The king sat on his throne as screams and clangs of metal resounded in the streets of his city. They were surrounded. The walls wouldn’t hold for much longer. His soldiers were running out of arrows. The scrolls they’d bought from the elves were limited, and the friend he’d thought would stay with him until his death was preparing for departure with an indifferent look in his eyes.

“I had warned you, but you failed to listen,” the dragon spoke, his voice clear within the chaos. “Magic will attract the creatures of the north. You do not have a goddess to protect you.”

“I believed that I had you,” the king said, the undersides of his eyes darker than his shadow. “Why do you leave? Surely you can save us.”

“It would be tiresome.”

The king blinked. The being before him was a creature of self-interest. By mere chance, he had made a contract with the dragon who had promised to give him a kingdom. The kingdom, he had received.

“You helped me because I interested you. Have I lost your interest?”

“All those who wish to become king meet a similar end. I would have left even if you had taken my warning. But I will not leave yet. Do not worry; you will come with me.”

The king tightened his grip on his throne. “The magic my kingdom used was never enough. It was your presence that brought the creatures here.”

“You know nothing,” the dragon softly growled. “Be thankful that your life will be spared among the rest.”

The king looked outside. The sky was tainted red.

He’d heard tales of mere men making contracts with creatures of old, beings of mighty magic. In the end, too much greed would bring ruin. But all contracts were made from greed. He had been sure never to want too much, but only more for his people. He’d risen from the bottom.

“Why me, Mernos?” he asked. “I ask you again. Why choose me if everything you’ve given me will be lost?”

“Gaining and losing are fateful occurrences,” the dragon replied. “Perhaps I wanted to see how high the lowest human could go. Indeed, you flew high.”

“And now, I fall again.”

“It is a matter of comparison. Fall you will, but never lower than the rest. Travel with me—I will show you better things.”

“Do I still hold your interest?”

“Yes. Unlike the others I helped, you were never consumed by power.”

“You made me king like you promised,” the king spat. “But I was far too inexperienced. It was you who the nobles feared, not I. Perhaps if the kingdom was united, the invasion could be pushed back. Look now! They have all left after hearing that you will depart, desperate to protect only themselves. The beautiful capital—it falls today.”

“So it does.”

The king placed his hand on his face, letting out a sorrowful laugh. “Had I been more obsessed with power! Had I been crueler instead of relying on you to strengthen the kingdom! Your magic saved us through the droughts and floods, but now that you are leaving, there is nothing left.”

“You are being foolish, taking the blame,” the dragon muttered. “Don’t worry. Your race always finds a way to survive.”

“Was I a good king?”

The king looked at the dragon with weary eyes. Everything he’d done felt meaningless in the face of destruction.

“Look outside.”

He did.

“Do you see the people fighting? The cries of the soldiers? They are here, protecting your city,” the dragon said.

“Protecting their families all because I failed to warn them. They still hold onto the hope that I will be able to convince you. Yet you tell me to escape.”

“Hope is a good thing. Despair is also good. Strong emotions stir mana more violently. You asked me if you were a good king. If you meant good as in kind, then I will say yes.”

“How about good as in ability?”

“It was never about your ability. It was what I could give you.”

“Yes…it was.”

The king held back the desire to yell at the dragon. Why take everything away now? Why let the innocents die?

“Will you not save them?” the king pleaded. “Just as you saved me.”

The dragon waved his hand. “Too much, and it becomes repetitious. I would rather slumber than become bored.”

The king closed his eyes.

His mouth coughed out blood at the next second.

“Etimon!” the dragon yelled.

“Mernos, you’ve failed your contract,” the king smiled, falling to the floor while clutching his chest. “I will not die a peaceful death as you promised.”

“What is the meaning of this!”

“Theserine,” the king croaked. “Even your magic will not save me.”

“You foolish human!”

“I heard that a dragon’s pride is greater than any other emotion,” the king said weakly. “I pray that it is true. Mernos, you will fail your contract. As compensation, I ask that you take care of the kingdom.”

“Don’t test me, mortal!” the dragon roared, its body growing in size, becoming terrible and great. “I make the terms!”

“Ha…Look how enraged you’ve become…”

The king’s eyes were rapidly losing light. His life was slipping away, never to return.

