I'm Not Your Husband, You Evil Dragon!-Chapter 87: The Rise of a Silent Hero

(Yuuta’s POV)

If I had to explain the situation in one line?

We’ve been separated.

The academy field is sealed off from every direction. Not a crack, not a gap. Locked tight like a prison yard—except this time, we’re the prisoners, and the guards don’t give a damn who lives or dies.

Worse, they’re using the kids.

Our children.

Hostages.

We don’t know the reason why they are doing this? But one thing is sure Elena is in danger.

I stood there, fists clenched so tight they trembled, my pulse pounding in my ears like a war drum. I could feel sweat on my back. Cold, sharp. Fear-driven.

And Grandpa?

He just stood there. Arms crossed. Face blank. Like none of this mattered.

I whipped around to him, fury igniting inside me.

"How can you be so calm right now?!" I snapped. My voice cracked. "Don’t you get it? Elena is in there! They’re using her!"

He didn’t even blink.

"Boy," he said, like he was commenting on the weather, "what are you yelling about now?"

I stared at him. My voice rose. "What am I—?! I’m dying inside just thinking about her, and you—you’re just standing there like this is some... school play!"

He sighed. Slow. Bored, almost. Like I was the problem here.

"Listen," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "Elena can’t be killed by some flashy magic tricks or those human toys. Her skin’s dragon-scale. She’s built tougher than any human kid."

I blinked, caught off guard.

"Ohhhh.."

"...Right," I muttered. "I forgot about that."

." ....{°_°}....?!."

But the panic didn’t leave. If anything, it came back harder.

"STILL! DON’T GIVE ME that calm-grandpa act!" I growled.

"She’s still a child. She’s my daughter. I’m not going to just stand here while she’s in danger!"

He looked at me, confused. Like I’d said something completely foreign.

"Why are you so afraid?" he asked. "She’s not in danger. You really are soft."

I stepped closer. I didn’t care who was watching.

"Because I’m human, dammit!" I hissed. "And I don’t want to see her cry. I don’t care if she’s made of dragon bone or meteor steel. She’s still just a little girl."

"My little girl."

There was a beat of silence between us. Heavy.

Then, Grandpa’s voice softened. Just a little.

"You know... when Erza was Elena’s age, she was thrown into the Snow Forest. Alone. No tools. No food. No magic. Nothing. Just her instincts."

He paused, looking off like he was seeing a memory I wasn’t part of.

"She survived three weeks in that hell without crying once."

He turned to me and gave a faint smile. Proud. Cold.

"Compared to that, whatever Elena’s facing now? This is child’s play."

I couldn’t speak.

I knew what he was saying. I understood the logic. The strength. The legacy of blood.

But it still didn’t help the ache in my chest.

They weren’t like us.

Erza. Grandpa. The rest of them.

Dragons.

They didn’t fear death the same way we did. They didn’t love the same way we did.

To them, fear was weakness. Pain was a lesson.

And human life?

Just dust in the wind.

I looked down at the ground, my jaw tight.

Even if I knew Elena was strong—even if I believed she’d be fine—my heart still twisted imagining her scared. Alone. Surrounded by strangers in a place that had just turned into a warzone.

She may be made of dragon-scale.

But she still called me Papa.

And I still wanted to tear the gates down with my bare hands to reach her.

Then—

Pain.

Sudden. Sharp. Like a needle jammed into the back of my skull.

Sudden pain.

A fist slammed into my jaw before I even saw it coming.

My head snapped sideways. The ground rushed up to meet me.

Everything spun.

Gasps echoed around me. Muffled voices, blurred faces. Like I was hearing the world through thick glass. A low ringing hummed in my ears.

I touched my jaw—sharp pain exploded beneath my fingers.

I looked up, dazed, and there he was.

James.

Standing over me. Fist still clenched. Chest heaving. His face was twisted—not just in rage, but something deeper. Raw. Ugly.

He didn’t even give me time to recover.

He grabbed the front of my shirt and yanked me halfway off the ground, spittle flying from his lips as he screamed—

"You brought this disaster upon us!"

" EVIL BASTARD".

His voice cracked, trembling. His eyes were red—full of panic and grief and something I couldn’t name.

"Because of you... my daughter Monica is in danger!"

I stared up at him, stunned. Still half on the floor. But James didn’t stop.

He just kept going.

"I worked day and night! Attended every damn meeting! Built business after business—just to get our life back!"

His hands shook, clinging to me like I was the last piece of driftwood in a storm.

"My wife... she prayed every night. Every single night—hoping we’d regain what we lost. Hoping we could start fresh. That we’d never see you again!"

His voice cracked again.

And then the words I didn’t expect.

"And now—just when we had everything again... peace... money... a family—

you come back again."

He let go.

Collapsed to his knees in front of me.

His head dropped. Shoulders trembling.

"And now... our only daughter is in danger," he whispered.

His hands clutched at his face.

"Please... don’t take my daughter... I’m begging you..."

Then, quieter—more broken than before—

"Don’t kill her... you monster."

That word.

Monster.

It rang louder than the blow. Louder than the crowd.

Like a bell tolling judgment.

I didn’t move.

Not because of the pain—no. I’d taken worse hits.

But because of what came next.

The crowd.

Their voices followed, pouring in like acid rain.

"It’s because of you!"

"You’re the reason we’re stuck here!"

"You should take responsibility!"

"Coward!" Give my son back.’

"Monster!"

Monster.

Again. And again. And again.

My breath hitched. My fists curled.

I could feel it—heat rising in my chest like a firestorm waiting to detonate.

