The forest was filled with trees unlike any seen before—twisted trunks and sprawling branches that felt as though they belonged to another world, an Isekai. The clouds concealed the moon, casting the woods in dreadful darkness. Then, as a gentle breeze stirred, the clouds drifted away, revealing the ethereal glow of a blue moon. Its light spilled across the forest, painting the grass in silver hues, as if the land itself longed to be worn by time.
In the middle of that eerie forest stood a boy—terrified, trembling, his body stiff with fear. His heartbeat thundered in his chest as he stared at a nearby tree. From behind it came a low, guttural growl. His eyes widened as he noticed a pair of dazzling lights gleaming in the shadows. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, sweat dripping down his forehead.
The lights moved. Something was stirring in the darkness. Step by step, the glow drew closer until a creature emerged from the shadows. Its body was pitch black, its eyes reflecting the blue moon like twin mirrors of death. A giant wolf, its mane dark as midnight, its fangs long and glistening. Its claws, sharp and deadly, looked capable of slicing through anything.
The wolf growled, baring its teeth—teeth that hungered for the boy's tender flesh. Saliva dripped from its mouth, each drop a promise of violence. The boy froze, unable to move even an inch. His body screamed to run, but his legs betrayed him. He shut his eyes, adrenaline surging, and finally turned away, forcing himself to flee.
But the wolf would not let its prey escape. With a powerful leap, it soared through the air, its shadow blotting out the moonlight. It was as if the beast itself was flying.
The boy ran, his legs pumping desperately, but the wolf was faster. It landed before him, jaws wide open, ready to tear him apart. Trembling, he tried to dodge, but the beast lunged. Its fangs sank into his left arm, ripping it away in a spray of blood. Crimson splattered across the wolf's face, dripping down its mane, while the boy staggered, his body convulsing in agony.
Tears blurred his vision. His lips quivered as he tried to speak, his voice broken, drowned in blood.
"I-It…" he gasped, blood spilling from his mouth. "It all happened… because of… the first look…"
***
The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the ceiling fan. Posters of dragons stretched across the walls—majestic beasts frozen mid-flight, their wings spread wide as if guarding the boy who slept beneath them.
Bookshelves lined the corners, sagging under the weight of countless tomes about dragon lore, myths, and legends. Some spines were worn from being read too often, others gleamed as if waiting for their turn to be opened.
On the desk, scattered game boxes bore titles filled with fire and scales, their covers depicting battle between knights and dragons. A controller lay abandoned, its cable trailing like a serpent across the floor.
The boy lay curled beneath his blanket, his breathing steady, his dreams perhaps filled with the very creatures that surrounded him. In this room, dragons weren't just fantasy—they were everywhere, woven into the very fabric of his world.
Suddenly, he jolted upright, as if struck by a nightmare. His heartbeat grew faster, louder, echoing in his chest. Sweat trickled down his forehead. He clutched his left arm tightly, as though it had been torn apart. For a moment, panic consumed him—until he realized his arm was still intact.
He sat there in silence, waiting for his heartbeat to calm. His eyes wandered across the walls, covered in posters of dragons. Their fierce yet majestic forms soothed him, chasing away the remnants of fear. He drew in a deep breath, letting the sight of his beloved creatures steady his soul. Then, slowly, he sank back onto his pillow, the weight of exhaustion pulling him down once more.
***
A low noise of knuckles beating against wood echoed through the quiet. Someone was knocking at the door.
"Ka-zu-ya! Kazuya! I'm coming in!"
The wooden door flung open as a young woman stepped inside. Her black curly hair framed a face of warm brown eyes, though at that moment they carried a hint of disappointment. She sighed softly and crossed the room to the windows—curtains decorated with dragons in mid-flight. With a gentle tug, she drew them aside, letting the morning sunlight spill into the room.
She giggled, turning back toward the boy.
"Kazuya you idiot. You still need your Sister to wake you up."
Kazuya stirred beneath the blanket, his black hair messy against the pillow, his brown eyes still hidden in sleep. She yanked the covers away, and his hands flailed clumsily, searching for them. Leaning close, her expression shifted to worry as she whispered near his ear.
"Wake up!"
The boy jolted upright, his brown eyes wide with fear, only to see his mother laughing.
"You are still such a child. Now get ready soon—the breakfast is ready. You don't want to be late to school, right?"
