Chapter 4: The Weight of Danger

The air grew heavier as Dreki moved deeper into the transformed city. The streets were darker here, the glow of mana-infused vines dimmed to faint pulses of blue-green light. Shadows stretched unnaturally long across the broken pavement, flickering like living things.

Xarion perched silently on his shoulder, his usual arrogant commentary replaced by an uneasy stillness. Dreki tightened his grip on a jagged piece of metal he’d picked up as an improvised weapon. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had. He scanned the area, his senses on high alert.

“Something feels wrong,” Dreki muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“For once, you’re correct,” Xarion replied, his tone unusually subdued. “Be wary, Sovereign. The silence here is unnatural.”

Dreki’s gaze darted to the shifting shadows ahead. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched.

The first goblin struck from the darkness, a blur of motion that slammed into Dreki’s side with surprising force. He staggered, the air driven from his lungs, as the creature screeched and clawed at his arm. Its wiry frame was covered in mottled green skin, its glowing red eyes filled with malice.

Dreki lashed out instinctively with the metal shard, slashing at the goblin’s arm. The creature hissed and darted back, its movements quick and jerky. Before Dreki could recover, more shapes emerged from the shadows.

Five... no, six goblins, each one armed with crude weapons—clubs, jagged knives, and rusted blades. Their twisted faces were stretched into grins of predatory glee as they surrounded him, their guttural laughter echoing through the ruined streets.

“Goblins,” Xarion muttered from Dreki’s shoulder, his voice tinged with concern. “This is bad.”

Dreki’s heart pounded. “What do I do?”

“Fight, Sovereign!” Xarion snapped, leaping into the air. “Or die!”

The goblins didn’t wait. They surged forward as one, their weapons raised.

Dreki swung wildly with the metal shard, catching one goblin in the shoulder and forcing it back. But the others were too fast. A club smashed into his ribs, sending him stumbling to the ground. Pain exploded in his side, sharp and unrelenting.

Another goblin pounced, its jagged knife slashing across his arm. Blood sprayed across the pavement as Dreki cried out, the weapon falling from his hand. The goblins cackled, their shrill laughter cutting through the air like knives.

Dreki tried to push himself up, but a booted foot slammed into his back, driving him to the ground. His face scraped against the pavement, the jagged edges tearing into his skin. Blood dripped into his eyes, blurring his vision as the goblins circled him, their voices a chorus of cruel mockery.

“Pathetic,” Xarion growled from above, his small frame darting through the air as he tried to distract the goblins. He spat weak bursts of flame that fizzled harmlessly against their tough skin. “Get up, Sovereign! You are better than this!”

Dreki’s world spun as another blow struck his side. His ribs cracked under the force, the pain searing through him like fire. He gasped for air, his chest heaving as blood pooled in his mouth. His body was failing, his strength ebbing away with every passing moment.

Time slowed as Dreki lay on the ground, the sounds of the goblins’ laughter fading into a dull roar in his ears. Pain wracked his body, sharp and unrelenting. His broken ribs made every breath a struggle. His vision blurred with blood and tears as he stared at the cracked pavement beneath him.

This is it, he thought. This is how I die.

Images flashed through his mind—Ryan’s easy grin, Malik’s quiet confidence, Jess’s teasing smirk. Emma’s eyes, fierce and full of fire, staring at him with disappointment as she said, “You need to find your own strength.”

The weight of his failures crashed over him. He’d spent his whole life avoiding conflict, letting people walk all over him, pretending he didn’t care. He’d always told himself he was above violence, that he was a pacifist. But the truth was simpler, and far uglier.

I was just afraid. Afraid to fight. Afraid to fail. Afraid to be more.

A goblin’s boot connected with his side, sending a fresh wave of pain through his broken body. Dreki gritted his teeth, his nails scraping against the ground as he tried to push himself up. The goblins laughed again, their cruel voices cutting into his thoughts.

I’ll never see them again. I’ll never see her again.

Something inside him snapped.

The pain didn’t fade—it sharpened, fueling a fire that roared to life in Dreki’s chest. His breath came faster, his heart pounding with a fury that drowned out everything else. He thought of Emma’s words, of the look in her eyes when she’d left him. She had wanted him to be stronger. She had believed he could be more.

And now, for the first time, he believed it too.

No more running. No more hiding. This world demands blood, and I’ll give it.