The dragon had seen countless lives pass. The dead could never be brought back. From the depths of its very being, it abhorred the thought of the man dying there, perhaps out of spite, believing that it had bested him by making him fail the contract.

“You will pay the price of foolishness, human.”

The dragon placed its finger on the king’s body, sharing its deep magic with the man. While it detested the thought of sharing its magic with another, it wouldn’t allow the man to cause it to fail. The man would die peacefully, but surely, he would pay the price.

“W-what’s happening? What did you do?”

The king gasped, looking at his hands. His body was glowing, and his hair had become silver. The blemishes on his body were being washed away.

“I’ve seen your determination. I will save your kingdom, however bothersome it will be,” the dragon declared, causing the man to kneel. “But you will pay the price. No…not only you. You and everyone born to you will become mine. I have saved you from death—now your life is no longer yours.”

“It was never mine to begin with,” the king said, tears streaming down his eyes. “I couldn’t ask for anything better! Protect the kingdom—forever and ever!”

When a silver gleam soared over the city, it marked the beginning of a new era. No longer would fallible human hands rule the people, but rather the wisdom and experience of a dragon. In a mere day, the creatures were annihilated, and a new name and flag would be created to commemorate the fateful event when a mere man had managed to convince a dragon.

Yet—it would be the beginning of a tragedy.

⤙ ◯ ⤚

“...and thus, a contract was made between the Guardian and the first king,” Boren read, flipping a page. “At the cost of his life and the lives of his offspring, the kingdom would be protected by the great dragon. And so the country stands strong till this day when hundreds and hundreds of years have passed.”

Shaden crossed his arms. “That’s why you have to die. For some ancient contract.”

The prince smiled. “I suppose so. It’s a beautiful tale, isn’t it? Us dying is proof and affirmation that the Guardian is still with us. Because of it, there are no struggles for the throne among siblings. The kingdom enjoys peace due to the sacrifice of a few.”

“But you still wish to run.”

“It’s my final struggle against fate. But all men must die someday.”

Boren closed the book, setting it down on the table. “Now, let’s look at the real details. What exactly do our deaths do? Some believe that it is simply a tradition, but the Guardian is not a savage.”

He tickled his dragon’s neck that was placed on his lap. “After the war was over, the dragon made a covenant with the royal family. As long as it lived, Selios would reign supreme over the kingdom. As a sign, each child born was given a fragment of the dragon—in the shape of a dragon.”

“So your bond—Markendrath—is the Guardian?”

“No, not quite. He is undoubtedly from the Guardian, but they are different. Markendrath shares his life with me, and thus, resembles me the most. He is like an extension of my being.”

Shaden tilted his head. “Did you raise him since he was an egg?”

It was the expected sequence, but the prince shook his head. “Our kindred—while dragons—are not natural dragons. Their existences are more spiritual than physical. They cannot breed nor have to eat.”

“But they have bodies.”

“Yes. Bodies that will evaporate into nothing after we die.”

Shaden looked at the dragon. It looked very solid to him. He wanted to try and chop a part of the dragon off to experiment, but that would be rude. Instead, he turned his attention to the prince.

“Why tell me this?” he asked. “You’re revealing your cards. You of all people should know what that means.”

“It is to gain your trust,” the prince stated. “You know little about me. I know little about you. Only through conversing can we understand each other. What about you? What kind of life have you lived?”

Shaden told him. How he’d moved to Danark, how he’d learned swordsmanship, how his grandfather had saved him. Though he left out information about the other families just in case. There was no knowing how much Practol had revealed, but caution was never bad.

“It’s almost always foggy in Skotos,” Shaden told the prince. “But on top of the mountain where the castle is, you can see the sky. The stars are most beautiful there.”

“A mountain with the Forest!” Boren exclaimed.

“It’s a small mountain. But more mysterious is the giant chasm at its center. Do you know what volcanoes are?”

“Do you mean the fire-spewing mountains?”

“Yes. It looks like that, but instead of fire, there is nothing—only darkness.”

“What lies within it?”

“I don’t know. But I’ve heard some say that a goddess is sealed within it.”

“A goddess?”

“That’s where they think I got my power from.”

“But it is strange. I feel nothing influencing you. If another entity truly was giving you power, the Guardian’s blessing on you would notice it.”

