Veyron, Lyra, and Taeryun walked together toward the gates of the Aethelgard Imperial Academy. A carriage would soon arrive to take Lyra back to the Southern Territory.
Lyra's expression was unmistakably gloomy. Taeryun was no different—his sadness at parting from a close friend was written plainly across his face.
Veyron alone remained unchanged, his expression flat, as though this farewell were nothing more than an ordinary event.
They stopped at the gate and waited in silence.
After a moment, Lyra broke it.
"Veyron…" she said hesitantly, turning toward him. "After I go home… you'll miss me, right?"
Veyron turned his gaze to her, calm and unshaken.
"Of course," he replied. "I will miss you. As a friend."
The words landed cleanly—without hesitation, without embellishment.
Lyra's face dimmed at once. Beside them, Taeryun rubbed his face with a weary expression.
TUK.
TUK.
TUK.
The sound of hooves approached from afar.
The carriage emerged on the main road leading to the academy. Lyra took a deep breath. Her heart felt heavy, but she stepped forward regardless—the promise Veyron had made still firmly engraved in her mind.
The carriage stopped before the gate.
Lyra lifted her belongings and climbed inside. The door closed slowly.
The carriage began to move, rolling away from the academy.
As Veyron turned to leave, a shout rang out from inside.
"Veyron!"
"Remember the promise we made yesterday! If I ever need help—come to me!"
Lyra waved from the carriage window.
Veyron raised his hand in return. A faint smile appeared on his face.
"I will," he said quietly.
"I promise."
The carriage disappeared down the main road.
Veyron turned away, his sword hanging at his waist. Taeryun watched him, brows furrowed.
"Why are you carrying a sword?" Taeryun asked. "Going hunting?"
Veyron nodded slightly.
"I'm tired of the cafeteria food," he answered flatly.
"I'm going to hunt."
He glanced at Taeryun.
"I'm heading into the forest. My target—dragon meat."
His voice was calm. Too calm.
"So," he continued, "are you going to stop me?"
A faint yet chilling killing intent leaked from Veyron's body.
Taeryun swallowed hard and shook his head quickly.
"No," he replied.
Without another word, Veyron turned and walked toward the forest—sword in hand, intent clear.
Hunting.
---
Deep Within the Forest
Veyron had reached the deepest part of the forest. The air was heavy, saturated with a suffocating darkness. No creatures stirred—only the cold wind whispering through ancient branches.
He inhaled slowly, feeling the chill settle into his lungs.
Then—
"AAAAAHHH—!"
Zephyron's scream echoed through the forest. The spirit flailed wildly in the air, his face pale with panic.
"Veyron! Have you lost your mind?!" he shouted.
"Hunting the Dragon King with nothing but a sword?! No artifacts, no safeguards?!"
Zephyron circled him frantically, his voice growing shriller.
"If you're exposed to his aura alone, your body will disintegrate instantly! And why is it that every time you rush toward trouble, I get dragged to the brink of death with you?! You do know that if you die, I die too, right?!"
The incessant noise made Veyron frown. He covered his ear briefly—then, without warning, grabbed Zephyron.
His index finger pressed lightly against the spirit's lips.
"Quiet," Veyron said flatly.
Zephyron froze.
"Do you think I'm an idiot?" Veyron continued.
"I didn't come here to fight the Dragon King head-on."
He released Zephyron and looked straight ahead.
"If he's willing to negotiate, there's no need for a battle."
His tone remained steady.
"And if not…"
"Then we deal with it accordingly."
Zephyron stared at him in disbelief. The next instant—
KRAK!
He bit Veyron's finger hard enough to draw blood and shot into the air.
"I don't want to die!" Zephyron yelled.
"If you want to die, do it alone! Don't drag me with you!"
Veyron chuckled softly.
"Relax," he said casually.
"You really think I'd die that easily?"
Veyron leaned against an ancient tree. Massive roots twisted across the ground like skeletal fingers, sheltering him from the cold wind. He placed his sword at his side, within easy reach.
He closed his eyes.
His breathing gradually steadied.
Zephyron hovered before him in spirit form, mouth opening as if to complain—then closing again. For once, he chose silence. His aura spread thinly, barely perceptible, forming a subtle boundary around Veyron.
Leaves rustled quietly.
No footsteps.
No creatures dared approach.
Veyron's consciousness sank.
Darkness.
Not a frightening darkness—but a silence too deep.
