Speed was everything. The roaring wind drowned out all other sounds, but the rhythmic thunder of the dragon’s massive wingbeats reverberated in Brass’s chest, a visceral reminder of just how close it was. His instincts screamed, and he felt the air shift unnaturally behind him.
Twisting mid-flight, he folded his wings tight against his back just as the dragon’s jaws snapped shut inches away. The crushing sound of teeth cleaving through the empty space he’d occupied sent a cold spike of adrenaline through him.
Clutching Serra tightly, he reached out with his free arm, fingers clawing desperately at the ridges of the dragon’s head. His hand caught a jagged spike near the crown, and he latched on, his claws digging into its scaled surface.
The dragon roared in fury, the force of its bellow shaking him to his core. Its massive head whipped to the side, jerking Brass violently. He clung to the spike with all his strength, gritting his teeth as the motion threatened to wrench Serra from his grasp. Adjusting his hold, he pressed her closer to his chest, his arm like an iron band around her unconscious form.
The beast shifted its weight mid-flight, diving into a sharp, spiraling descent. For a brief, disorienting moment, gravity seemed to vanish, and Brass’s stomach lurched. But then the dive ended abruptly, and the dragon surged upward with a brutal ascent.
The force slammed into him, pressing him against the dragon’s rough hide as if trying to crush him. The relentless pressure made every breath a struggle, and his muscles screamed in protest as he fought to maintain his grip.
I can’t keep this up. The thought was like a hammer blow. The dragon was too fast, too powerful. If he didn’t act now, it wouldn’t matter how strong he was.
Brass drew in a ragged breath, his mind racing. The memory of the dragon’s soul energy—the pure, overwhelming rush of it—rose unbidden, and desperation spurred him to action.
One more time.
He closed his eyes briefly, focusing inward, and activated Soul Siphon.
The effect was immediate and electric. A surge of raw, burning power coursed into him, flowing like molten gold through his veins. The dragon’s soul was like nothing else he had ever felt—wild, primal, and unrelenting. It filled him with vitality, sharpening his senses to an almost painful degree. His vision exploded with detail, every scale on the dragon’s hide gleaming like molten armor in the firelight.
The sensation was intoxicating, almost overwhelming. The feral part of him roared in triumph, reveling in the sheer power that now coursed through his body. But he gritted his teeth and focused. The longer he drew from the dragon’s soul, the more he could feel its resistance—a furious, otherworldly force clawing back at him, trying to tear him apart from the inside.
Enough. Brass ended the siphon, his body trembling with the effort of containing the energy.
The dragon roared again, its voice tinged with an almost human fury, as if it could feel the theft of its essence. Brass didn’t care. The power now thrumming within him would have to be enough.
He shifted his weight and unfurled his wings, the surge of energy making them feel stronger than ever before. Timing his movement with the rhythm of the dragon’s flight, he released his grip on the spike, letting himself drop away from its head just as it arched upward.
Diving beneath the dragon’s massive body, weaving through its claws as they swiped at him. His speed felt unnatural, a blur of motion fueled by the soul energy coursing through him. With a single, powerful beat of his wings, he shot toward open sky, Serra still secure in his arms.
The dragon twisted to follow, its massive tail lashing out like a battering ram. He veered hard to the left, feeling the wind of its strike whip past him.
He scanned the ground below, every detail rendered in shades of grey by his enhanced night vision. The forest canopy stretched out like a shifting ocean, broken only by the occasional twisting road or jagged boulder jutting through the foliage. None of it offered any immediate salvation. His mind raced, grasping for a plan, any plan, as he pulled up his list of skills and abilities.
Still only level 1, he thought bitterly. Who gets thrown against a dragon at level 1? What is this, a Souls game?
A flicker of movement behind him brought his attention back to the looming threat. The dragon’s glowing eyes burned through the darkness, and a low rumble vibrated the air as the beast prepared another attack.
Brass’s gaze darted back to his skill menu. Nothing screamed “dragon-slaying,” but something—anything—had to work.
Vampiric Speed… It wasn’t flashy, but it was all he had. With a quick mental command, he activated the skill, a familiar rush of energy flooding his limbs. His body responded instantly, his movements becoming a blur even in the air. To his surprise, the skill worked just as well aloft as it did on land. He shot forward, slicing through the night like a shadow given life.
