45: Chapter 45 The Logic of the Dragon's Nest

His consciousness sank into the system panel. A previously ignored warning tab was flashing in red text on a yellow background. He clicked it open.

"Warning: The host's bloodline attributes have exceeded 1200 points. Dragon instincts strengthen linearly as the bloodline improves. Current suppression rates are as follows—"

"Greed: Suppression rate 25%. Unable to suppress the impulse to possess valuables. The scope has expanded from 'dragon glass' to 'all shiny or magically valuable items.' This includes, but is not limited to: gold coins, gemstones, magical metals, high-quality weapons, and specific types of magical minerals."

"Lust: Suppression rate 35%. Spontaneous attention and possessiveness will occur toward the opposite sex possessing traits such as 'high combat power,' 'dragon bloodline,' or 'significant bonds.' The desire for exclusivity over marked targets is significantly enhanced. Note: When this instinct overlaps with 'Territorial Awareness,' it may lead the host to view a spouse as 'part of the nest's assets' and protect them with extreme measures."

"Territorial Awareness: Suppression rate 40%. The Great Pyramid and its surrounding areas are instinctively regarded as 'Dragon's Nest Territory.' An impulse to attack intruders will occur. It can still be suppressed for now, but over time, the territory's range may expand from the pyramid to the entire city, all of Meereen, and even the entire Slavers Bay."

"Destructive Desire: Suppression rate 15%. The suppression of the killing impulse toward those perceived as 'threats' or 'disrespectful' has decreased. Note: This value is approaching the danger line. Below 10%, the host may be unable to distinguish between enemies and neutral targets during combat."

"Recommendation: Increase suppression rates through willpower training or specific magical means. Otherwise, as the bloodline breaks through further, these instincts will gradually override the host's human reason. At that point, the host may turn into a true beast driven by primal desires."

Drogon stared at the panel. His finger poked the "Territorial Awareness" column.

"Dragon's Nest Territory—if the definition expands to the whole city, does that mean I can openly say, 'This is my turf'?"

"Theoretically, yes. However, the host previously presented Meereen to Daenerys. The owner of the Dragon's Nest Territory can be the host's spouse. She manages the people, and the host manages her and the gold coins beneath the host's feet. A clear division of labor."

"So it's reasonable. Perfectly reasonable."

He closed the panel, but his tail swished slowly behind him—the "35% Lust suppression rate" made him a bit uncomfortable. Not because it was too high, but because he didn't know if that number was considered high or low among dragons.

"System. A 35% Lust suppression rate—is this number considered high or low?"

"Compared to the 0% before breaking through 1000 points, it is significant. Compared to the 100% after the Ancestor of All Dragons is fully awakened, it is still extremely low. Currently, the host can still suppress instincts with human will. However, it is recommended to mind the boundaries of daily interaction with bonded members of the opposite sex."

Drogon said nothing. He spat out the diamond in his mouth, wiped the saliva off with his thumb, and put it into his trench coat's inner pocket, next to the emerald. The two stones clinked softly inside the pocket, making a faint sound.

Evening. White Mane returned from the last section of the sewers on the west side of the city walls. Her armor was covered in mud and water, and her silver hair clung damply to the side of her face.

The corridor was empty. The Unsullied on night watch hadn't changed shifts yet. She carried her greatblade on her left shoulder—the web of her right hand throbbed, making it impossible to grip the hilt—her steps were light, yet they still left wet footprints on the stone slabs.

The prints were mixed with grayish-blue mud, a silt unique to underground rivers. Its particles were extremely fine; when dry, it looked like ash, and when wet, it resembled blue-gray paint.

She pushed open her door, preparing to take off her armor, then froze.

Drogon was leaning against her doorframe, arms crossed. His tail tapped lightly against the floor. The rhythm wasn't fast, but it was steady. She recognized that rhythm—he was suppressing something.

"Looking for me?"

"What are you investigating?" It wasn't a question; it was a statement.

"A routine patrol. The surrendered soldiers of Meereen need time to be reorganized—"

"Little White. Your heartbeat—I can feel it through the Brand. You've slept very little these past two days. At three in the morning last night, you spent an hour at the bottom of the pyramid. You're looking for something." He paused, his vertical pupils staring at the grayish-blue mud stain on the hem of her armor. "And you didn't tell me."

White Mane fell silent. She knew lying was useless. Under the Brand's mutual perception, he could capture her emotional fluctuations. Anger, fatigue, alertness, and a tiny hint of something she wasn't even aware of—the fear that if he knew, he would truly burn down half the pyramid.

"Two more hours. In two hours, I'll tell you everything. This is your mother's order."

Drogon's tail stopped tapping.

"...Her order?"

"Because she said if you found out beforehand, you'd burn half the pyramid down. We need to map out the distribution of all the runes first, then have you act to burn them all away at once. Otherwise, we'll alert the enemy, and the person who set the array will escape."

Drogon remained silent, looking at her weary but stubborn face.

Then he reached out and handed her a shard of dragon glass. A faint, ghostly blue glow flowed over the shard. It had been tempered with Ice Element.

"This is dragon glass tempered with Ice Element. It can ice your wounds. Your palms are chafed—next time you move rocks, don't just use brute force. Use your head."

White Mane looked down and realized that her right palm indeed had blood blisters. Not just at the web of her hand—the palm had them too. Three blisters: two had already burst, and one was still swollen.

She had gotten them while moving rubble in the secret passage. She took the dragon glass without saying thank you, simply clutching it in her palm. The icy sensation transferred from the dragon glass to the wound, and the pain lessened instantly. It was so soothing she almost sighed.

"...In two hours. The underground river. Come there. I'll point out the rune locations for you."

Drogon turned to leave. His tail brushed against her calf extremely lightly and quickly. It lasted less than a tenth of a second. The sensation was cool. The texture of the scales brushed against the skin of her calf, like being gently patted by the flat of a blade.

"See you in two hours. Before that—take a bath. You smell too much of mud. And take off that armor. sandworm carapace becomes brittle after soaking in underground river water."

White Mane watched his back disappear around the corner of the corridor. She pressed the dragon glass against her forehead, closed her eyes, and cursed in the dothraki language.

"Long-tailed bastard."

But her palm did not let go of the dragon glass.