The familiar disorientation washed over him as his consciousness merged with Sengoku's.
Unlike previous transitions, however, this one came with a startling revelation—three months had passed since his last immersion in this world. Nickan struggled to orient himself within the time jump, attempting to piece together what had transpired in the interval.
Most shocking was the discovery that Enora—or rather Enzu as Sengoku had renamed her—was now pregnant with his child. Her slender frame now carried a modest bump, evidence of the life growing within.
Yet Nickan sensed something peculiar in Sengoku's demeanor. The dragon lord seemed changed somehow, his usual calculating nature softened around the edges. Was this truly the same fearsome being whose experiences he had shared before?
Nickan had little time to ponder this transformation as Sengoku received a summons from King Enor. Through Sengoku's eyes, Nickan observed their surroundings—the private chambers allocated to the dragon lord within the palace, decorated with tapestries depicting heroic battles and mythical beasts. Sengoku moved with practiced grace toward the throne room, responding promptly to his father-in-law's call.
King Enor awaited him in a smaller antechamber rather than the formal throne room. The monarch's face brightened at Sengoku's arrival, his beard failing to hide the wide smile beneath.
"My son!" King Enor boomed, gesturing Sengoku closer. "Come, come. A momentous occasion deserves sweetness."
The king presented an ornate box filled with confections—sugared fruits, honey-drizzled pastries, and delicate chocolates imported from distant lands. Sengoku accepted the offering with an expression of genuine pleasure that made Nickan mentally recoil in surprise.
"My thanks, father," Sengoku said, selecting a candied fig and biting into it with evident enjoyment.
Nickan's shock intensified. This behavior—this seemingly authentic warmth—contradicted everything he had witnessed of Sengoku's character in previous relives. Was this truly the same calculating, often cold dragon prince?
Nickan couldn't reconcile this smiling, sweet-eating figure with the formidable being he had come to know.
The door to the antechamber burst open, revealing Enzu. Her dark hair was braided elaborately away from her face, emphasizing the healthy glow of her cheeks. The small swell of her stomach was visible beneath her flowing dress as she strode purposefully into the room.
"Where's my sweets?" she demanded, eyes flashing with mock indignation.
King Enor's expression transformed from joy to consternation. "I told you to rest, didn't I? You need only send a maid, and I would've sent a barrel of sweets!"
Enzu's feigned anger melted into a playful smile. "I know, but I can't lazy around and get fat."
"You gotta eat," King Enor insisted, pushing the box of confections toward her. "I don't want a skinnyass grandchild. They seem like sticks to me."
Sengoku nodded in agreement. "Your father speaks wisely, my love."
Enzu rolled her eyes at both men. "Grandchild is a grandchild, no matter the physique."
"But—" King Enor began.
"No buts!" Enzu interrupted, plucking a sweet from the box with decisive finality.
Sengoku wiped sugar from his fingers and turned to his wife. "Now that sweets are done, darling, I want to tell you something. Come to my room."
"Coming right up," Enzu replied, popping one last candy into her mouth before following her husband from the chamber.
They traversed the palace corridors in comfortable silence. Servants bowed respectfully as they passed, their eyes flickering briefly to Enzu's pregnant form with evident curiosity. When they reached Sengoku's private quarters, he closed the heavy wooden door behind them and guided Enzu to sit beside him on the bed.
"What is it, my love?" Enzu asked, her hand unconsciously moving to rest on her stomach.
"It's about our child," Sengoku said, his voice carrying a certainty that intrigued Nickan.
"Yes, tell me," Enzu leaned forward eagerly.
"I know it sounds strange, but our child is a boy," Sengoku stated with conviction. "And I want his name to be Sentaro."
A blush spread across Enzu's cheeks. "It's only been three months! How can you be so sure?"
"Due to my heightened nose sensitivity, I can tell what my kid will be, a boy or a girl," Sengoku explained. "Though I prefer to have a boy fitting a ruler like me to stay next on lineage."
Nickan recognized this as partly truth—dragon senses were indeed acute—but also partly fabrication. The certainty in Sengoku's voice suggested something beyond mere sensory perception, a knowledge that Nickan couldn't access despite sharing his consciousness.
"A girl also can if she's like me," Enzu countered, lifting her chin defiantly.
"I bet so," Sengoku conceded with a fond smile.
"Anyway, my love, have you thought of a celebration to be hosted for the two kingdoms?"
Enzu nodded enthusiastically. "I'll handle my father and host a celebration for this kingdom. The rest is on your hands."
"Of course. You handle the Enor kingdom, and I'll take preparations for Sengoku kingdom," he agreed readily.