The dragon bellowed in frustration, and then the world behind him exploded into light and heat. A massive fireball burst forth from the beast’s maw, igniting the canopy below in a cascade of embers. Brass could feel the wave of heat prickling at his back as he darted ahead, narrowly escaping the inferno.
Not dying today, he thought grimly, the thrill of survival pushing him to move faster.
Realizing he had no other option, Brass began spamming his Vampiric Speed like a panicked gamer hammering the dodge-roll button. The air became a blur of motion as he triggered the skill over and over, each activation sending him rocketing ahead of the pursuing dragon.
The strain quickly set in. His mana bar drained faster than water through a sieve, and a splitting headache bloomed behind his eyes, sharp and unforgiving. His muscles screamed from the constant exertion, his lungs burned as if fire had taken root inside them, but he didn’t dare stop.
By the time his mana was completely gone, Brass had put what felt like a couple hundred miles between himself and the dragon. His body felt like it was being held together by sheer willpower, the headache now a pounding drumbeat in his skull.
Note to self, he thought as he hovered briefly to catch his breath, chest heaving. Never spam one skill unless you want to feel like your brain’s about to explode.
The night was still now, save for the distant roar of the dragon, which seemed to have lost sight of him—for the moment.
“All right,” he muttered glancing at Serra still cradled in his arms. Her weight was a constant reminder of why he couldn’t afford to fail. “Time to figure out what the hell to do next.”
Level 1, no mana, almost dead, carrying an unconscious girl, and outrunning a dragon. Yeah, totally fair. He glared at the system's notification still hanging in the air before him, its coldly efficient lettering glowing faintly against the darkness.
[You have escaped the adolescent forest dragon: Reward— 300 XP.]
Brass blinked, his wings faltering for just a second before he caught himself. “Wait, did you just say 300 XP? For all that?”
The notification flickered replaced with a new one almost instantly:
[Correction: Reward—300 XP pending approval. Adjusted reward may vary based on your performance review.]
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Performance review?" He hissed, the wind ripping at his words. "What am I, a temp? I just outran a dragon at level 1! What more do you want?”
Spinning out in front of him the lens of the system narrowed, its metallic tone was calm and condescending. "I remained silent and indulged your improvised performance, even awarding you for your efforts. The disrespect I'm shown in return is noted."
"Improvised performance?" His voice rose above the wind, frustration mounting. "I almost died! Serra almost died! What more did you want?!"
[Metrics under evaluation: Efficiency, resourcefulness, and style. Current rating: Pending.]
Brass gritted his teeth, glancing at the faint outline of the dragon still combing the horizon in the distance. “Style? Oh style,is what your worried about? Sorry I didn't pull off a triple corkscrew or pose dramatically while getting nearly roasted alive!”
The system spiraled around him, glowing faintly in the moonlight as it kept pace with his increasingly shaky flight. "You know," it mused, "a backflip or a stylish maneuver would have improved your score. Consider integrating flair into future combat scenarios."
“You’re joking,” Brass muttered, but he already knew better, the system wasn’t. It never was.
[Reward recalculated: 250 XP. Adjusted for lack of stylish execution and excessive complaints.]
“Are you—” He bit back a curse, looking down at Serra in his arms. “Okay, fine. I’ll take it. Just…keep the dragon off my tail.”
Brass exhaled, forcing his aching body to push forward. Every muscle screamed for rest, his wings trembling with each beat. His mana was shot and his only consolation was the unconscious girl in his arms who might owe him an apology after all this.
“Next time,” he growled, his voice low and bitter, “I want the damn dragon to have a performance review too.”
The system whirled into his path, forcing him to bank sharply to avoid a collision with a nearby tree. It paused briefly, then responded with a faintly amused tone: “Noted. Suggested feedback for dragon: ‘Try harder next time."
Brass didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. Instead, he focused on the horizon, desperately searching for somewhere—anywhere—safe to land.
The landscape began to change beneath him, the dense forest giving way to scattered meadows and fields, their edges dappled with trees that seemed to shy away from forming another unbroken canopy. Ahead, a range of rolling hills rose gently against the horizon, their silhouettes sharp against the starry sky. Brass’s keen eyes traced the terrain searching for cover.
His claws flexed around Serra, her limp form cradled securely in his arms. A pang of worry gnawed at his chest, she hadn’t stirred.
