Ryle sat across from Elden in the grand dining hall, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. The golden chandeliers cast a warm glow over the lavish feast before them, but Ryle had no appetite.
Elden, however, grinned as he sipped his wine. "You're awfully quiet, Ryle. I expected more excitement."
Ryle leaned back in his chair. "You're not scared?"
Elden chuckled. "Scared? Of what?"
"This is illegal," Ryle said flatly. "Hunting dragons is strictly forbidden by the kingdom's laws."
Elden swirled his wine, smirking. "Come on, Ryle. You wouldn't report your own friend, would you?"
Ryle forced a smirk, his fingers digging into his arms. "Of course not."
Elden laughed heartily. "I knew I could count on you! This will be a great adventure. A glorious hunt!"
Ryle raised his glass in a mock toast. Inside, his blood boiled.
'Enjoy your last hunt, Elden. I'm going to expose everything.'
Later that night, Ryle sat beside the captured elf woman in his study. She stared blankly at the flames in the fireplace, her emerald eyes reflecting the flickering light.
She had been found among the attackers. But she had no memory of her past.
The elves in the forest had searched their records, but no one knew her.
She had no family. No history. No name.
Ryle exhaled, leaning forward. "Then I'll give you a name."
The elf blinked, turning to him.
"From now on," he said, "your name is Thea."
She whispered the name under her breath. "Thea…"
Ryle nodded. "You may not remember who you were, but that doesn't mean you have to be no one."
Thea's fingers tightened into fists. "...Thank you."
That night, Ryle took Thea to a secluded courtyard behind the castle. The moonlight shone down, illuminating the training ground.
"If you want to survive in this world, you need to be strong," Ryle said, cracking his knuckles.
Thea tilted her head. "You… want to train me?"
Ryle nodded. "Not just train you—I'm going to teach you how to fight dragons."
Thea's eyes widened. "Dragons? But why?"
Ryle looked toward the distant mountains. "Because soon, we'll be facing one."
Then, without warning—he lunged.
His fist stopped inches from Thea's face.
She flinched but didn't move.
Ryle smirked. "Lesson one—never hesitate."
Thea's jaw clenched. "Again."
For hours, Ryle drilled her.
Teaching her footwork. Defense. How to strike with precision.
But most importantly—how to fight against a dragon.
By dawn, Thea lay on the ground, drenched in sweat. Her hands trembled from exhaustion.
But there was fire in her eyes.
Ryle nodded in approval. "Good. Rest for now. You'll need your strength."
A week later, Elden's group departed.
The nobles rode in luxurious carriages, dressed in expensive hunting gear. Their armor was polished, their spears and swords sharpened.
They looked more like arrogant trophy hunters than warriors.
Ryle rode on horseback beside Elden. Thea sat behind him, silent and alert.
As they neared the mountains, the air grew thicker with tension.
Ryle closed his eyes, focusing.
Then—his mind reached out.
A telepathic whisper carried through the wind.
("They're coming. Prepare yourselves.")
Somewhere in the mountains, his dragon family heard his warning.
Then—a furious roar shattered the sky.
A black-scaled dragon descended like a meteor, slamming into the ground before them.
Dust erupted. The nobles' horses reared in terror, throwing their riders to the ground.
Ryle's heart clenched as he recognized the dragon.
Deep crimson eyes.
Serrated horns.
A body covered in scars.
And a voice filled with rage and sorrow.
"You killed my father!"
Ryle's breath caught in his throat.
It was Dravenith.
His younger dragon brother.