The takeoff nearly killed me.
One moment, I was gripping the base of one of Hanakudo’s neck spines behind Kerissa, and the next, I was airborne. Ripped off the ground with a stomach-lurching jolt that made me scream loud enough to embarrass myself. The kind of sound that doesn’t feel like it comes from your throat, but from your soul deciding it wants out of your body.
The acceleration hit like a punch to the ribs. My whole body jerked backward, as if gravity had been yanked sideways. My limbs felt heavy, my jaw clenched, and my vision was swimming from the sudden shift in pressure. It was like being thrown into a rollercoaster ride with no safety regulations.
I clung to Kerissa like a drowning woman clings to driftwood.
She, of course, sat like we were in a convertible on a leisurely coastal drive, legs crossed at the ankles, one hand casually resting on her knee, her long hair trailing behind her in golden arcs like she was in a shampoo commercial. Meanwhile, I was trying not to hyperventilate or slide off a mythical predator’s spine. Behind me, Kitchi stood on the back, arms crossed, cape fluttering in the wind. He didn’t even need to hold on to anything.
Once Hanakudo stopped climbing and leveled into a glide, it became barely more manageable. Not comfortable, I wouldn’t go that far, but survivable. The wind still roared past my ears like an angry river, and my hands were completely numb from how tightly I’d been gripping, but my breathing finally began to slow. My legs stopped trembling. I could think again.
I was riding a dragon.
I risked a glance down.
And the world opened up beneath me.
Hano spread across the land like a living tapestry, each district woven from different threads of stone and wealth. At its heart rose the fortified palace; the Rift Gate was housed in its deepest walls. I could see the pulsing red light from some of the windows; it shimmered with quiet menace even from this high up, a wound in reality tethering two realms together.
Surrounding it were the noble estates, elegant and obnoxiously wide. Each one looked like it had been designed by a different artist with a bigger ego. Marble courtyards, walled gardens, decorative ponds, gilded rooftops, they gleamed with ivory and gold, disgustingly clean compared to the rest of the city.
Further out, the guild and market districts pulsed with movement; tiny, ant-like figures scurried between buildings, stalls, and tents on well-maintained streets. Carts wound their way around clusters of people like veins through a body.
Beyond that sprawled the slums, dense and slumped low, rooftops packed in like puzzle pieces made of rusted tin and scavenged wood. Thin smoke curled from uneven chimneys, and I could almost imagine the shouting, the clatter, the sweat.
I caught sight of guards patrolling the city walls, specks of red and black armor moving in coordinated lines. Just past them, the world opened again into farmland, a patchwork of green and gold fields stretched outward, split by dirt roads and dotted with enormous barns that, from this height, looked like wooden castles. Herds of cattle the size of elephants grazed in tight clusters near the water channels. I couldn’t tell if they were biologically engineered that big or if everything in this realm had just casually decided to be overwhelming.
It was all… breathtaking.
The air was colder than I expected, crisp and sharp, like it was cleaning out my lungs one breath at a time. Hanakudo flew with terrifying grace. I couldn’t feel his breath or body heat; only the slight muscular adjustments in his shoulders as he rode invisible currents. The sense that I was clinging to something ancient and alive, and barely concerned with the fragile being riding him, was overwhelming.
But that couldn’t be right.
That was just my preconception talking. I remembered what Yon told me, in no uncertain terms, when I first arrived in Hano: dragons are just beasts. Not a race of sentient shapeshifters. They could turn into monsters like any other animal near a mana anomaly, but otherwise, they weren’t much different from oversized lizards with wings and a bad temper.
So… was Yon wrong?
Or was I missing something?
Then it clicked. Just like Nada could turn into a squid girl, Hanakudo used the same power to become a dragon. He used fire magic instead of water and transformed into a reptile instead of a cephalopod. He wasn’t a dragon that learned to talk; he was a person who could become a dragon.
I frowned.
Nada once told me she needed to eat at least one kilogram of squid meat per week to maintain her transformation. If that was a rule of Kindred shapeshifting… then what did Hanakudo have to eat?
I glanced down at the scaled dragon’s back I was riding.
How much do you spend on food?
Dragon meat wasn’t cheap. I’d seen it for sale once in the high-end markets, three silver coins per pound. For that price, you could buy a pony. Or rent a house. Or buy enough fresh bread to feed a neighborhood.
