“Can we go for a walk?” Derpy asked.

  The four Mk units paused.

  Mk.1 tilted her head. “Friend want outside?”

  “Yes. Just a short one.”

  Mk.4 answered first. “Short walk. Courtyard only.”

  They moved together — formation loose but alert.

  Mk.2 walked slightly closer than usual.

  As they moved through the corridor, Mk.2 spoke quietly.

  “Besides magic… what else are you capable of?”

  Mk.1, Mk.3, and Mk.4 all turned toward her.

  It wasn’t normal for Mk.2 to ask.

  She responded. She didn’t inquire.

  Derpy blinked.

  “Well… I can summon weapons from shows I watched. Different worlds. Different systems.”

  He scratched the back of his neck.

  “I can summon beasts too. Sometimes. Depends how I’m feeling.”

  Mk.3 observed carefully.

  “And your transformations?”

  Derpy exhaled slowly.

  “I’m human. Not really a dragon. But when I’m like this…”

  His tail flicked.

  “It feels normal. I feel the urge to act dragon-like. Protective. Territorial. Strong.”

  Mk.1 twirled once, hands clasped behind her back.

  “Friend show us.”

  Derpy nodded.

  “Sure.”

  He didn’t notice the tension shift in the air.

  Celica did.

  Blight did.

  Be careful.

  They reached the courtyard.

  And there—

  Lirael and Sylara.

  The princesses.

  They weren’t strolling. They were waiting—like the courtyard had been set aside for a lesson.

  Lightning crackled faintly along Lirael’s fingers.

  The earth shifted slightly beneath Sylara’s boots.

  Derpy felt it immediately.

  “Can we go somewhere else?” he asked quietly.

  The dolls agreed without hesitation.

  They turned.

  Behind them—

  Lirael’s eyes narrowed.

  “Did they just turn away?”

  Lightning snapped harder around her wrist.

  Sylara placed a hand on her sister’s arm.

  “Relax. There’s time.”

  Her voice lowered. “Father wants control. Not a chase.”

  The fake calamity books pulsed faintly.

  They moved toward the royal garden instead.

  Queen Vaeloria stood among flowering vines, attendants nearby. Morning light filtered through high leaves, casting green-gold patterns across her robes.

  She turned.

  Derpy straightened immediately.

  Then bowed deeply.

  “Salutations, my lady Queen Vaeloria.”

  The queen froze.

  A small, strangled sound escaped her—caught and cut off as she lifted her sleeve to her face.

  Her attendants exchanged knowing glances.

  “You will have to excuse her,” one attendant said dryly. “She has just woken. In the mornings she behaves like a schoolgirl with a crush.”

  Derpy blinked.

  His voice softened. “That’s… kind of sweet.”

  Vaeloria made another quiet noise and turned slightly away, shoulders tense.

  Derpy glanced at the garden space.

  “Can we stay here for a bit? I want to try something.”

  Vaeloria nodded quickly, still half-hidden behind her sleeve.

  “Y-yes.”

  Derpy turned to Mk.4.

  “Will you spar with me?”

  Mk.4 stepped forward.

  “I possess multiple combat functions. I am not limited to one specialty like Mk.1.”

  “Good,” Derpy said.

  “I want to test something.”

  Derpy closed his eyes.

  He thought of Vambasta.

  Of how she moved like a storm.

  Of how Vemi stepped soft but fast.

  His heart rate rose.

  His dragon wings dissolved into light.

  His dragon tail tightened—

  Shifted—

  Braided red and blue.

  One red ear.

  One blue ear.

  Wolf.

  Not fully.

  But enough.

  Thinking hurts, he remembered Vambasta saying.

  He stepped back lightly.

  “I’m not a full wolf,” he muttered.

  “I’ll have to fake it.”

  Celica’s voice came calm.

  We can attempt Magic Step.

  Blight added:

  It boosts speed when you commit to a step. But you must focus.