He glanced down at her pale face, her features illuminated in fleeting moonlight as they passed between shadows. She looked too still, her breathing shallow and faint against his chest. The protective instinct that had driven him this far twisted into something darker—a creeping sense of helplessness.
His mind raced, filling the silence with worst-case scenarios. What if it’s internal bleeding? A cracked skull? Permanent brain damage? His experience as a boxer only made the fears more vivid. He’d seen what head trauma could do—seen men stumble out of the ring, never to be the same again.
"Oh stop worrying," the system interrupted reading his thoughts again. "As long as she survives the healing magics of this world can fix much that would prove impossibly detrimental in yours."
“I need to get us down,” he muttered, his voice hoarse from the cold air and the strain of speaking through gritted teeth. "Or she might not live for me to get her to a healer."
Ahead, the hills offered promise. Their uneven contours could hide him from the dragon’s sight, and the scattered trees and boulders might serve as decent cover. Brass dipped lower, his wings folding slightly as he began a cautious descent.
His boots hit the ground with a dull thud, his legs nearly buckling as exhaustion slammed into him like a tidal wave. His wings sagged at his sides, feathers dragging along the dirt, and he barely managed to fall to his knees in a controlled collapse. The transformation from his lycan form faded almost instinctively, his body shrinking back to his human-like state, but the relief was short-lived.
He glanced at his stamina bar, now blinking ominously at a measly 4 points remaining. Not great.
Carefully, he laid Serra down on the soft ground. The flowers beneath her were vibrant, a sharp contrast to the cold and darkness around them. For a fleeting moment, he thought how out of place such beauty felt here. It wasn’t enough to chase away the dread gnawing at him.
Brass staggered to his feet and stumbled toward the hill’s edge, his keen eyes scanning the terrain. Rocks. Sparse trees. A scattering of uneven terrain. No caves. No shelters. Nothing.
“Perfect,” he muttered under his breath, turning back to where Serra lay still as stone.
Hovering nearby, the system orb glinted faintly, its mechanical lens swiveling as if surveying the scene. Brass shot it a look. “Can’t you, I don’t know, scan her or something? Figure out what’s wrong?”
The orb whirred with what felt suspiciously like condescension. “Of course I can. I already have. I know precisely what condition every single one of her cells is in. What do you take me for? Human technology?”
Brass pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience unraveling. “Then what’s wrong with her?”
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“As if I could just tell you,” the system replied breezily, spinning in a lazy circle. “Honestly, you need a skill for that. Obviously.”
Brass sank down beside Serra with a groan, leaning back on his elbows as he stared at the star-flecked sky. “A skill? Of course, it’s a skill. Why wouldn’t it be? Aren’t you supposed to be my guide or something? Help me out here.”
The orb’s lens snapped toward him, almost offended. “Ah, see, that’s where you’ve misunderstood. I’m not your guide. I’m merely an observer. I interact with you because it’s far more entertaining this way. You’re quite amusing, you know.”
Brass let his head fall back with a thud. “Fantastic. My life’s a soap opera to a glorified floating camera.”
“You flatter me,” the system said, voice oozing mock humility.
He ignored it and glanced back at his stats. The additional XP from his escape had pushed him over the limit—384/200—and the pulsing notification in the corner of his vision beckoned him. He frowned thoughtfully. “So, how do I level up? Since, you know, that’s supposed to be your thing.”
“Ah, now that is simple,” the system chimed, bright and cheerful. “Just select the XP bar, focus on leveling, and do try to actually choose your skills this time. You get 1 skill point, 1 ability point, and an increase to your health, mana, ki, and chakra pools. Depending on your class, you might also unlock spells or perks.”
“Chakra pools?” Brass repeated, blinking. “I have those?”
“You have a lot of things,” the orb replied with a smug spin. “Most of which you haven’t bothered to read about. Might want to start now.”
Brass sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. His body ached, his stamina was drained, and Serra’s life—or sanity—might very well depend on him figuring this system out. He sat up straighter, glaring at the glowing XP bar in his peripheral vision.
“Fine. Let’s do this.” He reached out mentally, selecting the bar, and braced himself for whatever came next.
