Time slipped quietly by like flowing water. Half a month had passed in the blink of an eye since Amon and Naga reunited on that neon-lit street.
Over these days, Naga gradually came to understand Jormungandr's current situation—not the lofty Monarch she had imagined, but someone struggling through the mortal world like an ordinary human.
The sovereign who had once ruled mountains and earth now seemed trapped by life's trivialities, far removed from her former glory.
But Naga herself was hardly doing any better. She had no source of income at all and was entirely dependent on Amon... This was completely different from what she had envisioned before setting out!
As dusk settled, Naga stood alone before the apartment's floor-to-ceiling window, her fingertips absently tracing the cold glass. Traffic streamed below, and the lights cast shifting shadows across her profile.
For thousands of years, whenever she awoke from her long slumber, the first thing she did was reshape the land with dragonfire. Mortal cities were no more than sandcastles in her eyes, and the rise and fall of dynasties no different from the life and death of mayflies. She had sat upon a golden throne and received living sacrifices; she had commanded entire armies to build temples for her.
The world had always trembled as it adapted to her existence, just as plants had no choice but to follow the turning of the seasons.
But this time... it was her turn to adapt to the world.
Like a newborn dragon cautiously extending its claws, she carefully began learning the rules of this age.
Even Jormungandr, her former sovereign, had integrated into the bustle of human life and willingly called a human her brother. What reason did Naga have to cling to Dragon Kind's pride?
Naga lowered her gaze to the