The sky of the new world was different. Not just in the deeper hue of its blue, but in how the clouds slowly unraveled under the presence of magic. Haruka could feel it from the crest of the hill. Her silver hair shimmered as if it absorbed the light itself. The air smelled like pure wind, and her dress—just as immacute as her aura—remained unstained by mud or ash.

  Beside her, a young dragon snorted.

  It was the size of a rge horse, with emerald-green scales gleaming under the sun. Its eyes were closed, like a satisfied cat… even though just half an hour ago, it had tried to rip off her arm.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” she told the dragon in a gentle voice, softly stroking its muzzle, where her sleeve still held traces of saliva. “You knew you couldn’t break the barrier.”

  The dragon whimpered like a scolded puppy and rubbed its head against her p, accepting her caress as punishment.

  Montana, watching from a distance while polishing a crystal with a resigned expression, didn’t bother to hide his comment.

  “Another one… How many does that make now?”

  “Eleven,” Colin replied from the side, flipping through his inventory notebook like he was counting pets, not semi-wild dragons.

  “We should start charging them rent,” Al said, leaning against a tree with arms crossed. His tone was dry, but a faint smile curled at the edge of his lips.

  Haruka said nothing. She just petted the dragon once more, then rose to her feet.

  The new dungeon they had discovered was an ancient aerial fortress suspended on floating stone pilrs. It was said to have belonged to a civilization that worshiped dragons as deities. The first chamber was empty… until they felt the tremor.

  A roar.

  Colin readied himself to strike. Montana had already melted into the shadows. And Al drew his sword.

  But Haruka did not.

  She walked.

  She passed between them like a breeze.

  And on the far side of the stone bridge, a massive creature emerged—a three-headed dragon, each head a different color: red, blue, and white. All three gred at her with hostility… and fear.

  Because they sensed something they could not comprehend.

  And yet, they did not attack.

  Haruka raised her right hand and spoke in a calm voice:

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  One of the heads shed out with a cw. It struck her torso. Everyone held their breath...

  …But there was no blood.

  Only faint sparks. And a golden aura.

  Haruka tilted her head slightly.

  “That didn’t work. But it’s okay. You can keep trying if you need to.”

  The blue head roared again, and its jaws snapped toward her shoulder. The fangs closed—without effect. Not even her dress was torn.

  Al exhaled sharply.

  “She’s definitely another Maple.”

  “She’s not like Maple,” Colin replied, adjusting his gsses. “Maple is impossible. Haruka… Haruka simply doesn’t belong to this world. And the world knows it.”

  The dragon trembled. Its whole body pulsed with wild energy… and, slowly, it y down.

  Haruka stepped forward and pced a hand on its brow.

  “We’re going to take you home. There’s room for everyone there.”

  A gentle light—neither magical nor natural—enveloped the dragon, marking it. Haruka had extended her blessing, just as she did with everything she loved.

  After that expedition, they went through many more. In each one, Haruka encountered wild beasts, ancient ghosts, crystal golems, or wandering creatures. Some attacked out of instinct, others out of fear. But in every case… they surrendered before the incorruptible warmth of her presence.

  At the campsite, during the nights, scenes both impossible and heartwarming could be seen: a massive dragon using its tail to gather branches for the fire. A wyvern resting its head on Haruka’s p while she read an old storybook. A baby dragon dozing in her arms, like a stray cat finally offered a home.

  Colin kept taking notes.

  Montana carved little dragon figurines out of wood.

  And Al, brow furrowed, would sometimes mutter:

  “If only all the world’s problems could be solved with magical hugs…”

  But he didn’t say it with mockery. It was respect. It was wonder.

  It was Haruka.

  Whispers began to spread through the capital.

  “A woman who tames dragons with affection?”

  “The one with silver hair who let a beast bite her, and it started crying?”

  “They say if you approach her camp with hostile intent, the dragons themselves block your path.”

  People began calling her by new names: The Beast Shepherd, The Voice That Silences Fire, The Witch of Open Wings. But she still answered simply to Haruka, and looked at everyone with that same gentle kindness that could soothe even a broken heart.

  And so, without any need for fanfare, her fame grew. Not for her titles, nor the absurd power she truly possessed… but for how she used it.

  Always soft. Always patient.

  Always Haruka.