During her attempt to communicate with Fafnir, Jeanne quickly uncovered a glaring logistical problem: the dragon didn't seem to comprehend a single word she was saying. She couldn't tell if its brain simply hadn't fully developed yet, or if its baseline mental capacity was just exceptionally low.
After all, looking at the creature now, when she asked if it could shrink, it merely exerted immense physical effort to curl its colossal anatomy into a tight, dense ball, trying its absolute best to occupy less physical space. It was not how a rational, intelligent dragon was supposed to handle the directive.
What earth-shattering difference did it make if a titan of that scale tucked its limbs inward? Jeanne had meticulously explained the concept of magical size alteration several times, but the dragon simply lacked the cognitive framework to decipher the underlying meaning of her words.
To make matters worse, the beast was actively growing larger; in the brief window since its emergence, its physical mass had already expanded by another noticeable margin!
Sitting at a safe distance, the Doctor could only stare blankly at the chaotic exchange. She was thoroughly stunned by the reality that this legendary True Dragon appeared to still be in a rapid developmental growth spurt.
As much as the strategist wanted to step closer and analyze the phenomenon firsthand, she was acutely aware that she lacked Jeanne's specialized authority. Attempting to intervene without a divine proxy would likely result in the massive beast turning her into a pile of ash with a casual snort of dragon fire.
"Like this! Can you transform your physical structure to make yourself smaller? Look at how they do it!" Jeanne exhorted, adopting the exact tone of a weary parent trying to instruct a stubborn toddler as she summoned a set of visual aids for Fafnir to examine.
Jeanne deduced that Fafnir's cognitive faculties were likely still heavily clouded from its millennium-long slumber. Her only recourse was to summon two similar, lower-tier draconic lifeforms, hoping the visual reference would trigger a spark of comprehension in Fafnir's mind; beyond that, she could only leave the outcome to the heavens.
The moment the two wyverns materialized and locked eyes with Fafnir, they instantly froze, trembling violently like a pair of terrified quails. They cast desperate, pathetic glances toward Jeanne, their eyes practically screaming a singular, horrified question: Master, why are you actively trying to murder us?
"???" Fafnir stared at Jeanne's magical display with profound bewilderment. It couldn't fathom why its companion was suddenly summoning these two pathetic creatures to perform a low-budget acrobatic routine in front of it.
Unlike Jeanne—who tended to view most draconic species through a generalized lens—Fafnir's apex vision allowed it to instantly identify the two trembling creatures as distant, heavily degraded offshoots of the dragon bloodline. This realization only amplified its confusion regarding what Jeanne was trying to accomplish.
"Haaaaah..." Jeanne pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a long, defeated sigh. She had officially confirmed that Fafnir wasn't intentionally ignoring her commands; the creature simply didn't possess a built-in magical registry for shifting its physical scale.
In hindsight, this made perfect logical sense. From the perspective of a True Dragon, there was absolutely no biological or tactical incentive to diminish one's physical scale. The probability of an apex predator actively dedicating time to mastering a minimization spell was practically non-existent; Fafnir had likely never even heard of such an absurd concept.
Consequently, their entire strategic dialogue up to this point had amounted to Jeanne shouting into a void. It was only after she had talked her throat completely dry that she finally grasped the underlying mechanical issue, and the sudden urge to curse aloud began to burn fiercely in her chest.
After spending a solid half-hour exhausting her vocal cords, she cast a frantic glance around the barren wasteland—only to realize there wasn't a drop of fresh water in sight. Jeanne took a deep, stabilizing breath, fighting to regain her composure. If physical minimization was off the table, she would have to test whether the beast was capable of executing a standard human transformation.
Jeanne recalled from ancient lore that older draconic entities usually possessed this innate technique. Altering one's external morphology into a humanoid guise wasn't considered an exceptionally complex arcane art; it was a highly practical, baseline utility skill. Fafnir... surely had to know how to do it, right?
Shifting her strategy, Jeanne began to aggressively communicate this new directive through their spiritual link. This time, the concept resonated cleanly; Fafnir immediately grasped the core objective, though it promptly began scanning its immediate environment to locate a biological reference point for the transformation.
Because this was Fafnir's absolute first attempt at adopting a human guise, it required a living blueprint to mold its magical output, even if it inherently understood the underlying mechanics of the spell.
The current setting offered only two viable templates: Jeanne and the Doctor. Given that the Doctor was currently ensconced in her signature tactical coat—leaving not a single strand of hair or patch of skin exposed to the elements—Fafnir wouldn't have selected her even if it were thinking with its scales. That left Jeanne as the sole logical blueprint.
However, through their mental link, the dragon sheepishly conveyed a minor technical limitation: even if it successfully manifested a humanoid shell, it wouldn't be able to completely suppress its apex traits. The draconic horns and tail were fixed biological constants that would inevitably carry over into the new form!
Jeanne didn't mind that limitation at all. What did a pair of horns and a tail matter on this continent? This was Terra; you could barely throw a stone without hitting a demographic that possessed specialized animal appendages. In the grand scheme of things, Fafnir's retained traits would look completely unremarkable!
"You don't need to worry about that at all! A massive portion of the population on this world naturally possesses horns and tails," Jeanne reassured the dragon, waving her hand dismissively. "In fact, my lack of animal traits makes me the bizarre anomaly around here! Hold on a second, let me find a proper reference photo for you to copy. With this blueprint, you'll blend in even better than I do..."
