Aster ran for his life.
Pain gnawed at every muscle, exhaustion dragging at his limbs. Every step was a battle, his breath ragged and burning. Still, he ran, ignoring the throb in his legs and the pounding in his chest.
Above him, the dragon took flight.
Wings beat the air like rolling thunder, scattering debris and shadow across the forest floor. It rose without a glance, searching wounded and unaware. When the sound of its departure finally faded, Aster slowed, then came to a trembling stop.
He bent forward, hands braced on his knees, chest heaving. For a heartbeat, there was only silence.
Then he laughed, breathless and shaky. The sound slipped out before he could stop it.
"Woah," he panted. "First time seeing a flying lizard up close that would've been the last thing I saw if I weren't lucky ".
His fingers tightened around his dagger.
That was when he noticed it.
The weapon had shifted.
The blade glimmered purple, fractured as if shattered and reforged by stubborn will. Every crack glowed faintly, yet the steel held firm. Around the hilt, a black serpent coiled tight, its scales dark as ink, eyes burning red. It wrapped around his hand as if alive, claiming him not constricting, not threatening.
Aster frowned, lifting it closer to the dim light.
"…Since when did you do that?"
The name surfaced unbidden, settling into his thoughts with an unsettling familiarity.
Everanth.
He did not know where the name came from. Only that it felt right.
The serpent tightened its coils, pressing against his hand, and mana surged around the blade.
Impossible, he thought, heart hammering. I was born without mana.
He remembered being seven, the day they told him his second gender made him a recessive omega and on top of that incapable of wielding mana. He remembered the classrooms, how status separated students, how some bent mana to their will while others struggled to be seen. Vulnerability had burned him. Resentment had festered.
Really… an omega? Young Aster whispered to himself.
He thought of Eloise. A beta, capable of wielding mana with ease, and yet she didn't want to do anything with it and focused on baking her favourite hobby .
It became a spark he fed with every ounce of determination. He trained endlessly, refusing to let that label make him weak or a target.
And now, this.
The dagger alive in his hand, responding, reacting.
A smirk tugged at his lips, half disbelief, half defiance.
The world had thought him powerless. Maybe, just maybe, it had been wrong all along.
His mind raced with more questions.
Why was there a dragon here? Weren't dragons almost extinct?
Dragons were part of ancient history, legends stretching back over five centuries. Their memory was anchored in The Shattered Pact, a treaty forged between humans and dragons. Respect one another. Do not interfere in each other's affairs.
For generations, dragons and humans coexisted, even thrived, maintaining a fragile balance.
But dragons were creatures of appetite. Greedy, territorial, always seeking more. That nature proved fatal when the emperor's only daughter, the princess of the kingdom, was slain by one of the dragons.
The murder shattered the tenuous peace. War erupted. Cities burned, kingdoms fell. The greatest city of all, Velthora, once ruled jointly by humans and dragons, became ruins.
Velthora became a cautionary tale, its name whispered in fear. Dragons were cast out, labeled dangerous and unstable, bringers of chaos. Humans sealed their old territories, and over centuries, dragons vanished
disappearing into myth, feared and forgotten.
Huh, why would a dragon be here? Aster muttered under his breath. This place was secluded… he'd give them that. Still, why wouldn't this thing get off him?
He tugged at the dagger, yanking with all his strength. The black serpent coiled tighter, biting into his grip without harming him.
Frustration boiled. He swung the blade hard, hoping to shake it loose.
The world answered.
The dagger struck the tree, and purple fire erupted, licking the bark and sending sparks into the air. Aster froze, eyes wide. His own hands trembled as the heat washed over him.
"…What the hell?" he whispered, disbelief and fear twisting together.
Everanth pulsed in his hand, alive and furious, as if the blade itself had been waiting for this moment
He yanked at it again and again, desperation clawing at him.
"Get this damn Everanth thing off me!" he shouted, voice cracking.
The serpent hissed in response, coiling tighter, clutching his hand as if daring him to resist.
And then suddenlyit uncoiled.
The dagger slipped from his grasp, landing on the forest floor with a heavy thud. Purple smoke spiraled upward, curling and shimmering in the dim light, the fumes glowing faintly like embers suspended in air.
Aster stumbled back, chest heaving, eyes wide.
He stared at the dagger, at the smoke, at the way the air around it seemed alive, charged with something older than time itself.
Aster pushed through the thick forest, leaves snapping underfoot, until a figure emerged from the shadows. The hooded man.
"You got it?" the man asked, voice cautious, eyes darting beneath his hood.
Aster tossed the locket lazily.
"Next time, warn me that thing's a music box," he muttered, brushing a leaf from his hair. "Nearly got shredded by a dragon because of it."
The hooded man froze, eyes widening. "You… woke the dragon?" His voice cracked, disbelief lacing every word as he stared at Aster, clearly expecting a charred corpse.
"Who's it belong to anyway?" he added,
The hooded man shivered like the memory of the owner was more terrifying than any beast.
Aster shrugged, smirking. "Some big deal, I guess."
