Dragon's Awakening: The Duke's Son Is Changing The Plot-Chapter 119 - 118 - Hi, hubby.

The acorn banners fluttered with imperial dignity.

A grand throne made of intertwined branches, acorns, and absurd levels of glitter stood beneath the glowing canopy of Acornia’s central tree.

Tiny squirrels in ceremonial capes held up fruits like sacred offerings.

Nibbles stood beside Raven, beaming with nutty pride.

On his furry shoulders rested the Acorn Crown—made from a walnut dipped in gold leaf and encrusted with sapphires stolen from a jewelry shop during a squirrel rebellion (long story).

Raven stood before the throne, arms crossed, expression blank, already regretting everything.

"By the ancient decree of Nutrius Acornpaw IV, rightful Emperor of Acornia, ruler of the Six Nut Kingdoms, and destroyer of the Weasel Horde—" Nibbles declared in squeaky squirrel-speak, translated poorly by Alex: "We now declare you... The Nut Emperor!"

The squirrel crowd cheered.

Acorns were thrown.

Somewhere in the back, a rodent brass band played a tune disturbingly similar to The Imperial March.

Raven sighed. "I don’t want to be Nut Emperor."

"Too bad," Jessy said from the sidelines, sipping coconut juice. "You swore allegiance last week. While drunk."

Rufus added helpfully, "Also, you crushed the previous Emperor in combat."

"...That squirrel tried to assassinate me."

"And lost. That’s a coronation in squirrel law," Clara confirmed.

But before Raven could further protest his new rodent monarchy—

BOOM.

The ground quaked. Squirrels screamed. The tree trembled.

From the forest’s edge, black smoke erupted like a storm. And from within it, they emerged.

Travis.

And behind him—it.

The summon.

That disgustingly wrong creature. Tall and long, staring at everything with a condescending gaze.

Its single, slitted eye glowed like dying stars, and its breath melted the soil. The air itself seemed to flee its presence.

The squirrel guards ran. The brass band fainted. The Nut Throne crumbled in a melodramatic crack.

"...Yup. Called it," Raven muttered. "Never trust a squirrel monarchy."

It was then that Siris stepped forward.

There was suddenly a cape blowing behind her as she stared at the creature with eyes full of defiance.

She unsheathed her dagger. "I’ll handle this."

Raven opened his mouth. "Siris—"

But she was already gone.

She charged in, her movements sharp and erratic, her antimagic ready to cancel wave after wave of incoming mana.

...Except—there was none.

The summon didn’t use magic.

It just raised its claw and crushed the ground around her.

Siris rolled, spun, and danced like a ghost, but the creature’s brute force was too much.

With every impact, the land fractured.

She stabbed, slashed, and released her antimagic element—but it didn’t care. It didn’t need spells.

It was the spell.

Soon... she was on the ground.

Cracked earth. Broken bones. Breathing shallowly.

Alone.

Everything around her faded to dust.

The acorn banners burned. The throne splintered. Even Raven’s voice faded.

Until—

"Oi."

A familiar voice reached her ears. It was the fairy. Expect, she sounded snarky.

"...What kind of dream are you having, dumbass?"

The world cracked like glass, and suddenly...

It was gone.

All of it.

Siris blinked. Only black space remained, an empty, endless void.

She realized she had been dreaming.

Now, standing with glowing mossy hair and annoyed eyes—

The fairy was before her.

"Wha—what...?" Siris whispered.

The fairy sighed, placing her hands on her hips. "You died, genius."

Siris froze. "...I... died?"

"Yup." The fairy popped the ’p’ again. "You got pancaked by a demon mutt. Ten outta ten landing poses, though."

Siris’s face dropped, and her voice wavered. "...So... I won’t get to see Raven again?"

The fairy paused.

"...Seriously? That’s your first question?"

Siris looked down.

The fairy rubbed her forehead. "Whatever. Look. Yes, you died. But you’ll live."

"...That doesn’t make sense."

"I’m giving you my life," the fairy said.

Siris’s eyes widened. "What...?"

"I’m a spirit, Siris. I was made to protect you until you weren’t alone anymore. You found someone who sees you. That means I can give you a full life now. My time’s up."

Siris looked away. "You’ll die... for me?"

The fairy smiled gently. "Nah. Spirits don’t die—at least not until they are killed in the spirit realm. For now, I’ll go back to the Spirit Realm. Probably spend a century filing bureaucracy papers and getting harassed by pigeons with driving licenses."

Siris’s lips parted.

Then she whispered, "...So I can see Raven again."

The fairy deadpanned. "Great. My noble sacrifice is being upstaged by hormonal obsession. Perfect."

But Siris turned to her, her eyes soft. "Thank you."

The fairy blinked.

Then smiled.

"...Finally."

A pause passed between them.

"...Oh, right. Speaking of Raven—" she smirked, "—you’re married now."

Siris blinked. "What...?"

