Chapter 227: The Thug and Hero

Hearing Jon's request, Antimora pondered for a moment, then sighed softly. "Unfortunately, I don't have any decent horses here anymore. If this had been earlier, I might have had several wild steeds worth showing off."

She glanced southward. "There used to be a dragon nesting in that direction. It was slain by a knight some time ago. If it were still alive, I could've turned it into a horse for you."

"Turn a dragon into a horse?" Jon was stunned. He had assumed only god-tier beings like dragons could manage something so absurd.

A sudden thought struck him. "If you can turn a dragon into a horse, can you make it switch back and forth between dragon and horse at will, under my control?"

"It's a bit tricky," Antimora admitted. "But yes, it's doable. The only problem is… there's no dragon to work with."

"Igris! Come out!"

Before Antimora could finish her sentence, a massive dragon materialized before her eyes.

This was Igris—whose form had long evolved beyond the dragon Jon had tamed in the world of Harry Potter. Truth be told, dragons in Harry Potter lacked the presence of dragons in other franchises. Compared to beasts like Smaug from The Hobbit or Deathwing from Warcraft, they were pitifully mundane.

Putting one of those Potter dragons next to Smaug or Deathwing? That'd be like lining up a grandchild with their war-veteran grandfather.

But Igris was different now. Ever since devouring Muzan Kibutsuji's corpse, he had awakened the ability of devour-evolution. Under Jon's steady diet of magical meals, Igris had grown tremendously, his appearance now exuded pure, commanding power.

"Where did you find a dragon like this?! I've never seen this breed before," Antimora exclaimed.

Jon smirked. "Don't worry about where he's from. Just tell me, can you do it or not?" No way was he going to say Igris came from another universe.

Antimora thought for a bit and finally nodded. "It should be possible. But I'll need to reconfigure the potion formula."

She retreated to her treetop den to prepare the new alchemy recipe. Because Igris was unlike the dragons she'd met before, she had to tailor the potion carefully. After a lengthy session of trial and error, she finally brewed the right concoction.

She fed it to Igris.

Moments later, Igris transformed into a snow-white stallion. Tall, muscular, and majestic, the horse radiated an air of nobility.

Antimora handed Jon a spell. Reciting it would dispel the potion's effects and revert Igris to dragon form. Repeating it would change him back into a horse.

With the transformation complete, Jon didn't linger. Mounting Igris, he set off for his next destination.

He was headed for the royal capital.

From Prince Adam's memories, Jon had learned that the cursed black stone had originated from a black-market dealer in the capital.

The capital was quite far. Adam, it turned out, was the ninth prince of the kingdom, a royal disappointment. Spoiled, idle, and useless, he had been shipped off to a distant village by the king just to keep him out of sight.

Jon had asked Antimora and the villagers for directions. Following the general route and asking for guidance along the way, he was confident he'd find his way to the capital.

Once he left the area around the cursed village, Jon finally realized that spring had arrived in this world. The constant snowfall had only plagued the village due to the curse.

Not long after, Jon, riding the horse-formed Igris, arrived at a bustling town. Unlike the previous village, this place was untouched by famine. People looked well-fed and content.

Jon's arrival caused little stir. Travelers were common here.

He was about to look for a place to eat when he heard panic rise in the crowd.

"Rhino Bob's coming! Run!"

Rhino Bob?

Jon felt a twinge of amusement at the name. It screamed "American street thug cliché"—a third-rate bully meant for the protagonist to effortlessly outshine.

Looking over, he spotted a hulking brute striding through the marketplace with a wicked grin.

His targets weren't the fleeing civilians, it was the vendors.

He stopped in front of one stall. His enormous frame cast a shadow over the trembling vendor.

"Hey there, Kostel," Bob greeted.

"It's Kosley, sir," the vendor corrected nervously, trembling.

"I don't care what your name is," Bob growled. "You didn't pay up last month. This month's dues just doubled."

"But I was only short by two copper coins!" the vendor pleaded.

Jon watched it unfold without emotion. Scenes like this were commonplace. Bob didn't even look like a killer, probably just extorted protection money. Taking him out wouldn't even be worth more than two penalty points.

But just because Jon didn't care didn't mean others didn't.

When Jon entered the town, he'd noticed that people seemed genuinely happy. That level of contentment wouldn't coexist with a tyrant like Bob, not unless someone was keeping him in check.

Sure enough, a massive figure stepped up behind Bob, casting a shadow that swallowed even the brute.

A cold, slightly stiff voice growled, "Try robbing me next, tough guy."

Bob's face went pale.

Trembling harder than the vendor, he slowly turned around, and came face to chest with a mountain of muscle. The man standing behind him was at least twice his size.

"I-It's you!" Bob stammered.

Before he could say more, the giant clamped a hand around his face, making Bob cry out in pain.

"P-please… let me go!" Bob whimpered.

The towering man leaned in, his expression cold and unchanging. "If you ever step foot in this town again, I'll dismantle you piece by piece and leave your rusted parts in my basement."

He then tossed Bob aside like a sack of potatoes. Bob scrambled to his feet and fled.

Jon expected the typical scene to follow, townsfolk cheering their hero. But the next line caught him off guard.

The giant turned to the vendor and said with dead seriousness:

"Will you tell my dad I was a good boy today?"

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