Chapter 550: The Breaking of the Dragon Bond
The Dragon Child caught the look in Ethan’s eyes, the way his arm shielded Matriarch Whitmore, and her expression immediately shifted.
"Ethan, who is she?"
Before he could answer, another voice rang out from behind him—just as familiar. Lyla.
For a moment, Ethan froze. He’d only just finished insisting there were eight women in his life, and now another had appeared out of nowhere. How in the world was he supposed to explain this? He had never thought of the Dragon Child as a woman—she had always been, in his eyes, a dragon-shaped companion, a pet even. But now she stood before them, dressed in flowing silken robes, her beauty rivaling Lyla and Astrid.
"She... is a dragon," Ethan managed, his smile more a grimace than anything.
"A dragon?"
This time it wasn’t just Lyla and the Dragon Child speaking. Four voices from the Whitmore family joined in chorus, all echoing the same word with wide-eyed disbelief.
The Dragon Child’s face hardened. "What’s wrong? Frightened? You weaklings enslaved dragon souls inside your bodies with foul sorcery. Who gave you the audacity to shackle my kind? Today, I will—"
"Enough!"
Her fury surged, blue light flaring in her palm, but Ethan stepped forward, placing himself in front of Matriarch Whitmore. The Dragon Child’s spell had already begun to spark, but with a sharp wave of her hand, she dissipated the energy before it struck.
"Ethan..." Her eyes burned with anger.
"They are my friends, my elders," Ethan said, his voice dark and steady. "If you think they’ve committed some vile act, then there must be a misunderstanding."
"Misunderstanding?" she snapped. "The souls of my clan are sacred. Do you think humans could carry them inside without deceit? Without filth?" Her usual charm was gone, replaced with open disdain.
Ethan’s face shadowed, his tone sharp as steel. "So the noble Dragon Clan thinks humanity is lowly? Then what about me? Why do you follow me?"
Lyla stepped forward, standing at his side, quietly studying his profile. It was the first time she’d seen him truly enraged.
"Do you think I want to follow you?" The Dragon Child’s voice cracked. "If it weren’t for—"
She stopped abruptly. Lyla had tugged her arm, too late to stop the words already spoken.
"If it weren’t for what? If it weren’t for Morzan binding you to me?" Ethan’s voice was low and bitter. "Tell me, is that it? That a human like me could never be worthy of your precious dragon clan unless I forced you?"
The Dragon Child faltered. "I..." Her anger had shifted into unease, but Ethan didn’t let her finish.
He raised a trembling hand and pressed it against his brow. A glowing six-pointed star emerged, shimmering with blue light. Within it pulsed his own blood essence—and her aura.
"Ethan, what are you doing?" For the first time, her voice held fear. That sigil was the Equal Contract he had formed with her egg, giving her freedom instead of servitude. Now, he was tearing it from his own Mindscape, enduring agony as the bond unraveled.
"No..." The Dragon Child cried, her voice breaking.
But Ethan pressed his finger to the star. A sharp crack rang out, echoing through the Whitmores’ Hidden Territory. Blood spilled from his nose, then from his ears and eyes. His body shook violently, but his voice was steady.
"Now... you are free."
The Dragon Child froze in disbelief. Lyla, too, was stunned. Unbinding the pact by force had sent a vicious backlash into Ethan’s body. His knees buckled. Lyla caught him before he collapsed.
"Why would you do this?" The Dragon Child dropped to the ground, burying her head in her arms, sobbing uncontrollably.
No one moved. The scene had shifted too quickly for anyone to process—one moment Ethan was bleeding, the next the Dragon Child was crying like a child.
Evelyn rushed forward, golden light sparking at her fingertips. She pressed her hand against Ethan, letting the healing energy sink into his body. After a moment, she shook her head at Lyla. "He’ll live."
Lyla exhaled in relief. She gave Ethan a hard glare before shoving him toward Evelyn. His body sagged helplessly; Evelyn barely managed to keep him from crushing her.
Ethan blinked, startled. The next thing he saw was Lyla crouching beside the Dragon Child, wrapping an arm around her and leading her away. As she passed him, she muttered, "I’ll settle the score with you later."
Ethan panicked. Settle what? What did I even do? I told them she’s just a dragon—I didn’t seduce her!
When the others moved to help him, Lyla’s voice rang out: "No one is allowed to help him! He brought this on himself. Evelyn, come here!"
Evelyn obeyed, leaving Ethan wobbling on his feet. She stuck her tongue out at him playfully. "Stand firm, Ethan!" She gave his shoulders the barest push before darting after Lyla.
Ethan stood rooted, the world spinning. He turned to Crystal.
"Crystal..."
She squeaked. "I-I-I still have vegetables to wash!" And bolted.
His gaze swept the others. Mia, Fern, and Rose refused to meet his eyes, muttering in unison, "We’ll help wash vegetables too."
Nora and Dot were already pretending not to notice, their eyes glued to a paused cartoon on a laptop. Clara shrugged and gestured at Astrid, who was half-asleep against her shoulder, clearly not volunteering.
Ethan turned toward his so-called brothers. Markham kept grilling meat, ignoring him entirely.
"Oh, looks like the lady of the house is in charge here," Micah said dryly, staring at the sky.
Blackie vanished toward the barbecue. Ormund trailed after him, muttering something about being hungry. Hank shouted about needing more bottles, and Regis slipped away with the red wine.
Finally, Uncle Jed approached. Ethan’s heart lifted—only for the old man to stop short. "Ethan, let me give you some advice. The way I survived in the Sea of Death? Knowing when to adapt." He promptly walked past.
Matriarch Whitmore tapped her dragon-headed cane, pausing with every step. "Logically, I should thank you, young man. That girl truly was dangerous... But thanks are thanks. I won’t interfere in your household matters."
Ethan’s eyes stung. How did it come to this?
Then, just as he thought things couldn’t get worse, a ragged figure appeared. The man’s hair and beard were matted, his yellow robe filthy, and a cracked bowl dangled from one hand. He was clearly on his way to Markham’s grill, but halfway there, he stopped and turned, eyes fixing on Ethan.
"Hmm..." He studied Ethan intently. "Bleeding, muscles weak as straw. What peculiar condition is this? Let me examine with needles."
Ethan almost wept with relief. Finally—Dr. Aldric, Evelyn’s eccentric grandfather, master of Leeroy and Ryan. If anyone could help him, it was this man.
"Thank you, Dr. Aldric... I appreciate it," Ethan mumbled. His tongue felt numb, his words slurred. His legs refused to move. But then his eyes widened in horror.
From his sleeve, Aldric drew a gleaming silver needle—two feet long. And before Ethan could say anything, the old man ran his tongue up the length of it, coating it in saliva. His eyes gleamed with manic delight.
"You... don’t come any closer!" Ethan stammered.
"What’s this nonsense, boy? People beg for me to treat them, yet I don’t bother. And you tell me to stay away? Ha! Then I’ll come even closer. What will you do?" Aldric cackled, licking the massive needle again.
Ethan’s mind exploded with curses.