The gate swung open with a slow, deliberate creak, revealing a city so unlike anything I’d seen before that I found myself rooted to the spot. The structures within rose in sweeping arcs and spirals, reminiscent of an ancient dynasty I once read about, but crafted from dark, shimmering stone veined with fiery orange streaks. It was as if the entire city had been carved from molten rock and left to cool into a masterpiece.

  Kael, walking behind me, leaned closer and whispered, “Why would they need big doors when they already have wings? What’s the point?”

  I stifled a chuckle, though I wondered the same thing. No one answered him. Mira, Sylas, and Kaldor were too preoccupied with the sight ahead.

  Drakonians bustled about the streets, their wings folded neatly against their backs or flaring dramatically as they leapt from rooftop to rooftop. Children played games involving glowing orbs, tossing them through fiery hoops suspended mid-air. Adults danced to the beat of drums while others cheered on performers who conjured mesmerizing displays of fire magic. The entire city hummed with life.

  Just then, one of the guards who had escorted us—wielding a long spear with an ornate, curved blade at the end—stepped forward. His dark scales shimmered under the city’s warm glow as he called out to a group of drakonians near the entrance, who were gathered around a campfire.

  “Hey! We’ve got a lost one here,” the spear-wielding guard announced, nodding toward Lief. “Take him to the central plaza and contact the service center. Let’s get him reconnected with his family.”

  A couple of the drakonians from the campfire immediately stood, brushing the dust from their armor before approaching. One, a stocky warrior with dark crimson scales, crossed his arms and studied Lief with a curious expression before nodding.

  “Understood,” he said, voice deep and assured. “We’ll take care of it.”

  Lief hesitated, glancing back at us. His golden-yellow eyes flickered with uncertainty, as if unsure whether to stay or follow the new drakonians.

  “Don’t worry,” I said, giving him a reassuring nod. “They’re just making sure you find your family.”

  Lief nodded slowly, taking a small step toward the waiting warriors.

  Still, something about this whole situation gnawed at me. Akros was already proving to be more than I expected, and I had the distinct feeling that we were just scratching the surface.

  “Whoa,” Sylas breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “It’s... incredible,” Mira added, her wide eyes reflecting the glowing lanterns strung across the city.

  Even Kael seemed momentarily speechless, though he quickly recovered with a smirk. “Okay, I’ll admit, this is cool.”

  A crowd of Drakonians began to gather around us, their expressions a mix of curiosity and excitement.

  “Visitors? Here?” A woman drakonians with bright gold scales said to the green drakonian next to her.

  “Eregor’s done something good for once!” He said.

  “Could they really be friends of his?”

  The murmurs were loud enough to reach us, but before any of us could respond, the guards leading us stopped and turned. He was tall, red-haired, his golden eyes sharp and commanding. Planting his spear into the ground, he gestured for silence, and the crowd obeyed immediately.

  “Welcome to Arkos,” he said, his deep voice carrying easily over the noise. “I am Vaelrik Alheim, captain of the city guard. I apologize for the misunderstanding earlier. Our people have... reasons to be cautious.”

  I nodded, my grip on my sword relaxing slightly. “We understand. Thank you for trusting us.”

  “And we will be walking to our destinations since uh.. you know.”

  “Thank you, but can I ask where are we heading to?”

  “The Dragna palace, there are people execpting your presences.”

  “Dragna palace.." I muttered. This is getting bored, why does everytime I entered somewhere new, I always ended up meeting someone who held an esteemed role of that place. First was in the city of Brightmoor, next is with Myreidon under Hydrothys!

  Vaelrik’s expression softened, though a flicker of something—regret, perhaps—passed over his face. “The Drakonians have spent recent decades trying to rebuild what was lost. Trust is hard to earn and easy to break. I hope your visit here can be a step toward something better.”

  Before I could reply, two more Drakonians approached us, their expressions far less formal than Vaelrik’s.

  “Visitors, huh? And all from different races!” The first, a bulky Drakonian with deep crimson scales, a long sword stripped to his belt and a booming voice, grinned widely. There is black eye-patch wrap around his left eye. I assumed he got injured in one of the battle. “This calls for a celebration! I’m Tyrin Origes, by the way. And you, my little furry friend—” He clapped a clawed hand on Kaldor’s shoulder. “—you owe me a drink. Ember ale, best in Arkos.”

  Kaldor raised an eyebrow but chuckled. “I might take you up on that.”

  The second Drakonian, sleek and black-scaled, with pairs of sword and shield at his back, stepped forward, his grin sharp but playful. “And I’m Veydris Tifesa. Don’t let Tyrin fool you—he’ll pass out after two pints. You, though—” He pointed a claw at Kael. “You think you can outdrink him? Bold.”

  Kael smirked, crossing his arms. “I know I can.”

  “Ha! I like this one,” Veydris said, his laughter echoing.

  As introductions went around, Mira stepped forward hesitantly. “I’m Mira,” she began, but before she could say more, Tyrin squinted at her and grinned.

