Round Seven: Yellow Dragon

Forty-Seven watched in confusion as the dragon swung its massive head and roared. Milia, on the other hand, lowered her sword in a gesture of deep respect.
The dragon glanced at the two of them; clearly, their reactions bored it. It rolled its eyes and roared again, “As a child, I was transparent, and as I grew up, I turned white. Holding me can drive away the torment of the Twin Days, but the price is that I will slip away from your grasp. Who am I! Tell me quickly! Whoever can’t guess it will be eaten!”
What a stupid riddle. Forty-Seven smirked, too lazy to pay attention.
“Respected Bronze Dragon Abagor… I am Milia, a holy warrior of the Dawn Knights, currently on a trial. I followed a wicked semi-purgatorial creature here. I am sorry for disturbing your rest…” Milia bowed slightly, demonstrating the proper etiquette of a holy warrior.
It should be Abazig… What a strange name. Forty-Seven looked at the dragon and suddenly felt like laughing. Aren’t dragons those silly creatures who like to snatch little girls and keep them in their castles, doing nothing but waiting for heroes to save them? Why does it seem like the role has changed now?
The bronze head turned toward him.
“Ha! Wicked creature! On Abazig’s—my name is Abazig! Abazig’s territory cannot tolerate evil! I’ll eat you—Huh? What are you holding? Is it the great sword of the Frozen Knight? Ah! If it weren’t for the cold making me uncomfortable, I would have already gotten a bunch of these two-handed swords! You see, I once encountered a annoying white dragon. If I hadn’t been too full at the time, I would have broken its neck—Hey, why are you holding it like that? Too careless! Come, give me the sword, and I’ll teach you the proper way to hold it—”
Why should I listen to you? You seem like an insatiable fool.
“A jerk just hit me on the head and made a bump. I hope it wasn’t you?” The dragon’s slit-pupiled eyes, narrow like snake eyes, scanned Forty-Seven’s entire body. After concluding that Forty-Seven had no intention of obeying, it felt a chill. Forty-Seven hid the two-handed sword behind his back, but didn’t want his action to seem too obvious: “Great Dragon Abazig? Your hands are too big. I think this thing can only be used to clean your teeth…”
“AAAAAAH—Are you mocking me for being big and stupid?” Abazig slammed one of its front paws on the ground, causing sand to spread like waves, making Forty-Seven and Milia lose their balance. “No one dares mock Abazig!”
Then came a long, clear dragon roar.
Forty-Seven detected a hint of anger in its words. He became alert, ready to defend against a sudden attack from the bronze dragon. But Abazig’s huge body quickly shrank, its wings drooping—In just an instant, it turned into an old man wearing a copper-green robe with a sallow complexion.
“Fine! Now show me that sword!” Abazig climbed out of the pit it had created and stormed toward Forty-Seven.
“No, what if you don’t give it back?” Forty-Seven jumped off the dune before Abazig could catch him.
“Only those who cheat worry about being cheated!” the old man said solemnly.