My vision blurred.

I wasn’t even looking at James anymore.

I saw all of them.

Judging. Accusing.

As if they knew me.

As if they deserved to say those things.

And finally—something inside me snapped.

I planted my feet, stood tall, and took a breath so deep it felt like it scraped the bottom of my soul.

And then I yelled.

"SILENCE!!!"

My voice tore through the air like thunder.

It wasn’t a scream.

It was a command.

The crowd froze.

Mid-accusation. Mid-movement.

Even the air seemed to still, as if the sky itself was waiting to see what I’d say next.

I glared at all of them.

The fury in my chest no longer wild.

Now it was sharp.

Controlled.

Like a blade honed after years of being dulled.

And in that silence, I finally spoke.

"Why is it so easy for all of you to blame someone the moment things go wrong?"

My voice broke through the noise—not loud, not shouted—but clear. It stopped people mid-whisper. A few heads turned. Eyes blinked, caught off guard.

"Why is fear the first excuse to throw someone else under the bus? Is that all we are, now? Just people pointing fingers when the world falls apart?"

I scanned the crowd. No one spoke. Not even James, who was still kneeling on the ground.

I turned my gaze toward him.

"You talk about pain," I said softly. "About loss. Do you think everyone has easy life, Do you know how many nights I sat alone, thinking I’d broken everything in my life? Do you know what it feels like to watch the people you love slip further and further away... and still try to smile for them?"

He didn’t respond. His hands just clenched tighter into the grass.

"I’ve been abandoned. Lied to. Tested again and again. But I kept walking. Even when it felt pointless. Even when there was no one beside me."

I took a step forward, steady now.

"You call me a monster. But you’ve never once asked about the weight I carry."

I looked down at my hands. My fists were trembling, but not from fear.

"I am weak. I’ll admit that. I’m not hero or Villian. I’m just... me."

I drew in a slow breath.

"But when I saw my daughter’s face—that fear in her eyes—everything inside me snapped. I didn’t care if I lived or died. I didn’t care how impossible things looked."

I looked back up. My voice was clearer than ever.

"I will stand for her. Even if it costs me everything. Even if no one else stands with me."

I turned now—facing the crowd, not just James.

"You all stood here blaming me, pointing, shouting. Waiting for someone else to fix it. To save your children. Well guess what? No one is coming. There’s no hero riding in. No miracle waiting just outside those gates."

My voice hardened.

"If you’re still hoping someone else will fight for you—then you’ve already failed as parents."

Silence fell like a curtain.

Some looked away. Others just stared, unsure what to feel.

And I let that silence hang.

"I’ll protect my daughter," I said. "Not because I’m strong. But because she needs me. Because she’s crying for me. And because she believes I’ll come for her."

I let the words settle into their bones.

And then... something changed.

Their expressions—their eyes. The anger started to fade. The fear, too. Replaced by something else.

Something slower. Quieter.

Hope.

The kind that doesn’t shout. The kind that grows slowly, like a fire starting in the cold.

Because when one person stands up...

Others remember how to stand, too.

Erika stepped forward. The crowd turned as she started clapping—just once, then again.

Slow. Steady.

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

One by one, others joined her. The same parents who’d shouted at me... now clapped. Quietly. Hesitantly. But with meaning.

Their faces softened. Their posture changed.

Something had shifted.

Erika raised a hand, voice firm.

"We’re not waiting around anymore," she said. "I’ll lead a team. We’re getting those kids out—together."

People began to move. Groups started forming. Small clusters of parents talking—making plans. Some still afraid, but now their fear was buried beneath something stronger.

They didn’t know what weapons might be waiting. What traps. What kind of twisted games Faluni had set up inside.

But it didn’t matter now.

Because they had remembered what it meant to fight for someone.

The moment they stopped blaming—

They started believing.

(Grandpa’s POV)

A few minutes ago, it was nothing but chaos.

People shouting. Fingers pointing. Fear thick in the air.

Humans... they always fall apart so easily when danger shows its teeth.

And for a moment, I felt the old fire rise inside me.

Anger. Disgust.

Yuuta !., They called him a monster. Him—of all people.

But then... something changed.

Not with force. Not with magic.

But with words.

Yuuta stepped forward.

No armor. No power.

Just his voice—and a heart that refused to break.

And somehow...

He turned a frightened crowd into something else.

Something stronger.

They listened.

They believed.

They followed.

I’ve seen kings in my time—crowned in gold, bathed in flame.

But I’ve rarely seen a man carry himself the way he did in that moment.

With pain in his eyes, but purpose in his voice.

And I thought...

So this is the one Erza chose.

When I first met him, I was... disappointed.

A human? Soft. Emotional. Fragile.

I thought Erza had lost her fire—settled for less.

But now...?

Now I see it.

Yuuta Kounari...

You’re not just worthy of her.

You’re worthy of standing beside her.

You fight when you’re scared.

You speak when your voice shakes.

You lead, not because you want power—

But because you want to protect.

And that...

That is something even dragons should respect.

If you had even the faintest drop of dragon blood—even as a low-class hatchling—

I would’ve gone to war with Atlantis nobles just to ensure you and Erza could be together forever.

But alas... reality always finds a way to humble the heart.

Even so...

I find myself growing fond of you more than I expected.

Perhaps... more than I should.

And now, I watch you—

Standing tall, like a hero pulled straight from the old legends,

Strategizing with those who once doubted you.

Let’s see how far you’ll take them.

Let’s see... how far you’ll rise.

To be continued.

Updat𝓮d from freew𝒆bnov𝒆l.co(m)