Monster Girl Menagerie - Celestial Archive-Chapter 64 - 62 - Can Your God Aplogize?

I saw a woman marching down the road, an angry scowl on her face, and took a step back. The scales on the back of my hand receded, my claw shifting back into human form.

"You!" the woman snarled, her eyes blazing with fury. "Who are you?! And why are you assaulting my men?"

I knew she was angry—rather, I could feel her anger. The subtle quaking of the aura around her might have been invisible to anyone else, but to me, it was as clear as a daylight sky. I smiled and shifted into a non-threatening posture.

"I understand there's been some misunderstanding," I said, offering a pleasant smile. "I was just asking your guards to allow us past the gates."

"Is that so?" the woman asked, doubt lacing her tone. "Because from where I stood, you were clearly ready to strike. I don't think there's been any misunderstanding."

"While that might be true to some extent, I'm not entirely at fault here," I said, pausing as I turned toward my companion. I expected them to speak up, to defend my argument or at least respond in some way. Instead, they only gave me strange looks—even Amara wore a tight frown.

I cleared my throat and added, "As I was saying, your guards are responsible too. I told them I had a meeting with Captain Aldrin and asked to be let in, but they just told me to go home. Which, I might argue, is a very rude gesture."

The woman's scowl finally faded as she turned to give both guards a hard look. "I was under the impression that Captain Aldrin was in his quarters and certainly not busy. So why did you deny this man entry or, at the very least, fail to convey his message to the captain?"

The men fell silent, heads bowed, not daring to meet her eyes. I wondered if their remorse was an act, but my eyes told me the woman was genuinely disappointed in them.

"And you," the woman said, turning back to me. "While they are certainly at fault here, how could you possibly attack them over such a small slight?"

"Nearly," I corrected. "Nearly attacked them. How do you know I wouldn't have backed off eventually? That I wasn't just trying to scare them into obedience?"

"I don't know about that," she said, nodding. "But you know what I do know?"

I raised a brow, curious.

"That you're standing on the grounds of Baron Feylance, you nearly attacked two of his guards, and now you're arguing with his daughter. What do you think about that?"

That I'm an idiot, I would have said, but I kept my lips pursed and glanced back at my companions. Inwardly, I urged them—now is the time, guys; diffuse the situation—but they remained silent.

Objectively speaking, I was the one at fault here. No need for them to suffer someone's wrath too. I shouldn't have let my anger get the best of me. Or was it pride?

Pride.

How laughable.

Years spent honing my skills as a hunter, with measly attributes and selfish teammates. I had known fear, anger, and hate, and I had learned to love, scorn, and desire. But pride—pride was a foreign concept to me.

Until very recently, that is.

I recalled the words the man had spoken. Underneath the crimson moon, he had told me that being a dragon's host had made me impulsive. But that was nothing compared to what would happen when I truly became a dragon.

Now, I understood what he had meant.

"Very well." I nodded. "Since you insist on me admitting my fault, then yes—I did try to assault your guards, on the grounds of Baron Feylance. What do you think about that?"

The woman snarled, baring her teeth. "I have already done plenty of thinking, thank you," she said. "But I think you might require some time alone in isolation to clear your thoughts. Because clearly, you haven't been thinking at all."

Things couldn't have gotten any worse. I hadn't intended for the matter to escalate to this level, but then again, I hadn't been very thoughtful today at all. First, I had nearly assaulted the guard, and despite what I might've claimed to the Baron's daughter, I had very much intended to gouge his heart out.

And when I finally came back to my senses, I found myself arguing with the woman whose father I had come to ask for help. Well, technically to call in a debt repayment, but the fact remained—I wasn't feeling mentally stable at all.

"Ahem."

Just when I thought the woman would holler for her men to arrest me, I heard Amara clear her throat and step forward. The woman turned her attention from me to Amara, then to the two behind her, seemingly only now registering their presence.

I attributed that to the trio's new clothing—baggy and faded. Considering how it hid the contours of their bodies, making them nearly invisible, her surprise was understandable.

"Good afternoon. My name is Amara," she said, keeping her expression stoic. "How may I address you?"

"Eh..." The woman hesitated, clearly caught off guard. I caught a faint dusting of blush on her cheeks. "I... uh, I—sorry, my name is Arianna."

"Well, Arianna, I believe this matter shouldn't escalate beyond what it has any right to," Amara said. "Why don't you accept Markus' apology and lead us to the captain?"

Arianna hesitated, regarding me with a frown before turning back to Amara and nodding stiffly. "I don't want to make things worse either, but it's just..."

"I'm sure he didn't mean it," Pyra chimed in from the side. "Markus is impulsive, but he wouldn't needlessly assault someone—I can promise you that."

"Yeah, he isn't a bad guy," Tania added.

I watched as Arianna shifted her gaze from one woman to another, gritting her teeth before she finally nodded. "I understand."

Wow, I cried inwardly. I can't believe they forced her to agree with just the power of their words. Or was it the power of their looks?

While I didn't like my lovable companions being the center of someone's attention, I wasn't jealous or petty enough to call them out on it. Or worse, strike them.

...Or was I?

With Dragon Heart now an inseparable part of me—an integral aspect of my existence—I honestly wasn't sure what I was capable of anymore. How could someone define their existence if they didn't understand it in the first place? That said, I did try to control the impulses whenever they reared their heads. Like earlier, when my heart had urged me to silence this woman once and for all...

I shook my head, forcing the thoughts away, and looked up—only to find everyone staring at me expectantly.

"What?" I asked, frowning.

Arianna glowered and opened her mouth to speak, but Pyra cut her off. "Didn't we promise her something just now, Mark? Something called an apology?"

The very sound of the word felt obnoxious to me for some reason, and the idea of apologizing to someone seemed outright detestable. Despite that, I pushed past my reluctance, grunted, and offered an apology.

"That's what you call an apology?" Arianna groused, gritting her teeth. "My dog apologizes better than you, and I don't even have a dog."

I scowled, then paused. Wait... how does that make any sense?

"Markus has offered his apology," Amara said. "Let's not push our luck, shall we?"

Seeing the stiff smile on her face, Arianna hesitated, then nodded and mumbled something under her breath.

Her strange behavior was irritating me for some reason, but I decided to shelve the thought for later. Instead, I said, "Since we're done dilly-dallying, can we focus back on the task we initially came here to accomplish?"

"Arianna?" Amara nodded, urging her forward.

"Very well," Arianna said, shooting one last hateful glare my way before turning on her heel. "Follow me."

The guards didn't obstruct us this time, standing obediently on the sidelines. I considered making a comment about how my aura had cowed them into submission but decided against it. Then, I couldn't help but wonder—would the old me have done or even thought of something like that?

The answer was: probably not.

Past the gates, a cluster of keeps rose around us. Unlike the wall, they were built with wood, brick, and mortar. Most only reached a single story, but some near the back stood as high as three. One in the distance—possibly near the center—towered at five stories.

The keeps were arranged haphazardly, with curved pathways winding around them, laden with cobblestone. I spotted a couple of broken carts in the distance, and my enhanced nose picked up the scent of animal waste—domestic, by the smell of it.

The stench soon faded, and Arianna led us through the winding paths to the back of one keep, where an open training ground stretched before us.

Men—soldiers—wearing only gray tunics and faded trousers trained in the dirt, their movements disciplined and precise.

On the sidelines, watching them with the intensity of a hawk, stood Captain Aldrin.

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