Dragon King's Harem Chapter 487. Walking Incarnations of Chaos
Dragon King's Harem Chapter 487. Walking Incarnations of Chaos
I smiled.
“Look,” Kaelen whispered, pointing. “They’re making food!”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “We brought the right thing.”
We landed on the stone terrace just beyond the gardens. Snow crunched beneath the wyvern’s claws as it lowered gently, careful not to crush the pigs strapped to its flank. I jumped down first and helped Kaelen dismount, then whistled.
The wyvern unhooked its wings and dropped the carcasses with a heavy thud, steam rising from their still-warm bodies.
Al was already waiting.
Standing by a line of stacked crates, his sleeves rolled up, gloves slick with drying blood. The Snowhorn Mammock from earlier? Fully skinned. Neatly cut. Packed and sorted with clinical precision.
He turned slowly, eyed the pigs we just dropped, and sighed.
“More?”
Kaelen grinned. “We got five!”
Al gave me a look. Flat. Unimpressed. The kind of look that said ‘I should’ve gone into potion-making instead.’
“I just sharpened my shadow blades,” he said dryly.
“And now you get to use them,” I replied, tossing him a cloth to wipe his hands. “Come on. People are waiting.”
He muttered something dark under his breath but moved to the pigs anyway, shadow tendrils flicking out and dragging them toward the prep tables like obedient snakes.
Kaelen ran toward the cooks, practically vibrating with pride. “We hunted those! Me and the Dragon King!”
Someone handed him a ladle to stir with. He held it like a sword.
Maria stepped out from the side path near the garden gate, arms crossed. Her gaze swept from me, to Kaelen, to the food being served.
She didn’t say anything.
But the smallest smile curved her lips.
And that was enough.
I turned back toward the half-butchered pig beside me just in time for a sharp roar to shake the air above. The wyvern, circling lazily overhead, let out a deep, throaty demand that echoed through the valley like a spoiled, fire-breathing toddler asking where the hell is my snack?
Kaelen looked up, eyes wide. “What’s the matter with him?”
I smirked. “Relax. He’s just demanding his share.”
Before the beast decided to break something again, I reached for one of the Frostpigs—already half-drained, blood steaming—and with a grunt of effort, hurled the entire thing into the air.
The wyvern caught it mid-air like a seagull catching a hotdog. Bit through it with a sharp crack of bone and tendon, growling in deep satisfaction.
“See?” I muttered, brushing my gloves clean. “Told you.”
Kaelen squinted. “Oh. You were right.”
“I’m always right.”
I gave a sharp whistle, and the wyvern roared again, banking upward toward the cliffs to enjoy its meal in peace.
Behind me, Al winced.
“Ah—dammit,” he hissed.
I turned just in time to see one of his black tendrils twitch as he pulled his knife away from the Mammock carcass. His jaw tightened, and I watched a deep gash in the wrong place open up.
“I just cut the tendon by mistake.”
I grinned, arms crossed. “So unprofessional.”
He gave me a deadpan look. “You should try this yourself, Your Majesty.”
“I delegate,” I said. “It’s called management.”
Kaelen, still hyped from the wyvern’s appearance, raised a fist. “Let me try!”
Al and I both turned toward him as he summoned his little ice sword again—still short, still sad, still about as useful as a butter knife against a boulder.
He walked up to one of the smaller pigs, gritted his teeth, and swung.
Tink.
Nope.
Another swing.
Thunk.
Barely scratched the hide.
Me and Al just stood there, silent. Watching. Like two disillusioned uncles watching a toddler try to chop down a tree with a spoon.
Kaelen kept hacking. Getting more frustrated. His brows furrowed. His arms trembled.
At last, I stepped forward, reached out, and yanked him up by the back of his collar like a kitten being pulled out of a laundry basket.
“Hey! Put me down!” he protested, flailing his feet.
I held him in the air like a misbehaving scroll.
“That’s not gonna work, champ. Just help them cook,” I said, nodding toward the row of giant bubbling cauldrons where steam was starting to rise. “Go give Sela a hand.”
Kaelen blinked, looked over, and spotted her—standing on a small platform, humming as she stirred a massive iron pot with a ladle that looked more like a boat oar. Jyne was beside her.
“Oh!” he beamed. “I’ll help Sela!”
I set him down and off he sprinted, nearly tripping over a frozen ladle as he ran.
I turned back to Al.
“Kids,” I said with a sigh and a shake of my head.
Al gave me a blank look. “I’m surprised you’re good with them, Your Majesty.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like kids?”
He scoffed. “No. They’re loud. They break things. They scream when you’re trying to have a moment of silence. Walking incarnations of chaos.”
I smirked. “Sounds like you.”
He paused. Blinked.
“…Hey, I’m not—” He stopped. His shoulders sagged slightly. “Right. Kinda like me.”
“Damn straight.”
Al grumbled something under his breath and went back to cutting meat, his shadow tendrils moving with sharper focus now—faster, cleaner. Still irritated.
I looked around. More pigs were waiting. The air now smelled like roasted fat and crushed herbs. Sela was directing a group of soldiers like she was hosting a feast in the Underworld. Kaelen stood beside her, holding a bowl of sliced roots and dumping them in with the flourish of a professional chef.
And yeah. There was work to do.
So I grabbed a spare blade from the rack, not Nightmare—too dramatic—and crouched beside one of the other pigs.
The metal was sharp. Not enchanted. But with my strength and skills, it didn’t need to be.
I made the first incision at the nape. Dug under the thick fat. Peeled it back.
Muscle memory kicked in fast. I hadn’t skinned beasts in a while—not since the older days. But it came back. My movements weren’t perfect, but they were fast. Efficient. The blade danced under my fingers. I cut deep, swift, precise. Avoided the bile sacs. Got the liver clean. Tossed the ruined organs in a pile for the wyvern.
Al glanced over from the other carcass.
He stared.
Deadpan.
Again.