"Once upon a time, long ago, humans were just tiny creatures that had to hide from the beasts."

  "They feared the winter in the claws of the wolves, they feared the storms brought by the wings of the gryphons,

  and above all… they feared the shadow of the King, the Dragon."

  "But then, one day, the Prince of the Blue Bloods arose. He was the bravest man among all humans..."

  "Amy—!" The sweet voice of a little girl interrupted, her face peeking out from under the blanket,

  her eyes sparkling as if she had just discovered treasure. "The Blue Prince!"

  Her brother laughed. "Yes, the Blue Prince."

  The little girl smiled widely, hugging her pillow tight.

  "Then, how did he defeat the big dragon?"

  "Ahem," her brother cleared his throat.

  The little girl scrunched her nose, resting her chin in her hands, waiting intently.

  "The Blue Prince climbed to the top of a high tower, the howling wind echoed through the sky.

  He drew his sword of the blue flame and thrust it into the heart of the Dragon King—"

  "Then the prince married the princess!" the little girl guessed excitedly.

  Her brother paused for a moment before smiling faintly.

  "Yes... and the prince and the princess lived happily ever after."

  The little girl yawned widely, snuggling under the blanket. "Amy..."

  "Hmm?"

  "Will you marry a princess too?"

  Her brother blinked for a moment before laughing.

  "What is this?"

  "Well..." The little girl shyly looked away, playing with the edge of her blanket.

  "If you’re my blue prince, you have to marry a princess, right?"

  Her brother gently patted her head.

  "Let me think about it."

  "No! I’ll only allow you to marry a princess who is very kind!" The little girl immediately pouted.

  Her brother laughed before whispering softly,

  "Alright, alright."

  The flames in the hearth flickered gently, casting her brother's shadow long on the wall,

  while the little girl slowly closed her eyes, her breathing steady.

  The leaves rustled softly under the last light of the day. A faint golden shadow melted into the edge of the sky.

  The gentle smile of the little girl from years ago had vanished from her face.

  The girl swallowed hard as a cold wind swept across her skin. She took a step closer… something was waiting in the darkness.

  A woman’s body lay motionless beneath the tree, her cloak stained with blood and dirt. Her breath was shallow.

  This was no princess from a fairy tale.

  The girl pressed her lips together tightly, her heart racing. She should run, but her legs… wouldn’t move. She looked at the woman one more time, then inhaled deeply.

  "Amiri…" she whispered softly. "I have to tell you…"

  The young man carefully lifted the woman into his arms, blood from her wounds staining his sleeves and dripping to the ground like a countdown to death. She was starting to lose consciousness—She might not make it home if he didn’t hurry.

  "Iris, go tell Mother quickly!" he shouted, his voice trembling with urgency. The girl glanced at him before running ahead.

  The woman’s breath was faint. Her eyes met his, the pain leaving her nearly speechless. Her breath was barely audible, her body trembling. The world blurred with every passing second. Every movement felt like a burden she could no longer bear.

  "Don’t fall asleep. You’ll be okay… Can you hear me?" His voice wavered slightly as he tightened his grip around her fragile form.

  Upon reaching the house, the young man rushed in, his bloodstained hands pushing the door open without hesitation before gently placing the woman on the wooden bed in the corner of the room. The warmth from the fireplace made the atmosphere seem comforting, but inside, his heart felt cold and heavy instead.

  "Mother, she..." he said, his voice shaking as he slowly laid her down.

  His mother moved quickly, letting the bottle of medicine and herbs fall onto the table. She grabbed a clean cloth and pressed it firmly on the wound, trying to stop the relentless bleeding.

  "Iris! Get the cloth!" she ordered. The girl hurried off to grab a clean cloth.

  The young man stood watching, worry etched in his eyes, as his mother carefully tended to the bleeding.

  "Don’t worry..." his mother spoke firmly, her eyes fixed on the wound with intense focus.

  Iris returned with a cloth and fresh water. Silently, she tended to the wound, the only sound being water dripping onto the fabric. Her every movement was swift and precise.

  "Good job, Iris... The bleeding’s starting to stop," his mother murmured softly, before picking up a vial of herbs.

  The young man sat beside the woman, his eyes filled with concern, his heart heavy with unanswered questions.

  She was so badly wounded, yet how did she survive?

  What could have caused such damage to her?

  The first rays of sunlight streamed through the small window, casting a warm glow inside the cozy wooden house, still filled with the lingering scent of the fireplace. The freshness of the morning was replaced by the sweet fragrance of flowers planted around the house, while the birds greeted the day with their songs, soon followed by the distant crow of a rooster calling to the slowly rising sun. The wooden door creaked open, and the young man stepped out, carrying a long, black wooden bow—large enough to fell a full-grown beast. He adjusted the quiver to fit snugly over his shoulder before gently closing the door behind him.

