The quiet alleyway remained dead silent except for the crackle of grease on Anwan’s roasted chicken.
Layla, the Dragon of Wisdom and Slumber, stared down at the short boy holding out a paper bag. For centuries, mortals had offered her gold, ancient relics, livestock sacrifices, and desperate prayers. Never in her thousands of years of existence had a human child offered her a half-eaten chicken leg with a totally blank face.
Her glowing amber eyes narrowed, inspecting Anwan’s face for any sign of deception or hidden mockery.
There was none. His dark eyes were entirely earnest, devoid of fear, arrogance, or deceit.
"Do you... have any idea who I am, little worm?" Layla asked, her voice dropping into a low, resonant hum that vibrated the stones beneath their boots.
Anwan chewed his current bite, swallowed, and nodded simply.
"You are a dragon. I can see the massive heat and aura compressed inside your body. It looks like a giant ball of gold fire hidden behind a human skin."
Layla’s golden eyebrows twitched upward. She leaned down, bringing her face mere inches from his. The air grew warm, carrying the distinct scent of dried embers and ozone.
"You can see my true form through my polymorph aura?"
"Yes," Anwan replied, holding up the bag higher. "And you look like you've been sleeping for a very long time, so I thought you might be hungry. Master always told me that people who sleep a lot wake up starving."
Layla stood up straight, crossing her arms over her crimson silk dress. She let out a soft, exasperated sigh.
"Incredible. A human child who possesses absolute visual perception, yet completely lacks basic survival instinct. You should be cowering on the ground, praying I do not incinerate this entire block."
"Why would you do that?" Anwan asked, tilting his head. "I didn't attack you. And burning the city seems like a waste of wood."
Layla rubbed her temples with two slender fingers. The ancient dragon, feared across empires, felt a headache forming.
"I did not wake from my fifty-year slumber to converse with an odd child," she grumbled, though her eyes lingered on the bag of chicken. The savory aroma of spices and roasted fat was admittedly quite pleasant.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, Layla reached out with two delicate fingers and snatched a roasted drumstick from the bag.
"I shall accept this tribute... not because I require sustenance, but to test your meager culinary taste."
She took a small, elegant bite. Her eyes widened slightly as the rich flavor exploded across her palate. She chewed in silence, then quickly devoured the rest of the meat down to the bone in two clean bites.
"Acceptable," Layla declared, flicking the bone into a nearby wood barrel with effortless precision. "The seasoning is adequate for mortal cuisine."
"It's twenty silver coins a bag," Anwan said proudly. "The tavern master gave me a discount because I paid in cash."
Layla looked at him, her expression a mix of amusement and disbelief.
"You are truly an unusual creature, Anwan Rodas."
Anwan froze slightly, his hand pausing inside his coat.
"How do you know my name?"
Layla scoffed softly, a faint, proud smile gracing her lips.
"I am the Dragon of Wisdom. The winds carry the whispers of the realm to my ears. I know that a young boy with delayed growth rescued Princess Feodia. I know that you slayed a rogue Eos demon in the Northern Whispering Caves. And I know..."
Her amber eyes flickered with a sudden, sharp intensity.
"...that the balance of this world is being corrupted from within."
The atmosphere in the alley instantly shifted. The lightheartedness dissolved, replaced by a heavy, suffocating pressure.
Anwan’s absolute vision caught the sudden shift in the air currents around them. He set his chicken bag down on a wooden crate and rested his right hand lightly on the hilt of his iron broadsword.
"Is this about Lord Araw?" Anwan asked quietly.
Layla’s gaze turned cold.
"So Malakor spoke his name before you ended his life. Yes. Araw Candias is a dangerous anomaly—a half-demon who possesses the intellect of a human scholar and the malicious mana of a high demon. He is planting Catalysts across all five human realms, disrupting the natural mana nodes to force monster surges."
"Why don't you stop him?" Anwan asked simply. "You are stronger than him."
Layla let out a cold, bitter laugh, turning her back to him as her long golden hair fluttered in the night wind.
"The Boundary Accord restrains us. Five hundred years ago, after human beam artillery nearly wiped out the demon race, the Four Dragons decreed that we would not directly interfere in mortal wars unless the balance of the world itself was threatened. If I descend upon the human kingdoms and incinerate Araw, the other kingdoms will view it as an act of war by the Dragon Kin."
She turned her head slightly, looking back at Anwan over her shoulder.
"The dragons govern the balance. But mortals must fight their own shadows. The King of Fontaniska is blind, blinded by corrupt ministers who are being replaced one by one by Eos shapeshifters."
Anwan thought of Princess Feodia, her silver hair and her worried eyes when she handed him the royal amulet. He thought of his master, sitting alone in the woods, knowing the kingdom was rotting from within.