As soon as Brass focused on the glowing XP bar, the world around him seemed to pause. A rush of energy surged through his veins, not entirely pleasant, but not painful either—a mix of pins-and-needles and the warmth of a good workout. A notification blinked into existence, sharp and intrusive.
Level Up!
•Current Level: 1 → 2
•Health Pool: +10
•Mana Pool: +15
•Stamina Pool: +8
•Ki Pool: +5
•Chakra Pool: +5
Skill Point Earned: 1
Ability Point Earned: 1
“Okay,” Brass muttered, staring at the glowing options that materialized before him. A list of skills hovered in the air, seemingly endless, each one accompanied by descriptions and potential effects. His brows furrowed as he skimmed the choices. “Where do I even start? This is worse than picking a cable plan.”
“If I may,” the system interjected, its voice dripping with superiority, “you could prioritize skills relevant to your current predicament. Healing, mobility, perhaps even some rudimentary combat enhancements? Although, based on your earlier display, ‘basic coordination’ might not be a bad idea.”
“Funny,” Brass deadpanned, his eyes narrowing at the orb. “Real helpful. Thanks.”
The system spun lazily. “Always a pleasure.”
Ignoring the snark, Brass focused on a skill that caught his eye:
[Bloodbound Pact]
•Type: Active
•Description: Sacrifice your own blood to heal an ally’s wounds. Health can be converted into life force for others. Efficiency improves with level and skill synergy.
•Cost: 1 Ability Point
Brass hesitated, staring at the ability. It wasn’t exactly subtle, but it had a sense of purpose he couldn’t ignore. Serra needed help, and his own body was in better shape now after the level-up.
“Blood magic, huh?” he muttered. “Guess it’s fitting for a vampire-werewolf hybrid. Though am I part dragon now too? What does that make me anyway, a chimera?”
The system chimed in. “Ah, an altruistic choice. Who knew you had it in you? Or perhaps you’re just preparing to guilt-trip her later.”
He rolled his eyes. “You know, if I had a skill for shutting you up, I’d take it in a heartbeat.”
Selecting [Bloodbound Pact], he felt a strange warmth pool in his chest, a quiet hum echoing through his veins as the ability took hold. It was intimate and alien at the same time, as though his blood itself had gained a voice.
With his healing ability chosen, he still had a skill point left for offense. Flipping through the werewolf-specific options, one stood out like a beacon:
[Howling Strike]
•Type: Active
•Description: Channel the ferocity of a wolf into a devastating melee attack. The strike releases a shockwave of force, damaging and disorienting enemies within range. Effectiveness scales with strength and stamina.
•Cost: 1 skill Point
Brass didn’t need much convincing. “I could’ve used this ten minutes ago,” he muttered, selecting it. The moment he did, a low growl echoed in his throat, the new power settling into his muscles like a coiled spring.
The system’s voice interrupted his focus. “Congratulations, you’ve leveled up without completely embarrassing yourself. I’d call that progress.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Brass said dryly, standing and brushing the dirt from his clothes. He knelt by Serra, placing a hand on her shoulder.
A faint crimson glow surrounded his hands as he focused on the flow of his own life force. The system chimed in, “Warning: Health sacrifice can be fatal if overused. But hey, at least it’ll look dramatic.”
“Not helping,” Brass snapped, focusing harder.
The warmth in his chest shifted, becoming a sharp sting as red tendrils of light extended from his fingertips and into Serra. His health bar dipped visibly, but he didn’t care. Her breathing grew steadier, her color returning as the glow settled into her.
Health Sacrificed: 8 HP
Target Condition: Stabilized
Serra’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze unfocused but alive. Relief washed over Brass like a wave, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
“Hey,” he said softly, his voice rough. “You’ve got terrible timing, you know that?”
She blinked, trying to sit up but failing. “What… what happened?”
“Long story,” he said, pulling her up gently and glancing at the system floating nearby.
“You’re welcome, by the way.” The system hummed. “And yet no gratitude? Shocking.”
Brass ignored it, looking at Serra. “We need to move. There’s still a dragon out there. How do you feel?”
She looked almost ethereal under the moonlight, her pale skin shimmering faintly as if it carried its own gentle luminescence. In that moment, she appeared impossibly fragile—like something precious and delicate that the world had no right to harm. His instincts surged, urging him to protect her, to shield her from the harshness of everything around them.
