Reincarnated As A Dragon With Cheats

Chapter 60: The Beginning [5]

"If only I had saved Mrs. Abingn, then I would have married her."

Pebbles heard a remorseful voice. It was a familiar voice and also a voice he could never forget.

It was the voice of his friend...the drunkard lizardman.

"That day, I... I succumbed to fear. She was butchered in the plaza, and all I could do was... make fake promises about getting revenge."

Pebbles was surrounded by darkness. He could not feel anything, as if all his senses had been sealed except hearing.

"I... I don’t deserve to call myself living. Heck, it feels as if I’m dead..."

Pebbles stopped trying to move.

"Say, Pebbles, have you seen anyone... someone... who is dead despite living?"

Gasp-

Pebbles shot up from his sleeping position as a terrifying face came into his view.

He gasped for air. Instinctively, he pulled his mask away and cast it aside. But even after that, his fight for breath continued.

"M-master..."

"Master!!!"

He heard someone’s voice, a familiar voice.

It was Nightstone.

Unlike Pebbles, she seemed to be doing very well.

The first thing he asked was, "Nightstone!!! You’re alive!!!?"

Pebbles, albeit a bit sweaty, hugged her tightly.

Her gaze was anything but sweet after the tight hug, which was tighter than the previous one.

She almost had a fainting expression, with a purple hint on her tiny face.

"Ugh, M-master... I... I can’t breathe..."

Pebbles pulled himself back and looked at her, and she was faring well.

"You are alive... phew," he gave a sigh of relief.

He fell back onto his butt and let out a long breath as his shoulders finally eased and the tension drained from his body. But the moment of relief didn’t last long.

Nightstone crossed her tiny limbs. He could see her expression turning sharp despite her fragile state.

"Hmph. Master... you sounded almost disappointed," she said.

Pebbles could feel that her voice was laced with a mocking kind of offense.

"Did you want me to die?"

Pebbles blinked. He didn’t expect her to say that!

He was caught off guard.

"What? No... what kind of twisted... um... weird thought is going on in that tiny head of yours?"

"Eh? You called me dumb? Hmm?"

Pebbles turned his gaze away as he had no answer for that. Nightstone, however, continued as she pointed one of her sharp limbs at him.

"You hugged me like you were wringing water out of a rag," she shot back. "If I hadn’t died, you would’ve finished the job yourself."

Pebbles scoffed as much as he protested.

"I was relieved."

"That was relief!?"

"Relief looks intense sometimes."

Nightstone paused for a moment and then opened her mouth wide. "Ah, mm. Hm. Hmn."

"Hmmmm. So that’s what you call it." She tilted her head.

She had an expression that screamed her state. She was unimpressed. "I call it attempted murder."

Pebbles stared at her for a moment... then exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples.

"You’re alive, arguing, and insulting me. Yeah... you’re definitely fine."

Nightstone smirked faintly. "Of course I am. I’m sturdier than I look, Master."

"Clearly," he muttered. Then, more softly, "Still... don’t scare me..."

"Never... again... okay?"

For a brief second, her expression softened, but she quickly turned her face away. "Then don’t panic like a fool."

Pebbles shook his head, a faint, tired smile appearing before it vanished just as quickly.

"Rest," he said, standing up. "You’re not as fine as you pretend to be. I will visit you soon."

"I..." she began, but he had already turned away.

"And that’s an order," he added without looking back.

Nightstone clicked her mandibles in annoyance but settled down anyway. "...Tch. Bossy."

Pebbles stepped out of the hut, the damp air hitting his face. The rain had begun once again, but it was much slower and lighter compared to earlier.

The ground, however, was still soaked, carrying the scent of wet earth and blood.

Not far away stood Azatoth.

He had gotten back to his feet and proclaimed that he was all better, but Pebbles could see it.

There was a missing arm.

Pebbles stared at the empty space and back at him. While all the bosses and a few elder goblins stood beside him, Pebbles demanded an explanation.

"...Explain."

Azatoth took it upon himself to explain.

His jaw tightened before he finally spoke.

"Master, it was the Frog-Men." He paused.

"The goblins that remained close to the rivers came running to inform us that the Frog-Men, in large numbers, had exited the river."

The goblins nearby nodded their heads.

Pebbles’ eyes narrowed.

But Azatoth was still confused.

"Those frogs couldn’t push so far... they would’ve surely died for being so far from water... so I’m still unable to understand how they were able to..."

"The rain," came the voice of the shaman from nearby.

She had just finished healing and stabilizing all the wounded and injured goblins and now joined in on the conversation.

And as she heard Azatoth’s concern, she decided to answer.

Pebbles glanced at her.

"Frog-Men are amphibious, yes," she went on, "but they are still bound to their river. Away from it, they weaken quickly... their bodies dry, their strength fades. So, Master..."

Azatoth let out a quiet, bitter chuckle. "But with the rain... that weakness disappeared."

She nodded grimly. "The rain became a source of water for them, and it allowed them to move farther, fight longer... and invade."

She then paused. "But we had anticipated this earlier... how could this still end up with so many wounded?"

"They came in waves," Azatoth said. "They were... relentless. I held them back. No... we held them back, but..."

Then Azatoth clutched the upper part of his severed arm.

"But..."

Pebbles didn’t miss it.

"The shaman’s healing saved what it could," Azatoth added. "But regeneration..."

She shook her head. "That’s beyond my capabilities. Forgive me, Master."

Silence hung heavy for a moment, broken only by the faint drip of rainwater from the hut’s roof.

Pebbles clenched his fist.

"...How many?" he asked quietly.

Azatoth’s eyes darkened.

"Too many."

Pebbles then turned his head at the bodies that lay left and right.

There were quite a lot of bodies. So he changed his question and asked again, "How many of them did you manage to kill?"

"..."

Azatoth first paused, thought about it carefully, looked around, and then raised his head.

"Thirty percent. No, forty. No..." these were just mutters.

His final verdict was, "Half. I killed more than half of them."

A pat landed on his shoulder with just one word.

"Good."

And then Pebbles completed his sentence, "Time to finish the rest of them."