You know, in my old life, if a presumably single mother asks me for something and offers her body as payment, I probably would be super creeped out. It absolutely sounded like the plot to some pretty shady and risque scenario that wouldn't ever end well. But then again, this wasn't that boring, lackluster one. It was a fantasy world, I could do whatever I wanted!

  And that apparently translated into me gnashing my teeth as I tried my best to pry one of the dead mother dragon's claws away with my iron knife that was barely cutting through. I really should've brought my saw.

  Yeah, life works in mysterious ways.

  Finally I managed to pull it out and heaved the massive claw onto the pile that Frie was hastily transporting through the portal. I really didn't have much time, so there was no way I could take apart everything in time. I had to pick and choose the most critical parts, leaving the rest for later. Something that would have agonized me over the sheer waste if I let the entire corpse rot, but that aggressive crimson dragon had actually done me a favor.

  By collapsing the chilly cave's entrance in ice, along with how cold the mountain air was up here, it should act as a natural freezer. The body should stay fresh whenever I returned, even if it was years later. Blocking entrance had also too hidden it from any passerby, so nobody was going to ninja-loot on me!

  I glanced, double-checking what I was taking now. Some of the fangs for sure, and scales too. The blood, definitely a few pots chock full of the stuff along with dragon saliva. I would love some of the hide, but no way I had enough time to even skin enough to make something from it. Claws, now obtained.

  Right, anything else? The portal was starting to shrink, I better hurry!

  My eyes fell onto the disembodied dragon arm, the one Kuch had managed to cut away with [Shadow Rend]. It actually would fit through the portal, so I guess I would actually have some dragon leather now. Take the whole thing, hand and upper arm, dump it in the great hall for me Frie.

  Kuch, right! I hurried over and grabbed the dark crystal brain of myself. The swords; leave them, they were broken. The armor, it was burned into...charcoal?

  Flame-kissed Charcoal (Item Quality: 458) (Infuse Level: 541)

  ...Woah. This was now actually coke-grade charcoal! Guess being immolated in the breath of a dragon species famed for their fire skyrocketed the quality of the charcoal. It also told me a bit about how powerful that crimson dragon had been.

  A very powerful one that could maybe give a fully mature shadow dragon a run for their money.

  I scooped it all up and dashed through the portal for the last time. Barely a second later, the gate snapped shut as it expired, ending the use of my cash shop consumable. Did I regret using it to save a life instead of escaping to safety?

  No, not really.

  "How is she?" I asked Frie, who tilted their head. Right, I remembered tucking her into one of the beds in the side rooms and making sure she was covered with the very best warming material I had. Dragons typically fared poorly in winter, let alone a heavily injured young one. An elixir should've helped but like Joan would have insisted, natural rest was also crucial. "Let's boil some water and soak some cloth in it to set it against her skin. That should help."

  After preparing the improvised heating pads, I entered the room with them and saw she was still out of it. Still too many of her wounds remained open, staining the sheets I had made a dark red color. Good thing this soaked cloth should also double as sterilized bandages, and that I also had alcohol to clean the wounds.

  I got to work quickly, treating her body like it was another craft of mine. One heavily damaged and in need of repairs. Like I had noted earlier, a large portion of these injuries would unfortunately leave scars. Wounds that were left untreated for too long would do that, even with my best potions at the moment. I'd need a real powerful restoration draught in the six hundreds to get rid of them.

  And I couldn't do anything for things that were entirely missing, not without drops from the raid bosses.

  In FLOW, when those legendary dragons had descended during Harbinger to warn players of the impending doom- some even blaming it on the foolishness of lesser races- they had retained elements of their draconic heritage to mark them differently. Because the developers had actually just used the demon race model and then stuck dragon wings on their backs, which in hindsight was neat. It was familiar, yet alien enough to remind us of their nature.

  The horns were still there, poking out from her hair and in thankfully still one piece. But the wings? On her back, there were just two large scar blemishes where they would have come from. She probably couldn't ever take flight again, which as I knew was a fate worse than death for many prideful dragons. They'd rather die fighting in the air than live crawling around on the ground.

  ...I probably had to keep an eye on her when she awoke. Made sure she didn't do anything rash. Frie could handle that.

  In the meantime, all I could do was feed her another elixir and hope she would pull through. And probably make some clothes for her while waiting.

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  Mord awoke just as I finished stitching a warm shirt for her while sitting on a chair in the corner of the room.

  Her arm twitch, then raised awkwardly to her face. Like she was studying it for the first time. Maybe it was as a transformed human. She looked at it for a good minute, then threw back the layers of blankets I had piled onto her and climbed out of the bed. She nearly stumbled and fell once on her feet, but caught herself in time with a determined look.

  Then she glared at Frie standing at the door, barring her way. "Move," she growled. "I've got a dragon bastard to kill."

  "Such language," I lightly chided, setting aside my sewing tools for the moment. "Not that I don't think that crimson dragon doesn't deserve that title. He did try to kill you."

  "He did kill my mother." Her hand balled into a fist. "So I'm going to kill him. Tell your doll to get out the way, or I'll smash your toy."

  I raised an eyebrow and rested my chin on a hand. "Go ahead, try. If you can defeat Frie, I won't stop you. I'll even help you get your revenge."

  She raised her fists, grinning wildly. "I'm holding you to that. Here goes-!" Her knuckles lashed out and slammed against the terracotta armor. Normally, I would be concerned because even transformed and reduced in those constrained forms, those dragons should be quite powerful. But I was banking on two things.