A guttural roar tore from Dreki’s throat as he pushed himself to his feet, his broken ribs screaming in protest. The goblins fell back, startled by the sudden surge of energy in their prey. Dreki’s bloodied hands clenched into fists, the glow of his mana-infused body flaring brighter than before.

Xarion swooped low, his golden eyes wide with surprise. “Yes, Sovereign! Embrace it! Use it!”

The goblins hesitated for only a moment before surging forward again, their weapons raised. But this time, Dreki didn’t back down. He didn’t hesitate.

Dreki grabbed the nearest goblin by the throat, his fingers digging into its scrawny neck. The creature screeched, its claws scrabbling uselessly against his arm, as Dreki slammed it into the ground with bone-shattering force. The impact sent cracks spidering through the pavement, the goblin’s body limp and broken.

Another goblin lunged at him, its jagged blade aimed at his chest. Dreki caught its arm mid-swing, twisting with a savage strength that made the creature howl in pain. He drove his knee into its stomach, the force of the blow sending it sprawling.

The other goblins hesitated, their red eyes flickering with uncertainty. Dreki’s lips curled into a bloodied grin, a manic light burning in his eyes. He stepped forward, his muscles thrumming with energy, his pain forgotten in the rush of adrenaline.

“Come on,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The goblins shrieked and charged, their hesitation replaced by desperation. Dreki met them head-on, his movements wild and unrelenting. He fought with a ferocity that shocked even himself, every blow fueled by the anger and regret that had been building inside him for years.

When the last goblin fell, Dreki stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving, his hands dripping with blood—his own and theirs. The air was thick with the metallic tang of death, the only sound the faint crackle of energy from the fractured sky above.

Xarion fluttered down to land on his shoulder, his small frame trembling slightly. “Well,” the dragon said, his voice softer than usual. “That was... unexpected.”

Dreki wiped the blood from his face, his jaw tightening as he stared at the broken bodies around him. He didn’t feel guilt or regret. He felt alive.

“This world wants a monster,” he muttered, his voice low and steady. “Fine. I’ll be a savage monster.”

Xarion smirked, his golden eyes glinting. “Now you’re starting to sound like a Sovereign.”

With a faint grin, Dreki turned and walked away from the scene, his steps steady despite the pain still lingering in his body. For the first time, he felt ready to embrace the chaos of this new world.

Dreki stumbled into the remnants of the old storefront, every step a new torment. His legs trembled under his weight, and his body screamed in protest. Blood streaked his arms, and his ribs throbbed with sharp, insistent pain. The air felt heavy, the acrid stench of blood and sweat mingling with the faint metallic tang of mana that lingered in the transformed world.

As he collapsed onto the cracked tile floor, a jagged thought cut through the haze of pain: I should be dead.

The goblins’ mocking laughter still rang in his ears, mingling with the sharp crack of bones and the wet, metallic sound of his blood hitting the ground. Their red eyes, filled with malice, haunted him. He clenched his fists, the movement sending a fresh wave of pain through his battered frame.

“Every breath you take is a defiance of logic,” Xarion said, fluttering in through the shattered window. His golden eyes swept over Dreki’s battered form as he landed on the edge of a dusty counter. “You look positively wretched.”

Dreki let out a dry, humorless laugh, wincing as the motion pulled at his broken ribs. “Thanks, Xarion. Always good to hear the truth.”

The tiny dragon hopped closer, his tail flicking with a mix of irritation and concern. “Your sarcasm is unimpressive. What’s impressive is that you’re still alive at all.”

“Barely,” Dreki muttered, his voice hoarse. “I can’t keep this up.”

“Then don’t,” Xarion snapped. “Adapt. Fight smarter. If you continue to fight like a drunken orc, you’ll get yourself killed.”

As Dreki leaned back against the wall, his gaze drifted to the fractured sky visible through the shattered window. The jagged cracks pulsed faintly, spilling blue mist into the darkening cityscape. The air felt wrong—thicker, heavier—as though the mana itself carried a faint, oppressive weight. The ruins around him were overgrown with glowing vines that pulsed with bioluminescent light, casting eerie shadows on the crumbling walls.

“This doesn’t feel like Earth anymore,” Dreki muttered.

“Because it isn’t,” Xarion replied, his tone matter-of-fact. “The System has transformed your world into something new—something better. Mana now saturates every inch of this planet, altering its creatures, its plants, even its very foundations.”