  Mk.4 vanished.

  No warning.

  Her fist slammed into Derpy’s jaw.

  He flipped backward—

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  landed sideways on the garden wall.

  He didn’t fall.

  He balanced.

  A faint magic circle formed under his foot.

  Imperfect.

  Wobbly.

  But there.

  Blight’s voice sharpened.

  Focus.

  Mk.4 darted in again.

  Faster.

  Derpy pushed off the wall—

  The circle flared.

  He blurred sideways.

  Not perfect teleportation.

  Not even clean.

  But enough.

  Mk.4’s fist hit air.

  Mk.1 went still.

  Mk.2 leaned forward.

  Mk.3’s eyes sharpened.

  Derpy landed low.

  He didn’t stand upright.

  He stayed crouched.

  Wolf-like.

  Breathing steady.

  Mk.4 adjusted immediately.

  Her arm split open.

  A blade extended.

  She swung.

  Derpy didn’t block.

  He moved with his shoulders—twisting like an animal avoiding claws.

  He sprang again.

  Magic circle—

  This time stronger.

  He appeared behind her.

  His hand stopped inches from her neck.

  “I’m trying to move instinctively,” he said softly.

  Mk.4 pivoted instantly.

  Her leg swept his.

  He hit the ground hard.

  Rolled.

  Another circle flared.

  He sprang sideways again.

  The queen’s attendants stepped back.

  Vaeloria watched, eyes wide, attention fixed.

  Derpy’s movements were messy.

  Not refined.

  Not elegant.

  But alive.

  He wasn’t thinking like a dragon.

  He wasn’t thinking like a human.

  He was reacting.

  Mk.4 lunged again—

  Derpy didn’t retreat.

  He stepped in.

  Magic circle flared beneath both feet.

  His speed spiked violently.

  He grabbed her wrist.

  Spun.

  Threw her—

  But not hard enough to damage.

  Mk.4 slid across stone and stopped cleanly.

  Silence filled the garden.

  Mk.2 stared.

  “You moved… like prey becoming predator.”

  Mk.3 studied him.

  “You altered stance mid-exchange. Improvised.”

  Mk.1 clapped lightly.

  “Friend fast.”

  Derpy breathed heavily.

  “That hurt,” he muttered.

  Blight’s voice hummed quietly.

  You nearly lost control twice.

  Celica added softly:

  But you didn’t.

  Vaeloria approached slowly.

  “You change,” she observed.

  “Yes.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Sometimes.”

  She reached out—

  lightly touched one wolf ear.

  His tail flicked instinctively.

  Vaeloria’s hand paused, then withdrew as if she’d touched something sacred and dangerous.

  “Interesting,” she said, voice quieter now.

  At the courtyard entrance—

  Lirael and Sylara stood unseen.

  Lightning crackled quietly in Lirael’s palm.

  “He’s adapting,” she muttered.

  Sylara’s earth book pulsed faintly.

  “Father will want confirmation.”

  Lirael’s mouth tightened.

  “Then we give it to him.”

  Her gaze stayed locked on the garden path. “Today.”

  Later.

  As they walked back inside.

  Mk.2 walked closer again.

  “Your magic is inefficient,” she said quietly.

  Derpy exhaled.

  “I know.”

  Mk.3 looked at him carefully.

  “You avoided lethal strikes.”

  “I didn’t want to hurt her.”

  Mk.4 walked slightly behind him.

  “You held back.”

  “Yes.”

  A pause.

  Mk.1 bounced lightly.

  “Friend safe.”

  Derpy glanced at them.

  “You four… why did you agree to leave the courtyard?”

  Silence.

  Then Mk.3 answered.

  “You did not wish confrontation.”

  Mk.2 added quietly:

  “You were uncomfortable.”

  Mk.4 said nothing.

  But she did not deny it.

  Something in their thread had shifted again.

  They were no longer only observing.

  They were choosing.

  And that made them dangerous.