They didn’t know about the shadow. “I’ve always been a little strange,” Shaden shrugged. “How powerful do you think I am?”

“Powerful enough to gain the Guardian’s interest,” Boren answered.

“I’ve always wondered if there are tiers to mages or fighters.”

“Tiers?”

“Yes, like ranks.”

“It’s tricky to determine one’s power with tiers. Ranks and titles can be earned, but what determines someone’s power? The mana they possess? Their ability to control it? The spells they can use? I would say the Adventurer’s Guild likes to do something similar, but it’s never definite.”

That piqued Shaden’s interest. He’d always wanted to measure himself to other people in a show of power and skill, but rarely had he gotten the chance to do so. And when he had, it had never been as refreshing as he’d thought it would be.

But now wasn’t the time to show off.

“I see. How about you? How powerful are you?”

“Our family has always produced the greatest magicians. My sister is excellent at making rainfall. My brother can conjure storms. I—well, I’ve always been good at illusions.”

“How hard is changing the weather?”

“It’s a difficult process. A team of skilled mages could manage it without difficulty with the right tools. But individually, it’s quite a feat.”

“Could I learn how to do it?”

“Hah, it would take years! Now, aren’t you curious about how skilled I am with illusions?”

“I’m more interested in changing the weather.”

“I have other talents as well, such as shapeshifting.”

“Oh?”

“Now, observe.”

The prince’s hand suddenly sprouted silver scales that bristled down his whole arm. The tips of his fingers became sharp, replaced with pristine claws that almost looked metallic.

Shaden’s eyes grew wider. “Could I touch it?”

“You may.”

So he did. It was warmer than he’d expected but twice as hard. The transformed arm, like the dragon, was brimming with power, filled with mana.

“Let me guess. This is similar to how your dragon exists,” Shaden said. “These scales and claws—they aren’t real.”

“They are real,” the prince snorted, “but yes. Just as Markendrath exists, so can this arm.”

“Can you turn into other things?”

“No.”

“You can’t turn into—let’s say, a cat?”

“How would that be possible?” Boren chuckled. “You would have to completely convert your body into mana, then reconstruct it as the animal—which you would have to know well enough. Such feats are impossible. Perhaps gods can do it, but humans? Ah, but the dragons can as they are essentially mana. Markendrath?”

The dragon stirred, turning into a large beast with silver fur. A moment later, it shifted back, slumping on the ground as if it was tired.

“What did it change into?” Shaden asked, not recognizing the animal.

“Nothing identifiable,” the prince admitted. “It’s been a while since I reviewed what large cats look like.”

“So…it’s like an illusion.”

“A tangible one.”

While interesting, Shaden didn’t feel the need to learn about something he wouldn’t be able to reproduce. Talented or not, he didn’t have a dragon.

“Let’s go back to changing the weather,” Shaden smiled. “That seems far more interesting.”

“But I’m not very good at it.”

“We could learn together.”

“What do you wish to accomplish by changing the weather? It’s not good to meddle with nature too much.”

“I thought it would be cool.”

“Cool?”

“Yes.”

The prince frowned, letting out a weak laugh. “Why not? But we must discuss our plans to escape sooner or later. We’ve gone off track.”

Shaden looked around with his eyes. The palace was heavy with magic he couldn’t identify.

“The Guardian must be listening,” Shaden said, “or even the Reapers. Are you sure about this?”

“This room is safe,” Boren yawned. “The Guardian is not always connected to us, or even you. It is tiring to be connected. Thus, these rooms guarantee some peace.”

“I’m willing to bet a finger that there were some people who conspired to overthrow the Guardian,” Shaden guessed. “The Guardian must be underestimating humans.”

“Perhaps. But for the dragon, it would be better if my siblings and I grew more powerful.”

He had a sad look on his face. He looked out of the window, putting his fingers together.

“Do you know why I don’t practice powerful magic?” Boren said. “In the secret archives, there are records of revolting. There were princes who could split mountains and princesses who could freeze giant lakes. But they all failed. And when they die—”

The prince closed his eyes. “All of that power—it goes to the dragon. That is why Markendrath exists—so that when I perish, he will take my spirit and become one with the Guardian once more. Perhaps by being weak, the Guardian will take no notice of me.”

