The Red Dragon Lord is OP, but Insists on a Pop Culture Invasion!

’This is actually pretty interesting.’

The morning birdsong was a clamor. Elsa slumped on her bed, stretching her stiff neck.

’Ugh, the sunlight is so blinding...’

’Did the whole night just pass like that?’

She had only wanted to see what kind of Magic model Zog had made, and she ended up learning it.

Although "Jump Jump" used several thousand Inscriptions, it was merely long, not logically complex. Plus, since there was no need to consider whether a Caster could actually cast it, the model’s construction was quite arbitrary.

She could spot a dozen or so errors with a single glance.

But it actually worked!

When she tried to fix those errors, Zog stopped her, horrified.

"If it runs, don’t worry about how it works," he had said. "Just leave it alone."

Zog’s way of using Inscriptions was completely unlike a Mage’s, which made things a bit awkward. Despite that, the learning process went smoothly, and in just over an hour, Elsa had built her own "Jump Jump."

Before starting the Mimicry, she made a point of checking Zog’s score: 654.

’Tch. A great big Ancient Red Dragon like him only scored a few hundred points on something this simple? She had figured it out just by watching.’

’Let’s say... ten minutes. That’s all I need to beat Zog’s record, and then I’ll laugh mercilessly at him.’

She confidently began to play.

Press, release. The piece sailed perfectly past the second block, fell to the floor, and the game ended. Score: zero.

"PFFT—"

Zog’s laughter dealt true damage.

"It was my first time! I’m not used to it yet! You just wait!"

Elsa shot back a threat and darted into her room. ’It must have been because Zog was being so noisy next to me. That’s why I messed up.’

Restart.

Press, release. The piece landed in the center of the block. Score +2.

’Oh? Landing in the center gives you bonus points? That makes beating his record even easier.’

Elsa was getting the hang of it, and her score rose quickly. She was just about to break one hundred.

’Huh? The blocks are getting smaller.’

’Stay calm. Don’t get nervous.’

Press, release—

Game over.

"BANG!"

She slapped a hand on the bed. Mattress HP -1.

Time for round three.

...

And just like that, it was morning.

Worse than being exhausted from staying up all night, worse than the bags under her eyes, was the infuriating fact that her high score was stuck at 648.

She was on the verge of a meltdown, but she was too tired to fully commit to it.

Luckily, it was Monday, so the toy store was closed. Otherwise, she would have had to go to work in her Toto form, and God knows how she would have managed that.

"Come on, let’s go apply for the Magic patent!" Zog popped out of nowhere.

"Huh?" Elsa turned her head, her movements sluggish. Then she suddenly realized something and fumbled to turn off "Jump Jump."

Too bad. It was too late.

"No way, you’re kidding me. Don’t tell me someone stayed up all night playing a ’boring little game’ only to end up with a score of just 648!"

She’d never imagined that an Evil Dragon with such a fearsome reputation could sound so utterly obnoxious.

’I want to hit him, but I can’t win.’

’Maybe I should just tear up the Contract. Then I wouldn’t have to understand his Dragon Language.’

’Ugh, I want to be angry, but I don’t even have the energy for that.’

She felt her consciousness drifting away from her body. She finally couldn’t hold on any longer and collapsed stiffly onto the bed. The sound of snoring followed immediately.

As it turns out, even pretty girls snore.

Zog scratched his chin, speechless. He hadn’t expected a simple little game to have such a hold on Elsa.

Perhaps he’d played too many games and had grown numb to most of them. He missed the days of his childhood, when even a simple game of flipping cards was fun.

Still, this meant he should speed up his game development. It was time to show this world the meaning of a true "648." That would rake in cash much faster than selling toys.

’I wonder if Silksong is finished back on Earth...’

Elsa slept until the afternoon. The moment she woke up, she wanted to go back to playing "Jump Jump."

Zog had to bribe her with two boxes of chocolate just to get her to come with him to the patent office.

Twin Tower City was the first city on the Continent to implement a patent system.

Nominally, it was under the jurisdiction of the Sutton Kingdom, but in reality, it was highly autonomous—the most prosperous hub of commerce, technology, and Magic on the entire Continent.

The Soron Mage Tower represented the pinnacle of Protective Magic. Then there was the Repin Spellcaster Academy; while not necessarily the strongest, it was the Magic Academy that offered the widest variety of subjects.

Pelen Tower was the Birthplace of Technology for steam power. The scholars who established its Academy of Sciences weren’t as powerful as Mages, but they brought more changes to the lives of Ordinary people.

New inventions were made here almost daily, which in turn gave rise to the patent system.

Of course, a key factor was the liberal academic atmosphere. To the north were two fanatical nations: in one, all creations belonged to the emperor; in the other, they belonged to the Church, because all progress was a blessing from the gods.

However, the current patent system wasn’t perfect. It only covered invention patents, not design or utility patents, so the Yo-Yo couldn’t be protected.

Fortunately, Zog’s Toy Store’s greatest assets were the popularity generated by *Firepower Young King* and the ultra-low costs of its goblin assembly line.

「Inside the patent office.」

"So, the purpose of this Magic is..."

"To be played," Elsa answered excitedly.

"Wow. How impressive," said the older female Dwarf sitting at the service window. Thick glasses were perched on her Sharp Ears, and her tone was completely flat.

"It is, isn’t it? I think so too."

The Dwarf pushed her glasses up, convinced the girl in front of her couldn’t detect sarcasm.

"Alright, registering a new 0 Ring Trick."

"I think it’s a 5th-ring Magic. At least 4th-ring."

"Hmm?"

The Dwarf’s stern expression reminded Elsa of a fifty-year-old teacher from her childhood whom she still saw in her nightmares.

"Alright, 0 Ring it is."

"And the owner is?"

"Zog."

The Dwarf filled it into the form as stated.

This threw Elsa for a loop. She had prepared several different explanations on the way here.

"You... don’t have any questions?"

"The guy before you put down ’the Grim Reaper’ as the owner. Said he’d get his reward in the afterlife. With all due respect, I have no interest in figuring out what goes on in you people’s heads."

"Er, okay..."

About forty minutes later, the long form was finally complete.

"Please queue up outside Room 2."

They waited for nearly another half an hour.

The last person in line ahead of them stormed out of the room, yelling, "Isn’t a technique for preserving the original flavor of entrails during cooking patentable? This patent office is bullshit!"

When they entered the room, it looked quite normal—a perfectly standard office.

If it weren’t for the paper bag over the head of the employee in front of them.

Elsa glanced nervously at Zog. She had every reason to suspect that the patent office was actually staffed by lunatics.

Seeing the person and the Dragon approach, the employee shot to his feet and yanked the bag off his head.

"Surprise!"

It was a bald old man with brownish-red skin. That complexion suggested he was one of the islanders from west of the strait.

Zog glanced at Elsa, fully endorsing her suspicion.

An awkward silence fell over the room.

The old man was the first to break the silence. "Aren’t you surprised?"

"Er, should I be?" Elsa asked timidly, worried about whether Zog could stop the old man if he suddenly went berserk and started biting people.

"You don’t recognize me?"

"Should I?"

"I am the Guardian of Twin Tower City, the King of Defense Magic, Red Dragon’s Bane, the Legend of Giant Wood Island, Honorary Professor of the Repin Spellcaster Academy, the Demon Hunter, the great..."

As he spoke, the old man struck a pose, as if waiting for Elsa to pick up the cue and announce his name.

Nothing.

After ten-odd seconds of even more awkward silence, the old man slapped the table in resignation. "Soron Ambrosius!"