With details decided, Enzu departed to begin arrangements, her steps light despite her condition. No sooner had the door closed behind her than it opened again to admit Sengoku's six wives. They entered in formation, moving with the synchronized grace that spoke of years spent in each other's company.
Sengoku greeted them in his characteristic manner, with playful smacks to their posteriors and a broad grin. "How's the preparation?"
Nuzu, the apparent spokeswoman for the group, stepped forward. "Very good. We are ready whenever you are."
Through their shared consciousness, Nickan detected undercurrents that the casual exchange didn't reveal. This wasn't mere preparation for a celebration but something more strategic, more dangerous.
As Sengoku's thoughts shifted toward the night ahead, Nickan understood the true purpose—King Enor was in danger, targeted for assassination by his own son who was scheduled to arrive after news of the celebration spread throughout the kingdom.
The realization didn't stun Nickan as Sengoku planned to protect his father-in-law, to prevent a murder that would destabilize the kingdom and potentially threaten Enzu and their unborn child. For the first time, Nickan felt genuine respect for the dragon prince. Beneath the surface of manipulation and self-interest lay something resembling honor, or at least a pragmatic determination to protect what he now considered his own.
After dispatching his wives with final instructions, Sengoku transformed partially—wings erupting from his back while his facial features remained human—and launched himself skyward. The journey to his own kingdom was brief, the landscape blurring beneath his considerable speed.
The Sengoku Kingdom, named with characteristic self-importance, sprawled below like a mechanical marvel. Unlike the stone and timber structures of King Enor's realm, Sengoku's domain featured metal and glass, innovations brought from conquered territories. The palace at its center resembled a massive clockwork dragon, its scales fashioned from burnished copper that caught the sunlight in blinding flashes.
Sengoku landed in the central courtyard, his transformation reversing as his feet touched the ground. Courtiers approached immediately, bowing deeply before their ruler. He issued commands rapidly, outlining requirements for what he decreed would be "the grandest celebration in memory."
"The next ruler is to be born," Sengoku announced, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "Let all kingdoms witness the splendor that awaits him."
Witnessing Sengoku's genuine joy, Nickan came to understand something crucial about the dragon lord. Despite having seven previous wives, none had borne him children. Their dragonborn blood had proven incompatible with Sengoku's dragonslayer lineage, a conflict of essences that prevented conception. The pregnancy that now brought such pride was possible only because of Enzu's purely human heritage.
For Sengoku, this child represented fulfillment of a long-held desire. After one wife's betrayal had nearly cost him everything, he had found redemption in Enzu—a chance to secure his legacy through a son who would inherit both his power and his kingdom.
More surprising still was the reaction of Sengoku's six wives. Through his connection to the dragon prince, Nickan sensed no jealousy, no resentment toward the woman who had accomplished what they could not. Instead, he detected genuine happiness for their husband, a shared celebration of his impending fatherhood.
The complexity of these relationships challenged Nickan's previously simplistic view of Sengoku's character. What he had interpreted as mere possessiveness or lust contained dimensions of genuine affection, loyalty, and mutual respect that defied easy categorization.
As preparations for the dual celebrations accelerated, Sengoku withdrew to his private chambers to formulate strategy for the evening ahead. The assassination attempt on King Enor by his own son would likely occur during the height of festivities, when guards would be distracted and access to the king less restricted. Security would need to be enhanced without alerting the would-be assassin to their awareness.
Nickan, privy to these thoughts, admired the methodical way Sengoku approached the problem, identifying vulnerabilities and deploying his wives—all skilled warriors despite their ornamental appearance—to key positions throughout King Enor's palace.
The dragon prince was taking no chances with his father-in-law's safety, particularly given the potential impact on Enzu's well-being and, by extension, that of his unborn son. This paternal instinct, activated even before the child's birth, revealed yet another facet of Sengoku's character that challenged Nickan's preconceptions.
As darkness approached and Sengoku prepared to return to King Enor's kingdom for the night's events, Nickan found his respect for the dragon prince growing. The being who had initially appeared to be little more than a conqueror driven by ambition now demonstrated depth and complexity that forced Nickan to reconsider his judgments.
Perhaps the true value of these relived experiences lay not in the fantastical elements of dragon transformations and magical realms, but in the insights they offered into character—the revelation that even beings of tremendous power and apparent cruelty could harbor depths of loyalty, protection, and genuine love.
With this new understanding, Nickan surrendered fully to the experience, eager to witness how Sengoku would navigate the challenges ahead and protect those he had come to value above his own interests.