Evil Dragon, Without a Princess, I Had to Transform Myself!-Chapter 63 : The Next Step Leaves No Choice

There are no accidents in this world, only inevitabilities. All things, if you predict their future, you might say they have countless possibilities.
But if you look back at their past, you’ll realize there was only one inevitable path.
In the past, whenever Latifa muttered these words, the evil dragon would mumble a vague response before dozing off, but she never refuted them.
For her, what was destined might be a certain event—something that had nothing to do with the evil dragon.
But for the evil dragon, what was destined was a certain person.
"I don’t get it."
Patunasankus pressed her tiny index fingers against her temples and twisted them forcefully.
Round and round.
Her soft lips pressed tightly together.
Patunasankus spent long seconds assessing the situation.
Yet the evil dragon didn’t understand.
Or rather, Patunasankus had no idea who Loranhir was even talking to.
Was it her, or…?
Patunasankus reached into her chest and pulled out—a delicate round mirror, its surface shimmering softly under the sunlight, reflecting the clear, water-like glow of her eyes.
The gaze of the dandelion girl in the mirror remained gentle, her sky-blue eyes meeting the evil dragon’s, carrying a familiar warmth.
Inside that world, flowers bloomed in clusters, whispers lingered between the beams, and dreams still held lingering warmth.
"Who is she talking about—you or me?" the evil dragon asked her.
The one wearing the same dress as Latifa.
Her body wrapped in a pure white dress that seemed to glow, staring slightly bewildered into the mirror.
Azure eyes, a slender figure… everything, down to the last detail, was identical to the Latifa of the past.
The evil dragon’s question was destined to go unanswered.
"Can’t even pull out a holy sword—I don’t get how she became a hero. If you’d met her, you’d be just as annoyed. You’d have to scold her before you’d be satisfied. How can a hero be like that?"
"Pathetically timid, can’t accomplish a single thing, like useless deadwood, just drifting along with the tide." Patunasankus lowered her head. "She’s just too useless."
"Maybe she could? If it were you, as long as you were willing to guide her, nurture her carefully…"
"..."
She didn’t answer.
After a while, the evil dragon continued.
"No, she can’t. I don’t think she can. She’s just a talentless fool—she’d have died long ago without me."
Still, she spoke in fragments, half-hearted words.
Patunasankus didn’t even know who she was talking to, but she kept on tirelessly.
The response was, inevitably, silence.
Patunasankus hesitated, then nodded, as if it hadn’t affected her mood at all.
She stood there quietly, struggling to figure out what was going on.
But this was far too difficult for her—things like this had always been Latifa’s responsibility.
"The outside world is really boring," the evil dragon told her. "Nothing but dull nonsense, and I really am just making trouble for myself."
Patunasankus grumbled.
"What do you think?"The evil dragon lowered her head to speak to the dandelion at her feet, as if it had been listening all along.
There was no response, only the quiet wind brushing past, the stem of the dandelion swaying, its pure white seeds floating like snow.
Before bearing seeds, a dandelion stretches its stem taller.
Patunasankus thought.
It wasn’t just to be seen—it was to be seen by the wind.
She slowly rose to her feet, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, watching as Loranhir’s figure vanished into the depths of the darkness.
Truthfully, she wasn’t considering what she should do—she was thinking about what Latifa would do.
But now that the thought had taken root—
There was no other choice for the next step.
○
Outside the city, Hedica, clad in heavy plate armor, bashed a magic puppet aside with her shield. Behind her, a mercenary in leather armor fired a rapid volley of arrows from a finely crafted bow into the undead horde.
Nearby, a bard strummed a lute, inspiring the two warriors to maintain their advantage in battle.
Hedica gasped for breath, surveying the corpses and the ever-growing tide of undead around her.
The sudden upheaval in Bluefin Bay left her struggling to grasp the situation—the abruptly hostile magic puppets, the undead appearing from nowhere—it all baffled her.
But no matter what, she had to do her best to protect her fellow townsfolk.
In a brief lull in the fighting, she steadied her breathing—only to spot Loranhir approaching her, seemingly out of nowhere.
"I need you to contact Allen," Loranhir said bluntly.
Hedica instantly felt a biting chill against the wind, a sensation she had never sensed from the other before.
"He won’t respond to me," Hedica explained. "He ignored my plea for help when Astraea fell."
She knew Allen’s temperament well—the arrogant holy knight wouldn’t spare a glance at their plight unless something here caught his eye.
"It doesn’t matter," Loranhir said, utterly unconcerned. "Just tell him outright…"
"Tell him what?" Hedica asked.
Loranhir spoke slowly, as if ensuring Hedica could read her lips clearly.
"Tell him the hero is waiting for him here.
Tell him to bring the Judgment Knights to their deaths."