Kazuya rubbed his face, calming down, and muttered with a sigh.
"You don't need to be so harsh to wake me up, Sis."
His sister giggled again, turning away as she left the room. Relief washed over him, and he let his gaze wander back to the posters of dragons on his wall, their wings frozen in eternal flight.
Kazuya swung his legs off the bed, his feet touching the cool wooden floor. He stretched, yawning, before dragging himself toward the bathroom. The mirror reflected his tired face, his hair sticking out in every direction. He picked up his toothbrush, the bristles worn from use, and began brushing slowly, his mind still foggy from sleep.
The sound of running water filled the small bathroom as he rinsed his mouth. He turned on the shower, steam rising as warm water cascaded down. For a few minutes, he simply stood there, letting the water wash away the remnants of his nightmare. His thoughts drifted—dragons, fire, the strange mark on his hand. He shook his head, forcing himself back into the rhythm of an ordinary morning.
By the time he stepped out, the fog in his mind had lifted. He dried himself quickly, combed his hair into some semblance of order, and slipped into his neatly pressed school uniform. The blazer fit snugly, the tie slightly crooked, but he didn't bother fixing it.
***
His sister stood at the stove, humming softly as she cooked. The aroma of butter and rice filled the air, mingling with the faint sweetness of ketchup. Her movements were practiced, graceful, as she flipped the pan with ease. The sound of sizzling eggs echoed, promising a familiar comfort.
Kazuya entered, his hair still damp, his uniform crisp. He slid into his seat at the dining table, his stomach growling. "What's for breakfast?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of anticipation.
His sister turned, her smile bright. "Your favorite—omurice."
Kazuya's eyes lit up. "Omurice, huh? You really know how to spoil me."
She placed the plate before him, the golden omelet draped perfectly over the mound of rice, ketchup drawn into a playful swirl on top. He picked up his fork eagerly, digging in. The taste was familiar, comforting, each bite reminding him of countless mornings before.
They ate together, the clinking of utensils filling the room. His sister hummed between bites, her eyes occasionally glancing at him with quiet affection.
After finishing, Kazuya stood, stretching. He placed his school bag on the table absentmindedly and walked toward the door to put on his shoes. His sister noticed, shaking her head with a smile. She picked up the bag and followed him.
"Kazuya," she called, holding the bag out. "You forgot this."
He turned, embarrassed. "Ah… thanks."
She teased, her tone playful. "Honestly, you're hopeless. Still forgetting things like a kid."
Kazuya frowned, puffing his cheeks slightly. "I'm a high schooler now, Sis. Don't treat me like a child."
She laughed, handing him the bag. "High schooler or not, you're still my little brother."
He sighed, slipping the bag over his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah."
The street greeted him with the quiet bustle of morning. He paused for a moment, glancing back at the window of his room. From there, the familiar dragon poster was still visible, its wings spread wide as if watching over him. A grin tugged at his lips. With that, he set off down the street, the day unfolding before him.
After walking for some time, he reached his destination. Standing before the high school entrance, Kazuya gazed at the groups of students heading toward the building, their chatter filling the air like an endless chorus. He sighed, shoulders heavy, and began walking forward. Passing by familiar faces, he kept his expression blank, his eyes fixed ahead as he made his way to the stairs.
He marched up to the first floor, his steps steady, and walked toward his classroom with a poker face. Sliding the door open, he was greeted by the loud chatter of his classmates. He paid them no attention, moving straight to the third bench in the first row. Without hesitation, he pulled out a book on dragons from his bag and began reading, his world narrowing to the pages before him.
A few minutes later, the classroom door opened again. A young woman entered, her bright smile instantly changing the atmosphere. The room seemed to glow with warmth, her presence filling it with happiness. Kazuya closed his book, slipping it back into his bag. The other students quickly returned to their seats and stood to greet her.
The teacher greeted them back, her smile unwavering. Then she walked toward Kazuya. With that same smile, she spoke softly, yet firmly.
"Meet me in the staff room during lunch break."
Kazuya's expression shifted instantly. Sweat formed on his forehead as dread filled his chest. What did I do wrong? he thought. The teacher returned to her desk and began the lesson. Though Kazuya appeared focused, his mind wandered—dragons filled his thoughts, not equations or grammar.
