The path toward the village narrowed as the forest thinned.
The trees grew shorter here, their roots exposed, the ground uneven and worn. What little grass remained had been trampled flat. There were no flowers. No signs of careful cultivation.
Alec slowed as they approached.
"This is it," he said quietly.
The village emerged from between the trees.
It was small.
A cluster of crooked wooden homes built from salvaged planks and stone fragments. Roofs patched with cloth and bark. Fences leaned more than they stood. Smoke drifted weakly from a few chimneys, carrying the scent of thin soup and damp wood.
Poverty clung to the place like mist.
Cale felt it immediately — not as judgment, but as weight.
People noticed them.
At first, there was only stillness.
Then fear.
Several villagers froze mid-step when Fang emerged from the treeline — massive, flame-red, eyes glowing faintly beneath the shade. A few shouted warnings. Others reached for crude tools or rusted weapons.
Alec stepped forward.
"Wait!" he called. "Please—don't!"
His voice cracked with urgency.
"They didn't hurt me. They saved me."
The crowd hesitated.
Then—
"Alec?!"
A woman broke from the group, followed by a man. They ran without hesitation, fear forgotten, eyes fixed only on the boy.
They collided with him, arms wrapping around him so tightly it almost knocked him over.
"You're alive," the woman sobbed.
"You're alive…"
Alec clung to them, tears spilling freely now.
"I'm okay," he said. "I'm really okay."
He pulled back just enough to gesture toward Cale — and Fang.
"They saved me," he said. "From the goblins."
The villagers stared.
Then slowly—carefully—they bowed.
Not deeply. Not formally.
But sincerely.
Gratitude rippled through the small crowd like warmth after cold rain.
Words came — broken thanks, trembling voices, relief layered over fear.
Alec's parents stepped forward again.
"We have little," the man said, bowing his head. "But please — take something. Anything."
Cale shook his head immediately.
"No," he said gently. "We didn't do it for reward."
He glanced at Alec, then back to the villagers.
"We're just glad he's safe."
The tension broke.
Smiles appeared — small and uncertain at first, then brighter.
Relief settled over the village.
Fang watched quietly.
No greed, he thought.
No expectation of payment.
He felt something settle firmly within him.
What a remarkable human you are, Fang said silently, pride coloring his presence.
They did not stay long.
Before leaving, Cale turned back.
"I'll visit again," he promised. "Soon."
Hope flickered in the villagers' eyes.
They traveled alone once more.
By late afternoon, the air changed.
Stone replaced soil. The forest fell silent — not in warning, but in absence.
Ahead stood a structure half-swallowed by the earth.
The dungeon.
Fang halted.
Listen carefully, he said.
Dungeons are not ruins. They are systems.
Cale nodded.
They draw monsters. Generate floors. Guard treasures.
Adventurers seek them for power, Fang continued. Kings send knights for artifacts, wealth, influence.
But dungeons do not care who enters.
Cale felt his instincts sharpen again.
Inside, he fought alone.
Stronger monsters than goblins.
Faster. Smarter.
Fang stayed back — watching. Guiding.
Correcting with silence.
They descended floor by floor until—
They felt it.
Pressure.
A presence.
From the shadows emerged something massive.
A goblin — but not like the others.
It towered over Cale, its body thick and warped, skin darkened like old stone. Armor made from stolen plates covered its chest. A massive axe rested in its grip.
A Goblin General.
Cale shifted his stance.
Fang moved instantly.
No, he said firmly.
This lesson is observation.
Cale's teeth clenched.
"But—"
Fang's gaze did not waver.
Cale exhaled.
"…Alright."
He sheathed his sword and sat back, exhausted but attentive.
Fang advanced.
For the first time, Cale saw it fully.
Fire spiraled along Fang's limbs.
Wind bent to his movement.
The General roared.
Then—
It was over.
Flame and pressure struck as one.
The goblin fell without even understanding how.
Silence followed.
What did you see? Fang asked.
Cale didn't hesitate.
"You didn't rush," he said. "You cut off its balance first. You used wind to control space — then fire to end it. No wasted movement."
Fang's eyes gleamed.
Excellent.
Nearby, they found a chest.
Inside lay a pendant.
A silver chain.
A dark red gem — like a ruby, deep and steady.
A valuable jewel, Fang said. No special power. But worth much.
Cale held it carefully.
"…I know who I'll give this to."
Fang paused.
Oh?
"To Anne," Cale said simply.
Fang blinked.
Then laughed softly.
I was thinking of a different kind of future companion.
Cale looked up. "What do you mean?"
You will understand, Fang replied. When you are older.
He nudged the pendant gently.
For now — keep it.
They turned toward home.
The forest opened before them.
And behind them, deep within stone and shadow—
Something old had been claimed.