In the vast continent of Aetheria, seven dominant races carved out their own territories, reigning with pride, power, and prejudice. The humans, elves, demons, monsters, titans, spirits, and the ancient aetherians each held sovereignty over their lands. Though some yearned for peace, most were driven by ambition, greed, and fear. Unity among the races was not merely improbable—it was unthinkable.
Nestled between the border of the human Kingdom of Aethelhum and the untamed lands ruled by monsters, lay a quiet village called Whisperwood. It was a humble place, often overlooked on maps and spared from the chaos of war. But on one fateful night, destiny stirred within its depths.
A young boy named Leo Kaelen found himself deep within the Abyssal Forest, the air heavy with the scent of moss and magic. He had ventured into the perilous woods in search of herbs—desperate to ease his ailing mother's fever. The cold bit into his skin as night fell, and his breath fogged in the growing frost.
As he bent down to pluck a leaf shimmering with dew, a soft, humming light caught his attention. A floating orb of mana hovered nearby, pulsing gently, beckoning him forward.
"Hm?" Leo murmured, his voice swallowed by the trees.
He followed it, first cautiously, then with a growing sense of wonder. The orb danced through the dark canopy, slipping into a cave that yawned like the maw of a beast. Leo hesitated only for a moment before stepping inside, guided by the orb's ethereal glow.
Within the cave's depths, shadows clung to the walls like living things. And there, nestled in silence, lay a creature out of legend.
A dragon.
Its scales shimmered with a shade darker than midnight, absorbing light like a void. Massive claws, each longer than a greatsword, lay curled against the stone. Crimson eyes, glowing like molten rubies, opened slowly—piercing and calm.
Leo, though small and trembling, stepped closer instead of turning away. He did not feel fear—only awe.
The dragon observed him quietly. "A child who does not flee from the dark," it said in a voice that echoed like wind through ancient halls, "but walks into it with courage. Curious…"
Leo reached out a hand and touched one of the dragon's scales—warm, despite the cold. His heart beat loud in his ears, yet he felt strangely at peace.
"Perhaps it is possible… with this boy…" the dragon murmured to itself.
Before it could say more, voices echoed from the cave's mouth. Villagers, calling Leo's name in frantic desperation.
Leo turned to the dragon, hesitant. "Can I… see you again?"
The dragon's eyes softened. "That will not be possible. Not yet."
Gently, the dragon placed a single claw against Leo's forehead. In an instant, the boy's eyelids drooped. He collapsed into sleep as soft magic enveloped him. With one last look, the dragon vanished into the shadows, leaving Leo at the cave's entrance—unharmed and alone.
---
Sixteen Years Later—Inside the Luminary Academy, Crown Capital of Aethelhum
"And that is why dragons are regarded as the apex beings within the monster race," the professor concluded, tapping his cane against the podium. "Are there any final questions before I end today's lecture?"
None spoke. The bell tolled. Chairs scraped as students filed out.
Among them, Leo Kaelen remained silent.
Sixteen years, he thought. And I still remember.
The memory of that night had faded to a dream in the minds of others. The villagers claimed they had found him lying outside the cave, with no sign of any creature. Most dismissed dragons as myths—remnants of forgotten folklore.
But Leo knew what he saw.
He made his way to the Academy's grand library as part of his routine. The scent of old parchment greeted him like an old friend. He retrieved a stack of books—every volume he could find on monsters, their histories, cultures, and ecosystems.
Yet none mentioned dragons.
Sitting by the towering window, he flipped through a familiar page.
"Goblins are a species known for their innate control over thunderbolts and expertise in jungle warfare…"
Leo sighed and closed the book. "I already know this. Why is there never anything new?"
"There you go again," came a teasing voice.
He looked up. "Hm? Lena?"
Lena Stone—his childhood friend from Whisperwood—gave him a knowing smile. She sat beside him with a playful huff.
"Still obsessing over the mysterious dragon?"
"You're the only one who ever believed me," he replied with a faint grin. "How was mana-engineering class?"
"Exhausting. But I passed the midterm," she said proudly.
The two fell into quiet conversation, lingering in the library until dusk fell and the twin moons rose into the night sky.
---
Later that night, Leo's rest was disturbed by a noise outside his dormitory window—rustling, then snapping branches. He squinted through the dark and saw a pale boy sprinting into the woods, a single horn protruding from his head.
An ogre.
Without hesitation, Leo grabbed his coat and raced after him, darting past the academy gates and into the woods. Minutes later, he found the boy slumped beneath a tree, clutching a bleeding wound in his abdomen.
Leo knelt beside him. "Hold on—just stay with me."
Tearing a strip from his cloak, he wrapped it tightly around the injury. The ogre whimpered, but held still.
Then—torchlight.
Voices.
A group approached. Leo peeked around the tree and froze. The men wore dark armor, marked with brands used by slave cartels.
"They're selling children now?" he whispered bitterly.
Before he could act, a spear hurtled from the dark—striking both Leo and the ogre through the chest, nailing them to the tree.
"Well, well," the lead man sneered, stepping forward. "Thought you could hide, did you? Hm. Shame the merchandise is damaged now."
He grabbed the ogre and tossed him aside like a broken tool.
Leo gasped for breath. Blood filled his lungs. "A-ahh…"
"Oh? You're still breathing?" the man chuckled. "Surviving a mana-imbued spear… impressive."
But Leo's vision blurred. He teetered between life and death.
There, in that liminal space, he saw the ogre boy reach for him—his small hands trembling.
"I'm sorry… If I hadn't chased you—"
The boy embraced him, tears falling freely. And then, something strange happened.
Light engulfed them.
The ogre's body shimmered and dissolved, fusing into Leo's form. A bloodline, once ancient and proud, now flowed through his veins. The traits of the noble ogre race—the warriors of the eastern blade—became his.
Leo's body, suspended between two worlds, began to shift.
He had always dreamed of uniting the races, of ending their suffering. But he had lacked the strength. Until now.
Within him now was not just life or death—but both. A paradox made flesh.
"Ah, he's dead," the man muttered with a shrug. "Guess he wasn't so special after all. Hm? WHAT THE—?!"
Leo's hand gripped the man's leg.
The young man rose slowly, a glowing spear still embedded in his chest.
His eyes opened—blazing crimson, like the fire of ancient dragons.
With unnatural strength, he reached forward and wrapped his hand around the man's neck.
And then, with a single twist, ended him.
Not killing him—but severing his life from death.