Grass. Grass for as far as the eye might see, even the eyes of a dragon. Blackthorne stopped making grass rings long enough to enjoy that seemingly endless vista. Soon, he would be forced to leave the grassland entirely.

His show of force had worked, though that was not entirely his intention. During the so-called court trial his intentions were originally far more benign. There was a part of him, the part abused by an uncaring legal system that refused to accept such a fate once more. Worse, there was another part of him that refused to bow to anyone.

The dragon and the abused child had been in full agreement. There could be no acceptance of that situation. Yet, even after he came to his determined refusal another problem arose. Branwen. What her supposed master had done to her from a young age had made him beyond livid.

The abused child was enraged for the plight of another young girl at the hands of a cruel authority. The dragon was enraged that one of the last of his kind had been abused, the fact that it happened from a young age just made it worse.

In the end, one soul was cast down into the abyss and the other was now part of the reincarnation system, without his bushy eyebrows. Such a decision could not come without a cost. No choice worth having was made without paying for it in one way or another.

“I can’t let you stay at my tavern anymore,” he whispered to his grass ring.

A simple thing, really. Scraggles believed his actions justified, but he could not afford the heat that Blackthorne’s choice would bring down.

The same was true of the guards. They were only doing their job. If he remained in town they would be harmed. The grocer and alchemist did not seem to care, either way. He was welcome at their establishments any time.

Now they were on the road. Rather, a bit off the side of the road outside of casual view. It was too late in the day to start their journey to Kaasvalia, and he would need to return to Earth soon.

The sound of a high-pitched scream reached his ears. He glanced over to see that Branwen and Sonja were training. He smiled as Sonja was knocked off her feet then fell into the thick grass. If they kept at that level of sparring, she would eventually regain what she had lost over the years.

His eyes roved to Branwen. He did not know what to make of her. She could not speak currently, though from what he learned her tongue would grow back if it was not removed regularly. It was not her lack of ability to speak that garnered his attention, however. It was the way that she continued to glance at him out of the corner of her eyes in a way that she no doubt believed to be subtle.

Whenever she realized that he looked at her, she would turn away quickly and straighten her back. She did so now, in fact.

He smiled slightly when she slyly attempted to glance at him once more then quickly turned away when she knew that he was looking. She moved into what seemed to be a fighting stance the began a series of movements designed to increase her concentration and skill.

A thought occurred to him that amused him at first, but then caused him to lose interest in continuing with his grass rings. “Look busy. God is watching.”

He sighed to himself then flopped backwards into the grass. “What do I do about you?” he asked softly.

As far as she was concerned, he was basically dragon Jesus. No amount of denials spoken would change her mind, and he did not even know if he could deny it. All signs pointed to him being some weird incarnation of her racial deity.

His presence had an almost ridiculous impact on her. If he was within a few feet of her she inevitably tried to kneel before him. The problem was that it was not in supplication. It was more like presentation. It was clear that she believed herself suited for a specific sort of prayer that he could not even have begun to accept only a few days prior.

Between Sonja and Branwen it was hard to get a moment’s peace. The dragon girl’s presence caused Sonja to become high-spirited, not to mention a bit protective. She took to the girl easily enough, but she wanted to be the big sister. It was galling for her that the new little sister could snap her like a twig.

Branwen could not go to Earth. It would be good if she could travel back and forth, if nothing else she could help carry stuff and get a chance of having a real life. The problem was that he refused to make her a slave. Currently, he could only transport property.

Worse, he believed what he saw in her mind. She did not seek to do them harm and was incredibly interested in making him happy. Hers were the thoughts of a young girl who had literally been lifted out of bondage by the hands of her god.

Frankly, her worshipful devotion disturbed him, but he was at a loss for what to do about it. So, the only thing he could do was stop listening to her thoughts. It was a difficult thing, of course, when half of those thoughts involved the engendering of a new race of dragonborn imbued with the power of her dark god.

“Damn, she’s thorough,” muttered Blackthorne with a sigh. She had started in on her most recent daydream. This time it involved him in dragon form, however, so it unsettled him more than usual.

He closed his eyes and focused his thoughts. Slowly, the image of his dragon form blessing Branwen from behind left his mind. Those were her thoughts; she should deal with them on her own.

His own thoughts turned to more important concerns. He believed that Branwen would protect their bodies as they slept, but he and Sonja would need to return to Earth soon. He was not keen on sleeping outdoors when he would not be able to wake up on his own. That was the price that he paid for his ability to log in and out. He would not know what happened to his body in this world until he returned to it.

The only times that he had slept in this world without a roof were also emergencies. Nothing in the local area should be able to harm him, but that did not mean that they were safe.

“Kaasvalia is going to be a problem. There’s no way the local government or that idiot’s family won’t know what happened long before I get there,” he said softly.

The government itself might not attack him. Given his legal status they might even accept the admission of corruption by the judge, in front of the guards no less, as a reason not to cause concerns between their all-too-mortal empire and the celestial court.

Sonja’s reaction to learning of his status had not been exaggerated. The members of the celestial court were basically the gods of this world. In the eyes of the law, he was a deity. Albeit, the lowest rank among them. The gods might war amongst each other, but mortals tended to stay out of their affairs unless they wanted their blood turned to dirt and their nations burned to ash.

He would not rule out a religious incursion by what would amount to a rival deity, however. It would all depend on whether some religious nut decided that the gods were angry and then chose to act in their behalf. If their god said it was fine, then it was not their fault if they came after him.

Dallen’s family was an entirely different manner. Imperial legal matters aside, they were clearly the kind of people who would hold a grudge. At the very least they would want Branwen back.

They would not make the mistake of sending weak fighters either. His little show of power would guarantee that people well beyond the norms of the world would take notice. The average adventurer took a long time to gain a level, but even among humans there were monsters. People who fought wars solely to develop their power and skill. Some of those people would come for him soon.

“What to do. What to do,” he said softly. Strangely, he was not too concerned about the incoming threats. What annoyed him was the fact that they would disrupt his life, and all because they were a bunch of self-entitled assholes who thought it perfectly natural to capture and abuse people for profit.

Training was the obvious answer, but what should he train? He only had a scant few days before they would reach Kaasvalia. A week, two at most. Neither of them was a normal human being. They could travel much faster than a local commoner.

He would need to increase his power quickly. Skill training took a while. It seemed almost pointless to train at all, at first. However, he soon realized something. Training his combat abilities was important, but what he and his little adventuring family lacked was the bonus of proper gear. So far, he had produced mostly cheap stuff suitable for sale. What if he put serious effort into making the best armor and weapons that he could? He did still have those monster parts from Girtablilu. There was also one other thing that they had not tried.

He rose to his feet and called out, “Sonja. Branwen.”

They stopped sparring and looked over to him. He called out once more. “Let’s go hunting.”

They trotted over to him and he filled them in on what he intended to do. Initially Sonja seemed concerned, but then she realized that not only did they have him they also had a new member of the family who happened to be strong.

“If it is the three of us, and that place… we should be fine,” she said.

Blackthorne grinned at her. He could already taste the equipment upgrades.