Evil Dragon, Without a Princess, I Had to Transform Myself!-Chapter 61 : As Always, No Response

The ancient castle was dimly lit by flickering candles.
Oz waved a skeletal finger, the ghostly green soulfire dancing in his hollow eye sockets as a command from the great lich himself traveled through the Sea of Souls to his long-accumulated undead scourge in the distance.
The previously scattered goblins and other undead shed their disguises, brandishing weapons as they marched toward Bluefin Bay.
Oz stretched his lich body slightly—lifeless yet relaxed—feeling everything was under control. Wiping out Bluefin Bay was already a foregone conclusion. Such matters could be left to the elite magic puppets he'd created before his transformation; the Grand Mage's meticulously crafted masterpieces were more than enough to slaughter every resident of Bluefin Bay.
Moreover, he'd deliberately stationed his most elite puppets at the succession ceremony site to begin the purge directly from the upper districts. The so-called undead legion he'd dispatched was merely to facilitate the mass conversion of residents.
The recent targeted harassment campaigns had successfully driven all surrounding inhabitants into Bluefin Bay. All that remained was conversion.
Oz himself need not lift a finger.
Yet in the next instant, Oz froze.
He clearly sensed something violently severing his connection to the magic constructs—one after another, with increasing speed. It felt like some brat had broken into his home and was smashing his collectible figurines while he was away.
His elite puppets... gone just like that?
Patunasankus tossed aside the last magic puppet in her hands. Around the dismembered construct lay piles of its counterparts—all reset to factory settings by the evil dragon's single strike—with scattered components nearly forming small mountains.
"Boring, but oddly satisfying to dismantle," Patunasankus clapped her hands, surveying the junkyard surroundings with immense satisfaction. An occasional stress-relief session like this wasn't bad at all.
Though now... how should she find her way out?
If any acquaintances saw her in this state... explanations would be difficult. A frail-looking girl tearing apart hulking three-meter-tall magic constructs barehanded was simply too terrifying—leaving the evil dragon no choice but to silence witnesses.
"..."
Patunasankus searched for an exit through the sea of flames.
Amidst the surrounding corpse piles, she faintly heard a familiar voice—someone she'd spoken with not long ago.
It was Hisalli.
The evil dragon's first instinct was to roast this potential eyewitness, but upon seeing the messenger's condition, she deemed it unnecessary.
A massive bloodstain spread across Hisalli's chest, turning the deep crimson noble attire black. A specialized crossbow bolt from a puppet had pierced clean through her chest. With her last strength, Hisalli had dragged herself to this unnoticed corner.
This is what happens to riddlers, the evil dragon thought indifferently."Your Highness, why are you still here?" Hisalli gasped for breath, asking with difficulty. Her face was deathly pale from blood loss, clearly not long for this world.
"Got lost."
There was no need to lie to someone half-dead, so the evil dragon simply told the truth.
She crouched down, placing a hand on the crossbow bolt embedded in Hisalli's chest, habitually giving it a slight touch.
Hisalli instantly winced in pain. Looking down at her chest wound, she instinctively thought the princess was attempting to treat her injury.
"I'm beyond saving," Hisalli said hoarsely.
"Mmm, I know that," Patunasankus nodded without expression, neither leaving nor making any move to help, simply observing her indifferently.
Gritting through the pain, Hisalli managed a smile for the princess—one that couldn't be identified as troubled, sorrowful or happy, but was undoubtedly the best she could muster.
A fragile smile that seemed ready to vanish at any moment.
"Princess, you're as gentle as ever," Hisalli said. "There's no saving me, no need to try treating my wounds."
"...?" Patunasankus looked at her as if she were an idiot.
Woman, are you out of your mind?
"I'm sorry... I still sent word of your return to the Crown Princess in a letter," Hisalli apologized. "I know how she viewed you in the past, but these years you've been gone... she's thought of you day and night. But please don't go back... So cold..."
The chill spread from Hisalli's fingertips throughout her body, the thick clothing unable to block this icy sensation from the depths of her soul.
Her body trembled uncontrollably.
"...Princess Latifa, I'm so cold," Hisalli said weakly.
Her consciousness began fading, the scene before her growing distant and dreamlike as she gazed fixedly at the dandelion-haired girl before her.
"Princess Latifa..."
Her eyes brimmed with complex emotions—nostalgia for life, deep weariness of suffering, and an ineffable plea.
Patunasankus remained silent.
Ending her suffering would be easy. The evil dragon could simply rip out her heart for a quick, painless death—no suffering then.
Nor would the evil dragon bear any psychological burden.
But damn it all, the person being pleaded to was Latifa.
In Hisalli's gradually unfocusing pupils, Patunasankus distinctly saw the reflection of a girl—one with hair the color of dandelion fluff.
This left the evil dragon completely at a loss.
Patunasankus didn't know what came over her, but she clumsily enveloped Hisalli's fingers within her own palms, tucking them into the crevices between.
If it were Latifa, this is what she'd do, right?
Expressionlessly holding the dying woman's hand, Patunasankus recalled how Latifa used to always wrap the evil dragon's hands in hers, interlocking fingers as if to share body warmth.
Now here sat the evil dragon, imitating what that girl once did for her, holding Hisalli's hand.
There had been so many beautiful moments in the past, yet this single instant was the one the evil dragon couldn't forget.
Patunasankus suddenly snapped out of her daze.
Hisalli was already dead.In the fading pupils, there was only the clear silhouette of a dandelion girl.
Patunasankus stood up and closed her eyes.
As always, there was no response.