"Well, naturally. I lost, after all."
Raiden gave his honest answer, as he looked up at the man who "defeated" him.
"Oh? I thought you'd push back more," Arthur admitted. "Isn't your whole thing being a warrior?"
"Huh? I guess, but it's less about being a warrior, and more about always improving. Fighting is the ultimate expression of growth. Giving it your best in a fight, and losing or winning, both of those things are used to grow. It's amazing."
Arthur blinked a bit, shrugging his shoulders and helping the man up, lifting him up and holding him by his waist against his own waist off to the side, a pretty humiliating position.
"So, you're still going to join me?" Arthur asked once more.
"Yeah. I mean, ultimately, yeah, I'm kinda sad that my family died and everything. But ultimately, we are dragons. Death, no matter how painful, humiliating, quick or anticlimactic it might be, is guaranteed."
"Isn't that how it is for all living beings?"
"Fair, I guess," Raiden answered. Being absolutely exhausted of stamina, he couldn't hold much time to laugh, though his yapping still shone through due to his personality.
"In the future, I oughta prepare for the event of getting shot. This is just a harsh lesson," Raiden said. Arthur gave no response, and his dad entered the cafe.
Arthur looked at him as he rushed over, to which he dropped Raiden on the ground. "Dad, h—"
Before he could end his sentence, his dad wrapped his arms around him tightly. Arthur's body jolted from such an expression, and he wished it would end.
His dad let go, looking Arthur over.
"Are you alright? You're not hurt, are you?"
"Ah, no, I'm… I'm fine."
His dad breathed a sigh of relief, taking a step back and seeing a cup of tea on the table. He grabbed it and took a sip, before spitting it out and putting the cup back.
"Blegh! Was that tea?! Probably. Well, tea should've been killed off with the Boston Tea Party, but that's something we can talk about when you stop being so moody and… what's the term? Edgy?"
Arthur clicked his tongue and grabbed the Dragonslayer, as his dad walked over to gently lift the mask off of his face.
"You really do hate the face I gave you, huh?"
"I do. And… I'm sorry."
"For running? Or for hating your face?"
"For… both, I guess. But dad, I can't… I can't not run. I have to, I have to follow through, I can't just—"
"Baloney! If you're so sorry, then maybe, I dunno, try to actually live? It's no good if you just run away, and leave me to weep when I'm told you died."
Arthur looked down, biting his lip in frustration. He pulled the mask back down, grabbing Raiden and carrying him in the same manner he did before. His eyes slammed shut, and he earnestly wished that time would stop, so that he could escape.
"I'm sorry. I don't… I don't know why I'm doing this, I don't know what's wrong with me, I'm sorry."
"Arthur, you—"
Then, being Arthur Assas, or Arthur Graves—whatever you want to call him—he stormed off.
It was natural, and very expected of him. Being 19 and still a disobedient son when it counted most was probably the most likely thing for him to do.
It wasn't like his dad was saying anything extraordinary. All he asked of his son was to not try to commit genocide and 100% die while he was at it.
But it's Arthur that is the topic of discussion. And whenever Arthur is the topic of discussion, you can place your bets that he's going to do something stupid.
…
Flying through the sky, without regard for the humans beneath, Arthur held Raiden in his arms.
"——Hey."
"What?"
"Are you gay?"
Arthur groaned.
"Why? Why does everyone ask me that?"
"Pffft, so you are gay?"
"I'm not gay. Are you projecting?"
"Whoever smelt it dealt it. Anyyyways, you're carrying me like a princess, so it's like, y'know."
"How about I rip out your entrails and carry you by wrapping them around your neck and dragging you through the streets like the dog you are?"
"Hm… nah, sounds painful."
…
They reached a forest, where Arthur chucked Raiden at a tree. Raiden crashed into it, letting out an "oof!"
He hit the dirt ground, and had enough stamina to move. Standing for the first time in a while, Raiden scratched the back of his head.
"Ow, why're you so rough?" Raiden said, bummed out. Arthur threw his halberd at him without a response.
"Are you on your period or something?" Raiden teased.
"No, I'm just ticked off."
"Why?"
"I just did something really stupid, and I can't blame anyone but myself, really."
"You can say that again. Anyways…"
Having recovered his stamina, Raiden grabbed the Dragonslayer once more and pointed it at Arthur.
"Up for round three?"
"Why? What's the point?"
"I'm assuming our next stop is Africa, is it not?"
"It is."
"Then it might be nice to get stronger. It's just the two of us, and Africa's really strong, so there's that."
