.
Rules.
Unspoken.
Old.
And then—without warning—
The pressure returned.
Not a wave.
A presence.
Heavy enough to make your lungs remember they were optional.
Kaelen stiffened instantly.
The mage's breath hitched.
Rem's posture dropped lower—instinctive, feline, braced.
Bud's glow sharpened.
Meliodas didn't draw his sword.
He didn't flare heat.
He didn't do anything that looked like a challenge.
He simply slowed, lifted an open hand slightly—palm outward.
A universal gesture.
We see you. We are not here to claim.
The trees ahead parted into a clearing that wasn't burned, but flattened—grass bent in wide arcs, stones exposed like something heavy had shifted and the earth had decided not to argue.
And there it was.
A dragon—bigger than the adolescent pair from before.
Not absurdly colossal, not mountain-sized, but unquestionably adult.
Its scales were layered like carved rock, wings folded tight, head lifted with an almost bored dignity.
Its eyes—golden—tracked them without hurry.
Not hungry.
Not angry.
Assessing.
Kaelen's throat moved. "That's…"
Rem breathed, almost reverent. "A true dragon."
Meliodas didn't correct her yet.
Because Meliodas had learned the hard way that correcting someone's worldview without proof was a good way to get stabbed socially.
Also—
He didn't actually know what "true" meant in this world beyond rumor.
He had assumptions.
He didn't trust them.
So he did what he always did when the world tried to sell him a word with too much weight.
He waited until the thing was in his vision.
Then—
{Knowledge Mage}.
Blue text unfolded at the edge of his sight, crisp and merciless.
No poetry.
No mythology.
Just classification.
Just reality.
Species: Adult Drake (Sapient Variant)
Threat Tier: Tier 4 — Apex Draconic
Elemental Affinity: Wind / Earth (dominant)
Secondary Resonance: Gravity (minor, instinctive compression)
Traits:
High magic resistance (scale-based)
Cursed-energy dampening (passive)
Aura pressure (territorial assertion)
Breath technique: Compressed Gale / Stone-shear particulate
Note: Mortal term "True Dragon" commonly refers to sapient Tier 4+ draconic beings. This is a cultural label.
Meliodas stared for half a heartbeat.
Then, internally:
…So "true" just means "smart and hard to kill."
He didn't laugh.
He wanted to.
Because it was the exact kind of naming convention tired people invented after watching something eat their favorite hunter.
Rem glanced at him, searching his face. "Well?"
Meliodas kept his expression neutral. "It's… not lying."
Kaelen blinked. "What does that mean?"
"It's strong," Meliodas said. "And people call it 'true' because they don't have a better word."
Rem's ears flicked. "You're saying 'true dragon' isn't… a real classification?"
"I'm saying," Meliodas replied calmly, "people like fancy labels."
The mage's face tightened. "Don't say that too loudly around scholars."
Rem frowned, tail twitching. "But there are legends."
"I'm sure there are," Meliodas said.
The adult drake shifted slightly, claws scraping stone.
The sound was quiet.
But it carried.
Kaelen flinched.
Rem didn't.
Bud's glow sharpened further—still not fear, but offense, like a smaller dragon refusing to respect bigger dragons on principle.
Meliodas took one slow step forward.
Not aggressive.
Not timid.
Just… present.
The drake's gaze narrowed, head tilting minutely.
It inhaled.
Pressure deepened.
Kaelen's knees wanted to bend. He fought it.
The mage clenched his jaw, face pale.
Rem's eyes narrowed, jaw set.
Meliodas didn't move.
He let his body hold. He let his will stay flat and steady. He didn't push back—he simply refused to fold.
The pressure tested him.
Then eased.
Not retreat.
Acknowledgment.
The drake exhaled, slow, and the grass bent again like air had weight.
It wasn't challenging him to fight.
It was confirming he wasn't prey.
Rem watched the exchange like she was witnessing a private conversation in a language made of posture.
Then she spoke—quietly, almost reluctantly.
"There are rankings," she said.
Meliodas didn't look away from the drake. "Yeah?"
Rem's voice lowered. "Whelps. Drakelings. Lesser drakes. Adult drakes. Ancient drakes. Dragons. Ancient dragons. Dragon lords…"
Kaelen stared. "How do you—"
Rem's ears flicked. "Heard things."
The mage's eyes narrowed. "That's noble knowledge."
Rem didn't deny it.
Her tail swayed once, controlled.
"And then…" Rem hesitated. "…Dragon Kings."
Bud's glow pulsed faintly at the phrase.
Meliodas finally glanced at Rem.
Not because he cared about noble trivia.
Because Rem's tone had changed.
It wasn't playful now.
It was careful.
Like she was standing near a locked door and deciding whether to touch it.
Rem swallowed.
"And there's a legend," she said, even quieter, "about a Dragon God."
Kaelen's breath caught.
