Hibana and Solryn arrived at a small village. A weathered sign outside the village marked the name of it as Stonewatch — the paint cracked and peeling, the wood warped from years of rain and neglect. The sign leaned slightly to one side, as though it had long since given up trying to stand straight.
"This is one of the closest villages to the forest," Solryn muttered. "Stay close."
As they walked up the road into the village, Hibana took in the surroundings. The streets were hard-packed dirt, scarred with wagon ruts and puddles of stagnant rainwater. Wooden buildings leaned together like drunks sharing secrets, their rooftops patched with mismatched shingles. A few villagers eyed Hibana and Solryn warily — none friendly, none inviting. Hibana noticed weapons on more than a few hips. Swords, clubs... even a rusted spear held together with leather strips.
A tavern sat nearby, its crooked sign creaking lazily in the wind. Warm light spilled from within, and lively music drifted out with it — an upbeat tune that seemed out of place in such a grim place. For a moment, Hibana allowed himself to smile. It was nice, hearing something so... normal.
But before he could dwell on the comfort, a shout rang out from the tavern's doorway.
"I told you already! No money, no service!"
The barkeep — a burly man with sleeves rolled to his elbows and an apron stained with old beer spills — stormed back inside, slapping his hands together as if he'd just finished taking out the trash. A man lay sprawled in the dirt outside the tavern, groaning. His tunic was torn, and his face was streaked with grime. As he staggered to his feet, he caught Hibana staring.
"What are you looking at, F-tier?" the man snarled, his lip curling. "Fuck off!"
Hibana's chest tightened, heat flaring beneath his skin. His fingers twitched, curling slightly before he caught himself. His dragon blood stirred — the instinct to react, to fight, to crush — and for a moment, he imagined grabbing the man by the throat and hurling him back into the mud.
But Hibana thought back to a time when he'd been someone else — just a tired janitor, standing there with a mop in hand as some salaryman stomped across his freshly mopped floor. "Hey!" the man barked. "I almost slipped, you idiot! Watch where you're mopping!" No apology. No gratitude. Just blame.
He remembered that moment — the helpless anger, the bitter frustration — and swallowed it down now, just like he had then. He kept walking. "He's not angry at me. Not really. He's angry at his own circumstances. And I can hardly blame him after being treated like that. What would it make me if I then made his day even worse?"
"Face forward, Hibana," Solryn warned. His voice was quiet, but firm. "There are a lot of very nasty people in villages like this." His eyes flicked toward the man in the dirt, who had already stumbled off down the road. "And most of them are looking for an excuse."
Hibana kept walking, but the knot in his chest remained. No one knew what he was. To them, he was just a runt. An F-tier.
And that was the point. Because power like his... if anyone knew what he could really do, they wouldn't look at him with scorn.
They'd look at him with fear.
Solryn entered a small shop, and Hibana followed close behind. The scent of dust and dried meat lingered in the air, and shelves crammed with tools, food, and equipment lined the walls. Crates of nails, rope, and tarnished lanterns cluttered the floor — a merchant's mess, but organized enough to show the shopkeeper knew exactly where everything was.
The man behind the counter was burly, with arms like tree trunks and a chest that strained against his tunic. A thick black mustache curled beneath his nose, and his bald scalp shone in the light of a cracked oil lantern.
He barely glanced at Hibana before fixing his attention on Solryn.
"You need to leave your slave outside," the shopkeeper said flatly. His tone was casual — dismissive — like he wasn't even worth raising his voice for.
Hibana froze. Slave?
Solryn turned to him, already halfway into his usual scowl. "You heard the man. Shoo! I'll be out in a moment."
Hibana's teeth clenched hard enough to hurt. He swallowed back the instinct to argue — the heat that flickered in his chest, sharp and hot. His fingers twitched at his sides, and for one awful moment, he thought about snapping back — about saying something, anything — just to remind them he wasn't nothing.
He let out a breath — slow and shaky — and nodded once. "Sure," he muttered.
Without another word, Hibana turned and stepped back outside. The door thudded shut behind him, and the cold air bit against his skin. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, fingers still curled tight. His breath misted in the air, and his heart pounded hard enough to shake his ribs.
Hibana stared at the streets. Nobody paid him any mind. Men carried crates, merchants barked about their wares, and the distant sound of hammering rang out from a blacksmith's forge. Life moved on without him.
But his hands...
He raised them and stared at his fingers. They trembled — faintly at first, but enough to make his breath hitch. His palms felt clammy, yet somehow warm at the same time, like heat was simmering just beneath his skin.
Why am I shaking?
The memory of that man's sneer — "What are you looking at, F-tier?" — played back in his mind. Hibana's fingers twitched again. He clenched his hands into fists, but it didn't stop. His pulse throbbed in his ears, and a knot twisted in his chest.
This body... my mind... I can feel it. These strong, passionate emotions...
Hibana swallowed. Something felt wrong. His heart pounded too hard, too fast — like his body was bracing for a fight that wasn't coming. He felt the burn of something deep in his ribs — a flicker of instinct he didn't understand. Something hot, something restless.
I'm not human...
The thought sat cold and heavy in his mind. I'm a dragon.
And no matter how real this human body felt, something deeper — something stronger — ruled him still. A body full of instinct, of fire, of dangerous impulses just waiting for a reason to break loose.
He exhaled shakily and unclenched his fists again. His fingers were still shaking.
I have to be careful, he thought. Maybe this was a bad idea...