Dreki’s gaze drifted to a broken streetlamp outside, its metal twisted unnaturally, as though it had tried to grow like a living thing. “Better? It looks like a nightmare.”

“Nightmares and dreams are two sides of the same coin,” Xarion said. “This world offers both boundless opportunity and mortal peril. Which you experience depends on your choices.”

Dreki closed his eyes, the pain in his body fading to a dull throb as his thoughts drifted. He thought of Ryan’s quick wit, Malik’s calm logic, and Jess’s unflinching bravery. He thought of Emma, her words cutting through the haze of his memory like a blade: “You need to find your own strength, Dreki. Stop waiting for someone else to save you.”

He had let them all down. He had let himself down. While they were fighting for their lives in the tutorial, he was here, barely clinging to survival. He slammed his fist against the floor, the impact sending a sharp jolt through his battered arm.

“Dwelling on your failures will not change them,” Xarion said, his voice unusually soft.

Dreki opened his eyes, fixing the tiny dragon with a glare. “And what will?”

“Action,” Xarion said simply. “Strength is not found in lamentation. It is forged in battle.”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

As Dreki worked to bandage his wounds with torn strips of his shirt, Xarion began to pace across the counter, his golden eyes gleaming with a faint light. “Now that you’re not actively dying, we need to address your incompetence.”

“Here we go,” Dreki muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Essence Absorption,” Xarion began, ignoring the interruption. “When you defeat an enemy, their essence—the energy that binds their strength—becomes available. But you must claim it. Focus your intent after a kill, and the System will absorb their essence into you, enhancing your stats.”

“And if I don’t?” Dreki asked.

“The essence dissipates, wasted,” Xarion replied, his tail flicking irritably. “Every missed opportunity is power lost. You cannot afford to waste a single drop.”

Dreki’s fingers tightened around the improvised bandage on his arm. “So what do I focus on? Strength? Endurance?”

“For now, yes,” Xarion said. “Strength to ensure you can deal damage. Endurance to survive. But do not neglect agility or intelligence. You will face creatures faster and smarter than you.”

“What about charisma?” Dreki asked, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Charisma will keep you from being a complete pariah,” Xarion said flatly. “Though I suspect even the gods themselves would struggle to improve your social skills.”

As the last light of day faded, casting the world in shades of blue and black, Xarion hopped to the windowsill, his golden eyes scanning the darkened streets. “You have six months, Sovereign. Six months to grow strong enough to carve the fear of your name into the minds of everything in this world, I am not saying to become a savage but those who stand in your way must know that death is coming.”

“And if I don’t?” Dreki asked.

“Then you will die,” Xarion said simply. “And when the grace period ends, Earth will become a battlefield. Beings far beyond your comprehension will descend upon it, and they will see this place as a prize, as another stepping stone to power.”

Dreki’s jaw tightened, his chest swelling with determination. “Then I’ll stop them, I’ll do what I must to thrive in this new world.”

Xarion turned to face him, his golden eyes gleaming. “You won’t stop them—not yet. But you can make them fear you. Dominate the races of this world Inspire fear, a fear that crossing you means death. Build a kingdom they dare not challenge. Only then will you stand a small chance to protect this world.”

Dreki’s body screamed in protest as he forced himself upright. His legs trembled under the weight of his own battered frame, threatening to give out at any moment. Every breath came shallow and sharp, each one sending a fresh jolt of pain through his cracked ribs. Blood seeped steadily from the gashes on his arms and chest, pooling on the cracked tile beneath him.

He braced himself against the edge of the counter, his knuckles white as he gripped the cool surface. A length of pipe rested nearby, its metallic surface smeared with streaks of his own blood. It wasn’t much, but it had been the difference between life and death more than once. Dreki reached for it, his fingers slipping against the sticky, slick surface before finding purchase. He clung to it like a lifeline, using it to steady himself as the world swayed around him.

“You’re still standing,” Xarion said from his perch atop the counter. His golden eyes gleamed in the faint light, his tail flicking idly behind him. “Impressive, if entirely reckless.”

Dreki let out a hoarse laugh, though it quickly turned into a cough, the sharp motion wracking his ribs. “Yeah, well, I’ve got this funny thing about not dying.”

“And yet you’re remarkably talented at finding ways to achieve just that,” Xarion said with a smirk. “If your goal is survival, Sovereign, I’d suggest less bleeding.”

