The Corrupted Syndicate

The Viceroy flung open the door to his chambers, startling the dragoness from her slumber. Without hesitation, Zenos slipped into bed beside her, pulling the covers over himself.

Though an extraordinary being, Zenos was not like the dragoness or Matt, who was fused with creatures. The recent events had taken their toll on him, and unlike them, his body felt the weight of exhaustion.

He needed rest, and for a moment, even the chaos outside could wait.

"Thank you for keeping your word," murmured Mavislin as she felt a pair of arms wrapping around her form.

As dawn's first light filtered through the curtains, Mavislin shifted into her smaller form and eagerly made her way to the tub, relishing the brief moment of quiet.

The warm water splashed around her as she paddled lazily, her mind already spinning with thoughts of what the day might hold. A visit to the local town, perhaps, to browse the market for trinkets or inspect the latest weaponry Valokia had to offer...

But she quickly dismissed the thought with a grimace. Zenos, ever-watchful, would surely disapprove. In the eyes of the townspeople, she was still his captive, and any appearance in public would draw unnecessary attention.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Mavislin flicked her tail beneath the water, sending ripples across the surface. She was growing restless. There had to be something more—something to stir the excitement she craved.

Her mind wandered back to the strange gift Beast had given her: the gun. It had been sitting untouched for far too long. A slow smile curled across her lips as she considered the possibilities.

With the unknown skillset of Lunaris, the gun might be a good last-measure item against her or when something goes south. Deep down, the girl was itching to try out the gun in either a battle or training situation.

Beast had promised it would pack a punch, and she'd been itching for a chance to feel its power in her hands. She could already imagine the sound of the gun firing, the force behind each shot as it echoed in the open air.

Mavislin splashed around in the tub, excitement bubbling up inside her. 

"What has my playful beast so elated this morning, I wonder?" asked Zenos as he peered over the tub.

"Warm water is nice..." 

"Allow me to join you, then. I, too, am overdue for a soak. Though accustomed to long hours without rest, I find my body still requires further adjustments," noted the Viceroy as he undressed to join the little dragon in the bath.

"I plan to test out a little toy that my boss gave me the other time. Of course, you need not accompany me but I would need a proper firing range to test it out. Does the palace have such facilities?" questioned Mavislin, moving away from Zenos.

The blonde didn't seem to mind as he relaxed on the tub walls, with his golden locks sprawled out behind him.

"The past ruler of this place has a specific training room that can withstand Magecraft, would that suffice?"

"That would be perfect. Don't worry about my breakfast, I plan to skip it," answered Mavislin as she dried herself off and swiftly changed back to her normal form.

"Very well. I will see you at lunch," spoke the Viceroy, closing his eyes.

The servants seemed to be terrified of the dragoness as they guided her toward the training room. Perhaps Zenos had threatened them beforehand? Her thoughts were quickly silenced as she opened the door to her destination.

The dragoness had trained in many halls, but this dojo was unlike any other—far too extravagant. The dark oak floor, polished yet firm underfoot, glimmered in the soft light of yellow lanterns hanging along the ceiling's edges.

The stone walls were lined with pristine rows of wooden spears, polearms, and swords, each weapon displayed with almost ceremonial precision.

The air was calm, laced with the faint scent of incense, and though the space invited combat, its elegance made it feel more like a sacred place than a mere training room. Mavislin sighed before placing her bag down to grab the gun. 

The sniper rifle gleamed with a cold, metallic sheen, its frame crafted from sleek, gunmetal-gray steel. Veins of deep purple traced along the weapon's length, resembling rivulets of amethyst, casting a faint, ethereal glow across its surface.

The subtle illumination gave the rifle an otherworldly aura, as though it were not just a weapon, but something imbued with ancient, arcane power.

Mavislin closed her eyes, channeling her mana into the sniper rifle, feeling the weapon hum to life beneath her fingertips. Despite its size and weight, she wielded it with ease, balancing the heavy barrel in a single arm as though it were no more cumbersome than a revolver.