Sheesh. Flying was expensive.
Those Agame are rich, though.
“Maybe I was too hasty in rejecting Master Garo’s offer to marry me off to one of his nephews,” I thought with a chuckle.
Still, I was glad I hadn’t. If I’d been motivated by wealth, I wouldn’t be here. I was born in privilege, after all. My father payrolled all my travel expenses back on Earth. Deep down, he wanted me to take over his business, but the call of adventure was too much for me. If I’d stayed home, I wouldn’t be flying on the back of a dragon like some fantasy protagonist.
It may be selfish, but it was the life I chose.
Terrifying, sometimes.
But absolutely fun.
For a city with millions of inhabitants, the countryside surrounding Hano felt eerily empty. No suburbs or satellite towns were hugging its borders like on Earth.
There were villages, yes, but none large enough to feel like a continuation of the capital, clusters of a hundred houses at most, scattered along the main dirt roads or hugging the rivers. Once or twice, I spotted landmarks that stood out: a crater-like quarry glimmering with raw mana stone, a sprawling monster farm surrounded by runic fencing, and a fortified outpost built around a yawning cave mouth.
But most of it?
Wilderness.
Untouched, unforgiving, and absolutely beautiful.
I saw herds of horned creatures running free, too big to be deer, too graceful to be buffalo. Packs of predators stalked them from the tree lines, moving in patterns far too coordinated to be random. A battle-scarred ridge hosted some kind of aerial skirmish: hawk-sized raptors diving into swarms of glittering beetles. And near a distant lake, half-covered in steam, I saw something that made me blink twice.
Sauropods.
Massive, long-necked dinosaurs sunbathing in the morning light, tails flicking lazily over the water. They looked exactly like something out of a paleontology textbook, except real, relaxed, and very much alive.
I’d seen raptor-like birds before, winged scavengers with teeth and talon-legs, but this was the first time I’d seen a proper, honest-to-goodness giant dinosaur.
And people lived in this world?
I shook my head.
How did humanity even evolve here?
Or… did they?
Gods were real here, after all. Creation myths might not be myths. For all I knew, someone made humans, fashioned them from magic and dust, and seeded the seven realms with them.
Honestly, the fact that there were cities like Hano was starting to seem more miraculous than magic itself.
We traveled west for nearly an hour. The wind was biting now, even through my cloak, and though we were high above the land, I recognized landmarks by their silhouettes. Slightly to the south, rising sharp and dark, stood the Sunless Reach.
Unlike when I’d visited it on foot, I couldn’t see the magical phenomenon that made the sunlight vanish up close, but I recognized the curvature of the slopes, the way the upper cliffs bent like claws. I’d camped enough times in those mountains that they’d started to feel like a second home.
I turned northward and spotted the Korco Range, low and craggy. Hanakudo flew over it easily, his massive wings brushing the wind aside.
Then I saw it.
A small, twisting village nestled in a basin, homes with slate roofs, reed fences, and dozens of colorful gliders tethered outside: Stridwings. They raised them here.
Next to it stood a massive forest, trees so tall and old they turned the landscape below into a living shadow. I saw hints of red in their leaves, even from above. A redwood forest. Our destination.
Hanakudo began to slow. His wings stiffened slightly, gliding less for speed and more for control.
Both Kerissa and Kitchi leaned over the dragon’s flanks, scanning the ground through breaks in the canopy. I tried to follow their gaze, heart thumping.
There was a clearing just ahead, small but flat. Through the gaps in the canopy, I spotted the people and wagons.
“I see them,” Kerissa said, voice crisp with focus.
Kitchi gave a small nod. That was all she needed.
She leapt.
Headfirst.
My heart jumped into my throat as I saw her descend off the dragon’s back like an Olympic diver, bone spear gripped overhead, body plummeting toward the forest floor.
For one terrifying moment, I thought she was going to splat, just hit the ground like a broken doll.
But then her form ignited, and she transformed midair into a streak of flame: a phoenix, blazing and elegant. Wings burst open from her shoulders, massive and radiant, trailing embers as she banked into a controlled dive, slicing through the forest air like a blade of light.
