Chapter 124: Where’s My Husband?
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
The dragon flew low, its wings skimming the treetops. Several feathered arrows shot up—not far in range, but close enough to strike the dragon’s underbelly or wings. But the arrows, tipped only with carved wood and feathered tails, were no match for the dragon’s hardened scales. They either splintered on impact or were batted away by the wind. A few of them grazed Lin Xu’s legs.
The dragon let out a long, low roar and immediately tightened its claws, protective instincts flaring. With a powerful beat of his wings, he circled mid-air, searching for whoever had dared to harm the treasure in his grasp.
The forest canopy rustled and groaned beneath the wind and the dragon’s deep growl. The trees were so thick that even sunlight struggled to break through. The dragon chased the threat to the edge of the woods—only to spot two figures sprinting on foot before they flung themselves off a cliff, disappearing into the crashing black waves far below.
“Heinrich!” Lin Xu shouted his name into the wind. The dragon understood.
He calmed, abandoning the chase, then turned and flew back to the sandy shore on the opposite side of the island, descending in a slow, careful spiral. His hind legs touched down first, talons sinking into soft white sand. Then, with utmost caution, he lowered Lin Xu—still nestled in his foreclaws—onto the beach.
The sand was pale and impossibly soft, almost silken. As Lin Xu stepped down from the air, his legs wobbled under him. He stumbled, unsteady from the sudden shift out of weightlessness. The dragon reached out with a claw to steady him, but even the gentlest touch from a creature of that size sent Lin Xu tumbling backward.
He landed hard on his backside, barely registering the impact before the dragon’s massive head lowered toward him—and nudged his upright torso flat into the sand.
“Rrroooouuuh!”
As if that weren’t enough, the dragon nuzzled and nosed at him insistently, rubbing his broad snout across Lin Xu’s body like a giant cat. After a few enthusiastic bumps, he even gave Lin Xu a few firm licks. Lin Xu’s awareness was slowly returning. He reached up and hugged the dragon’s head. “Heinrich, stop rubbing on me…”
“…Awooo…” The dragon gave a soft, rumbling whimper and pulled his head away, then obediently lowered himself onto the sand. He tucked his forepaws beneath his chest, folding his enormous wings along his sides as best he could. But even curled up, Heinrich’s dragon form was immense. Lin Xu still had to crane his neck to look up at him.
Noticing this, the dragon slowly bent his long neck, resting the side of his head on the sand so Lin Xu wouldn’t have to strain.
Lin Xu pushed himself up from where he’d fallen and staggered toward the dragon’s head. After a few steps, he stumbled again, the pain in his chest flaring as he dropped to his knees. The fall from the upper atmosphere had left his insides battered. His throat ached with unspilled blood, his abdomen still spasming in pain. Crawling the last few feet, he collapsed against the dragon’s massive snout and took a few ragged breaths.
The dragon’s eye—exposed and gleaming in the sunlight—looked like a slab of liquid gold. Its vertical pupil had narrowed to a slit under the harsh light.
“Heinrich, can you talk right now?”
“Rrroooouuh…”
The sound came from deep within his chest, reverberating like a mountain splitting apart. But there was something… pitiful about it. Almost sulky.
“You can’t talk?”
“Rrr… oouh…”
“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Lin Xu stroked the tiny, closely packed scales beneath the dragon’s chin. Somehow, without his human form, Heinrich’s emotional restraint seemed to vanish. He was practically pouting.
“Let’s rest first,” Lin Xu murmured. “Then I’ll go into the forest and see if there’s a settlement nearby. Those two people earlier… I don’t know if they’re land-dwellers or mermaids just visiting the surface.”
The dragon blinked slowly, his eyelids fluttering. His breathing was loud and steady, like the hum of a powerful engine. Lin Xu turned his head mid-sentence—and froze. The dragon’s eyes had fully shut. Heinrich had passed out.
