Six pairs of legs pushed swiftly through the forest, boots dragging mud and snapping twigs, every step faster than the last, urgency pulsing through the pack like a fever. Breathless, nerves fraying, they pressed on.
"Are you sure you heard right? A powerful mana stone appeared in this area?" The youngest man's voice trembled, a note of hunger tangled with fear. Mana—so rare that even a whisper could set every hunter within a hundred miles on fire with greed.
"Can't you feel it? I can taste mana in the air," the woman said, her voice too alive for a forest so silent. "This treasure could save our clan from poverty." But the birds were silent. Even the wind felt strangled.
The closer they moved, the more the world warped. No breeze, no scurrying animals beneath the brush, just a suffocating stillness that left the living feeling out of place. Every footstep sounded too loud.
"I don't like this, sis…" The smallest boy whispered, gut twisting as if he could feel the forest trying to spit them back out.
"Come on, Dravion. Cheer up!" His older brother wore a grin too wide, arrogant as always. "We're so close. Aren't you a man? You can do it. And even if you're scared, with me here—pfft—gods themselves would kneel before us!"
"If you say so, big brother..." Dravion muttered, but the fear never loosened its grip.
Moments passed, each breath heavier than the last.
"Stop." The man at the front, older, battle-scarred, lifted a hand. "What is that?"His finger pointed through the trees. There, something loomed. Two meters tall—alien, unnatural, out of place.
"Is that... a rock?" One of the younger men's voice cracked, tension threading through curiosity. "Why does it look... scaly?"
"You're right. It kind of looks like an... egg?" The woman's voice was a shiver, awe and dread knotted tight together.
"An egg? Are you nuts?" The older man's scoff rang hollow. "At that size? You think dragons live around here?"
"Dragons abandoned this region fifty thousand years ago," another chimed in, words quick, like reciting a ward against fear. "There's no way an egg could survive here."
"Then it must be the stone," the muscular hunter insisted, eyes glittering. "It's just shaped weird."
"Let's check it fast. Before someone else finds it."
They slipped forward, slicing through the underbrush with their blades, pushing aside stubborn branches, hearts pounding louder than their footsteps. At last, the dark mass stood revealed—black, impossibly black, scales catching the faintest light, heat radiating from it like the heart of a dying star.
"I can feel the mana..." The leader breathed out, wide-eyed, as if the air itself was sweetened. "It's strong. Powerful. We... we really found it... the mana stone everyone craves... it's here..."
His hand drifted across the sharp surface. The edge bit him, blood welling and running down his skin, oddly fragrant even as it stung.
CRACK.
A golden mist spilled out, thick and alive, curling around their faces like breath from the gods themselves.
"Don't breathe it in—we don't know what it—"
Too late.
The scent was everywhere. Rich, addictive. Every mind dulled, spaced out, drunk on magic and temptation.
SPLASH!
A burst of red painted the leaves.
The man's head was gone.
Gone...
One blink before, he stood whole. Now, only a stump.Silence swept in—a silence that gnawed at the soul, the kind that sets nerves on fire.
AAAAHHHH!
The scream tore through the woods. Another head. Another gone.
"Delicious."
The voice was young, almost gentle—smooth as velvet, but feral underneath, alien in every way.
The woman froze in her final heartbeat, forced to see golden eyes—serpentine, cold, ancient—locking on to her. I'm dead. Her last thought faded, helpless against that gaze.
"Run, Dravion! Run—!"
The voice cut out. Another died. Then another. The boasting brother fell as silent as the rest.
And when the blood settled, only one child was left. He dropped to the ground, body trembling, breath lost in the rain of terror.
"Are you afraid of death?" The question came from a voice smooth and impossibly cold.
In the boy's wide eyes, a creature stalked closer—black scales laced with gold, runes pulsing beneath the skin, its face wrong and monstrous.
Dragon… Why is there a dragon here…? No… Mommy… Daddy… Please… save me…
No sound left his lips. He hovered between fear and disbelief.
No pain in the end—just darkness, too fast for terror.
The creature's jaw unhinged, a casual snap, and the boy's head was crushed. Blood spattered the ground, his small body dropping into silence.
The smell of blood clung to every leaf, thick enough to make grown men retch. But to this one, it was sweet—sweeter than it should be.
"Delicious prey... but why does it feel so lonely to eat them...?"
The dragon child's golden eyes drifted over the corpses. The slaughter brought no joy. Only silence. Only emptiness.
The scent set his heart racing, body moved by some ancient instinct. He didn't know why—it just felt right.
"They had pointy ears. Blonde hair... like Sister did once..." A single tear traced his scaled cheek. Huh...? Sister...? Was she mine? Did I ever have one? I can't remember... Who am I...?
A claw pressed hard against his temple, shaking free memories that stabbed instead of soothed.
"Primarion…" he whispered.
His voice turned bitter.
"No. I hate it. I hate that name. It hurts. It burns."
His breath slowed. He looked at the boy's body.
"Dravion... the boy was called Dravion."
A slow, dark smile, twisted and cold, spread across his stained lips.
"I shall be Dravion then. Yes… it sounds better."
Dravion stood in the ruins, blood and silence his only companions.
Rain began to fall, thick, warm, shimmering with mana—like the sky itself was blessing this carnage, not with sorrow, but something almost holy. Each droplet gathered around him.
He licked the blood from his lips, confused by the flavor that wouldn't leave.
Steady on all fours, claws digging into earth, he marked this place as his own—his beginning, his right.
One last look at the corpse.
"Your name… I'll take it. Wear it better than you ever would."
He turned for the woods, something deep in his chest alive, ancient, angry.
In the shadows, beyond even his reach, a young voice chuckled—soft, smooth, and cold as winter steel. A sound that could make predators retreat.
Shit... good thing I let them check the egg first. A dragon, huh...
A crooked grin formed in the darkness.
My young lady will love this… I'll let you live a little longer, little demon. But we'll meet again soon.