123 - The Butler Dismissed by the Saintess Couldn’t Possibly Be the Demon Dragon Princess

Chapter 123: The Magic Circle "Ian, who's Ian?" Ian feigned confusion as his hand was caught by Lilian. Lilian's gaze shifted from doubt to skepticism and finally to complete certainty as she looked at him. "You are Ian. I won't be mistaken," Lilian stated resolutely. "So, are you a demon? Or perhaps a dragon?" Lilian's hand trembled as she held Ian's. Humans were taught to believe that demons were vicious creatures that devoured humans without pause. During the holy trials, she had encountered demons, described as overwhelmingly brutal, attacking on sight regardless of the outcome. The demeanor of those demons contrasted sharply with Ian's. "You’ve got the wrong person. My name isn't Ian. I’m just a passing drake acting out of heroism," Ian denied Lilian’s assertions without hesitation. “No, you are,” Lilian insisted. Were Ian any other demon, she wouldn’t have been so sure. Yet, he looked just like the dragon-shaped toy she had bought Ian five hundred years ago after being drawn into a vortex. It was as if the two were carved from the same mold. At the time, she found it odd that among so many toys, she chose one that was blood-red intertwined with black. Was it not fate's whisper? Moreover, considering her current situation, the one she deemed most likely to save her without regard for his safety was indeed Ian. "So, you're really a demon?" Lilian asked. Ian’s expression was unreadable as he prised her hand off his. “I am a demon, but my name isn’t Ian.” With those words, Ian turned, leaving Lilian behind as he headed into the concert hall. Ian knew no matter how much she denied it, she couldn’t conceal the fact that her identity was uncovered before Lilian. Her focus now was ensuring the audience’s safety, despite them fearing her as a beast summoned by their attackers. Who could summon such a stunning drake? Beyond saving people, Ian sensed that her initial trial might be intertwined with this crisis. Perhaps by resolving it, she’d gain her first skill and return to present-day five hundred years hence. Inside the Concert Hall The concert hall had descended into chaos. The summoned beasts tore through the audience, leaving carnage in their wake. Blood flowed, painting the scene with utter devastation. Ian’s stomach turned at the sight, her throat burning as if she might vomit. "Stop," her deep voice echoed through the hall, yet to no avail—the beasts continued their attack. A few beasts even charged at Ian, jaws wide in an attempt to devour her. Reality had other plans. Seeing the beasts charging, Ian let out a thunderous roar. Its sheer draconic might and wrath seemed to overwhelm them, causing the charging beasts to collapse in submission before reaching her. Here was the true strength of a dragon—beasts rendered insignificant ants before them. Suspended mid-air, Ian surveyed the devastation reflected in her fiery red eyes, bottling up her growing fury. While the charging beasts had been halted, others continued their savagery against helpless humans. “I said, stop!” This time her voice carried more than sound—dragon magic, rippling invisibly from her words, momentarily arresting the air itself. Wolf-like creatures attacking children froze, like ensnared by invisible bonds, and collapsed. Meanwhile, the robed summoners stood in place, conducting their ritual shielded by a violet magic barrier. Blood, human and beast alike, fed the magic circle they cast. Ian’s sonic attack did nothing to it. “They must be stopped,” Ian thought, suspecting that the creature they meant to summon was the same entity she had glimpsed when she first traveled here. If so, if they succeeded, she would await death. Ian’s wings unfurled, and she soared toward them like an arrow. Lacking magic offensive abilities, her strongest weapons were her draconic claws. Thus, proximity was essential to avert disaster. Thankfully, her roar had cleared her path of any beastly obstructions. Ian dived, her wings cutting the air with a sharp whistle, her target clear—the violet barrier. Dragon claws clashed with the barrier, firework flares bursting upon impact. The barrier’s force repelled her, sending Ian skidding back several meters, her claws tingling. "That hurts." Ian shook her claw, incredulous that they, capable of slicing iron like mud, were impotent against this shield. "A dragon?” one summoner within the barrier noted the disturbance, eyes turning towards Ian. “How can there be a dragon here? It wasn’t in the intel.” “What shall we do? None of us know magic suited against dragons.” “Calm down, she’s merely a juvenile dragon. Nothing to panic over. Summon a slightly stronger beast, and it should suffice.” Despite Ian’s appearance, the robed summoners remained composed. Their leader dismissed the situation with a scoff, chanting a complex spell. The magic circle’s glow intensified, blood spiraling faster toward its heart. With a roar, the central space distorted, birthing a grotesque, bone-spiked giant beast. "Go, tear that meddlesome whelp apart!” the leader commanded.