“I’m a bit lightheaded,” Serra said, her voice quiet and tinged with fatigue, “and everything aches…but I’ve been through worse.”
Her words were steady, but he caught the tremor in her hand as she reached for her bag. Somehow, miraculously, it had stayed with her throughout the chaos—the mad dash, the dragon’s pursuit, and the desperate retreat. Her fingers fumbled slightly, but then they found their mark. From within the worn leather pouch, she pulled out a cluster of dried, brittle herbs, their earthy scent cutting faintly through the night air. Without hesitation, she placed a pinch in her mouth and began to chew, her jaw working methodically.
Brass watched in fascination as a look of quiet satisfaction spread across her face, her features softening. Slowly, her ashen complexion began to warm, a faint flush spreading to her cheeks. Her breathing evened out, and he could almost feel the transformation as her heartbeat grew steadier, stronger. It thrummed in his ears—a tantalizing rhythm that made his muscles tense involuntarily. Her blood seemed to radiate new vitality, coursing through her with a renewed energy that tugged at something deep and primal within him.
He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms as he forced the hunger back down. The metallic tang of his own blood served as a bitter reminder of what he could never let happen. He swallowed hard, his throat dry.
“What is that stuff?” he asked, his voice low and tight.
She glanced at him, her lips curling into a faint smile as she swallowed. “Draigleaf,” she said simply. “It’s a medicinal herb. Restores strength, clears the head. Tastes terrible, though.”
He nodded, keeping his tone casual. “Looks like it’s doing its job. You went from half-dead to full-speed ahead in about two chews.”
Serra raised an eyebrow, her smile fading just a touch. “You can tell that?”
Brass hesitated, forcing a shrug. “You were pale before. Now you’re not. Doesn’t take a genius.”
She seemed to buy the explanation, nodding as she tucked the rest of the Draigleaf back into her bag. “Guess it saved me again. Found a patch of it yesterday while scouting. Didn’t think I’d actually need it this soon.”
“Well, good timing,” Brass said, crossing his arms. “But if that stuff’s so useful, why haven’t I heard of it before?”
Serra tilted her head at him, curious. “You haven’t? I thought all travelers knew about Draigleaf. It’s one of the basics.”
Brass’s brain scrambled for an excuse. “Uh, yeah, I probably just… heard it called something else.” He waved vaguely, hoping to shift the focus off his ignorance.
She gave him an odd look but didn’t press further. Instead, her gaze softened slightly. “What about you? You look worse off than me.”
He snorted, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint smirk. “I’ve had worse.”
She smiled, mimicking his tone. “Guess that makes two of us.”
For a brief moment, the tension between them eased, and the chaos of the night faded into the background.
Then the system chimed in, its voice as gratingly smug as ever. “Touching. Truly. But if we’re done sharing heartfelt anecdotes, may I suggest focusing on survival?”
Brass’s eye twitched. “You’re really not helping.”
“I wasn’t aware I was here to help,” the system replied, its tone dripping with mockery. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll pretend to care.”
Brass groaned, muttering under his breath, “I swear, I’m gonna figure out how to shut you off one day.”
Serra’s eyes narrowed as she gave him a puzzled glance, her brow furrowed slightly. The silence between them stretched for a moment, the soft chirping of crickets filling the night air. Brass turned his gaze to the horizon, pretending to study the faint outline of hills against the starlit sky. He couldn’t meet her eyes yet—he needed to figure out the right words.
Finally, Serra broke the quiet, her voice tentative but tinged with curiosity. “Say, can you explain what happened back there? I swear I saw you… grow wings or something.”
His heart skipped a beat, a tremor of unease running through him. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. There was no easy way out of this, no plausible excuse. He had just been dodging the questions that did not add up, but now? Now it was unavoidable. She deserved the truth—or at least part of it.
He exhaled sharply, the weight of the confession pressing down on him. “The truth is,” he began, his voice heavier than he intended, “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”
Serra’s snort broke the tension, a sound so unladylike it almost made him smile. Somehow, even her exasperation had a charm to it. “Oh, really?” she said, smirking. “That’s been obvious from the start. Everyone has their secrets, though.” She shrugged casually, but her piercing gaze betrayed her curiosity.
“Well,” he said, bracing himself, “my secret is… kind of insane.”
“Insane?” she echoed, raising a brow.
