Physical weakness can mess with your mind, and mental fragility can drag down your body.
After a thousand years as a shut-in, Mickey’s body and mind had settled into it. No training, stuck at level 400—his weak body fed his mental state, and vice versa. Not a hard rule, but it fits most people… and apparently dragons too.
“D-Don’t come closer, don’t, don’t…” Mickey, the shut-in pretty boy, crouched, hugging his knees, curled into a trembling ball.
Filo facepalmed, exasperated. Fake shut-in? Easy fix. Real shut-in? Big oof. She thought she’d flex a bit, but the Dragon King played dirty. (Dragon King: “Played dirty? He peed on my head! I just punched him—how was I supposed to know it’d trigger a status effect?!”)
Chiyan burst in, clueless about what Filo did but spotting her shivering brother. Tilting her head, she muttered, “Why’s he more shut-in than before? My imagination?”
“Uh, not your imagination. He’s genuinely shut-in now,” Filo said, lips twitching, throwing a verbal dagger.
“…”
“…”
Even big-hearted Chiyan choked on her spit, stunned. But after Filo’s explanation, she perked up, grinning. “Not your fault, Master! It was a skill effect before—now it’s just mental. He’ll snap out of it eventually!”
“Hope so. I’ve got ways to fix shut-ins, but ‘fight poison with poison’ might just kill him. So… let’s leave it,” Filo said.
They turned to leave. Filo glanced back at Mickey, sighed, and shut the door.
Alone again, Mickey lifted his head, teary eyes brimming with bean-sized drops. Crawling to the door, he stood shakily, peeking through the peephole. Seeing Filo gone, he exhaled, then flopped onto his bed, clutching a giant pillow.
“So scary, so scary… who was that with Sis? Why’d I feel Dragon King-level pressure…” His face buried in the pillow, he looked adorably shy—like a blushing anime girl, not a dude. Anyone stronger scanning him would notice a new title in his status, but what? No clue unless he leaves that room.
Chiyan led Filo to her and Bingpo’s shared room—50 square meters, big for a room but small for two dragons. It was split yin-yang style, their beds on opposite sides, a huge curtain dividing their turf.
Chiyan showed Filo her side—red-themed, snacks piled in corners, dumbbells scattered. Filo squinted at one labeled… 10 tons?
Classic dragon vibes—even their “light” dumbbells are 10 tons. Filo casually lifted one, testing its weight. Chiyan gushed, “Master! That’s a special dumbbell—I can’t even lift it! You’re amazing!”
Wait, Chiyan can’t lift 10 tons? Filo thought 10 tons was big for humans—trucks weigh that much—but a dragon should handle it easy.
She glanced at the dumbbell. No weight label, but the one next to it said 10 tons, so she assumed… Scanning it with [Perception], a line popped up: [10,000-Ton Object]
“…”
0┑(￣Д ￣)┍
Okay, that explains it.
Filo gently set it down, wondering how a second-floor room holds that weight. This house is built like a tank…
Next, Filo moved to Bingpo’s side, pulling back the curtain. Chiyan was gone. Turning, Filo saw her sulking by her corner, staring at the floor.
“Uh… what’re you doing?”
“Well… Bingpo and I swore nobody enters each other’s turf. So, Master, you go alone. I’ll wait here,” Chiyan said awkwardly.
Filo nodded, stepping into Bingpo’s side. Books everywhere—vastly knowledgeable Bingpo, living up to her rep. Some titles Filo barely understood. Reading these even with a quantum reading method would take ages.
Curious, Filo grabbed a thick book from a shelf. Red cover, black ribbon-like stripes. Its title?
One Million Ways to Train a Perfect Slave
“…”
Whoosh! Face red, Filo shoved it back, her crimson eyes spinning like cartoon spirals.
Did I just see something wild…?