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  First of all, Mord was pretty darn young for a dragon. Though she did look like a grown young woman now, her dragon size looked pretty small compared to her mother's full frame. Maybe just over a century old was my guess, which again was pretty young for her kind. Dragons matured and aged slower than most others because of their very long lives. So she really didn't have the power of a mature shadow dragon behind her.

  And secondly, she was trying to punch a clay golem while still walking wounded.

  "OW!" she screeched and did drop to her knees this time, hissing and clutching her hand.

  "Congratulations," I drawled and picked up one of the many health potions I kept on hand in her room. "You have likely broken your hand. Let me see."

  Fractured, not broken. Probably because she still couldn't put much strength into things. I directed her to drink, to which she morosely did before glaring at me. "Okay. I can't beat your toy." Her other hand raised up threateningly. "But I can beat you, can't I? You're a puppet, you can't be that strong in a fair fight!"

  I frowned, not at all bothered by the threat. Well, maybe a little, but I wasn't going to show it. "In my day, I knew some puppets who did fight at the front." It wasn't the optimal way to build your character, but you know what? FLOW had been a game, do whatever rocks your socks. "And even if they couldn't trade blow for blow, they had plenty of tricks up their sleeves to still win a fight. Skills too."

  "Skills? Pwah!"

  Ah, right. So monsters, including dragons, didn't actively use skills or spells in the same way that most characters in Shin would. Maybe it was quirk of the game system the developers had designed, to give them a little buff, but they didn't need to activate them the same way to reap the benefits. It was how that skeleton mage in the dungeon was able to cast spells without chanting. Dragons were part of this too, as I saw her mother never needed to take the time to cast such advanced spells.

  But that was in their innate, natural form. Mord wasn't that anymore.

  She was a human now. She likely had to follow the system's new categorization, which meant needing to learn skills. I rubbed my chin, trying to figure out how best to explain it to her before deciding to speak. "Think about it this way. Frie, as they are right now, would get crushed by that crimson dragon in a single passing second. And that's with this cute trickster puppet here in full control.

  "If you can't beat them, then what's your chances of being able to win a fight against that prey of yours? Would your mother want you to attack with no chance of survival, let alone victory?"

  There, that did it. She visibly flinched, then looked down to stare a hole in the wooden floor like it would swallow her up. Ah, maybe mentioning her mother was a bit cruel, too soon. But I had to stress to her that this wasn't what her mother had wanted, had given her life and then some to fight for.

  Before I could explain my reasoning, Mord spoke aloud then in a small voice. "So if I can beat Frie, then there's a chance I could win against that dragon."

  "Yes," I told, pleased that she saw the logic I was getting at. I wisely neglected to mention that she'd probably have to beat several of my doll to actually be an equivalent challenge, no point in being a bit of a downer when trying to feed that spark. "And with maybe even better odds than you think if you can manage that."

  Her head raised, eyes wary but burning with intense focus. Determination. "What do you mean?"

  "Think about it. Your target right now likely thinks you're dead." I walked over and patted Frie's large arm. "There's no reason to let him think otherwise, when he could come back anytime and finish the job. But if you were to grow stronger, learn and take all the support I can give you, you could go out there and become an adventurer right under his nose. Start building a name for yourself. Start asking questions, learn where he sleeps.

  "And," I darkly added, perhaps an echo of Calico passing over me, "This time, be the one to enter his home, to kill him in his sleep. He wouldn't suspect a thing until you have his head."

  Revenge wasn't alien to Lighthouse. We'd be wronged many times before. Suffered bitter defeat that other player guilds managed to outwit us sometimes, through exploits, bugs, rule loopholes.

  And even the chivalrous Isabella could take dark delight in getting payback.

  Was it healthy to use hatred to live? Probably not. But it also could be fuel for greatness. That drive that sparked one to push themselves harder than ever before, throwing themselves into challenges and come out hungry for more. Doing anything to achieve that distant goal of true vengeance. Of course, then came the question of what happened next, but we could cross the bridge when we got to that.

  Importantly, that was how I got through to Mord, that I didn't stand in her way of revenge. I was just the next peak for her to climb over, to reach that lofty goal in the end. For a shadow dragon to perhaps earn the title of dragonslayer...hah, the irony was palpable.

  I wanted to see her achieve it. It would be a feat worthy of the Ten Lights.

  "What do you want in return?" Mord asked, shuddering almost in bliss at the dream I put out for her. "A pact with me? Protection until I die, something like that?"

  Hm, a good question. But one that she should already know the answer for. "I've already been paid." I closed my eyes and exhaled, hoping she would accept these words. "Your mother gave me her body. That suffices."

  ...I was going to butcher her mother's corpse for parts and materials. I knew that many dragons viewed death different ways, that their bodies became nothing but empty shells once the soul was gone and had few attachments to it. It had been why many of the kind and friendly ones in FLOW had, upon their deathbed, given blessings to the lower races to harvest their bodies. But it didn't apply to all dragons, and some did get enraged if they saw merchants peddling around their grandsire's bones for coin. I could very well understand, it was a weird cultural thing.

  So I had to ask, to make sure the daughter was fine with the idea.

  Mord stiffened, then gave a jerky nod. "She gave you permission, didn't she? Do with it what you want. So long as you help me pierce that bastard's heart at the end, I'll put up with anything you throw my way.

  "Even becoming an adventurer, if you think it's the best way to avenge my mother."

  Everybody, are you watching?

  I think I've just found our first new recruit for Lighthouse in quite a long while.

  Let's see if this shadow can, in time, become a new light for this world.

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