Something dawned on Shaden. “Will that happen to me as well?”

“I am not sure. You do not have a kindred.”

A cruel reality. The royal family was a power farm that the Guardian could harvest. Of course, they were revered, loved, and idolized by the people, treated better than any celebrity in the waking world. Some would gladly live that life.

“How long do you have left?”

“Until the coronation of the next king. I would say at least ten years. The longer my father lives, the better. But his fate is also in the Guardian’s hands—even more so.”

“It looked like his mind was completely taken over.”

“There is a reason why no king went against the Guardian’s will. The king’s kindred becomes the Guardian itself, and together, they share one mind. And I have heard…that they see the world differently.”

“It sure looked like it.”

“Are you mocking my father? You could be put in the dungeons for that.”

“As long as no one else hears it, right?”

“Please abstain from rudeness. I don’t want cracks to form in our relationship.”

“Right.” Shaden scratched his cheek. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to mock the king.”

He’d become too comfortable due to the prince’s accepting attitude, and while it was true that he had the upper hand as he could give the prince access to Skotos, he knew how quickly positions could change. And if there was anything he’d learned from the Nieuts, those at higher ranks took great offense when their authority was undermined.

“I accept your apology.”

Shaden gripped his fists. While trying to be like Reycan, he couldn’t be haughty. He would never be rude in front of his friends. But as Shaden, his deeper impulses sometimes came out due to his possession of great power—

Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Good and evil. What was he, really?

He just wanted to have a fun time.

He only wanted to be recognized.

⤙ ◯ ⤚

“The school festival is coming up soon.”

Demund raised his head. “Hmm?”

“The Senior Festival. You know, for raising funds for their senior trip,” Rhyne commented, letting a drop of water fall into the bucket. “You couldn’t go last year, right? I don’t remember seeing you.”

A flash of memories swept through Demund’s head. “Yeah. I was in the hospital.”

“You—oh.”

“It’s no big deal.”

It had already been a year since he had lost his leg. No…it had only been a year. It had felt so much longer. In the blink of an eye, seven years had passed in the other world. He’d been through agony, pain, happiness, joy—a whole spectrum of emotions. Maybe because he had felt so much, he didn’t feel as…vivid anymore. When he had first received news of his acceptance to the Junior’s Advancement, it had felt like the world was revolving around him.

“Think before speaking,” Riley shook his head, putting his hand to his forehead. “I’ve told you this so many times.”

“Well, I try,” Rhyne muttered, focusing on the bucket again. “But let’s look at the positives. You know what, Demund? I’ll buy the tickets for you this time.”

“Can you buy food with tickets?”

“Of course!”

“Well, I’m definitely in,” Demund grinned. “I’m going to empty your wallet.”

“Er—don’t use too much?”

Demund let out a mischievous laugh. “We shall see.”

Mediocrity wasn’t a bad thing. It was peaceful and stable and predictable, just as they were currently. No drama, no dangers, no possible negatives. Come to think of it, every dangerous situation he’d experienced had its ties with Enariss. If she hadn’t been close to him, no one would have paid him much attention. He wouldn’t have gotten his head bashed by criminals, nor would he have attempted to confess to her and bike to school at night.

His moment to confess…it had never come. What if he had succeeded? Would he be better off or worse? Too many unpredictable things. Right now, surrounded by his friends, he could more or less predict what would happen.

He look at his hand where the strange mark had been placed. It would have been some kind of tracker, though he didn’t know why Deion and his strange group wanted him to join.

He’d been nominated. For what? Unlike Shaden, he disliked drastic change. He didn’t have the ability to deal with it. Him from a year or two ago would have been excited to the brim, but he’d seen what unknown circumstances could become. Not fun, but unpleasant and strange. Unpredictable and foreign. Those who were not his friends only brought discomfort and misery. They would try to use him, like how the Nieuts and the Seines had—

“Ow!”

Demund jerked his hands back, as Alina held her hand with a look of pain. His thoughts had distracted him from what he was doing.

“That hurts! Wow, my hand is cold,” Alina complained, wrapping it with her free hand. “What was that about?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Demund apologized wholeheartedly. “I got distracted. Could I see your hand?”

“Phew. It’s not that bad.”

She stretched it out before him. Besides being a little red, it looked fine. Demund let out a sigh of relief.

