A Chronometric Defect

Unfortunately, I won't be using my enviable dragon roar for the foreseeable future. It's a shame since I only got to do it twice. I'm not about to go around roaring like a yappy dog, of course. Doing so would diminish my draconic prestige.

Which... Hragh.

Which has nothing to do with my self-imposed prohibition. I seem to have killed a fair number of humans by roaring.

Status.

Name: Pure Evil

Level: 46

Job: Dragon Acolyte (Pure Evil Variant, Ready)

Skills: Consume

Talents: Parasitic Body and Mind (Evolved)

Stats:

Str: 547

Sta: 608

Int: 748

Wis: 721

Free Points: 2250

Urgh. Status, Level.

Level: 46

Kills: 307 (see list)

No, I don't want to see the list. Regardless, I went around scooping up their remains.

A dragon won't give up its loot, of course, but...

It's not so simple. While I do feel bad for their families, frankly, their families' suffering isn't something I can reasonably concern myself with.

Too much suffering happens in the world for even me to deal with. If I start acting soft or denying my nature over an accident, tragic though it was, what kind of dragon would I be? Some would say 'not Pure Evil— and isn't that what you want?!' But reality is never so cut and dry.

Humans die in accidents all the time. Will they blame a tree for falling on a person? A cloud for raining on a slippery street? Sure, sentient beings have enough intellect to reflect upon their actions. What about sapients like myself? Since I possess the ability to think and reason, I'm far more responsible for my errant actions.

But only to the extent that I remain truthful.

I must take great pains to ensure I never again kill without reason. This happened entirely because I was incautious.

I'd already realized that the strength of my body determined the effect of my body's external influences— such as my flight speed. I'd already known that I was ridiculously strong, to the point I was able to physically harm the other city's guard captain with my roar. I'd already thought that I was losing my reverence for life itself.

So?

I've fucked up! Big time!

However, I won't pretend I can right such wrongs through mere apology and condolence, unless that is explicitly requested.

Put aside the fact I'm a dragon. It's not about dragons never giving up their loot. Well, maybe it is a little, but— realistically? There's nothing I can provide for them, right now, except for their loved ones' dead bodies.

I won't do that.

Perhaps they'll see emotional comfort in the moment, feel closure, but such loss is not a wound which heals. Especially not when their loved one's body will remind them of... Well, me.

I'm not so crass and desirous of attention that I'd inflict even greater harm by returning their loved ones' ruptured corpse. I may be a dragon, and a very prideful one, but.

I'm not a god.

I won't act righteous, claiming it's my duty to heal their emotional wounds. My duty is to stay honest about what I've done and to learn to be better— to be more truthful.

These dead humans shouldn't be a price paid solely by themselves and their family. They're a price I must pay as well. I MUST feel guilty about what I've done. If I try too hard to give them closure?

I too may feel what I've done is closed and over.

That would be utterly unacceptable.

That's my biggest fear—

Not caring.

Not caring that I've carelessly murdered over two hundred people, and caused... This.

As I walk down the city's largest street, my huge wings spread wide above the rooftops, I observe the immense damage I've caused. Buildings collapsed, walls crumbled, and thousands laying unconscious or crippled. The physically wounded will be healed via healers. The emotionally wounded, except for some few, will heal with time.

Nobody has come out to challenge me, yet. Nobody has made any moves. I'm not sure if I've terrified them into submission, or if they've given up hope, but I do know the city's leadership isn't dead. It's probably one of those.

Probably both.

I shake my dragon head in frustration.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

I look to the large building at the end of the main street. That's where Pathfinder's pointing.

I flap my dragon wings, blowing up dust as my winds blast against the street. Several humans flee from the road in terror. One doesn't, so I step around him. He curls up like a small animal next to my huge clawed foot.

That's another thing I hadn't realized. Using Devour?

Regh. It makes my body larger. I've gotten a fair bit bigger over the past few minutes. I hadn't realized the first time, since I only ate thirty-odd people. Consuming over two hundred was a lot more noticeable.

If my supposition is correct, stat points are magnified by my body's size. This would explain why my flight speed and roar improved so much more than my stat gain would suggest. I mean— after I ate the syndicate's death squad.

Now?

I'm forced to assume my power's been amplified further.

Parasite's abilities were nowhere near this strong until it evolved 500% because I 'activated' it. Which means, this is my cross to bear; this Parasitic Body and Mind. I don't dare imagine what would happen if I went on a killing spree.

If I truly embraced my namesake.

Pure Evil.

Ragh.

I'd best get my mind in proper order. I can't come off as weak merely because I'm upset at myself. That would not be properly draconic. Not at all.

I check my mental map. It looks like that building is indeed my target, and similarly, all of the city's leaders are there. I suppose I'm holding another impromptu meeting. Though, I do hope they possess sufficient mental fortitude to gaze upon my glorious draconic body.

If they refuse or can't do it?

I might get offended.

That'd be bad.

For them.