"I told him he had to accept you as his wife to save you. So congrats! You’re contract-bound. Husband and wife. Do try not to murder him on your honeymoon."

"...How did you get him to agree to that?"

The fairy twirled. "I used the ultimate spirit technique..."

She posed dramatically.

"Bullshit-no-Jutsu."

Siris stared.

"...That worked?"

"You’d be surprised how many people fold when you tell them their crush might stay dead."

"But I’m not his crush—"

Suddenly, the fairy’s body began to glow with a soft and radiant light.

The fairy looked down.

"...Guess that’s my cue."

Siris stepped forward. "Will we... ever meet again?"

The fairy made a face. "Ugh. I hope not."

Then she grinned, softer.

"...But yeah. Probably. You’re someone who is bound to end up in the spirit realm." fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

The glow intensified.

The spirit stared at Siris for a while before she sighed, her expression turning melancholic.

"Live well, princess."

"...Thanks," Siris whispered, voice trembling.

The fairy winked.

Then she vanished into the dark.

Siris suddenly frowned. ’Princess?’

But then—

A gasp.

Siris opened her eyes.

She was lying in a crater, the smell of burned earth and crushed nuts thick in the air.

Kneeling above her with his eyes narrowed and expression vaguely haunted—

—Was Raven.

"...Why," he muttered darkly, "...do I feel like I just got scammed by a spirit?"

Siris blinked at him, then cracked a slow, dazed grin.

"...Hi, hubby."

"Ah..."

That was all the reply she received from Raven.

.................................

Meanwhile, in the Cradle of the Molten Vein, the headquarters of the demons near the capital city of Valmoria, Travis was experiencing something he never wished to.

When Travis had stumbled in, his cloak torn, blood trickling from his mouth, and his soul quivering—when he had barely crossed the obsidian threshold—he had felt it.

The gaze—no, weight—of five ancient forces descended upon him like an avalanche.

He hadn’t screamed. Not because he was brave.

Because his voice refused to obey.

The world had twisted around him, and now—

—he was inside.

He was before them, who sat in an arranged semi-circle platform like they were kings of a long-dead court.

The Five Eyes of the Deep.

Each one a blasphemy dressed in form.

Travis didn’t sit. His legs buckled on their own. He knelt. He groveled.

They, however, watched.

"You failed."

The voice was the sound of burning silence.

Theon, the Heartless Flame, spoke without sound, and yet his words were absolute.

Travis trembled. "Please... that summon—it was supposed to be unstoppable—"

"And yet," Veyron’s voice cracked like breaking ribs, "you were stopped."

A wet slop followed.

Mala, the Corpse Queen, shifted in her grotesque throne of stitched flesh. A child’s eye blinked where her cheek should be.

"I gave you that gatekeeper thinking you would win," she hissed, licking cracked lips that belonged to four different corpses. "Even in the third hell, that creature is the strongest, yet you lost."

Travis’s teeth chattered. "I—I had no way to predict his power. Above all, Selena betrayed us! She told them about the gatekeeper! I was cheated!"

He clutched his chest. "Please! One more chance—just one! I have another plan! This time I won’t fail! Please!"

Silence.

Then the spiral of mouths—Krall, the Whispering Maw—hummed a thousand secrets in discord.

"He lies. He begs. He breaks. He clings. He dreams of blood but chokes on ash."

"The fire loves him not. The blood sees cowardice. The corpse is bored. The bones ache. And the Maw knows all."

Travis covered his ears, but the whispers bled through.

"Enough."

That was Lirus, the Blood Prophet. He looked no older than a teenager. Pale. Thin. Hands soaked in a viscous red that moved when it shouldn’t. His blindfold bled constantly, yet his smile was joyful.

He tilted his head, red fingers dancing midair like a conductor’s. "I have seen his future—in nine thousand spirals. He dies in all of them. But..."

He turned to Theon.

"...one contains a flicker of flame. A flicker that could become a huge fire."

Theon said nothing.

He stared with that golden mask of emptiness.

Travis couldn’t take it anymore.

He lowered his head to the blood-soaked floor. "Please. I will burn cities. I will bring you Raven. I’ll drag everyone around him in chains. Just let me try once more—"

FWOOOOOM.

Theon stood.

Heat poured from his form. The walls ran like wax. Travis screamed as the flesh on his back began to sizzle.

Then it stopped.

Theon sat again.

"One. Last. Chance."

Those three words held the weight of a dying star.

"...Fail," Veyron rasped, bones clinking, "and we will build a throne from your spine."

Mala giggled. A leg fell from her armrest.

Theon’s mask pulsed with firelight.

"Go."

Just like that—

Travis found himself outside the chamber, gasping on his hands and knees, steaming sweat evaporating from his skin.

Behind him, the door closed.

From within, the whispers continued.

As if they were already planning his funeral.

The guy, however, didn’t care, as he meant what he had said about having a plan.

This time, he was going to make sure that Raven suffered more before dying at his hands.

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