"Feodia knows something is wrong," Anwan said. "She is trying to fix it."
"She is a child playing in a pit of vipers," Layla replied coldly. "Araw’s plan is already reaching its climax. Within three days, a massive monster surge will hit the Northern Defense Line of Fontaniska. The corrupt lords have already diverted the garrison's beam-cannon ammunition. The wall will fall, and Fontaniska will be forced to beg the neighboring Kingdom of Osburn for military aid."
Layla floated inches above the ground, her body beginning to shimmer with a golden, ethereal light as her polymorph spell prepared to transport her away.
"If Osburn steps in, Fontaniska becomes a vassal state. The Five Kingdoms will fall like dominoes, exactly as Araw designed. What will you do, boy?"
Anwan stood straight, wrapping his hand firmly around his broadsword hilt.
"I'm going to the Northern Defense Line."
Layla paused, her golden aura flickering.
"You? You are a single Bronze-rank adventurer with the body of a thirteen-year-old child. You cannot stop an army of ten thousand beasts."
Anwan picked up his bag of chicken, took another bite, and looked Layla dead in the eyes.
"I don't need to fight ten thousand beasts. I just need to cut down the ones that try to hurt my friends."
Layla stared at him for a long moment. Then, to her own surprise, a genuine, radiant laugh escaped her lips—a sound like silver bells ringing across a quiet mountain peak.
"Fascinating. Foolish, but fascinating."
She reached into her dress and tossed a glowing golden scale toward him. Anwan caught it effortlessly between two fingers. The scale was surprisingly light, smooth as polished glass, and warm to the touch.
"A token of my favor," Layla said softly as her body dissolved into a pillar of golden light that shot upward into the night sky, completely invisible to normal human eyes. "If you manage to survive the Northern Line, Anwan Rodas... perhaps I shall allow you to buy me another bag of chicken."
With a soft whoosh of air, the dragon vanished into the night.
The next morning, the grand council chamber of the Fontaniska Palace was filled with heated shouting.
King Fontanis sat on his throne, his face lined with deep exhaustion. Surrounding the long marble table were the high ministers, army generals, and noble lords of the realm.
Standing near the edge of the hall was Princess Feodia, flanked by two loyal royal guards.
"Your Majesty! The reports from the Northern Border are preposterous!" declared Minister Vane—the disguised Eos-4 shapeshifter—his voice dripping with grand theatrical concern. "The local commanders are exaggerating minor wolf pack sightings in order to request additional funds! Our treasury cannot afford to send another shipment of refined mana-stones to the border when our capital infrastructure requires urgent repairs!"
General Mark, an older warrior clad in scarred plate armor, slammed his fist onto the table.
"Nonsense, Vane! My scouts have confirmed that the monster activity near the Whispering Caves has escalated dramatically! The border garrisons are operating on less than twenty percent mana capacity for their heavy beam artillery! If a surge hits now, the walls will not hold!"
"Then let the local militias handle it!" another noble chimed in smoothly. "We cannot panic over every shadow in the woods. Besides, the Kingdom of Osburn has recently offered a joint defense treaty. If the north faces trouble, Osburn’s elite mechanised vanguard can assist us within forty-eight hours."
Feodia stepped forward, her voice ringing sharp and clear through the chamber.
"And what is the price of Osburn's 'assistance,' Lord Vane? They demand free mining rights in our northern valleys and control over our trade checkpoints! You are handing our sovereignty to Osburn on a silver platter!"
Minister Vane turned to Feodia with a subtle, mocking bow.
"Your Highness, you are young and passionate, but statecraft requires practical sacrifices. The King's duty is to protect the capital, not squander precious mana-stones on distant border outposts."
King Fontanis raised a hand, silencing the chamber. He rubbed his temples heavily.
"Enough. Minister Vane... prepare a diplomatic missive to Osburn regarding the treaty terms. General Mark, send two minor knight squads to reinforce the northern wall. That should suffice."
Feodia’s heart sank. She looked at Minister Vane, catching the faint, triumphant smirk on the nobleman's face before he bowed to the King.
He manipulated my father again, Feodia thought bitterly, her fists clenching tight against her silk dress. The court is completely compromised.
As the council adjourned and the nobles filed out of the hall, Feodia hurried out to the inner garden courtyard, her mind racing. She needed a way to warn the northern commanders, but the royal knights were bound by the King's official orders.
Suddenly, a quiet voice spoke from the shadow of a nearby marble pillar.
"You look upset, Princess."
Feodia gasped, turning around quickly.
Standing in the shade was Anwan. He wore his familiar leather armor, his broadsword strapped across his back, and a large travel pack slung over his shoulder.