“Heinrich? Heinrich!” Panic surged through Lin Xu. He slapped at the dragon’s snout, but to a beast that size, the hits were like a gentle breeze. There was no waking him. Lin Xu even tried prying at Heinrich’s eyelids, but they were heavy, as if filled with lead. He didn’t dare use his claws for fear of hurting him. Only the steady sound of the dragon’s breath and heartbeat gave him a sliver of reassurance.
The sustained stress and adrenaline began to crash down on him, pounding through his skull in waves of pain. After inspecting the dragon for injuries and finding none, he collapsed beside him and leaned back against the curve of a massive wing, catching his breath.
The sun above Thales was dipping toward the west. Like Earth, the planet had a single moon. A thin crescent gleamed in the sky’s opposite edge, like a bite taken out of silver. The sea breeze cooled as evening crept in.
Though they had originally fallen from above the equator, the unexpected drop and Heinrich’s flight had carried them far from that zone. They were now well outside equatorial latitudes.
Lin Xu rummaged through the gear he’d brought and began checking each piece of electronic equipment. All of it had been disrupted. Nothing worked. It was just like what had happened with the Abyss Fleet back in the Solar System—the same blackout, the same eerie silence.
He shifted to examine the dragon’s body, searching for where the arrows had struck during their earlier flight. But the silver-white scales were pristine—not a single scratch. Lin Xu briefly wondered if he’d imagined the arrows.
Whoever those people were—whether they were humanoid islanders or curious merfolk playing on land—their technology clearly wasn’t very advanced. Their weapons hadn’t even left a mark. That realization put his mind slightly at ease.
He decided to let Heinrich rest on the beach while he scouted the island. It was small enough that he could cross from one end to the other in half an hour at a normal pace—faster if he ran.
Lin Xu glanced toward the dense shadow of the forest. From the strap on his calf, he drew a short blade—just the length of his forearm—and began slicing through the undergrowth. With a final look over his shoulder at the sleeping dragon, he stepped into the woods.
Compared to ancient Earth’s vegetation, the trees on this island were mostly evergreen broadleaf. Moss carpeted the forest floor, and every now and then, a few wild mammals or birds darted through the cracks in the stones or flitted between the branches, full of life.
There were almost no traces of human presence—until Lin Xu found a small stone cave nestled in the forest. Inside were shells filled with powdered substances. He leaned closer and sniffed; they seemed to be spices. Scattered among the stones were marks of past charcoal fires.
A little further along, he stumbled across a large bird, already dead, an arrow with feathered fletching still lodged in its body. Was this someone’s hunting ground?
Lin Xu thought about it for a moment, then pulled the arrow from the bird’s corpse. Using the underbrush as cover, he crouched and waited. When a brightly feathered bird hopped down from a branch to peck at seeds on the forest floor, he hurled the arrow with force, pinning it to the mossy earth.
When he returned to the beach carrying both birds, half the sun had already dipped beneath the ocean’s edge, turning the sea into a blazing red mirror. Lin Xu gathered some branches to use as firewood and carried them back.
He had a few crystal stones and tubes of nutrient fluid with him, but he wasn’t sure what kinds of food were safe for dragons to eat. He decided to save those supplies—just in case Heinrich woke up.
Lin Xu started a fire. The two birds were set aside; he wasn’t hungry yet, so the catch would serve as emergency rations. The other bird… he’d leave it. Let whoever fled earlier come back to retrieve it themselves.
The island rose gradually from the beach to the cliffs, and Lin Xu figured whatever beings lived here would come ashore from the beach—not scale the sheer rock faces.
By the time the fire began to crackle and dance, the sun had fully disappeared. A crescent moon cast silver light over the ocean, shimmering like fish scales. The dragon’s silver-white scales were bathed in a faint, bluish glow.
Lin Xu sat down against the dragon’s wing, close to its neck. If he lifted his hand, he could feel the great artery pulsing beneath the skin and scales, carrying hot blood through its body. The wings moved gently with each deep, rhythmic breath the dragon took. Though the scales were cool to the touch, the dragon radiated warmth. If he pressed his palms to its skin long enough, the chill would fade, leaving behind a surprisingly warm, huggable creature.