Dreki ignored the jab, instead glancing down at his own battered body. The gashes across his arms were deep but no longer gushing, the blood slowing to a sluggish trickle. He could feel it—faint, beneath the surface of his pain—his body working to mend itself.

“Why am I not dead already?” Dreki asked, his voice low and tinged with disbelief. “Those goblins beat me to a pulp. I’ve got broken ribs, cuts everywhere... I shouldn’t be standing.”

Xarion tilted his head, his gaze narrowing. “A fair question. You are alive because of the System. Specifically, your class.”

“My class?” Dreki repeated.

“Yes,” Xarion said, his tone taking on a lecturing air. “Draconic Vitality, one of the abilities inherent to your Dragon Sovereign class, grants accelerated healing and resistance to physical damage. Broken bones, gashes, internal injuries—your body will repair them far faster than any normal human’s. It won’t save you from being torn in half, of course, but it ensures that you can recover from even grievous injuries.”

Dreki glanced down at the bloodied bandages he’d wrapped around his arm. The edges of the gash beneath them were already beginning to knit together, faint lines of new skin forming over the torn flesh. The pain in his ribs was still sharp, but it had dulled slightly since he’d first collapsed here.

“So I heal faster,” Dreki said, his voice thoughtful. “That’s... something.”

“It is more than something,” Xarion corrected. “It is the difference between life and death. But it is not instantaneous. Your healing is tied to your endurance stat, which governs how quickly and effectively your body repairs itself. The higher your endurance, the faster you recover. As it stands, your healing is adequate but hardly remarkable.”

Dreki gritted his teeth, straightening slightly despite the pain. “Then I’ll make it remarkable. I’ll make it so I never feel this weak again.”

Xarion’s smirk widened, his golden eyes gleaming. “A bold claim. Let us see if you can live up to it.”

His breath steadying despite the lingering pain in his ribs. Xarion fluttered to his shoulder, his claws gripping tightly. The dragon’s usual arrogance was muted now, replaced by a sharp, focused intensity.

“You’re starting to understand, Sovereign,” Xarion said, his voice low but firm. “This world no longer tolerates hesitation. If you wish to survive, to thrive, you must act.”

Dreki’s jaw tightened, his grip on the length of pipe firming. “All this sounds almost like the games Ive played my whole life. Tell me what should I do next then?”

Xarion nodded, his golden eyes glinting with approval. “Nearby, there is a dungeon—a minor lair by System standards, but sufficient for a fledgling like you. It will serve as your crucible.”

Dreki frowned, the word familiar from his games. “Dungeon’s?”

“A construct of the System,” Xarion explained, his wings twitching. “A concentration of mana designed to test and challenge. Within it, you’ll find monsters, traps, and treasures—all created to push you to your limits. Clear it, and you’ll claim the rewards: essence, equipment, and the possibility of establishing a territory.”

Dreki nodded slowly, his mind racing. The word “territory” stood out to him, carrying a weight he couldn’t ignore. “Territory? You mean... I could own it?”

“Correct,” Xarion said, his tone sharp. “The System rewards ambition. Claiming a dungeon as your own is the first step toward establishing dominion in this new world. It’s not just about survival, Sovereign—it’s about control.”

Dreki’s gaze drifted to the shattered window, the faint light of the fractured sky spilling into the room. The concept of a dungeon, of territory, felt foreign and strange, but Xarion’s words carried a gravity that made it impossible to dismiss.

“Why does the System create these things?” Dreki asked, his voice thoughtful. “What’s the point?”

“Adaptation,” Xarion replied, his tone taking on a lecturing edge. “The System is not merely a force—it is a process. Worlds integrated into its framework must evolve to meet its standards. Dungeons are tools for that evolution, forcing creatures and mortals alike to grow stronger.”

“And the monsters?” Dreki asked. “Are they... real?”

Xarion tilted his head, his golden eyes narrowing. “They are constructs, manifestations of mana and will. Some are born of the System itself, while others are shaped by the essence of the world they inhabit. In time, they grow sentient, becoming true inhabitants of this transformed reality.”

Dreki nodded, his mind churning with questions. “So, clearing the dungeon... it’s not just about getting stronger. It’s about understanding this new world.”

“Precisely,” Xarion said. “And you will need every advantage you can claim.”

Dreki gripped the pipe tightly, his gaze hardening. The thought of entering a dungeon, of facing monsters even stronger than the goblins, sent a shiver down his spine. But the alternative—doing nothing, waiting for the world to consume him—was worse.