I must’ve had the world’s most ridiculous expression on my face, because Kitchi laughed.
“Don’t you know?” he said, eyes still scanning the clearing below. “She’s a direct descendant of Ion the Phoenix. She’s kind of a big deal.”
That made me blink.
Ion the Phoenix. I recognized the name, one of those legendary, probably-part-myth figures mentioned in children’s stories and history books. I hadn’t realized anyone alive could claim to be related to him.
“She’s quite the celebrity in Hano,” Kitchi added, smirking as if this were common knowledge. “Posters, songs, even a statue or two.”
I swallowed my surprise and tried to look unimpressed, which probably only made me look more clueless.
I knew elite freelancers were considered minor celebrities. I’d seen younger teens whisper when Yon passed by the arena, wide-eyed and giddy like he was a rock star. Even Garo and Edmond had reputations that made people stand straighter in their presence.
But Kerissa? I hadn’t realized I was riding behind someone famous enough to have statues.
No wonder she flew like she owned the sky.
I made up my mind then and there: I needed to start paying more attention to who people were, not just what they did. I’d been too focused on magic and survival, but this world had its own history, its own stars and legends.
It took us longer to land. Hanakudo was heavier, broader-winged. He circled once, twice, angling carefully to avoid the tallest branches. Each wing beat stirred leaves and sent gusts of wind through the trees. He flared his wings wide and finally dropped into the clearing with a thud that shook my bones.
Once I dismounted, Hanakudo shimmered, and in a blink of firelight, turned back into his human form.
That’s when I saw what had happened to the cultists.
Out of the twelve I had counted earlier, eight were now on their knees, weapons tossed aside, hands raised. Three more were dead, charred beyond recognition. One of them, barely alive, writhed on the ground, screaming in agony, half his armor fused to his back.
“Kerissa, shut him up,” said Kitchi coldly. “We don’t have military support. We’re limited in how many prisoners we can transfer to Hano.”
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Kerissa didn’t hesitate. She nodded once, then walked over and stabbed the wounded man with her bone spear, ruthless and efficient.
I flinched and looked away.
It was the first time I’d seen someone killed up close.
More than that… It was the first time I’d seen this many dead people at once.
My stomach turned, but I forced myself to breathe.
I turned my eyes toward the wagons instead, hoping they’d give me something else to focus on, so I wouldn’t have to think about the smell of scorched flesh.
I started walking toward one of the wagons, the one I suspected might contain the missing people.
The boards were scratched, the hinges warped slightly, and the silence coming from inside was deafening.
I opened the door slowly, carefully, and peered in.
At first, I could only make out vague shapes. The light from outside spilled in, casting long shadows over huddled bodies. Ten, maybe more, crammed together, bound, silent. Some flinched at the sudden brightness, instinctively shielding their eyes or turning away.
I jumped inside, heart pounding, and approached the figure closest to me: a woman sitting stiff against the side wall, head bowed. Bunny ears flicked ever so slightly at the sound of my steps.
“Hey there,” I said softly, keeping my voice gentle. “It’s over now. You’re safe.”
The woman flinched back even further, curling in on herself like she expected a blow.
“You’re Luna, right?”
At the mention of her name, she stilled. Her head tilted forward, ears drooping, but she didn’t look up. Didn’t speak.
“Don’t worry,” I said again. “We’re here to rescue you. It’s over. They can’t hurt you anymore.”
I pulled out my knife, slowly, so I wouldn’t spook her, and knelt to cut the bindings around her wrists. The rope was coarse, biting into her skin. She didn’t resist, but she trembled so violently I thought she might pass out.
“I’m here for you. You can trust me. I’m friends with Vena and Louis. You remember Vena, don’t you?”
Once her hands were free, I took them gently and helped her to her feet. She stumbled as I guided her outside, and the moment her eyes landed on the cultists kneeling in the clearing, on the burned bodies, and on the still-smoking ground, she broke.
Sobbing and shaking. She was collapsing into me like her legs couldn’t hold her anymore.
I held her tight, murmuring reassurances I wasn’t sure she could even hear.
“It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe now.”
Hanakudo noticed us and quickly moved to help. He stepped past me and climbed into the wagon, wordlessly beginning to free the others. One by one, I heard them gasp, murmur, and cry. Some called his name, recognizing him by sight alone. I guess the dragon boy was a celebrity, too. It makes sense.