  "Father," he greeted the middle-aged man, who was alternating between standing and sitting, using a hammer and file to repair a small cart.

  "Going hunting, son?" his father replied with a relaxed expression, despite the evident physical effort involved in repairing the cart.

  "Well..." The young man was about to speak but was cut off.

  "Your mother told me about the young woman’s wounds. I think it’s time to consult Uncle Will," his father said thoughtfully.

  "Uncle Will?" the young man asked in response.

  "Yes, he’s often in and out of the village. He might know something," his father nodded toward the small cart beside him and nudged it toward the young man.

  "Before you leave the village, don't forget to stop by Uncle Taylor's. I heard he has something for you," his father said with a cheerful smile.

  "Alright," the young man replied as he took the cart from his father.

  "Be careful, Amiri," his father added, his voice tinged with concern.

  The young man walked through the heart of the village, where the streets were paved with beautiful, light-colored bricks. Long wooden benches, though weathered, were still in good use, while trees grew alongside them. The morning was filled with the sounds of birds singing, the chatter of people exchanging goods, and travelers asking for directions. This was Ariawood, a quiet little village far from the capital, yet nestled in the heart of the kingdom. With well-maintained roads, it served as a perfect stopover for both merchants and travelers.

  The young man walked a short distance before turning right into the familiar alley. As he passed the first house, he felt the warmth emanating from the iron furnace that had just been lit. A seasoned man with dark hair and a strong build stood at a table cluttered with tools, lifting drawings up and down as he worked.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “Uncle Taylor!” the young man called out with a familiar expression.

  "Amiri! How's it going? Long time no see! I’ve been quite busy lately," Uncle Taylor replied with a smile and a laugh.

  "Must be a lot of customers, huh? You’re really good at this," the young man said with a smile of admiration.

  "Yes, there have been a lot of travelers lately. Oh... here," Uncle Taylor said as he set the paper down and bent to pull something from the drawer beneath the table.

  "Happy birthday, Amiri! Sorry it’s a bit late, but I’ve really been swamped," Uncle Taylor said with a grin, handing over an object about the size of a ruler.

  It was a silver knife, its handle adorned with intricate black patterns. The sheath was made from jet-black animal hide, with a tightly woven grid pattern. Amiri drew the knife from its sheath; the blade was long and straight, better suited for stabbing, yet still sharp enough for slicing. The knife appeared simple, yet exuded both elegance and precision.

  "Do you like it?" Uncle Taylor asked, clearly proud.

  "I’m not kidding, this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. But the sharpness of the blade..." Amiri said, his gaze fixed on the pale silver blade with curiosity.

  "I got it from a traveler. He said this metal can kill a dragon if you strike the right spot," Uncle Taylor said seriously.

  "Haha!" The young man burst into laughter. "Dragons? Those are only in fairy tales!" He laughed even harder.

  Uncle Taylor looked at him with a neutral expression for a moment before joining in with a hearty laugh, clearly enjoying the moment.

  The young man waved a farewell before walking out of the alley and turning right. The savory scent of grilled meat and aromatic spices wafted from a house, almost twice the size of the others. Smoke billowed from the chimney, and a window, freshly cleaned, was hastily thrown open. A voice called out from a woman with fiery red-orange hair, her years apparent but her energy undeniable.

  "Amiri, where are you off to? Have you had breakfast yet?"

  The young man turned to reply with a smile, "I'm going hunting, Aunt Lily."

  "Come on, have something to eat first," the middle-aged woman said, waving her hand to invite him inside.

  The young man parked the cart in front of the inn, the bell ringing as the door opened.

  Though the establishment looked old, it was spotless and well-kept. Inside, a warm fire crackled in the hearth, and wooden tables lined the room. Patrons sat comfortably, enjoying their meals and chatting casually, while some stepped outside to greet the fresh air.

  The young man walked to his usual spot at the counter, which faced the kitchen. From there, he had a clear view of both the kitchen and the drinks bar. In the kitchen, fresh ingredients, spices, and condiments were neatly arranged.

  Aunt Lilli stood by the grill, swiftly lifting the steak and placing it into the oven. She then poured red wine into the pan, the sizzling sound of the searing meat filling the air. The delicious aroma wafted up, and the warm steam from the pan brushed gently against the young man’s face.

  "Are you busy lately, Aunt?" he asked casually.

  "A little bit, yeah. At the beginning of spring, we get quite a few customers," Aunt Lily replied, continuing to cook.

  "Steak and eggs, with some warm milk — your favorite, as usual. I’ll treat you like always," Aunt Lily said cheerfully.