“You didn’t curse me or anything, did you?” Alina said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure we are on good terms.”

“Yeah, yeah, no,” Demund rolled his eyes. “You’re overreacting. If Jothan was here, you—”

“Hey!” Alina said, kicking him under the table.

“Oof, ff, no, you’re fine,” Demund smiled, holding in a groan. “I accidentally lowered the temperature.”

“You what?” Rhyne demanded. “You can change the temperature? Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this?”

“I was going to teach you how to create ice after you mastered conjuring water—”

“I can make ice? You mean I don’t have to go to the fridge to chill my drinks?”

“Rhyne.”

“Right, sorry.”

“But that’s pretty cool,” Riley admitted. “Is it dangerous?”

“It can be, which is why I wanted to make sure we didn’t rush,” Demund said. “Even creating fire can be dangerous.”

Rhyne nodded. “Ah, makes sense.”

“You accepted that pretty quickly.”

“Well, my mind processes things faster.”

“Nice.”

“Anyways, sorry Alina,” Demund apologized once more.

“It’s fine.”

It was silent for a few seconds after that until Kacy piped up.

“Is there magic that makes people fall in love with you?” she asked, “or at least more interested.”

Demund shrugged. “Not that I know of. There might be.”

“Are you interested in anyone?” Rhyne whistled.

“That’s why I’m asking,” Kacy smiled, leaning her chin against her hands. “Are you interested in anyone?”

“No—er, not really,” Rhyne stuttered. He cleared his throat. “Are you two going with anyone to the festival?”

“Together,” Kacy said, wrapping her hands around Alina’s arm. “Maybe with some other girls.”

“Ah. Um, okay,” Rhyne nodded.

Demund resisted the urge to burst out laughing. It was even funnier when his friend began to focus on the bucket of water even harder, his face as serious as it could get. Riley was pretty good at staying cool-headed, but the rest of them—maybe not Kacy—were still regular teens.

Regular teens. What was he then? He’d learned to act from Shpiel. He’d learned to read the mood from the First Squad of the Third Platoon. Sometimes he wished he could be as free-spirited as Rhyne, but his conscience would never let him.

“You know Kacy, your voice sounds familiar,” Rhyne blurted while balancing a blob of water the size of a pea. “I don’t quite remember where I heard it. And you’re good at editing videos as well. Do you have a Viggle channel?”

“W-what?” she giggled, putting a hand before her mouth. “To be fair, I think I have a nice voice. You must be confusing me with some other person.”

“Probably,” Rhyne nodded. “I forgot you that you are a grade below us. Too young to be a Viggler, right?”

“Yeah?”

Demund exchanged a glance with Riley, who wiggled his eyebrows.

Honestly, Demund liked his friend’s attitude. He was a natural extrovert, able to talk with anyone or anything. But…his intentions to become closer to Kacy seemed all too obvious.

“But I agree. You have a nice voice.”

“I’m going to visit the store,” Riley announced, getting up. “Rhyne, come. I need you to carry the stuff.”

“Huh? Suddenly? It’s so far away. If you’re buying—”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m buying.”

The two of them left the room, and Demund could imagine Riley giving Rhyne some advice like he always did. So now he was with the two girls within the room.

And Davis. He had been sitting in the corner while scrolling through his phone, lifeless and quiet. Demund knew that he had been the one who was beaten in the bathroom the other day. Did he feel sympathy? Perhaps. But a part of him thought serves him right for not taking his side on the night of the party.

He didn’t know what to do with Davis. He was acting as Edan’s spy for whatever reason; maybe the guy wanted to steal his magic and claim it as his own.

Demund sighed softly, ruffling his hair.

Many people in the other world had called him kind. Eilae had called kindness a weakness. He knew how good it felt when people showed him gratitude and how awful it was to be taken advantage of. Frankly, he was confused.

I don’t know what the heck I should do.

But he couldn’t act blind.

“Hey, Davis? Want to take a walk?”

“What? Why?”

“I heard you in the bathroom the other day.”

Demund’s eye caught Davis’s body twitch ever so slightly. The large guy looked at him, glanced around the room, and got up from his chair.

“Let’s take a walk,” he agreed.

They went out into the hallway where they leaned against the wall some doors away from their club room. Demund took in a deep breath and turned to Davis.