"Here… and take this too." Aster said
Aster raised an eyebrow as the dagger landed in the Hooded man's hand
"I don't know," Aster said, rolling his eyes, "but it's freaking me out. I got it to use it to wound that damn dragon and make it lay off me. And now? Yeah, I don't want it."
The man shrugged. "Well… problem's yours now."
"Oh, and here… 750 more. Thank you for bringing it back."
Aster blinked, opening the bag to see the glittering gold spill inside. He spun to thank the man....only to find him gone. Vanished. Not even a whisper of movement, just the faint rustle of the forest.
"Really?" Aster muttered, tossing his hands up. "Couldn't stick around for a thank you? Typical."
He shook his head, smirking despite himself.
"Well, guess I'll add 'getting rich and haunted simultaneously' to my resume today."
By the time Aster staggered into the village, he felt like death had already planned to his funeral. Every step hurt. Every breath burned. Every nerve screamed.
He ducked into a narrow, hidden alley, the kind only someone desperate or foolishwould notice. At the end of it sat the little clinic, its crooked sign swinging in the breeze The Patch-Up Shack.
"Really," he muttered, teeth gritted, "why did Mr. Milford name it that?"
He knocked, three times… no, five.
"Password," a lady's voice called from inside, sharp and teasing.
"Open the door, Catherine!" Aster gasped, barely holding himself upright, limping to the entrance.
"Nuh-uh," came the reply. "Password."
Aster groaned, swaying. "Ouchy Ouchy… please check my tummy."
There was a pause, then a giggle. Catherine's door swung open, and her amusement froze as she saw him.
Aster didn't even make it to the threshold. His legs gave way. He collapsed to the floor, the weight of everything finally catching up. The world went black.
A few hours later, Aster's eyes fluttered open. The dim light of the Patch-Up Shack filtered through the crooked window. He was patched up, bandages wrapped neatly around cuts and bruises, but he still felt like he'd been run through a blender.
Eloise stood over him, arms crossed, eyes sharp and ready to scold.
He braced himself.
"Did you… kill someone?" she asked, her voice suspiciously calm for someone clearly worried.
"No," Aster muttered, still feeling the ache in every muscle.
"Are you okay now?" she pressed
"Yeah," he replied shortly, though the edge of relief in his voice betrayed him.
Before he could say more, Eloise lunged forward and hugged him tightly. "I was really worried," she said softly.
And then just like she couldn't resist she pinched his ears. Hard.
"I already told you not to go on dangerous missions!" Eloise scolded, voice sharp but trembling with worry. "I thought I was going to lose my big brother!"
Before he could recover, Rowan came running, tears streaming down his face.
"Wahhhh! Aster! I thought you were dead!" he sobbed, clinging to him.
"Catherine said you weren't gonna wake up," Rowan sobbed, wiping his nose with his sleeve, "and I'd have to scoop horse poo for a living."
He sniffled, then a small, unwilling laugh slipped out as he clung tighter to Aster.
"You better not ever leave me again," he said, voice cracking. "I don't wanna scoop horse poo."
Aster let out a weak chuckle, one hand resting on Rowan's head despite the ache in his body.
"Relax," he murmured. "I'm not letting that be your future."
Somewhere nearby, Catherine hummed innocently, clearly enjoying the emotional damage she had caused.
Mr Milford then checked on Aster
Where did you get yourself into Aster the Mr Milford wrapping another bandage at his back
It was a rough mission almost got burned and well was tossed around like a toy he said trying not to worry everyone it was a big giant goblin he said
Eloise made supper she made a simple pumpkin soup and garlic bread she made and sold at the bakery
While everyone was busy Catherine pulled him aside
Her hair was a bold shade of purple, cropped short with an undercut that revealed the curve of her neck. The longer strands framed her face, giving her a sharp, daring edge.
"Goblin my ass," Catherine said, crossing her arms. "You beat up orcs like it's nothing. Tell me the truth."
"And why would I?" Aster shot back, voice laced with sarcasm.
"Because I hid your dagger," she said, smirking, "which is pretty cool by the way. And your 750 merits..I'd like, say, 30 of them for sealing my mouth."
Aster rolled his eyes. "As expected from a very great thief."
"Okay, fine," he admitted, leaning back. "It's a dragon."
Your kidding Catherine joked
Catherine froze. The smirk vanished. Her eyes went wide, mouth dropping open as she took in the seriousness in his expression.
A dragon?!"
"Shhhh," Aster warned, voice low and tense.
"I thought… they were extinct," Catherine
whispered, disbelief threading her words.
The room seemed to shrink around them. Even the shadows felt heavier, carrying the weight of something ancient and dangerous.
"Yeah… so some weird hooded guy made me grab his locket," Aster said, rubbing his temple. "Turns out it was a music box. Woke a dragon. Nearly got fried to a crisp. But hey… I'm still here."
Catherine blinked, processing. "You what now?
"I'm alive," he said, deadpan, letting that sink in. "Barely."
She shook her head, half laughing, half horrified. "You really have a talent for turning 'simple errands' into life-threatening adventures, don't you?"
"Someone's gotta keep life interesting," Aster muttered, collapsing against the wall.