But Lin Xu’s nerves were still taut. Even the slightest rustle made him rise to check the surroundings. His headache throbbed relentlessly, and now that he was still, the pain from his internal organs became more pronounced. He even felt a dragging, cramping sensation low in his abdomen.
He reached down and gently pressed against his belly. The eggshell still felt firm—thankfully uncracked. A little relief eased the tightness in his chest.
When the moon reached its peak in the sky, Lin Xu spotted five figures emerging from the sea and walking onto the beach. Two of them were the same ones he and Heinrich had seen in the forest earlier that day.
They came from the water. Lin Xu rose and walked toward them, placing himself between them and the dragon. His posture was guarded, but not yet aggressive. They were empty-handed, after all—no sign of intent to attack.
The group had long, flowing hair and wore sheer robes. Under the moonlight, their features were serene, almost divine in an ancient, nature-bound way. But when they saw the massive dragon resting behind Lin Xu, they faltered, startled, and stopped advancing.
The one in front looked at Lin Xu and smiled—surprised, but delighted. Then she began to speak in a long, flowing stream of unfamiliar words. Lin Xu didn’t understand a thing. He raised a hand, pointed to his ear, then his temple, and shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
The leader seemed to grasp his confusion. She smiled again, her sapphire eyes locking onto his. Just as Lin Xu began to frown under her steady gaze, a sudden surge of mental energy pierced into his mind.
Already on edge, Lin Xu had no defenses up. The force crashed through his mental barriers like a wave snapping a tension wire. His vision darkened, and his knees gave out as he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
The woman hadn’t expected that at all. Panic swept over her as she rushed forward, lifting her robes and shouting, “Mr. Lin! Mr. Lin!”
– –
The full moon was beginning to set, and though the sun had yet to rise above the ocean’s horizon, its glow already painted the eastern sky in soft, bright hues, reflected in the misty morning air.
Wave after wave rolled onto the shore, scattering glistening foam across the sand, pushing along shells, tiny fish, and fine grains of sand from the sea floor up onto the beach—until the tide swelled all the way to the edge of the forest. The last glowing ember in the beachside firepit hissed out under the encroaching water.
Roughly five hours later, the sun had fully risen, eclipsing the moon’s light. The tide began to recede. In the shallows, a small crab scuttled sideways along the wet sand, bumping into what looked like a smooth white stone. It tried to climb over it but slipped repeatedly on the slick surface. After several attempts, it managed to crawl halfway up—just as the “stone” suddenly moved.
Startled, the crab tumbled back into the water, right as a massive golden eye with a vertical slit snapped open, staring down at it.
Terrified, the crab instantly curled in on itself and burrowed trembling into the sand.
Heinrich had awakened—roused by the tide.
He quickly realized that the moisture on this planet was rich in the energy dragons needed. Back in the sky, the water vapor in the clouds had triggered his transformation, pushing him into his dragon form. But it had been his first time using it—after only a short flight, he’d collapsed, drained and unconscious. Now, the sea’s energy had pulled him back from that darkness.
The ambient energy was so potent it even allowed dragons to breathe underwater.
The silver-white dragon lifted his head, scanning the beach that remained above the tide. But there was no sign of Lin Xu. He must’ve moved inland when the tide rose.
“Rrraaaaghhh—!”
The dragon let out a mighty roar, startling the birds in the nearby forest into a chaotic flurry of wings. Surely, if Lin Xu heard that, he’d come back to him. But Heinrich waited for half an hour, and still—no sign of Lin Xu.
Anxious now, he spread his wings and launched into the sky, gliding low over the treetops, scanning every inch of the island for any trace of him. He searched the entire area—but Lin Xu was nowhere to be found.
“Rrrrooooaaaarrr!” The silver dragon bellowed into the sky, his cry filled with rising panic.
Author’s Note:
Dragon: Where’s my husband?!
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