“Tch, dragons are symbols of greed anyway—otherwise why would you capture so many women?”
“Dare you call me greedy?! When have I ever captured women?! How dare you slander the sacred Brass Dragon, Lord Abazig! Aren’t you afraid of the great Abazig… What’s wrong with this kid?” The Brass Dragon noticed Milia, whose face was pale and who was shaking—likely due to exhaustion from relaxing.
“She’s afraid you’ll lock her up in the castle because she’s not a princess and no prince would fall for her.” Forty-Seven walked away with his hands spread out.
“Hmm… seems like excessive concentration of sacred energy.” The Brass Dragon ignored Forty-Seven.
“Don’t capture her—this guy’s really fierce.” Forty-Seven said sarcastically, leaning on his sword hilt.
“I said I don’t capture women!!” The old man’s voice was extremely loud.
“Look, she’s trembling.” Forty-Seven pointed at the increasingly distressed Milia, gloating.
“Grrr…” The Brass Dragon irritably placed a hand on Milia’s head.
Massive magical energy slowly flowed into Milia’s body, and the effects were immediately visible.
“Oh~ So you’re not just good at capturing women after all.” The Brass Dragon showed off a skill that impressed Forty-Seven.
“You bastard kid.”
“Please allow me to eliminate this evil demi-hellish creature on your land!” Once Milia regained her composure, she got straight to the point—her mind was completely focused now.
“Alright, alright, young lady! He’s not a demi-hellish creature! Though he may look like one, smell like one, and maybe even taste like one, he’s not one! At least not completely!”
Abazig stroked his beard, which resembled steel needles: “This kid is quite interesting. Look at his armor—those aren’t really armor at all!”
Forty-Seven jumped back again: “Don’t fix your interest on me—I’m not easy to provoke.”
“Hmph! I still haven’t settled accounts with you. Insulting a dragon has serious consequences! I’ll summon eternal winds to trap you forever in the desert—”
“Lord Abazig, what… what are you saying? How could he not be?” Milia was completely confused. If her intuition hadn’t detected any trace of evil in the Brass Dragon, she might have truly thought it was a malicious blue dragon in disguise.
“A construct, well, at least half a construct, or even a construct creature. Though it doesn’t make much sense. Of course, this world doesn’t really make much sense either.” Abazig narrowed his eyes, staring maliciously at Forty-Seven, perhaps also thinking about the sword behind him.
Forty-Seven continued to back away, keeping a distance from Abazig. The disparity in strength was undeniable.
“Lord Abazig, please allow me to continue my unfinished duty! The Lord of Glory led me here. No matter what his true identity is, the air is filled with the stench emanating from this filthy creature. I can’t just ignore it!” Milia stood upright, gripping her giant sword—clearly determined not to give up.

Forty-Seven stood coldly to the side. Though that girl had extraordinary talent, she still posed no real threat to him. But as for that dragon, it was another story. Given its peculiar temperament, it might attack him at any moment. Those who talk nonsense are the most merciless when they act.
“Oh? Such a level of sacred power, a knight blessed by divine talent? No wonder you had the guts to duel that tin-brained scoundrel.” It seemed only now that Abazig truly realized Miria’s identity. “Is Catherine alright? Though you probably don’t know her… I last saw her two hundred years ago, wait, maybe three hundred. Back then, the entire continent was engulfed in war, with scorched land and piles of corpses everywhere—even this desolate desert was no exception… Be careful, girl. Drawing on sacred power too much isn’t fun at all. The consequences are far worse than you imagine. Although I just healed you with my divine power, back then Catherine—what are you doing? Don’t go over there. There’s just another dune behind that one—Can’t you hear me?”
Abazig’s transformation into human form didn’t improve his temperament at all. Seeing Forty-Seven retreating quietly, Abazig clapped his hands. After a puff of yellow smoke, he reverted to his yellow-orange dragon form, flapping his wings and taking off. The yellow sand lifted by the wind was as thick as a sandstorm cloud, making it even harder to orient oneself in the pitch-black night. When Forty-Seven finally steadied himself in the gradually subsiding storm, he found Abazig perched atop a dune, stretching its neck with its head less than three centimeters away from Forty-Seven.
Its eyes, cloudy yet constantly moving, scanned Forty-Seven from head to toe, carrying a metallic tint. Breath blowing from its fist-sized nostrils flipped up Forty-Seven’s hood. No longer hiding, his red-black scaled armor-like skin puffed slightly as he gathered strength, his dark red eyes fixed intently on the old dragon before him.
Miria stood below the dune. The storm had temporarily obscured Forty-Seven and Abazig from sight. By the time she spotted them again, the standoff between the two left her in an awkward dilemma—whether to rush forward or stay put.
Though no one noticed this awkwardness.
“Hey, what’s your name?” Abazig retracted its neck, nodding as it looked down at this tiny humanoid creature.
“Forty-Seven.”