The sun warmly rests on the boy’s cheeks and on his night-like hair. Under mother’s gentle stroke, the boy smiles happily. “Can you tell me the story again?” Holding a leather book in her hand, she tells the story of a mighty dragon, the origin of his name. The boy is lost in the fantastic world of the book. Picking up the little wooden sword nearby, he raises his voice. “I’m the crimson dragon; this is my world.” Mother cheering, playing along to his little performance “No one could ever question that truth, my dear.” Fueled by a powerful sense, the boy runs around the room, pretending to be a great knight. “Brother?” The voice of a little girl attracts his attention. She runs to him delightedly, just to stumble from the tottery steps. Just in time for father to catch her, place her carefully in his arms. “Father!” The boy falls into his father’s embrace. Breaking into laughter, they were the perfect family.

If only I could become the crimson dragon and protect my family.

Hiding behind the velvet curtains, the boy and his little sister sneakily wait in the hall. Soon enough, the news that arrived this morning have attracted unwanted curiosity. Their oldest brother is now a commander. Being the youngest in history, he was praised as a genius, a natural warrior. The pride of Sylvester, the conqueror of Hyram. From the gate, in triumph, comes a young man. His confident figure was bathed in a halo, in rains of praise and flowers. The black uniform, accompanied by the silver sword on his side, was covered in a majestic aura. Behind him were the bravest knights of Hyram, the living heroes of the kingdom.

Slowly, he walks to his father’s study room. As if none of those attending, those praises matter, solemnly never left his emerald eyes. The two children overheard the maids tell of his victories. It was he who brought forth prosperity and consecrated the land of the north to Hyram. The land of chaos has been defeated under the sword of the young Lord. “He was merely a mercenary. I can be greater than that.” The boy pouted. Yet the astounding expression on his sister spoke differently. Her golden eyes did not leave his sight even for a second. He was the only vivid thing in that bright gaze. The father had already waited at the door. Though only a cold glance greets his returned son, the boy can tell a hint of pride carefully hidden under those sharp eyes. Salute to their father, Grand Duke of Hyram, their brother was Alderic Livius Sylvester, Commander of the First Army.

If only I could become the crimson dragon and be in his place.

Swinging the iron sword tirelessly, the boy trained nights and days. Yet no matter how much he tried, he could never match him. That man was too far beyond his reach. Letting the iron sword go, the boy sighed defeatedly. “How can I catch up with him?”, “You don’t have to.” Her sweet voice awakens him. With a warm smile, she placed a flower crown on his head. “You are a genius in your own way. I love you and him for that.” Her innocent words sent a light blush to the boy’s cheeks. The weight of the flower crown quietly planted a desire, a seed rooted deep in his heart. “Thank you.” He spoke. Stubborn as he was, giving up was never in his slightest thought.

If only I could become the crimson dragon and be loved.

In the end, never could he realize those carefree days could end that soon.

Finally mastering a skill, the boy excitedly went to his mother. The shadow lurking in the dark quietly observed the thick door shut before him. No matter how hard he tried, how hard he begged, those doors won’t ever greet. Disappointed and confused, they tortured the innocent mind. He ran, ran till his steps stumbled in exhaustion. Staggering, the sound of a broken vase tore the air. “Arioch?” Brother’s voice filled with concern before such scene. Just in time for Father to pass by. Under the father’s question, the seed of evil started to bloom. “It was him!” The judged gaze lays upon brother. How effortlessly lies slip through those innocent lips.

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Words can kill. The most dangerous yet simplest weapon. Whispering sweet seduction. The whole mansion, then Hyram soon wrapped in his palm. The Commander of the first army, General Alderic Sylvester, his name soon crumbled under his feet. Indulge in the power addiction, the flower of greed blooms dazzlingly. Twirling in the dance of blood, the boy smiles pleasantly. His little sister was right. Why pick up the sword when there are puppets to control?

If only I could become the crimson dragon, then all must be obeyed.

In the blink of an eye, he was standing in front of a hill. Surrounded by flame and death, the throne awaits its master on top. The sword in his hand soon bathed in thick blood. Anyone who dared to challenge shared the same slaughtered fate. Even fighting tirelessly, even with those hands of the dead chaining his steps, nothing was able to crush the burning desire. That throne, that power is for him to claim. ‘Don’t do this, my child!’ Mother’s gracious lips effuse in the stream of warm blood. Bloody tears hint in her melancholy eyes at his cruel move. ‘Only agony awaits you!’ Sorrow dyed those emerald eyes, dyed those hands reaching out to the man. In the game of power, sympathetic lucids are the weak. How simple was that, to end the life of such great man? The blade went deep into his flesh, tasting the flavor of his mighty heart, hearing the soothing sound of broken bones. Eventually, we are all vulnerable humans. “You said the crimson dragon reigned in your heart.” His blade tore apart father’s heart. “Where was it? Only the lifeless corpse of father replies. No matter how many stabs that shattered heart bears, he will never find the answer.

From the four corners of this broken realm, rises the sea of flame. Fondling his skin, the flame slowly savors the prey. Immersed in waves of maniacal laughter, he drowns in the burning ocean. Those dark eyes were fixed on the throne. “The crimson dragon reigns in my blood.” With bare hands, he devoted his blood to the King of Flame, the holder of the infernal. Fire returns his prayer. From the four corners of this broken realm, rises the triumph of death, welcoming the return of the Lord. In agony, the crimson wings flare up from the human’s form. Reborn from the ashes, the man is now Sylvester, the true crimson dragon. In its thirst for blood, it growls the song of the apocalypse.

Landing before the iron throne, a figure of a maiden awaits at the destination. The golden hair glorifies her beauty, the pure eyes praise her divinity. Face the infamous dragon, yet not a single hint of frightening glimpses through those star-like sights. Infernal flame summoned destruction, just to witness the maiden smile. Under her simple hand gesture, a powerful force forces its enormous body to kneel. The stars bathed the maiden in a halo, in her voice as mighty as thunder. Wake up. Your true fate awaits. Her hand was placed softly on his head. The crimson dragon immediately falls from the hill to the screaming flame.

…

Jolted awake from the nightmare, the emerald eyes are wide open in fear. Place the forehead on his hands, Arioch tries to calm himself. Everything was just a dream… Yet why does it feel too real? Stroking the hair soaked with sweat, bitterness stuck in his dry throat. The young King climbs off the bed, reaching for the wine. Gulping down the sourness of the wine, those sensations of the nightmare still lingered. The burning, the despair, and the desire haunted his chaotic mind. And her smile, her presence, that mystery maiden. For a moment, her smile brought a rare peace to his heart. Hence, he can’t help but wonder.

Why did she feel so familiar?