My focus stayed on Luna. She was still curled in my arms, trembling, barely able to breathe. Her tears soaked into my shoulder, her claws clutching at my coat like a child afraid of the dark.
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know if there was anything to say.
Then she whispered, barely audible:
“It’s all my fault…”
My stomach twisted.
“My fault… the Lady is punishing me. I deserve this. I deserve all of it. Just leave me here. Let me rot…”
“No,” I said, more firmly than before. “No, Luna. That’s not true.”
But she wouldn’t meet my eyes.
I remembered what happened to her, how she had once been a Holy with the Faithful class, and how she’d lost it just before her capture. The shame, the guilt, the collapse of her entire identity; it must’ve been unbearable. In her mind, this wasn’t just torture. It was divine punishment.
She thought she had earned this.
What could I say to help her?
I’d studied the Holy texts enough to know this wasn’t the case at all. The Holy had not been at odds with the Unholy for the last thousand years. But an appeal to logic wouldn’t reach her now. She needed something emotional, something to cut through the self-hate.
“I know what you’re feeling,” I said softly. “I know you think this is punishment. That the Lady abandoned you. But listen to me, she didn’t.”
“She did,” Luna croaked. “She turned away. I broke the rules. I sinned. I did an unholy thing. The Lady doesn’t want girls like me.”
I squeezed her shoulders. “Luna, do you really believe the Lady would want you to suffer like this?”
She didn’t answer.
“The Lady loves you,” I said, more gently now. “Even now. Especially now. That’s why she sent me to find you. That’s why we’re here.”
“She did?” Luna whispered, voice breaking.
“Yes, of course she did.” I smiled. “Didn’t the Lady say she loves all her people, even the unholy ones?”
Luna shook her head. “Am I unholy now?”
“No,” I said. “You’re not. You’re a Holy girl at heart. You only did what you did to help your family, right?”
She nodded slowly, trembling.
“Then why don’t you pray again?” I offered. “Just once. From the bottom of your heart.”
“I can’t pray,” she whispered. “The Lady wouldn’t want to hear from a filthy girl like me…”
“Don’t say that,” I said. “The Lady wants to hear from you. She’s listening. I promise. Just try.”
Luna stared at me for a long moment, lips trembling.
And then she closed her eyes, pressed her hands together, and whispered, “Lady… please forgive me.”
A soft light began to glow around her.
Golden and gentle. Like sunrise through tears.
The aura enveloped her slowly, wrapping around her like a warm shawl. Her posture relaxed, her shaking calmed, and a small breath escaped her lips.
She had ascended again. Returned to the Holy-Faithful class.
I smiled, heart pounding in relief.
It worked.
It had been a risk, but one I believed in. I’d always suspected there was a threshold of faith needed for ascension. A calm skeptic like Calr might never cross on either side of the holy-unholy spectrum. But a girl like Vena, who wore her heart on her sleeve, had become a Cleric at just sixteen.
Luna had once been a Faithful. She was already over that Holy threshold. She had only lost it after committing a sin, not from malice or want, but from desperation. I suspected that if someone like her, hurting and believing she was irredeemable, could find the courage to forgive herself, the Holy would answer.
Plus, her sin wasn’t even that bad. It wasn’t considered a taboo like adultery or murder. I doubted she had dipped too far under the Faithful threshold.
I hoped her restored faith would offer her peace.
She had endured enough.
I carefully placed her against a tree. I remembered it had taken Vena fifteen minutes to break out of her ascension fugue state.
I noticed Kitchi and Kerissa had started questioning the cultists, so I decided to join them. Hanakudo had the rest of the missing people well in hand, offering quiet words as he helped them out of the wagons, one by one.
The clearing smelled of ash and damp soil. Wind rustled the leaves overhead, but the space felt suffocating. There were still eight of them left, bound, bloodied, kneeling in the dirt, their expressions flickering between fear, resignation, and defiance.
“Okay, here’s how we’re going to do it,” said Kitchi, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “We can’t afford to take all of you back to Hano for questioning. It’s at least a two-day ride, and Hanakudo can’t carry the lot of you. So, by the powers bestowed upon me as a commander of Hano, I hereby sentence you all to death.”