“Yeah. The thing is, I wasn’t born on this world.”
Her expression shifted instantly, the teasing smile fading as her eyes widened. He could almost hear the gears in her mind turning. Before she could respond, he pressed on, his words tumbling out in an effort to get ahead of her questions.
“I come from a different world. A world called Earth.” His voice softened as he spoke the name, the syllables tinged with an almost forgotten familiarity. “It’s nothing like this place. No magic, no dragons—just… humans and technology. And… I died there.”
Serra blinked, her mouth slightly open, but she said nothing, letting him continue.
“I was killed. Back on Earth. A gunfight gone wrong,” he admitted, his voice low and raw. He didn’t want to delve too deeply into that part of his past, not now. “And then… I woke up. A goddess—yes, a literal goddess—decided to give me a second chance. She tossed me into this world like some kind of… experiment.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and strange. Brass felt the weight of her stare as he finally turned to face her. Her expression was unreadable, a mixture of disbelief, intrigue, and something else he couldn’t quite place.
Serra tilted her head, a flicker of suspicion crossing her face, but she didn’t interrupt. Her expression danced between curiosity and wariness as she shifted her weight, crossing her arms. “So, let me get this straight,” she said slowly, her voice tinged with skepticism. “You’re saying you’re some sort of… what, an otherworlder? Like the heroes from the old legends?”
Brass nodded, feeling the weight of her gaze. “Yeah. I was a boxer back in my world.."
She raised an eyebrow, clearly still processing. “A goddess sent you here? And didn’t bother giving you a manual or, I don’t know, a clue about what to do?”
Brass smirked despite himself. “Pretty much. She called it an opportunity. Gave me a system, a few random powers, and then said, ‘Good luck.’ No tutorial, no guide—just a pat on the back and a shove into the deep end.”
Serra’s lips quirked into a half-smile, but her eyes stayed sharp, scanning his face for any sign of deception. “And the wings? That part of the package deal too?”
He hesitated, his jaw tightening. This was the hard part. “Not exactly. I’ve… changed since I got here. I’m not just human anymore.” He let the words hang in the air, watching her reaction.
Her brow furrowed as she processed his confession. “Not just human? You mean you’re some kind of—” She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening as the memory of the wings, the claws, and the speed he’d displayed earlier came rushing back. “You’re a monster, aren’t you? Something… inhuman.”
Brass gave a small nod, his shoulders stiff. “Yeah. A mix of two things that shouldn’t exist in one body: vampire and werewolf. I don’t know how or why, but here I am.”
Serra stepped back slightly, her hand brushing the hilt of her dagger—a reflex more than an actual threat. “You’re serious?” Her voice was softer now, her earlier humor gone. “Vampire and werewolf?”
He nodded again, his expression grave. “I didn’t ask for it. Didn’t even know it was possible. But it’s part of me now, and I’m doing my best to figure it out.” He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at her uncertainly. “Look, I get it if you don’t trust me anymore, but I didn’t exactly get a choice in any of this.”
Serra stared at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face. Finally, she sighed and let her hand drop from her weapon. “You’re right. This is crazy. But…” She paused, glancing at the horizon before looking back at him. “You saved my life back there, hybrid or not. So, I guess I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt—for now.”
Brass felt a knot of tension ease in his chest, though her guarded tone told him she wasn’t fully convinced yet. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “I’ll prove I’m not a threat. You have my word.”
She snorted again, that unladylike sound somehow breaking the tension. “Oh, don’t get too noble on me. You still owe me an explanation for why the goddess picked you of all people. A boxer with no clue about magic or monsters? Sounds like she was drunk when she made that call.”
Brass chuckled, grateful for the shift in tone. “Honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised if she was.”
Her reaction was far more composed than he expected. No screaming, no accusations of lying. Just calm curiosity, laced with a bit of humor.
“So,” she continued, her tone playful now, “are you some kind of chosen hero, or is this goddess just bad at picking her champions?”
Brass couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in his chest easing slightly. “Let’s just say… she has a weird sense of humor.”
“I’ll say.” She studied him for another moment, her gaze softening. “Well, it’s not the strangest thing I’ve seen lately. Wings and all.”
Her acceptance, casual as it seemed, hit him harder than he expected. For the first time since landing in this chaotic world, he felt like he wasn’t completely alone.