Suddenly, a hand clamped down on Hibana's shoulder.
He spun around fast — too fast — and nearly lashed out before he recognized the face in front of him.
Solryn.
"I need your assistance with these," Solryn said, motioning to two backpacks full of gear. "We'll need to be getting back."
Hibana blinked. His pulse still thundered in his ears, and he realized his muscles were tense — like a coiled spring waiting to snap. The moment lingered too long before he saw it — the look in Solryn's eyes. Sharp. Knowing. A silent warning.
I know. Just play along.
Hibana swallowed hard and gave a small nod. He reached down and grabbed one of the packs.
Light.
He barely felt the weight at all — it couldn't have been more than a few spare rations and a coil of rope. "Is this thing empty?" he muttered.
Solryn stopped mid-step and turned back, frowning. "...No?"
"Let's go," Solryn said, his tone quiet but firm. Hibana shook the thought away and followed him toward the village exit.
Hibana and Solryn were finally back on the road. The cold air stung Hibana's face, but the silence felt strangely comforting — a reminder that they'd made it out of Stonewatch without trouble.
"I understand now," Hibana said quietly.
Solryn nodded. "We did manage to get out of there in one piece." He tapped the pack on his shoulder. "And there are some nice supplies in these packs." His tone lightened a little — like he was trying to convince himself that things had gone better than they had.
"By the way, here." Solryn stopped and dug something from his pack — a short sword in a worn leather scabbard. He handed it to Hibana. "That'll do for now."
Hibana took the weapon carefully. The leather grip was cracked and stiff, and the edge looked like it had seen better days. Even so, something about the weight in his hand felt... right.
"Later on," Solryn continued, "when we get the camp better established... you can go back to that village on your own, earn some gold." He paused, eyeing Hibana carefully. "You may be an F-tier, but there's still work there. After seeing that spell you cast... there are quests you should be able to complete."
He's trying to encourage me, Hibana realized. He thinks I need this.
Hibana gave a small nod. "Yeah... maybe."
They walked a few more steps before Solryn suddenly slowed.
"Wait," Solryn muttered, eyes narrowing.
A figure stood in the middle of the road — motionless, waiting. The wind tugged at his black cloak, revealing the curve of a naginata slung lazily across his back. One of his hands rested on the polearm's shaft, fingers drumming lightly against the polished wood.
The blade gleamed — sharp and wicked, curving like a grin in the dim light.
"Is that..." Hibana's voice trailed off.
Solryn's hand drifted toward his staff. "Stay close," he warned. "That's no traveler."
The figure stepped forward, boots crunching on the gravel road.
"Well, hello there, weary travelers," he drawled, his voice low and casual — like this was just another lazy conversation. His fingers tapped lightly against the polished shaft of the naginata resting on his shoulder. "The name's Kurt. What brings a B-tier mage... and a little F-tier all the way out here?" His eyes flicked toward Hibana, cold and curious. "Nothing out here except endless forest... and the cursed lands."
Solryn's expression hardened. "Nothing that concerns you, Bloodhound. An expedition involving a theory I have about the Fae Wilds."
Kurt nodded thoughtfully. "I see..." His grin widened. "I wouldn't keep you, but I'm curious. You see, I just happened upon an abandoned kobold camp not far from here."
He reached into his cloak and pulled out a torn scrap of cloth — Solryn's sash — crumpled in his fist like a trophy. "And I found this among the remains of that camp. T'would seem like you've already been out here. Good to see you were able to get away from those filthy beasts."
Solryn stepped forward, voice sharp. "Yes, I ran into that kobold camp... but I managed to get away from them. Perhaps you can kindly get to the point of this exchange?"
Kurt's smile returned — wider this time. Like a predator baring its teeth. "Very resourceful of you," he said, voice mockingly sweet. "But yes... the reason I stopped you —" He took another step forward, boots grinding in the dirt. "— is that I'm looking for a baby dragon."
Hibana's breath caught.
"It came this way," Kurt continued. "Followed its tracks. Orange scales, green eyes..." His gaze flicked to Hibana again, this time sharper. "Sound familiar?"
No... no way... Hibana's mind raced. There's no way he could have found me...
Kurt took another step forward, tapping the end of his naginata on the ground with a dull thud. "Him — and some accomplice — slaughtered four adventurers not far from here." His smile sharpened. "And interestingly enough... their trail stops at the Fae Wilds. Imagine that..."
Kurt's eyes locked on Solryn. "That's exactly where you're going, isn't it?" His voice dropped lower. "So tell me, mage... are you lying to me?"
Hibana swallowed hard, then stepped forward. "We haven't seen any dragon by your description," he said, voice steady. "Please... just let us pass."
Solryn's head jerked toward Hibana, glaring — a warning. But when he turned back to Kurt, his fingers tightened on his staff.
Kurt chuckled under his breath. "I don't believe in coincidences." His grin turned colder. "Now that I'm looking at you, boy... I'd say if you weren't a human, you'd be a spitting image for that dragon. That fiery orange hair... those green eyes you've got."
His fingers curled around his naginata's shaft, knuckles flexing. "Somehow you're masking that polymorph you have... but you can't fool me."
Hibana's heart hammered in his chest. His mouth felt dry. He turned to Solryn, voice weak. "I'm sorry... Solryn..."
Solryn raised his staff. "Apologize later!" he barked. "Defend yourself!"
Kurt's grin widened one last time. He cracked his knuckles, his fingers twitching eagerly along the naginata's grip.
"I'm going to enjoy this."