The receptionist was still in a daze, mechanically stamping their paperwork with a rhythmic thud-thud-thud. Kaito leaned back, satisfied with the "efficiency" of his mental patch, when he felt a cold, sharp pull on his cobalt sleeve.

  Lyra leaned in, her lips inches from his ear. Her voice was a low, jagged whisper that lacked any of her usual goddess-like warmth.

  "Kaito, stop," she hissed. "Do you have any idea what you just did? You didn't just 'edit' her day. You reached into the neuro-pathways of a mortal soul. If your hand had slipped—if your 'Imagination' had flickered for even a millisecond—you could have wiped her childhood. You’re a family man, Kaito. Remember that. If someone did that to your children just to make a transaction easier, would you call that 'efficient'?"

  Kaito’s hand froze. He looked at the girl behind the counter. She was smiling, but it was a "programmed" smile. The weight of his power finally felt heavy, like a tool too sharp for the hand holding it. For the first time, he felt a genuine flicker of guilt.

  The Dragon’s Choice

  "Look! I found one!"

  The heavy tension was shattered by the sound of Silvane’s heavy leather boots stomping over. She wasn't wearing metal gauntlets anymore; her hands were bare, but she was pointing at the "Restricted" board with such intensity that the wood seemed to groan.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  "Silvane, we’re busy," Kaito said, rubbing his eyes.

  "No! Look at this!" Silvane’s eyes were wide. She was pointing at a blood-red parchment pinned with an iron spike. "It’s a Maximum Calamity Rank quest. 'Slay the Tyrant of the Sulfur Peaks. An ancient, arrogant, fire-breathing beast...' They’re talking about one of my kind, Kaito! And they called it 'arrogant'!"

  As she spoke, Silvane got so worked up that thick, white plumes of steam suddenly started whistling out of her ears like a boiling teakettle.

  Lyra jumped back, shrieking. "Silvane! Your head! You’re overheating! Kaito, she’s going to explode!"

  Silvane blinked, feeling the hot vapor tickling her neck. "What? Is there a fire? Why am I whistling?" She started swatting at her ears in a panic, spinning in circles in her rogue leathers.

  Kaito let out a short, rare chuckle, his fingers twitching in a subtle magical gesture. The steam instantly vanished.

  "It’s a prank, Lyra. Relax," Kaito said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I tethered her internal temperature sensors to a pressure-valve illusion. Whenever her heart rate spikes from excitement, she 'vents' steam. It’s a visual diagnostic tool. Also, it’s hilarious."

  "You... you used the Power of Creation to turn me into a kettle?!" Silvane barked, though she couldn't help but grin at the absurdity.

  "I thought it added character," Kaito said, regaining his composure. He looked at the red parchment she had pointed out. "A Tyrant Dragon, hm? If he’s been there a century, his hoard is probably a disorganized mess of coins and rusted shields. It’s an eyesore on the landscape."

  He reached out and plucked the iron spike from the board as if it were a thumbtack.

  "Fine. We’ll go. But no killing, Silvane. I want to see if this dragon is willing to listen to a lecture on 'The Proper Categorization of Precious Metals.' He needs a hobby that isn't just sitting on a pile of gold. It’s terrible for the scales."

  Silvane laughed, her heavy boots clunking toward the exit. "Let’s go find him, Boss! I’ll provide the muscle, and you can provide the... whatever it is you do with your brain!"