“What kind of monsters are we talking about?” Dreki asked, his voice steady.

Xarion smirked faintly, his tail flicking. “Creatures similar to the goblins you faced, though stronger, more cunning. They will not hesitate as you did.”

Dreki’s lips tightened. The memory of the goblins still burned fresh in his mind—their mocking grins, the way they had beaten him to the ground without mercy. But he had survived. He had fought back. And if he could survive them, he could survive this.

“Where is it?” Dreki asked, his voice firm.

Xarion’s smirk widened. “Less than a day’s walk from here to the east. You’ll know it when you see it—the mana there is thick, heavy. You’ll feel it before you arrive.”

Dreki nodded, his resolve settling into place. The faint pulse of determination that had sparked during the goblin fight burned brighter now, feeding on Xarion’s words. This wasn’t just about survival anymore. It was about proving something—to himself, to his friends, to the world.

Dreki took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the fractured sky outside.

Xarion’s golden eyes narrowed, his voice turning cold. “Just remember if you die the System forgets you ever existed.”

Dreki’s grip on the pipe tightened. He didn’t need the reminder of how close he’d come to death already. “I’ll clear it no matter what stands in my way.”

“Just Remember” Xarion said simply. “Too absorb the essence of the monsters you defeat and claim their power as your own. With that you will establish yourself as a force to be reckoned with in time.”

Dreki nodded, his jaw tightening. “I will cast who I was aside I will destroy all who stand between me and my goal’s.”

Xarion smirked, his tail flicking with amusement. “A bold declaration. Let us see if you can make it reality, Sovereign.”

The fractured sky pulsed faintly above, its jagged cracks spilling faint blue light and mist into the streets below. Dreki walked cautiously, the length of rusted pipe in his hand heavy with dried blood. Every step felt purposeful yet tentative, like walking a tightrope over a chasm he couldn’t see the bottom of.

The city around him was eerily quiet, the hum of mana-infused vines growing along the edges of the crumbling buildings the only sound in the stillness. The streets were empty of life, save for the faint rustle of the glowing tendrils that had taken over everything. It wasn’t the silence that unnerved him but the weight of it—like something watching, waiting.

Xarion perched on his shoulder, his claws lightly digging into Dreki’s coat. The small dragon’s golden eyes flicked from shadow to shadow, his wings twitching with tension. “You’re quiet, Sovereign,” Xarion said finally, breaking the silence. “Brooding, no doubt.”

“I’m thinking,” Dreki muttered, his voice low and rough.

“Thinking is dangerous,” Xarion replied, his tone sharp. “It breeds hesitation. And hesitation is a luxury you can’t afford.”

Dreki didn’t respond. Xarion was right, though he hated to admit it. His thoughts weren’t helping him, but he couldn’t stop the doubts from creeping in. He could still feel the goblins’ claws raking his skin, hear their cruel laughter as they circled him like wolves around a wounded deer. If he hadn’t snapped—if he hadn’t given in to the fire—he would have died.

He hated that part of himself, but he couldn’t deny it had saved him.

The silence stretched between them as Dreki turned a corner, his eyes scanning the area for anything useful. The faint glow of mana reflected off broken windows and jagged metal, casting strange, distorted patterns across the ground. His stomach growled, a sharp reminder that survival wasn’t just about fighting—it was about finding the resources to keep going.

“I need supplies,” Dreki said finally. “Food, water. Something better than this rusty pipe.”

“Fortunately for you, the System has accounted for such needs. Your inventory—a dimensional storage system—will allow you to carry far more than your mortal arms could manage.”

Dreki stopped walking, turning his head to glance at the dragon. “A what?”

“Inventory,” Xarion repeated, his tone condescending. “A weightless, magical space in which you may store items for later use. Accessing it is simple—focus your mind on the concept of storage, and command the System to reveal it.”

Dreki raised an skeptical eyebrow. He couldn’t believe it. “Really?”

“Do you need everything spelled out for you?” Xarion asked, his tail flicking irritably. “Yes. Try it.”

Dreki sighed, closing his eyes. He focused on the idea of a storage space, picturing a mental vault where he could place whatever he found. A faint chime echoed in his mind, and a translucent blue interface materialized in front of him.

INVENTORY

Slots Available: 10/50

* Slot 1: Empty

* Slot 2: Empty

...