"Anwan!" Feodia whispered, rushing over to him. "How did you get past the palace guards?"
"I walked through the side wall," Anwan said simply. "The guard on duty was sleeping, and his posture left a three-foot blind spot near the rose bushes."
Feodia let out a breath that was half-sigh, half-laugh.
"Of course you did. Anwan, the council just refused to send reinforcements to the Northern Defense Line. Minister Vane is blocking all supply shipments. A monster surge is coming, and the border wall is practically undefended!"
"I know," Anwan said calmly. "I met a dragon last night. She told me."
Feodia froze, staring at him with wide, incredulous eyes.
"A... a dragon? Anwan, this is not the time for jokes!"
Anwan reached into his pocket and pulled out the shimmering golden scale Layla had given him, holding it up to the sunlight. The sheer concentration of primordial mana emanating from the scale made the air around them hum with heat.
Feodia stared at the scale, completely speechless. As a member of the royal family, she had studied ancient texts on dragon magic; the aura radiating from the golden object was undeniably authentic.
"You... you actually met a dragon?" she breathed, looking from the scale to Anwan's calm face.
"Yes. She ate my chicken," Anwan nodded, putting the scale back into his coat. "She said the surge will hit the northern wall in three days. I came to tell you that I'm leaving for the north right now."
Feodia looked at the small boy standing before her. She knew the northern border was about to become a bloody warzone filled with thousands of feral beasts and hidden demon conspirators.
Yet, looking into Anwan’s quiet, unwavering eyes, she didn't see hesitation or fear.
"Anwan... it's too dangerous. Even with your speed and eyes, an army of monsters cannot be stopped by one person."
"I won't be alone," Anwan said smoothly. "Master is coming too."
"Sir Rodas?" Feodia asked, surprised.
"Yes. He heard about the corrupt ministers blocking supplies and got angry," Anwan explained. "He said he's going to teach the border commander how to smash monsters without relying on fancy magic cannons."
A wave of relief and hope washed over Feodia. With the legendary former Grand Knight Commander moving to the front lines alongside Anwan, the northern border stood a fighting chance.
She reached into her sleeve, pulled out a small, sealed scroll stamped with her personal royal signet, and handed it to Anwan.
"Give this to General Garin at the Northern Wall. It authorizes him to commandeer local guild resources and declare a state of emergency without waiting for the council's approval. It is all I can do from inside the capital."
Anwan took the scroll and placed it carefully inside his pack.
"I'll deliver it."
Feodia stepped closer, looking down at him with a mixture of warmth and deep gratitude.
"Please... stay safe, Anwan. When you come back, I'll order the royal chefs to cook you fifty kilograms of the best meat in the kingdom."
Anwan’s eyes lit up instantly, a rare, bright grin appearing on his face.
"Fifty kilograms? I'll make sure the wall doesn't break."
Without another word, Anwan turned and vanished back into the shadows of the garden, leaving Feodia standing alone in the quiet sunlight, praying for his safe return.
Meanwhile, two hundred miles to the north, at the base of the massive gray mountain ridge that marked the border of the Fontaniska Kingdom...
A man stood on a high cliff overlooking the valley below.
He wore a dark traveler's cloak, but beneath the fabric, his hands were covered in intricate dark runes.
It was Eos-3—another of Araw Candias’s elite shapeshifters.
Below the cliff, thousands of dark shapes moved beneath the canopy of the forest. The air was thick with the foul stench of blood, rot, and raw magic.
Goblins, Cave Stalkers, Dire Wolves, and massive Mountain Ogres—normally territorial and aggressive toward one another—were standing shoulder-to-shoulder in complete, terrifying unison, their eyes glowing a feverish, unnatural crimson.
At the center of the beast army sat three massive, pulsating Catalysts of Abaddon, buried deep into the earth, constantly pumping black mana into the soil and air.
"The preparation is complete," Eos-3 whispered into a communication orb, his voice echoed by the screeching of thousands of hungry monsters. "The mana saturation in the valley has reached maximum capacity."
From the orb, Araw Candias’s cold, smooth voice responded immediately.
"Begin the march, Eos-3. Destroy the Northern Wall. Let the humans see how helpless their precious technology is when the mana runs dry."
"Understood, Lord Araw," Eos-3 replied with a dark, twisted grin.
He raised his staff high into the air and brought it slamming down onto the cliff edge. A shockwave of dark purple lightning erupted from the tip, shattering the sky above the valley with a thunderous boom.
ROAAAAAAAAR!
A deafening, collective howl tore through the northern mountains as ten thousand mutated beasts burst out from the treeline, surging forward like a black tide toward the helpless stone walls of Fontaniska's Northern Line.
The war for the Five Kingdoms had officially begun.
Comments (0)