Kazuya was… different. In this world, dragons were feared, worshiped, or treated as sacred beings. But he loved them. More than anything else. Why? Even he didn't know. His fascination was genuine, unshakable. From the moment he learned to read, he devoured books about dragons. By middle school, he was playing games centered around them. Dragons weren't just creatures to him—they were his passion, his obsession.
***
Hours passed in a blur of classes. When the lunch bell rang, Kazuya rose from his seat and marched out of the classroom. His footsteps echoed down the corridor until he stood outside the staff room. He knocked gently, the sound of wood breaking the silence.
"I'm coming in, Sensei," he said.
Sliding the door open, he saw his teacher seated at her desk. His face tensed, sweat dripping down his temple. She noticed him and smiled.
"Come here, Betsuyaku."
Her smile was beautiful, but to Kazuya it felt dangerous. He hesitated, but his legs carried him forward. She opened a drawer, pulled out a sheet of paper, and slammed it onto the desk. Her smile hardened, her face stiffening.
"What is this, Betsuyaku?!"
Her voice was sharp, furious. Kazuya trembled, leaning closer to read the paper. His eyes lit up, and a smile spread across his face.
"This is the essay you asked us to write… about our favorite mode of transportation."
Her expression darkened further. "And what have you written about?"
Kazuya chuckled nervously. "D-Drago—"
"Enough!" she snapped, cutting him off before he could finish. "It was supposed to be about transportation!" Her voice echoed through the staff room, sharp and commanding. But almost as quickly, her anger softened into frustration. She let out a weary sigh. "Kazuya, you're the top student. But lately… you're drifting. Are you even sleeping at all?"
She rubbed her forehead, exasperated, her tone caught between scolding and concern. "Although you do things like this, I still don't understand how you remain our school's top student."
Kazuya scratched the back of his head, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment. His obsession with dragons often landed him in trouble, yet it never compromised his academics. He genuinely loved studying—it had become his second passion, almost a hobby. But sometimes, his fascination with dragons pushed him into reckless choices that baffled even his teachers.
The teacher sighed again, her eyes softening, worry flickering in their depths. For a moment, her sternness faded, replaced by something gentler—an unspoken concern for a boy who seemed to live in two worlds: one of books and grades, and another filled with dragons only he could truly see.
"Don't repeat such things, okay?"
"Yes, ma'am," Kazuya replied earnestly.
He handed the essay back, and the teacher dismissed him with a sigh. Relief washed over him as he stepped out of the staff room, the tension in his shoulders finally easing. The quiet corridor seemed almost welcoming now, its stillness a stark contrast to the storm of emotions he had just endured.
Kazuya walked back toward his classroom, his footsteps echoing softly against the wooden floor. Sliding the door open, he was greeted by the familiar hum of chatter and laughter. His classmates were already unpacking their lunches, the air filled with the scent of bread and rice.
He returned to his seat, setting his bag down with care. Pulling out his lunch, he allowed himself a small smile. The weight of the teacher's scolding lingered, but the thought of dragons—his beloved dragons—soon replaced it. As he ate, his gaze drifted to the posters on the classroom wall, his mind wandering once again into the world of scales, wings, and fire.
For Kazuya, lunch wasn't just a break. It was a moment to breathe, to dream, and to remind himself that even in the ordinary rhythm of school life, dragons were never far away.
***
Time passed quickly. Before he realized it, the final bell rang. The last teacher dismissed the class, and students began packing their bags, eager to leave. Kazuya packed his things too, but instead of heading downstairs like everyone else, he turned and walked toward the rooftop.
The air was cooler there. He set his bag aside and leaned against the railing, gazing down at the students below. They laughed, chatted, and walked home together, their joy filling the courtyard. Kazuya sighed, his eyes drifting across the horizon. He was lost in thought, his mind wandering as the wind brushed against his face.
Then—something caught his attention.
Near the wall of the school building, something black shimmered faintly. He stepped closer, narrowing his eyes. His breath caught in his throat.
It was circular. Dark. A swirling void that seemed to pulse with unnatural energy. A black abyss, as if it had clawed its way out from the depths of hell itself.
Kazuya froze, staring at it. His heart pounded. He couldn't ignore it. He couldn't look away.
"What… is that?" he whispered.
The abyss pulsed again, its surface rippling like liquid shadow. The rooftop suddenly felt colder, the air heavier. Kazuya's dragon-obsessed heart raced—not with excitement, but with dread.
And yet… something inside him whispered that this was only the beginning.