The ground beneath his small hands felt damp. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of rain yet to fall. A hand clasped his fingers—warm, strong—yet the owner's face was hidden behind a curtain of black hair.
He wanted to see more clearly.
But the world shifted.
Light changed.
Wooden flooring. The scent of warm tea. A chessboard spread across a low table. An aged hand, veins pronounced, moved a piece without haste.
"Don't rush," the voice echoed calmly.
"The one who loses is not the one who sacrifices a piece."
The black piece came to a halt.
"The loser," the voice continued,
"is the one who runs out of moves."
Cold wind slipped through the gaps between trees.
Far deeper in the forest, something exhaled—long and heavy, like a mountain awakening from ancient slumber.
An invisible pressure swept across the land.
Beneath the old tree, Veyron's eyes opened.
Zephyron noticed immediately. He transformed into a human form, his face filled with curiosity.
"Why are you awake?" he asked.
"You weren't even asleep for a full minute."
Veyron didn't answer. He picked up his sword and began walking toward the dragon's lair.
A single tear slipped from the corner of his eye.
Zephyron fell silent. His curiosity only deepened.
What kind of dream could make him cry?
Without further words, the two continued onward—toward the Dragon King's lair, for the sake of the meat Veyron desired.
---
Before the Dragon King's Lair
Before the entrance to the Dragon King's lair, Veyron stood with a calm, expressionless face.
Zephyron, by contrast, was pale, tense—terror plain to see.
"Veyron… maybe we should go back," Zephyron whispered shakily. "I might actually die here."
Veyron ignored him completely and stepped into the lair without hesitation.
Inside, his gaze fell immediately upon a colossal figure asleep—the Dragon King, its white scales gleaming faintly.
Zephyron tugged desperately at Veyron's arm.
"Can you shut up, Zephyron?" Veyron snapped coldly.
"I didn't come here to fight."
The voice stirred the Dragon King awake.
Zephyron dove behind a rock, trembling violently. Veyron, meanwhile, stood calmly before the Dragon King.
The Dragon King's aura erupted, crushing the air itself. Any ordinary human would have been reduced to nothing—yet Veyron remained standing.
The Dragon King smiled faintly.
"Interesting… human," it said, its voice deep and oppressive.
"Why have you come here?"
Veyron stepped forward, raising his right hand as if making a request.
"I want your flesh, Dragon King," he said calmly.
The Dragon King's aura surged violently. The pressure nearly forced Veyron to his knees.
Zephyron collapsed—his internal organs nearly crushed.
And yet—
Veyron released his own aura.
BOOM!
Oppressive pressure flooded the lair. Stone cracked. The air trembled.
Still, Veyron stood.
The Dragon King stared at him—for far too long to be mere appraisal.
"Humans usually come here to kneel," it said quietly.
"You came to ask."
Its gaze hardened.
"Why should I grant such a foolish request, boy?"
"If I refuse—what will you do?"
Veyron smiled faintly.
"If you refuse… I'll take it by force."
Wrath.
Unconsciously, the Dragon King activated its Domain.
"Dragon Domain: Eternal Scale of Judgement!"
The sky across the entire planet darkened.
All living beings trembled.
Rulers across the world panicked.
In a distant place, a silhouette stopped moving.
"…The Dragon King awakened?"
"…Interesting."
Back within the lair—
Inside the Domain, Veyron still stood.
The Dragon King finally let out a small laugh and deactivated it.
"Very well. We negotiate," it said.
"You take my flesh. We become allies."
The agreement was made.
As the Dragon King turned its gaze—
"Zephyron? Why are you here?"
"Hehehe… I'm just escorting my friend, Father."
Veyron fell silent.
The title sounded strange—yet not incorrect.
For dragons, the King is origin. Not bloodline.
The First King gave birth to their very concept—not their bodies.
Thus, calling the King Father was no metaphor.
Veyron swung his sword—
SLASH!
The Dragon King's leg was severed.
Yet the Dragon King merely smiled.
"That sword… forged from the heart of a Fire Dragon?"
"I don't know," Veyron replied shortly.
Moments later, the leg regenerated.
"…Impressive," Veyron muttered.
As he turned to leave, the Dragon King transformed into a beautiful woman, her gaze playful and alluring.
Veyron simply patted her head.
"Doesn't work."
The Dragon King snorted irritably.
"My name is Seraphyra Altheon," she said.
"Until we meet again, Veyron."
Far away—
a crystal recorded everything.
"So… you are the anomaly."