With that, Jeanne pulled out her mobile terminal and began flipping through her gallery to find a specific picture of Talulah. Her overarching strategy was to forge a flawless cover identity for Fafnir, passing the dragon off as a stray, displaced Draco noble or a homeless Vouivre—a logistical narrative that would be incredibly easy to maintain in the current political climate.
Jeanne extended the terminal, presenting the high-definition photograph of Talulah directly to Fafnir. The dragon studied the digital image intently, tracking its gaze back and forth between the screen and Jeanne's face. After a few moments of silent analysis, it seemed to decipher the objective, giving a firm, intelligent nod before shifting its massive eyes away from the display.
"Is it genuinely capable of assuming a human configuration?" the Doctor asked, her curiosity piqued as she sidled back over to Jeanne's side, fiercely determined to gather firsthand scientific data on a True Dragon's morphological transition.
By this point, the Doctor had reached a state of mind where absolutely nothing Jeanne did could surprise her. In her estimation, the young girl standing beside her was the literal incarnation of miracles; the most scientifically impossible phenomena became realities whenever she was involved.
Jeanne merely offered a silent nod, her attention entirely consumed by the unfolding sequence. She watched Fafnir with absolute, rapt focus, looking for all the world like a dedicated pet owner watching their domestic cat transform into a mythical cat-girl right before their eyes.
In the next heartbeat, Jeanne could feel the raw mana within Fafnir's core erupt into a violent, churning tide. The gargantuan dragon was instantaneously enveloped in a dense, shimmering veil of mystical light, and beneath that radiant shroud, its massive, mountain-like silhouette began to rapidly contract.
"Incredible... it's actually working," the Doctor whispered, her eyes gleaming with sudden, intense fascination as she watched Fafnir's form diminish. "Jeanne, is this specific morphological technique something that can be taught to ordinary mortals? I have a few domestic felines back at the office... I've always wanted to see if I could induce a physical transition into a Feline humanoid..."
The Doctor's academic curiosity had been thoroughly hijacked by a lifelong personal dream. If she could somehow reverse-engineer this magical matrix to grant her domestic cats a humanoid form...
Just imagine it... a loyal, clinging Feline companion that happens to share Kal'tsit's exact facial structure, constantly seeking my attention. The mere thought caused a massive surge of dopamine to flood her brain. Even if Kal'tsit found out and violently pinned her to the floor for a severe physical beating afterward, the sheer psychological victory would make it worth every single strike!
"I have absolutely no idea. That's a logistical query you'll have to pitch to Fafnir once she's finished," Jeanne replied, casting a brief, sideways glance at the strategist. Seeing the glassy, unhinged look in the woman's eyes, Jeanne instantly knew her thoughts had drifted into dangerous, illicit territory. She quietly took a step backward, putting some physical distance between herself and the Doctor's current mental state.
While Jeanne was confident that Kal'tsit would direct her wrath entirely toward the Doctor when the inevitable fallout occurred, she didn't want to risk being dragged into the crossfire. Getting branded as an enabling co-conspirator to a mad scientist was a reputational hazard she preferred to avoid.
The Doctor didn't seem particularly deterred by Jeanne's detached response. Her mind had already spiraled deep into a vivid fantasy scenario, plotting various complex methodologies to convince Fafnir to alter her domestic cats into miniature, fiercely affectionate copies of a certain high-ranking feline advisor.
Meanwhile, the radiant cocoon of light had compressed down to the baseline proportions of a fully grown human adult. From Jeanne's perspective, it appeared the structural transition into Fafnir's humanoid persona was reaching its natural conclusion.
However, reality threw another curveball. The brilliant orb of energy paused briefly at the standard adult threshold, only to immediately resume its rapid contraction, shrinking further and further inward.
What is going on here? Jeanne's eyes widened as she tracked the steadily diminishing sphere of light. She couldn't fathom why Fafnir's physical parameters were continuing to drop so drastically.
Is it possible that the version of Fafnir I summoned is actually just a newborn hatchling? Lacking any concrete historical metrics regarding a True Dragon's developmental life cycles, Jeanne couldn't form a definitive conclusion. She could only stand frozen, witnessing the final stages of the metamorphosis.
Eventually, the shimmering cluster of energy stabilized, completely discarding any resemblance to a mature adult. Its current scale matched the physical proportions of a very young girl—roughly six or seven years of age.
A moment later, the blinding light shattered, leaving a completely unclothed little girl standing quietly in the center of the clearing. The long, platinum-blonde hair cascading down her shoulders and the striking, dark-gold hue of her slitted eyes made it abundantly clear that a significant portion of her aesthetic had been copied directly from Jeanne's own genetic template.
Yet, her facial structure bore absolutely zero resemblance to Jeanne's features! Jeanne stared at the child's face, a profound sense of familiarity washing over her; the girl looked exactly like someone she interacted with on a regular basis...
Wait... isn't that Talulah's exact face?! You didn't even attempt to create an original humanoid design, did you? You literally just plagiarized Talulah's facial blueprint line-for-line!
Jeanne stared at the mini-Fafnir—who looked like the bizarre, literal product of a fusion card combining herself and the Reunion leader—her mind completely overwhelmed by a torrent of internal complaints.
When they finally returned to civilization, how on earth was she supposed to explain to Talulah why she was suddenly traveling with a child that looked exactly like her?