Arthur stood with his arms crossed, going over to a tree and punching it down until it fell, before sitting on the wood like a seat. He looked at Raiden and then down at the dirt.
"I only have a month. No, probably even less. There's no guarantee it's even a month, either. For all I know, I could be dead in a week. I had my first heart attack fighting you, but who knows? I might get another one in just a week. I don't have time to train, all I can do is fight."
Behind that crimson mask of his, faint wetness appeared in his eyes. He rubbed them with his thumb, clearing his vision.
Raiden smirked, going over to Arthur who got off the log and sprouted wings. Raiden used his phone to find a way to Africa.
So, the two took off into the sky, with Arthur following Raiden.
…
The arrival wasn't too bad, as a matter of fact.
Dragons being known to the public, in itself wasn't a problem for them. After all, while the public had only just found out about dragons, that did not mean that the governments of the world did as well.
Sure, a lot of money can be made easily when you're stronger, faster, and have magical abilities like dragons in a world of easy-to-crush humans. But in the end, when humans multiply much more than you do, and when humans make weapons that can kill you, it's only natural to ally with them.
The dragons who go to big countries do so to get lots of money and live better lives. And the dragons who go to poorer areas do so to remain hidden, at the cost of rougher lives. But hey, they're dragons, and dragons hate to use "puny human weapons," so they thrive off of the tough environment.
Getting back on track, dragons were quite acquainted with their governments, being used as soldiers against other dragons and humans. Sure, guns can kill dragons, but who wouldn't want flying, tough soldiers that can cover vast distances relatively stealthily, can heal their own wounds, and can slaughter groups of humans with ease?
So, it was only natural. And because it's not in the best interest of any world leaders to have several flying dragons after their heads, a peace treaty between top-ranking humans and dragons was formed.
Humans wouldn't interfere with dragon business, and dragons wouldn't interfere with human business, unless either party specifically requested the other.
All of that to say, dragons wouldn't get shot down immediately upon entering a different area.
…
Dragons are innately prideful, considering themselves to be above humans.
Despite most of them, in the modern age, being almost 100% human, with only a bit of dragon blood in them, that bit of blood was enough to make them basically half dragon.
And back in the day, when guns weren't so overpowered, when guns didn't even exist, they were really scary.
But, as if nature, or the world itself, got upset at them for their arrogance, entities that were absolutely human, without a lick of dragon blood in them, were born, possessing much of the strength of a dragon.
Sure, they couldn't sprout wings or transform. Sure, they couldn't wield Dragon Arts.
But their physical capabilities surpassed that of nearly all dragons. The exception, of course, was Chad.
Such a monster aside, these humans went on to hunt dragons as best they could, being given a sixth sense that let them detect dragons nearby.
Often, the spears and weaponry of that era wasn't good enough to puncture dragon-flesh. So, they simply resorted to using their bodies. They had teeth to bite with, hands to punch with, and legs to kick with.
These humans, being like a dragon family of their own, would eventually become known as "the Dragonslayers."
…
Upon arrival, unlike what Arthur expected, they weren't immediately shot down by the government.
Rather—
"Oh shit…"
Arthur turned his gaze onward, feeling the heat of Africa beaming down on him in the middle of a relatively nice town.
"That dark skin, that black hair, they're… the Dragonslayers!" Screamed Raiden, pointing at a man in the town who looked at him in an angry scowl.
"What? Dude, that's just a really jacked black man," Arthur rebuked. "You stupid dragons are always so racist, even to each other. No, especially to each other."
He felt a cold, solid object hit the back of his bald head.
"Don't move," growled a voice from behind him. As one might be able to guess, indeed—
A Dragonslayer.
Arthur obeyed, before using Blood Armory inside of himself, making a thin, yet immensely powerful "shield" in the back of his skull.
Raiden turned around, seeing what he described.
"Damn it Arthur, I told you—"
"Quiet."
Raiden didn't say anything, wanting Arthur to not be immediately killed.
To be humorous, yes, Raiden did just point to a random black citizen and called them a Dragonslayer.
"You said 'stupid dragons.' Do you have a problem with your fellow dragon, sir? I can tell you're not from the same family, and I haven't heard of the Zeus family allying with anyone who should have brown hair," said the man behind him.
As one could probably tell, that cold, solid object on the back of Arthur's head was a gun. A shotgun.
"We… I don't have a problem with him. He's my ally, and we're both here to kill as many dragons as we can."
"Oh?"
"Yes.