  "Again?" The young man smiled faintly.

  "Well... last time, you brought me a whole wild boar leg. I made ham out of it, and I still haven’t served it all to the guests," Aunt Lily said, resting her chin on the counter with a lighthearted tone before turning back to the stove.

  "My dad always said that whenever I bring home game, I should share some with you because you once helped him out," the young man said while cutting his steak.

  Aunt Lily didn’t turn to reply.

  The young man ate with delight, sipping his warm milk, before pulling four silver coins from his pocket and placing them beneath his plate.

  "This is really delicious, Aunt. I have to rush off now, or I’ll be late," he said before quickly heading out the door.

  "Sure, if you’re ever hungry, you know where to find me..." Aunt Lily’s warm voice echoed from the door just before it was shut quickly.

  The young man pushed the cart out of the village, surrounded by trees in a myriad of colors, their new leaves just beginning to sprout. A gentle breeze brushed softly across his face.

  "Amiri! Are you going hunting?" A sharp voice called after him.

  Amiri turned and flashed a smile at his friend, who was following closely behind. The young man, with dark brown hair and a build just as tall as Amiri's, seemed to possess stronger, more defined muscles.

  "Come train with me first today, won't you?" Erik asked, trying to persuade him.

  "I can't. We're running low on food at home," Amiri replied briefly, though his expression was sympathetic.

  "Alright, I’ll come with you... just wait while I grab my bow!" Erik hurried into the house, his footsteps frantic. The door slammed shut with a loud bang, followed by the chaotic sound of things being rifled through in a hurry.

  The two young men walked out of the village, surrounded by a variety of wildflowers blooming along the roadside, making their way toward the edge of the Stagwood Forest. Legends told of its unmatched richness, one of the most fertile lands in the kingdom. The light gray stone-paved road carried them farther from the village, leading to the point where the trees grew taller and denser, their canopy enveloping the path ahead.

  "You’re fifteen this year, Amiri. Don't you have any dreams?" Erik asked in a serious tone.

  "Not really. I'm happy living here as I am." Amiri answered cheerfully.

  "I want to go to the capital—become a mercenary, earn fame and fortune, and marry a beautiful woman," Erik said with a playful grin.

  "That sounds... interesting, I suppose," Amiri replied absentmindedly.

  "Listen, Amiri, if you went to the capital, you'd have women lining up to marry you, no doubt about it!" Erik teased, his face full of mischief.

  "What are you talking about?" Amiri laughed, turning to him.

  "Your hair, of course! That smoky-gray color is damn cool!" Erik pointed at Amiri’s hair, chuckling.

  "How cool, huh? Back when we were kids, you used to tease me every day and still called me 'the white-haired guy' or 'the old man,'" Amiri laughed, playfully tugging at his own hair.

  "Well, I couldn’t help it! Your dad has brown hair, your mom has brown hair, and your little sister has brown hair too." Erik grinned.

  Amiri did not reply. He continued walking in silence, passing towering trees and blooming wildflowers along the way.

  "Oh, by the way, when are you going to teach me swordplay again?" Erik asked, his tone turning serious.

  "Why don’t you just ask your father? Uncle Will is the best swordsman in the village," Amiri said with a curious glance.

  "True... but my dad’s hardly ever home. And besides, don’t you remember? When we were kids, I never lost to you—not even once. You were never even close to beating me. Then, one day, you secretly started training with Uncle Elwine—your father. When you came back, I couldn't win against you anymore. Until now." Erik explained.

  "Oh, and one more thing... Yesterday, I saw you carrying an injured person into the house," Erik asked with a concerned expression.

  "Yeah... she wasn't in great shape," Amiri admitted, concern creeping into his voice.

  "She’ll be fine for sure," Erik said confidently.

  "And why are you so sure?" Amiri asked, puzzled.

  "Because Aunt Talia, your mother, was the one who brought me into this world. If anyone can help her, it’s definitely her," Erik said warmly.

  Amiri smiled, feeling some of his worry ease. He knew Erik well—though playful, he was always sincere. Ever since childhood, Erik had been a friend he could always rely on.

  “Let’s leave the cart here...” Amiri said before the two of them set off on foot into the dense thicket of trees. The sunlight gradually faded, and the soft rustling of leaves whispered in the air, harmonizing with the distant sound of a stream flowing gently beyond.

  The boy crouched down, aiming his bow at the young deer just a few paces away. The stillness of the forest seemed to freeze everything around him. He tightened his grip on the bow, his breath shallow and steady as he held it in. Just as he was about to release the arrow, a squirrel leapt across the branches, sending a signal that caused the deer to bolt. The boy was about to rise and force the shot, but suddenly, his father’s deep voice gently interrupted the moment.