Gasps. Shouts.
“What?! You can’t do that; we surrendered!” one of them cried.
“Please don’t kill me! I have a family!” sobbed another.
“I’m just a wagon driver! I didn’t kidnap nobody!” added a third, his voice shaking with fear.
“Quiet!” Kitchi barked.
The silence returned like a slap.
“As I said,” he repeated, eyes scanning their faces, “we can’t transport all of you. But we can take a few. So you better start talking.”
A beat of hesitation, then one of them cracked.
“I’ll talk,” he said. “I’ll tell you anything.”
He stepped forward slightly, lifting his bound hands, trying to make himself useful. That’s when I saw it, the scar on his neck.
My blood froze in anger.
I found myself speaking before I even realized it. The words tumbled out, raw and instinctual.
“Not him,” I said.
My voice was flat. Cold. Like someone else was using my throat. My body felt distant, detached, like I was watching through a lens. But the rage was mine.
Luna’s face, pale and trembling in my arms, wouldn’t leave my mind.
“He already had his second chance,” I continued, stepping closer. “That one dies.”
Kitchi raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
The man blinked at me, confusion quickly curdling into dread. “What… what are you talking about?”
“Two months ago,” I said, my voice shaking now with fury, “when the cleric healed your bleeding neck, what did she tell you?”
His face went pale. Recognition hit like a slap. He probably remembered me, too, remembered how I had begged Vena for his life.
“She told you to do better,” I said. “Did you?”
“I did… I swear!” he stammered. “I left Hano right away! I didn’t hurt anyone!”
“What about when you molested the rabbitkin girl?” I cut him off.
He crumpled. “Please don’t kill me! She’s just a whore; I didn’t hurt anyone important!”
That sentence. That word. It boiled the blood in my veins. I took a step forward before I realized it.
Kerissa moved, a dark look shadowing her face. Her hand twitched toward her weapon.
But Kitchi stepped in front of her, held out a hand to stop her, then looked at me.
“She does it,” he said calmly.
It snapped me back into myself.
“What? Me? Why?” I asked, startled. My voice came out smaller than I intended.
“You don’t get to pass judgment if you don’t have the guts to carry it out,” he said coldly.
And he was right.
What right did I have to judge who got to live and who died today?
I looked at the man, sobbing in the dirt, begging for a life he had squandered. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. He had been spared once, and this was what he did with that mercy.
I summoned my taser spear into my hands, and I said.
“Give him a weapon. Let him fight me. I doubt I could just execute him in cold blood.”
The fight was… anticlimactic.
Commander Kitchi stepped forward, cut the bastard’s bindings, and tossed him a blade. The man caught it with clumsy hands, his entire body shaking. He screamed, not a war cry or a challenge, just raw panic. He rushed me, all flailing limbs and desperation. He had no technique or fighting stance, just a survival instinct in overdrive.
I didn’t flinch.
I reached into my aura, tapped into the Perfect State Soulbook, and fired a Forceball straight into his chest.
It hit like a sledgehammer thrown by a stronger warrior than me.
The impact crushed the wind out of him and stopped his charge mid-sprint. He staggered backward, eyes bulging, and body jerking. I was already moving. My bident spear thrusted forward, driving into his chest with a wet crunch. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Then his arm moved, the sword trembling in his hand.
“You missed his heart,” said Kerissa, calm and cold. “Disengage.”
But I didn’t.
I sparked lightning into the rings attached to the copper wire inside my spear. The charge bypassed his aura entirely, igniting the taser aspect of the weapon. Electricity surged through him, raw and final.
His body seized violently.
I yanked the spear free.
He collapsed at my feet, smoking.
For a few moments, I just stood there, breathing shallow. My heart thundered in my chest, not from exertion, but from the terrifying ease of it. The way life left him was like a snuffed candle. He hadn’t stood a chance. He hadn’t earned it. He was pathetic.
I didn’t feel righteous or strong.
Just… hollow.
Kerissa said nothing. Kitchi gave a small nod. Neither seemed surprised.
I wiped the blood from my weapon and turned away.
“Okay, now who’s talking?” Kitchi said to the remaining cultists, a sharp grin curling his mouth. “I suggest someone speaks fast, before our little scholar here gets more of a taste for human blood.”
