The visit from House Black left a strange tension in the air that lingered for days. That evening, as I was put to bed in my lavish nursery a room of soft carpets, enchanted toys that moved on their own, and walls painted with scenes of heroic lions and soaring dragons I felt a new awareness of the world. The power from Kaelus hummed beneath my skin, a constant, comforting presence that made the very air seem more vibrant, more alive.
With my physical body safely tucked into its silk-lined crib and Tes maintaining a careful, silent watch, I decided to enjoy some well-deserved downtime. I had her stream an old action-thriller from Earth directly into my consciousness one of those classic detective stories where the hero gathers all the suspects in a dusty library for the dramatic reveal.
On the screen of my mind, the grizzled detective hero pointed a trembling finger at the assembled cast of characters. His weathered face was grim as he delivered the line that always sent a satisfying chill down my spine: "According to the clues, I know who the murderer is! And it's someone in this very room!"
Suddenly, my movie paused. The detective froze mid-gesture, his accusatory finger hovering in the air.
"Master, we have a situation," Tes's voice interrupted, calm as ever but with an undertone of digital urgency that immediately put me on high alert.
What now? I opened my real eyes and was met with a peculiar sight. The elite guards stationed in my room were frozen in place, their hands halfway to the hilts of their swords but unable to complete the motion. The maids were stuck mid-stride, their faces locked in expressions of panic. A subtle, shimmering barrier had enveloped the entire nursery, distorting the air like heat waves rising from summer asphalt.
The balcony doors, three stories up and protected by layers of powerful wards, flew open without a sound. Twenty figures, cloaked in ragged black from head to toe, slipped into the room with the practiced silence of ghosts. A foul stench rolled off them in a wave, an overwhelming mixture of sewer water, rotting fish, and something far worse, something metallic and cloying that made my baby-sensitive nose want to retreat into my skull.
"Tes, analysis."
"An isolation barrier is in place, Master. The energy signature matches angelic artifacts in my database. It is designed to paralyze all biological entities within its field. Your draconic contract appears to be naturally resistant to its effects."
My eyes swept the room, taking inventory. Most concerning was the sight of Patricia in the corner. The half-elf head maid, who always watched me with those unsettlingly intelligent eyes, was fighting the paralysis with everything she had. Veins stood out on her neck, and faint shadows writhed around her as she slowly, painfully, drew two curved daggers from concealed sheaths on her thighs.
One of the assassins, clearly female from her high-pitched, mocking voice, giggled like a demented child. "Stop struggling, little half-elf. We're just here for the kid. Maybe if you play dead, we'll let you live to clean up the mess afterward, hehe..." She licked the flat of her dagger in what was probably meant to be a seductive gesture, but given the stench and the dried, crusted blood on the blade, it just looked psychotic.
Patricia's struggles intensified, darkness flowing around her like liquid shadow. Her voice came out as a strained, desperate whisper: "You... will not... touch... the young master."
One of the male assassins grunted impatiently. "Seven, stop wasting time with the help." He moved with a deadly, blurring grace, covering the distance to Patricia in a heartbeat. His dagger found its mark, plunging deep into her chest with a wet, sickeningly final sound.
Blood immediately began to stain the pristine white and blue of her maid uniform. Patricia's eyes widened in shock and pain, but even with a blade through her chest, she didn't stop trying to raise her own weapons.
The woman named Seven pouted like a child whose toy had just been broken. In a fit of pique, she flicked her wrist, sending a dagger whistling through the air, a sliver of dark metal aimed directly at my crib.
"Warning: Lethal projectile detected. Engaging defensive measures."
Without conscious thought, I tapped into my new power. The draconic magic responded instantly, a wild and eager force. A circular barrier of swirling azure energy and crackling lightning snapped into existence around me. The dagger struck the barrier and simply… ceased to exist. It didn't bounce off, it wasn't deflected it was completely vaporized by the raw elemental fury contained within my shield.
"What the hell was that?" one of the assassins hissed, his voice tight with alarm.
"Magic," another replied nervously. "But from where? Everyone in the room is paralyzed."
They began searching frantically, their heads whipping around to look for a hidden mage or some kind of defensive enchantment built into the room. It never occurred to any of them that the chubby, three-year-old floating peacefully in his crib might be the source. Their tiny, murderous minds couldn't comprehend it.
"Tes, engage assistive battle mode."
"Acknowledged." My vision was instantly overlaid with a tactical grid. Targeting reticles locked onto each of the twenty figures, displaying their threat levels and vital signs. Recommendations for optimal spell trajectories streamed into my consciousness. The raw, instinctual power of Kaelus felt like a living extension of my will, a portable, ever-present well of infinite energy that, when combined with Tes's cold precision, made me feel like a god.
Slowly, deliberately, I levitated out of the crib. My chubby cheeks jiggled slightly as I came to a halt at chest height, floating in the air with casual defiance of gravity. The sight of a baby hovering in the middle of the room, surrounded by a nimbus of crackling azure energy, finally got their undivided attention.
"Oh, shit," Seven breathed, her bravado finally cracking.
With a wave of my plump little hand, I began to weave magic on a scale I had never attempted before. The ambient moisture in the air responded to my call, coalescing and freezing into solid forms. Twenty lances of sapphire ice began to materialize in the air around me, each one crackling with internal lightning and wreathed in azure flames that burned with a supernatural cold.
The draconic magic was intoxicating. Unlike the precise, calculated power that Tes provided, this felt wild, alive, and eager to be unleashed. It wanted to protect, to dominate, to show these insects what happened when they threatened something under a dragon's ward.
The first lance shot forward like a bolt of lightning, striking the man who had stabbed Patricia. He managed to move a fraction of an inch, just enough that instead of taking it through the heart, it caught him in the right shoulder. The result was still devastating. The lance didn't just impale him it erupted on contact into a globe of superheated steam, flash-vaporizing a crescent-shaped chunk of his torso from his neck to his armpit. His severed arm hit the ground with a wet thud, followed a moment later by the rest of him.
The room erupted into chaos. The remaining nineteen assassins scattered, some diving for cover behind ornate furniture, others rushing toward me with their weapons drawn. They were fast, professionally trained, and utterly, hopelessly outmatched.
The other lances blurred through the air in a symphony of destruction. Each one found its mark with supernatural accuracy, guided by the predatory instincts that came with the draconic bond. Some assassins tried to dodge, others attempted to parry with their poisoned steel. It didn't matter. The lances punched through steel, flesh, and bone with equal, contemptuous ease, each impact followed by that signature, explosive eruption of superheated steam.
In less than ten seconds, twenty trained killers had been reduced to scattered, smoldering remains and rapidly dissipating vapor. The nursery fell silent except for the gentle crackling of residual lightning and the soft hiss of steam rising from cauterized flesh.
"All targets eliminated. No vital signs detected."
Before floating back down, I turned my attention to Patricia. Healing magic wasn't my strong suit, but the life-giving aspect of water was well within my new draconic abilities. A soft blue light enveloped her. Her blood flowed backward into the gruesome wound, which sealed itself without leaving so much as a scar. Color returned to her pale cheeks, and her breathing steadied.
As my butt landed softly back in the plush bedding of my crib, I willed the isolation barrier to shatter. The angelic artifact maintaining it a small crystal sphere in one of the assassin's pouches cracked and crumbled to dust. I disengaged battle mode, re-engaged the infant autopilot, and picked up a plush lion from beside my pillow.
Nothing to see here. Just a normal baby.