  “A Myrdian, huh? Thought so.”

  Mira’s eyes widened. “How did you—?”

  Tyrin tapped the side of his snout with a claw, his grin widening. “Secret.”

  Mira frowned, clearly unimpressed. “That’s not an answer.”

  “It’s the best you’ll get!” Veydris teased, earning a scowl from Mira and a laugh from the rest of us.

  Just as the laughter settled, a stern voice cut through the air.

  “Tyrin. Veydris.”

  The two Drakonians froze for a moment before turning, only to be met with the imposing figure of Vaelrik, his arms crossed over his broad chest. His obsidian scales gleamed under the city’s glow, and his piercing silver eyes practically burned holes into them.

  “Mind explaining why you’re over here, running your mouths, instead of being at your posts?” Vaelrik’s voice was cool, but the weight behind it was unmistakable.

  Tyrin groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Aw, come on, Vaelrik, don’t be like that.”

  Veydris huffed, crossing his arms. “Yeah, lighten up. We were just greeting some new faces. You know, good ol’ Drakonian hospitality.”

  Vaelrik exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s not your job.”

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Tyrin scoffed, muttering under his breath, “Yeah, well, it used to be before someone got promoted and started acting all high and mighty.”

  Vaelrik’s tail flicked in irritation. “I heard that.”

  Veydris smirked. “We meant for you to.”

  The tension between them lasted only a moment before Vaelrik let out a sigh, shaking his head. “You two are impossible. Get back to work before I make you do double shifts.”

  Tyrin and Veydris exchanged glances before stepping forward, suddenly puffing out their chests and putting on the most exaggerated, innocent expressions I’d ever seen. Their tails even gave a small, expectant wag.

  “Ohhh, Commander Vaelrik,” Tyrin cooed, his voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Won’t you let us tag along just this once? We promise to be good.”

  Veydris clasped his hands together like a pleading child. “We’ll behave. No mischief. No distractions. Just two perfectly well-mannered Drakonians, standing guard and definitely not causing trouble.”

  Vaelrik dragged a hand down his face. “You two look like a pair of overgrown puppies.”

  Tyrin actually gave a small whimper. “But we just wanna come with you~.”

  Veydris nodded eagerly. “Please, Commander~.”

  The way they both exaggerated their voices, their sharp-toothed grins twisting into something that was almost convincing, made it nearly impossible to keep a straight face. I glanced at my friends, who were all barely holding in their amusement.

  Vaelrik groaned. “Fine. You can come.”

  Tyrin and Veydris immediately straightened up, looking smug—until Vaelrik shot them a sharp glare. “But stop acting like that in front of the guests. You’ll ruin your already questionable reputation.”

  Before either of them could protest, I quickly stepped in, grinning. “Actually, I think I speak for all of us when I say this is very entertaining.”

  Sylas nodded with a smirk. “Agreed.”

  Kael huffed. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind watching this act for a little longer.”

  Mira giggled. “I think it suits them.”

  Kaldor gave a small chuckle. “They should just own it at this point.”

  Tyrin and Veydris beamed triumphantly, while Vaelrik sighed again, rubbing his temples harder this time. “I regret this already.”

  The conversation continued as we moved deeper into the city. Everywhere I looked, there was something fascinating: Drakonians flying through elaborate obstacle courses in the sky, practicing aerial maneuvers with startling precision; others training massive dragons that soared alongside them, their movements synchronized like partners in a dance.

  When we reached the town square, my attention was immediately drawn to the centerpiece: a massive dragon statue, its wings unfurled and its head held high. Its eyes were made of glowing amber gemstones, casting a warm light over the area. The carvings at its base depicted scenes of battle and triumph, stories of the Drakonians’ history etched into stone.

  “This,” Vaelrik said, stopping before the statue, “is the Elder Dragon of Renewal. It symbolizes our resilience and our bond with the dragons that share our land. Many of our festivals, like the Flame Renewal and Sky Roar, are held here.”

  Sylas stared up at the statue, her expression filled with awe. “It’s beautiful.”

  Mira nodded, but her gaze drifted to Vaelrik. “The festivals... what are they like?”

  Vaelrik smiled, the weight of his earlier seriousness lifting slightly. “The Flame Renewal is a display of fire magic and strength, honoring our ancestors, it is held on the start of every year. The Dragon Roar is a competition of aerial skill—Drakonians and dragons working together to showcase their bond. It’s a time of celebration and unity. And by the way, it is close time for this event. In about 2 months.”

  As Vaelrik spoke, I couldn’t help but think of Eregor. “I have heard some people here talked about this particular person.” I said. “Eregor. Do you know him?”

  Vaelrik’s expression turned wistful. “Yes. Eregor was one of my comrades, a leader along my side. But, twenty years ago, he left Arkos, swearing to bring justice to our race. His last words were, ‘I’ll fix what our ancestors done to other races.’”