“Kardok. You speak,” I said, my voice low as I pointed to a tall man kneeling in shame. “You’re not as rotten as the others.”
He looked up, eyes flicking to the body I had just felled. Then he sighed.
“Okay. I’ll talk.”
“What are the names of the people in charge of this operation?” asked Kitchi. “And how strong are they?”
“The day-to-day leaders are Lenfair the Black Flame and Lieutenant Izair of High Rock,” said Kardok.
“I knew Lenfair,” Kerissa muttered. “He’s wanted for arson, murder, and forbidden spell work in the Elemental Bloodlines Realm. But Yoka can handle him.”
“And Lieutenant Lloyd can probably take Izair,” added Kitchi. “Especially with the Dragon Slayers backing him up.” A hint of relief crept into his tone.
“What about the boss?” I asked. “When I was spying on you, you kept mentioning someone else.”
Kardok hesitated. His gaze dropped to the ground.
“Todor,” he said finally. “Todor the Failed Dravac.”
Kerissa and Kitchi both stiffened. The blood drained from their faces.
I didn’t know the name, but I didn’t need to. Their silence told me enough. Whoever Todor was… it was bad.
Distressingly bad.
“My friends are out there,” I whispered. “They could be fighting him right now.”
“Hanakudo, transform. Fast! We needed to be in the Pikar Steppe yesterday!” yelled Kitchi.
Hanakudo rushed to my side. “What is it?”
“My younger brother is probably facing Todor alone.” Kitchi turned cold. “Kerissa, you’re in charge here. Escort the freed people and prisoners to the nearest village. Hire locals for aid. Reinforcements should arrive soon.”
He turned to me. “Alice, you stay. You won’t survive Hanakudo’s max flight speed.”
“Screw that,” I snapped. “If it’s speed you want, I can teleport you. Especially if it’s life or death.”
Kitchi blinked. “You can teleport?”
“Situational ability. Mythical wish-magic bullshit. Are you in or not?”
He frowned but nodded. “Hanakudo will fly alone. You take me.”
I grabbed Kitchi with one arm and lifted my spear to the sky with the other.
I looked him in the eyes. “Ready?”
He nodded.
“I wish I was next to my dear friend Vena.”
If you’d asked me yesterday whether I could teleport with another person, I’d have laughed in your face. I could barely manage it with a chicken. But right now? I couldn’t afford to doubt myself. My ability was weird, unstable, inconsistent in cost, but tied to my state of mind. And right now, I really wanted to be next to my friends.
We vanished.
And reappeared beside Vena.
I dropped to my knees, mana completely dry, and blinked at the chaos unraveling around us.
Captain Yoka was down. Vena knelt beside her, hands glowing as she poured healing miracles into her wounded body. Kan, Yon, and Katar were locked in a brutal dance against a dual-blade swordsman whose weapons shimmered with power. Ki’a and Hans fought a man wreathed in black flame, Lenfair, I guessed. Nakera was hauling Lieutenant Lloyd’s limp form to safety, her movements fast, frantic, and precise.
And then I saw them: Raik and Takur, the two Agame battling side by side against an abomination of flesh and whirling chains. Takur looked like a god, each punch vaporizing steel and sending shockwaves through the battlefield. Raik moved in tandem, shielding and amplifying his cousin’s aura like they’d trained for this their whole lives.
Then Takur stumbled.
His skin shimmered.
I recognized the sign; he was in Perfect State.
And he was running out of time.
Kitchi didn’t hesitate. He launched into the fray like a comet, trailing a jet of flame. He landed beside Takur, catching him before he could fall.
Then everything changed.
The older Agame flared, not like fire, but like the sun itself. Radiant. Endless. Unstoppable. Raik, his younger brother, walked up to him like the heat meant nothing and placed a steady hand on his back.
The red fire turned blue.
Then white.
Kitchi charged toward the monster of rotting flesh and living chains, burning like judgment incarnate.
I watched in awe. That… that was power.
A smile touched my lips as the pull of unconsciousness took hold.
We had arrived just in time.
I was glad I’d taken a side.
Then the world went dark, and mana exhaustion claimed me.
After reading this chapter, how do you think I should handle the graphic-violence tag?