  "Don't do that!"

  His father quickly said, stopping him, before sitting down beside the boy.

  The boy eased the tension on the bow, feeling disappointed that he hadn't followed through with his intentions.

  He looked up, meeting his father's gaze—not one of anger, but filled with warmth and understanding.

  "I'm not telling you to stop because I don't want you to hunt," his father said.

  "But I want you to understand that... hunting isn't just about killing. It's about letting them go without suffering."

  The boy looked at his father, his eyes filled with questions. His father smiled gently before continuing.

  "The true hunter must honor it. Never let it live a life of suffering... Aim for the killing shot."

  The father's words carried a quiet strength, and the boy felt the weight of them. He understood that hunting was not merely about taking life, but it's about respect, and the responsibility that comes with every decision.

  Amiri opened his eyes, holding his breath for a moment before releasing the arrow. It struck the young stag, just shy of reaching maturity. The creature flinched, leaping forward a few steps before collapsing. Its body twitched slightly, then lay still.

  "That was a perfect shot—straight through the lungs, or maybe even the heart," Erik said, giving Amiri's shoulder a reassuring clap.

  "And you?" Amiri asked, his voice calm and even.

  "Not far from here," Erik replied, gesturing toward the direction where he had made his kill.

  The two young men walked past the remains of the deer and not far ahead, they came across the lifeless body of another animal lying in the midst of the lush green meadow. A doe, its slender frame frail and emaciated, lay curled up. Blood slowly seeped from its body, one arrow lodged near its mouth, the other piercing its front thigh—likely the fatal blow that brought its life to an end.

  "Did you shoot it with two arrows?" Amiri asked in surprise.

  "No! I only used one arrow, but it seems like it was already wounded before," Erik replied confidently.

  "Well, that's a relief..." Amiri murmured softly.

  The gentle afternoon sun poured softly over the village, its light warm and tender. The clear sky gradually shifted in hue, while a cool breeze whispered through, carrying feathers and leaves that drifted lazily in the air. The air was filled with the sweet scent of grass, and the village seemed to rest in nature’s loving embrace. Everything around seemed suspended in time, leaving only the peaceful stillness that gently completed this truly special moment...

  The young deer’s carcass was hoisted up by the rope, swaying slightly before finally coming to a stop.

  "That will be 30 Renn, dear," came the sweet voice of the woman, her gaze lowering to the hanging scale. Despite the lingering scent of fresh meat in the air, her apron remained spotless.

  Aunt Anna tied the rope to a nearby tree, beside the table with a large butcher's cleaver and chopping block, surrounded by hanging cuts of meat.

  "Aunt, would you mind cutting the hind legs for me to take home? I'll sell the rest to you," Amiri asked.

  "Alright, I'll give you 15 Renn," Aunt Anna said, rummaging through her apron pocket before handing Amiri a silver coin.

  "Thank you, Aunt," Amiri replied with a faint smile.

  A young man appeared, his golden-blond hair cascading gracefully to his nape.

  His face and complexion radiated an ethereal beauty, as if he were a celestial being.

  His figure was flawless, like something born from the pages of legend.

  “Are you members of the Celestia royal family?” he asked, his tone polite and respectful.

  “If you return to the land you came from, I will personally ensure your safety.”

  He spoke with a soft smile, his presence warm and inviting.

  Suddenly, the young man's exquisite form began to transform.

  It shifted into a massive beast, its shape resembling that of a muscular dragon.

  Its scales gleamed with an obsidian sheen, like steel reflecting the moonlight.

  Its claws were razor-sharp, and massive wings unfurled—pure white, like the wings of a celestial goddess.

  Its roar echoed like a thunderclap, so deafening it seemed as though it could tear the very sky asunder.

  The dragon opened its mouth wide, revealing terrifyingly sharp fangs.

  With a fierce roar, it unleashed a jet of pitch-black light, gleaming like its very own scales.

  A trail of light, despair, and the darkness.

  "Father... Mother... Elle...,"

  the little girl screamed, her voice breaking as she collapsed to the ground, the sky itself seeming to shatter around her.

  The young woman jolted awake, gasping for breath, tears streaming down her cheeks. Cold sweat trickled down her temples, and her heart raced, as though it might burst from her chest.

  “You’re awake, sis?”

  A sweet, clear voice called out. Sitting on the chair beside the bed, gently swinging her legs, was Iris, a book resting in her lap.

  “You’re a mage, aren’t you? …

  Then how did you survive an encounter with a beast like that? …”

  Iris’s soft smile lingered, yet within it lay a quiet curiosity—one that held far more weight than mere innocent wonder.