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“Heave-ho… right then, time to start recalibrating this staff.”
““Wait, wait, wait!!””
“Mm? What’s the fuss now?”

Just as Mr. Arnitta tried to wrap things up, both Master and I stopped him at once.

There was no mistaking it—I definitely heard something I couldn’t ignore.

“What do you mean!? You just said I’m half a dragon!!”
“Even as a joke, that’s in bad taste. And how exactly did you figure that out?”
“Calm yourselves, now. Come to think of it, I never did explain to you two.”

With that, Mr. Arnitta pulled a slender glass vial from the pocket of his work clothes.

Inside, a red-black liquid sloshed back and forth.

“This here is your blood, lass. I drew it back at my workshop.”
“You actually kept it? Surprised it survived all this time.”
“Oh aye. The cold storage unit I left it in came out suspiciously untouched.”
“…And why was that?”
“……The ones who sacked the workshop were the demi-dragons. Maybe they caught a whiff of the Claxton you absorbed, Momo, and balked?”
“That does sound likely. And take a look at this as well.”

This time, Mr. Arnitta produced another flask—this one holding a strange black substance.

It looked like crushed charcoal glowing faintly from within, with thin red light flickering out of the cracks.

“Fragments of a reverse scale… Even this much would fetch a price worth a barrel of gold coins.”
“And today, we’ll be using it lavishly. Stand back a bit.”

At his word, we stepped away. Mr. Arnitta sprinkled a small spoonful of the fragments onto the floor.

Then he popped the cork from the blood-filled vial with a sharp pop and let a single drop fall onto the fragments.

The moment blood touched scale, a blinding light burst forth—followed by a roaring pillar of fire that shot higher than I was tall.

“Uwaaaah!? Fire!!”
“Calm yourself. Anything flammable was already blown away by your test shot earlier.”
“So the scales of the Scorchflame Dragon flared up when they touched Momo’s blood… Incredible power, even from a dead dragon.”
“Eh? Wha—wha—what does that mean!?”
“It means a dragon is clashing with a dragon. In other words, your blood carries draconic power.”
“Heeeh… wait—whaaaaat!?”

While I was left gaping in shock, Mr. Arnitta was already tidying up the burning scales, and Master had drifted off into muttering to herself. Even Mr. Mintark was still asleep through all this—so not one person bothered to react with me.

“Master! Master, Master!! What’s going on? Am I turning into a dragon!?”
“I’ve told you before, your condition is unprecedented. Even I don’t know. Do you feel any abnormality in your body?”
“Other than the fact that I can breathe fire? Nope, totally normal!”
“If scales or a tail sprout, that’s when we should worry. If the dragon’s essence consumes you, I’ll put you down quickly. Don’t fret.”
“Well… if it’s you, Master, then I guess—”
“…I only said it, but don’t agree so readily, Momo.”

I didn’t want to die, but if I did become a dragon, then it couldn’t be helped. At least if it was Master, I knew she’d end it without making me suffer.

Alright. For now, I came to terms with this dragon business. If I thought about it any longer, I wouldn’t sleep tonight.

“So, um… how long will this staff adjustment take?”
“It’ll take time. I’ll need your help, too. We’ll have to tweak it again and again to match your output.”
“I see… Then, maybe… could we adjust it so it just blows hot air, like a hair dryer or something?”
“Hair… dryer? Not sure what that is, but if we scatter the flame and shape it into heat radiation only, that should be possible.”
“Momo, what are you scheming now?”
“Well, I just had a thought… couldn’t we use this staff for ruins exploration?”

――――――――…………

――――……

――…

“Wooow! Master, this is amazing! The water’s vanishing so fast!”
“I see… befitting of the Scorchflame Dragon, no doubt. Though I doubt even he imagined it being used this way.”

Early the next morning, we tested the staff at the ruins—and its power was incredible.

Though it only felt as warm as a small stove, the rain-soaked sand and pooled water in the ruins dried up one after another.

It was like an invisible sponge soaking everything up. No wonder Mr. Valka’s power was said to be able to create deserts.

“But still, taking an output that’s too strong and dispersing it for practical use… a clever idea. For you, Momo, that’s well thought out.”
“Hehe, well, I’ve always thought magecraft was really handy, you know? Cooking, laundry, heating, drying… with you around, Master, who even needs home appliances!”
“I don’t know what this home appliance is, but it doesn’t sound like a flattering comparison. Listen carefully. Magecraft is no different from swords or spears—it’s a weapon, meant to kill.”
“Huh? But in the books I read, it said magecraft was a power to make people’s lives more convenient.”
“…Times have changed. In the past, magecraft was nothing but a tool for killing people. Though, yes, it was handy for campfires and bathing.”

As we walked through the dried-out ruins, Master’s profile held the shadows of a battle-worn wizard beneath the face of a cute young girl.

She once told me that the era she lived in was torn apart by war—that her own master had been killed in it.

Compared to those days, this age was far more peaceful. Seeing it now, maybe she couldn’t help but feel something deep inside.

“…I recognize this passage. Just ahead is where Theo and we first crossed paths.”
“Ah, right—the place with all the skeletons… Wait, are they still there?”
“Most of them were probably shattered in the battle’s aftermath and washed away by the rain. But that one is different.”

When we passed through the corridor into a vast chamber, Master raised her finger and pointed to the lone figure left in the center.

Sure enough, all the skeletons that had once littered the floor were gone, swept away without a trace—except for that one.

“…That’s… a mummy, right?”
“Don’t approach it carelessly. Otherwise, you’ll be plagued by nightmares again, just like last time.”
“Wait, so you mean that sudden sleep we fell into—that was the mummy’s doing?”
“To be precise, it was caused by the magic lingering in the mummy itself. Here—an improvised lens. Look closely at its shoulder.”
“Hm…?”

Peering through the watery magnifying glass Master conjured in midair, I saw it clearly: a dark blotch on the mummy’s shoulder, like some kind of bruise.

It was hard to make out against the shriveled, brown flesh, but I had seen something like that before—two times, in fact.

“That’s… a stigma, right?”
“Correct. That one was a saint—long, long ago.”