Class Bonus: Dragon Sovereign

* Weightless storage.

* Time-preserving effect for perishable items.

Dreki blinked at the display, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Well, that’s a lovely sight too see.”

“Indeed,” Xarion said with a smug tilt of his head. “Now, put it to use. Scavenge what you can. But do not waste space on sentimentality.”

Dreki moved into the ruins of a nearby convenience store, its faded sign hanging at an odd angle. The interior was a mess of toppled shelves and scattered debris. Dust hung thick in the air, glinting faintly in the dim light.

He knelt by a fallen shelf, rifling through the debris. Most of the food was spoiled—crushed cans and torn packaging—but he managed to find a few usable items: two sealed cans of soup, a dusty bottle of water, and a single, unbroken granola bar. Holding them in his hands, he willed the System to store them, and each item vanished in a pulse of light.

INVENTORY UPDATE

Slot 1: Canned Soup (x2)

Slot 2: Water Bottle (x1)

Slot 3: Granola Bar (x1)

“It’s not much,” Dreki muttered. “But it’s better than nothing.”

“A promising start,” Xarion said. “But survival requires more than sustenance. Weapons, tools—these will serve you better than food when the next fight comes.”

Dreki nodded, his gaze drifting to the back of the store. Beneath a pile of debris, he spotted the handle of an old fire axe. He pulled it free, inspecting the blade. It was dull and pitted with rust, but it felt solid in his hands—heavier and more reliable than the pipe he’d been using.

“Better,” Xarion remarked, his golden eyes narrowing approvingly. “But remember, Sovereign, a weapon is only as good as the hand that wields it.”

The faint sound of movement reached Dreki’s ears as he stepped back onto the street. He froze, his grip tightening on the axe. Xarion’s wings flared slightly, his body tensing. “We are not alone,” the dragon whispered.

Dreki’s heart pounded as he scanned the shadows. The glow of the mana vines distorted everything, making it hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t. Then he saw them—three goblins creeping toward him, their red eyes glinting with malice. Each carried a crude weapon: a jagged blade, a spiked club, and a rusted machete.

Xarion hissed softly. “Goblins… This will be... unpleasant there starting to move into the city more. Watch Out!!!”

The goblins let out guttural shrieks, charging as one. Dreki barely had time to react as the first swung its blade at his chest. He stepped back, bringing the axe up to block the strike. The weapons clanged together, the sound sharp and jarring.

The second goblin darted in, its club aiming for his side. Dreki twisted, the motion sharper and faster than he expected, and lashed out with the axe. The blade connected with the goblin’s shoulder, sending it sprawling with a screech.

But the third goblin was on him before he could recover. Its machete slashed across his arm, drawing blood. Pain flared, but Dreki didn’t falter. He gritted his teeth, the fire in his chest roaring to life, and swung the axe in a brutal arc. The blade bit deep into the goblin’s torso, splitting it in two.

The remaining goblins hesitated, their red eyes flickering with uncertainty. But Dreki wasn’t waiting. He lunged forward, the axe rising and falling in savage arcs. His movements were wild, unrelenting, driven by a primal fury he couldn’t control. Every strike sent shockwaves up his arms, but the pain only fed the fire.

One goblin shrieked as the axe cleaved through its neck, its body crumpling to the ground. The last turned to flee, but Dreki was faster. He tackled it from behind, his fists pummeling its body into the pavement. The creature’s cries faded, replaced by the sickening crunch of bone and flesh.

When it was over, Dreki stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving, his hands slick with blood. The fire inside him still burned, but it was quieter now—a steady, consuming heat.

Xarion fluttered down from his perch, his golden eyes wide with something that bordered on respect. “You fought like a dragon” he said softly. “But the frenzy it will consume you.”

Dreki stared at the broken bodies, his breath ragged. “It felt... good,” he muttered. “Like nothing else mattered.”

“That is the danger,” Xarion replied. “The fire within you is a gift, but if you let it burn uncontrolled, it will destroy you.”

Dreki tightened his grip on the axe, his jaw set. “I’ll make it mine.”

Xarion smirked faintly, his tail flicking.

As the fractured sky pulsed faintly above, Dreki turned his gaze to the horizon, the weight of his transformation settling on his shoulders. He didn’t know what lay ahead, but he was starting to realize that he wasn’t the same man who had stumbled out of his apartment. Not anymore.