The mage went very still.
Meliodas felt his own attention sharpen—not excitement, not dread.
Pattern.
Dragon God sounded like the kind of label people used when they didn't understand scale.
Rem opened her mouth—
And stopped.
Her eyes widened slightly.
Her throat moved like she was trying to force words through a gate that had just slammed shut.
She tried again.
Nothing.
A faint tremor ran through her jaw.
Rem's ears snapped upright, then flattened in frustration.
She gritted her teeth like she was trying not to show weakness.
"I—"
She choked on the word.
Pain flashed across her expression—quick, sharp, like a pressure in her chest.
Not from the drake.
From something inside her.
From something binding.
Rem's hands tightened into fists.
"Damn it," she hissed, voice rough.
Kaelen stepped forward instinctively. "Rem?"
Rem shook her head once, hard. "I can't."
The mage's eyes were wide now, and for the first time in days he looked genuinely unnerved by something that wasn't Meliodas.
"That's… an oath," he whispered.
Rem didn't answer.
She couldn't.
But her face said enough.
Kaelen looked horrified. "Your family—?"
Rem shot him a look that was half warning, half plea.
Kaelen shut his mouth.
Meliodas's expression stayed calm, but inside his thoughts sharpened into something colder.
So there are secrets in this world that don't just get guarded by guards.
They get guarded by blood and binding.
He didn't press her.
Not because he didn't want the information.
Because forcing someone against an oath was a good way to get them killed—or get yourself marked by whatever enforced it.
Also because—
The adult drake was still watching.
And Meliodas didn't want to perform "political intrigue" in front of a Tier 4 apex creature with opinions.
He took one slow step back, open palm still relaxed.
Rem mirrored him.
Kaelen followed immediately, relief flooding his posture.
The mage exhaled shakily like he'd been holding his lungs hostage.
The drake watched them withdraw.
Then, as if satisfied, it turned its head slightly and looked past them—deeper into the forest.
Not at them.
Past them.
As if something else had moved.
As if something older had shifted and the drake had noticed.
A chill ran up Kaelen's spine.
Rem's tail went still.
Bud's glow dimmed slightly—not fear, but alertness tightening into focus.
Meliodas's {Observation Haki} brushed outward carefully, just enough to taste the edge of the deeper presence.
And felt—
Old.
Patient.
Not draconic.
Not infernal.
Just… there.
Meliodas didn't scan.
He couldn't.
Not without vision.
And he didn't have it.
Which meant one thing.
They were leaving.
Now.
They backed away without turning their backs fully until the pressure softened, until the forest noise returned in cautious increments—birds first, then insects, then the distant rustle of small things pretending they hadn't been holding their breath.
Only when the ridge was behind them did Rem finally speak again, voice tight with lingering frustration.
"I didn't want to stop talking," she muttered. "It just… stopped me."
Meliodas nodded once. "I noticed."
Rem's ears flicked, angry. "I hate that."
"Yeah," Meliodas said mildly. "Same."
Rem glanced up at him, then—like she refused to let vulnerability exist without counterattacking—she leaned her head against his shoulder again.
Harder this time.
Stubborn.
Claiming.
Kaelen didn't even react.
He looked like a man whose soul had accepted this as weather.
The mage muttered, "This is unbearable."
Bud sent a pulse that felt like agreement.
Meliodas ignored them all and stared ahead at Southval's distant walls.
In his mind, the label "true dragon" rearranged itself into a more honest shape.
Not cosmic.
Not mythic.
Just… a Tier 4 drake that happened to be smart enough to earn a fancy name.
Which meant the real "true" — the kind Rem had almost spoken about — wasn't something most people could define safely.
And now Rem had just proven why.
They returned to town before noon.
Southval looked the same.
Clean.
Organized.
Competent.
Like it could pretend the eastern forest wasn't a mouth with teeth.
They got back to their room.
Bud climbed down onto the bed and curled up like a tired lantern.
Kaelen sat and stared at his hands.
The mage paced once, then stopped like he remembered he was trying to look calm.
Rem stayed close to Meliodas like proximity was a strategy.
Meliodas looked out the window again.
No new quest flashed.
No system reward chimed.
Just the town breathing.
Just the forest holding.
Just the uncomfortable certainty settling deeper:
Southval wasn't under attack.
It was being measured.
He didn't feel fear.
He felt pattern.
And pattern meant preparation.
Rem's head stayed on his shoulder, and her voice came out quieter than usual—still stubborn, still confident, but with a thread of seriousness she didn't know how to hide.
"Whatever that thing is," she murmured, eyes on the window, "I don't like the way the drake looked past us."
Meliodas didn't blink.
"Me neither," he said.
Outside, Southval stayed clean.
Inside, the forest stayed patient.
And somewhere beyond the ridge, something old continued to watch the town lights like it was counting.
---
[END OF CHAPTER 38]