  Twenty years, I thought, staring at the dragon statue. He’s been fighting for two decades, and the world still hasn’t changed. How much longer can someone carry that kind of burden?

  Vaelrik’s gaze sharpened, and he looked directly at me. “You’ve met him, haven’t you?”

  I hesitated, with small sweat running down my forehard. “I have. A year ago. At first, he scared all of us to death. But after he saved my friends and me from being killed, I have changed my mind about the drakonians and have decided to help the race out…”

  Vaelrik let out a sigh of relief and a bright face. “Good to hear. I feared his boldness might have led him into trouble. Eregor was always... passionate. Sometimes recklessly so.”

  “And what you mean by ‘help the race out’” Vaelrik said with one of his brow raised.

  “Uh umm…, long story short, I opened a small cooperation that aimed to help build the drakonian’s reputation.”

  “So a kid like you wanted to share the burden of a whole race?” Vaelrik continued, this time with a more serious face.

  I didn’t know how to answer his question properly. Trying to choose words wisely, Sylas speak up as if she saw the tension in out talk.

  “You guys mentioned about Eregor right? I really admired him, can you tell me more about him?, please?” She said, her hand clasped while giving me a wink.

  As if realized he has make the situation tangled, Vaelrik turned away, not expecting my answers.

  “Passionate is one word for it,” Tyrin said, laughing to Sylas. “Remember when he tried to race the Elder Dragon? Nearly got himself roasted!”

  “And the time he flew into the royal balcony to impress that girl?” Veydris added. “Smashed headfirst into a pillar!”

  Their laughter was contagious, and soon even Kaldor and Kael joined in. Tyrin slapped his knee and grinned at Kael. “So, little dagger-boy, what’s the craziest thing you’ve done in a fight? Something tells me you’ve got stories.”

  Kael smirked, twirling his dagger casually between his fingers. “Craziest? Probably taking down a swamp troll by climbing up its back and stabbing it in the eye.”

  Yea I can tell that that this is a lie. There was one time we encountered a group of trolls, Kael was the first time to get knocked out and fainted right after, but it also true that he did stabbed one in the eye. Atleast he is brav. Despite my story, Tyrin seemed to be font of Kael’s story.

  Tyrin barked a laugh. “You climbed a troll? You’ve got guts, kid. Or a death wish!”

  “I prefer to call it strategy,” Kael said with a sly grin. “Worked, didn’t it?”

  Veydris tilted his head, his black scales glinting in the warm glow of the lanterns. “And what about you, big guy?” He turned to Kaldor, his tone playful. “What’s the most ‘bear-like’ thing you’ve done?”

  Kaldor chuckled, his deep voice steady. “Once, I broke down a fortress gate with my bare hands. Took a while, but it worked.”

  So now we are making up things huh? If that, I can just say I beat a demon king and a whole group of monsters by myself.

  Tyrin’s eyes widened. “You? Took down a fortress gate? Now that’s something!” He leaned closer, his grin wide. “How’d it feel? Like smashing through a mountain?”

  “More like punching through a wall of stubbornness,” Kaldor replied with a small smile. “But it was satisfying.”

  Veydris clapped Kaldor on the back, his wings rustling. “I like you, bear-man. Strong and straightforward. You’d fit right in here.”

  Kael raised an eyebrow at Veydris. “What about you two? Got any heroic tales, or are you just the guys who talk big and drink even bigger?”

  Tyrin’s booming laugh echoed through the square. “Heroic tales? Let me tell you about the time Veydris and I took on a pack of rogue wyverns. Five of them, all at once!”

  “Five?” Kael asked, his tone skeptical.

  “Okay, three,” Tyrin admitted, holding up three clawed fingers.

  Veydris smirked. “More like two and a half. The third one ran away as soon as Tyrin tripped over his own tail.”

  “I didn’t trip!” Tyrin protested, glaring at his companion.

  “You definitely tripped,” Veydris said, crossing his arms. “Face-first into a mud pit. The wyvern was so confused it forgot to attack.”

  Kael burst out laughing, clutching his sides. “That’s your heroic tale? You scared off a wyvern by eating dirt?”

  Tyrin threw up his hands. “Hey, a win’s a win! The other two were properly taken down, thank you very much.”

  Kaldor, his usual calm demeanor giving way to a chuckle, added, “Sounds like you’ve got a unique fighting style.”

  Tyrin grinned, unabashed. “Unique is one way to put it. Effective is another!”

  Veydris smirked. “If by effective you mean loud, clumsy, and somehow lucky, then sure.”

  Kael leaned closer to Kaldor and whispered just loud enough for the Drakonians to hear, “They sound like us, don’t they?”

  Kaldor nodded, his expression amused. “Too much like us.”

  The laughter continued, the lively energy between the group growing as Tyrin and Veydris launched into another tale of a poorly executed but hilariously lucky battle. For a moment, it was easy to forget the burdens we carried, surrounded instead by the camaraderie and humor of new friends.