“Why are you still hanging out with Edan?” he asked. “He treats you…poorly.”

Davis didn’t reply. Instead, he scowled.

“I heard a part of your conversation,” Demund continued. “Edan wants you to learn our magic and give it to him. Well, that’s going to be tough.”

“You were eavesdropping, and you don’t know why I’m still with him?” Davis snorted.

“Hey, it wasn’t like I was trying to. I just happened to hear it.”

“Doesn’t matter. So what? Will you kick me out?”

“You haven’t acted disorderly, so not really,” Demund said. “You know, I don’t care about you or what you do. Just let us enjoy some peace, okay?”

Davis snickered. “Peace. Sounds nice. Must be great having everything you want.”

“I’m satisfied with what I have.”

Davis got off the wall, heading back towards the club room. “You’re lucky,” he muttered. “I’m going home.”

“Right. See you around.”

After getting his bag, Davis left. No one asked why, though Alina sent a worried glance in Demund’s direction. He’s just tired, he mouthed.

A short while later, Riley and Rhyne returned with a bag full of goods. They placed it on the table to enjoy while they continued practicing their magic.

“I saw Davis going back,” Rhyne said, throwing a cookie in his mouth. “His eyes were kinda red. Must be allergies.”

“Did you take your shot?” Riley asked.

“Of course. Man, I hate spring.”

They continued with their normal routine afterwards. When the clock struck five, they packed their belongings and headed home. Demund recited the vocabulary for the next test that would come up while pedaling on his bike, but even though his mouth was speaking, his mind was on something else.

Davis. Had he cried because of what he’d said? Just because of that?

Demund couldn’t help but frown and think, why? He’d been polite. He’d asked nicely even while knowing that Davis was a spy. Had the guy experienced Fort Avagal for even a day, all of his tears would have been spent within an hour.

He felt incredibly uncomfortable as if there was a lump inside of his chest. Had he done something wrong?

He wished Enariss was there. She’d always acted as the leader. She’d made the decisions, telling them what to do. Her actions were decisive, unlike his inability to properly choose what to do. He couldn’t completely impersonate Reycan. Once, he’d taken pride in his kindness. Now, he was starting to empathize with Eilae.

It felt as if his eyes were being covered by a giant, dark cloth. The more he saw and learned, the more his world seemed to melt into an incongruous mess.

Oh, Enariss. Oh, Jothan.

He missed them dearly. Jothan had always been sure of himself like a real hero. Alina was like him. Their whole family seemed to glow with goodness when he was younger, and even now, he thought of them as the perfect kind of family he wanted.

A family he could create with Enariss.

He laughed at himself. He would have to become a millionaire to even have a chance of dating her. Wasn’t that why he’d been working so hard until now? So that he could prove himself as worthy?

“Oh, hey, Orange.”

It wasn’t the cat’s real name, but he called the street cats by their color. They’d usually run away when seeing people, but few of them did now from him. He didn’t mind the cat’s dirtiness. After finding a tick in its fur, he pinched it and tossed it away. He was used to bugs on animals.

“Why can’t everyone be like cats?” he asked. The cat looked at him condescendingly, demanding an offering for its services. Demund gladly produced a treat from his bag and gave it to the cat, who happily ate it.

What he was doing now was something he’d always dreamed of doing. Befriending the animals that no one could approach. Walking through the streets during the night while being followed by a parade of strays. He could do these things.

It didn’t feel that special anymore. He’d done it so much in Nafar.

He eventually arrived at his house and ate dinner with his family, telling them about school. He left out any unpleasant parts; he couldn’t let his parents worry. They were old, and he was an only child. He’d already made them worry too much.

Like always, he reviewed his class materials. Without Enariss there, there wasn’t much of a competition. There could have been those with mind-strengthening abilities, but apparently, it was worse than circulating. After memorizing and understanding until satisfaction, he washed himself and crawled into bed, looking forward to the other world.

He closed his eyes. The mana roared throughout his body, the current stronger than the day before. He was improving. It wouldn’t be long before he would be able to teach circulating to his friends.

Suddenly, a strange thought came to him.

Why?

“Why, indeed,” he muttered.

But before he could dwell on it any longer, he felt the darkness envelop him, taking his mind to the other side of the world.