I'll be here forever

chapter 52

I swore silently, and the dragon whipped around a lot faster than you'd expect a 2 ton dragon to move. My guess was confirmed. It was definitely a dragon.

Here I was; face to face with a fucking metal dragon, alone, no weapon. But hey, at least I had a free art museum admission in my pocket.

It roared, and then it blew fire at me. Really? Fire? You're made of bronze and weigh 2 tons, and you still need to breathe fire? What kind of overpowered shit is that?

I yelped and dove to the side, rolling, which was a really, really bad idea. It felt like someone stabbed me in the back. And the legs. And the neck. Repeatedly. Along with it singing off the hairs on my arms, which was an added bonus I really, really did not need.

I really should've taken the time to heal a bit longer before I faced off against a motherfucking dragon. Honestly, I'd be good to go if I never had to fight a dragon in my entire lifetime. But of course, here's one, trying to kill me. I don't know why I'm even surprised at this point.

Still, I jumped to my feet, ignoring the stabbing pain, and I weighed my options. Run away? I'd be roasted on a spit. Try to fight it? It's not like I have a weapon. It'd kill me long before I had time to sharpen a stick to use as a spear or something.

Something clicked. Something genius or incredibly stupid, I couldn't tell which.

I ran toward the dragon.

It obviously did not expect that in the slightest, and stumbled backward, trying to meet me in the middle.

But I slid under him, going through the front and around to the side. He whipped around, trying to find me; being a huge 2-ton dragon does have its drawbacks. I jumped up, grabbing onto one of his bronze scales. It was hot, steaming hot, and it burned my hands, and I resisted to urge to let go. I would've been flung into oblivion.

Instead, I ignored the metal burning into my flesh and I started to climb up his side, using his scales. It seemed like muscle memory, although I didn't recall another time when I climbed up a dragon. He whipped around, trying to shake me off, but I held tight, even as I felt my hands blistering.

I somehow made it to the top of it- maybe my luck hadn't run out after all.

And I thought about a long time ago, a time I don't like to think about, one of the hardest times in my life, when I was able to control something... that wasn't water.

I didn't like to think about it, but right now, I didn't have a choice.

Usually I didn't remember the names of monsters, but this one, this one was forever burned into my mind.

Dracaena.

The first time I had done it, I was so angry that as soon as I touched the dracaena, it started bleeding out of every open hole in its body, without me trying. I didn't mean to do it, it just... happened. I felt bad at first, but I had been so angry that I just pushed it down and kept moving.

But that was how I learned the make-up of their body, where the blood flowed, where it came out, where it didn't. After that, it was just a matter of time before I could do it without touching them, because I knew where everything was. I'd had plenty of them to practice on.

I'd never wanted to do that again, but I didn't see another way out.

I didn't have any dragons to practice on, so I grabbed the scales tightly in front of me, not letting the dragon shake me off, ignoring the burning smell, and I searched. I closed my eyes, and I searched for the substance that I knew it had, that all creatures had- blood.

I found something different. The dragon... it wasn't a dragon. It was a machine. Instead of blood pumping through it, it was oil.

I smiled grimly. Oil's much easier.

And then I forced it to explode, just like I had with the dracaena's blood all that time ago. It responded to me immediately and started leaking out of every part of the dragon; out the nose, in between its scales. It froze, stopped trying to shake me off, and whined in pain in a series of noises and clicks.

I felt the power run through me, tingling in my fingertips where I'd gripped his scales. And I hate to admit it, but it felt amazing. So long ago, I'd been angry, so angry that I couldn't feel anything else, couldn't think about anything else but finding her.

I wasn't angry right now. I was completely, terrifyingly calm. And I felt this dragon, this huge metal machine crumbling underneath me; the power was almost addicting.

When I'd done this before, back when the dracaena had taken Daisy, I was so angry that I had wanted them to suffer, I had wanted them to bleed out slowly, painfully. I had wanted to watch them die a horrible death.

I hadn't taken the time to enjoy it.

But I didn't want this dragon to suffer. I just wanted to survive. I just wanted to make it back to her.

Still, I couldn't deny the incredible rush it gave me. I was running off of it, taking in the feeling, savoring it without even realizing.

It didn't take long for the oil completely drain out of it, and it slumped to the side, falling with a crash. I hung on tightly as it did. When it hit the ground, it jarred my bones and sent a jolt of pain through my legs and arms, but at least my hands weren't burning anymore.

It was dead. Well, was it even alive in the first place? It was a machine. Either way, I felt bad about it, but it hadn't left me much of a choice.

"I'm sorry," I told it, even though it probably couldn't hear me.

I tried my hardest to forget about the almost euphoric thrill it had sent through me. I was still breathing heavily, still shaking from it, still trembling, with excitement or fear, I didn't know. I didn't know if I wanted to.

I felt overwhelmingly guilty for enjoying it as much as I had.

I hesitated, my heart still racing, then took my shaking hands off it's scales to examine them- and winced. They were charred, with what looked like at least second degree burns. I was sure that was going to come back to haunt me later.

I almost slid off the dragon when I remembered; it was made of the same bronze as riptide. Which meant I could use it as a weapon.

I endured the throbbing pain in my hands and legs as I tore off one of the scales. It was surprisingly easy. With a scale under my arm, I slid down the dead dragon's side, dropping to the ground. Pain shot up my ankle, and I winced.

The high of doing that to the dragon, which had been slowly fading, was almost gone completely.

I felt the last of the rush dying in my veins. I could've dropped dead right there, and almost did, stumbling. My back hurt, and my legs hurt, and gods, everything hurt. I swallowed thickly, my throat dry.

And so I slowly and painfully limped away from it, without looking back. Even though it was a machine, those whirs and clicks of pain haunted me. I didn't want to look at my handiwork any longer than I had to.