The forest slowly began to breathe again.
For several long monts after the massive wolf monster disappeared into the depths of the trees, the clearing remained frozen in silence.
Dust drifted lazily through the air.
Sunlight filtered through the broken canopy where several towering trees had been shattered during the battle. Leaves continued falling softly like green snow.
The ground was devastated.
Two enormous craters scarred the earth where the dragon had slamd the Tier-7 predator again and again.
Broken trunks lay scattered everywhere.
And in the center of the battlefield stood the black dragon.
John flexed his claws once, the sharp tips digging slightly into the cracked ground. He stretched his wings slowly, the massive limbs unfolding with a deep rustling sound.
The motion alone caused several nearby elves to instinctively step back.
It wasn’t hostility.
It was instinct.
Standing this close to a dragon triggered sothing ancient in their blood—sothing that whispered *danger*.
John noticed the reaction imdiately.
He sighed quietly.
"Relax."
The word rumbled from his chest like distant thunder.
"I’m not hunting you."
Several elves exchanged nervous glances.
Behind them, the patrol commander finally lowered his spear.
"Stand down," he ordered.
His voice was calm but firm.
The warriors obeyed instantly.
Spears lowered.
Bowstrings loosened.
But their eyes never left the dragon.
Even the most experienced among them struggled to hide their awe.
A dragon.
Not a drake.
Not a wyvern.
A true dragon.
Sothing that had not been seen in their lands for thousands of years.
John glanced over his shoulder at them.
"You can stop staring like that," he said casually. "I’m starting to feel like an exhibit."
One of the younger elves nearly jumped when the dragon spoke.
"It... it talks!"
Another warrior elbowed him.
"Of course it talks," he whispered. "It’s a dragon, not a beast."
The commander stepped forward slowly.
Up close, the dragon’s presence was overwhelming.
John towered over them even while standing casually.
His scales shimred like polished obsidian in the sunlight.
His golden eyes burned with quiet intelligence.
The commander studied him for a long mont.
Then he bowed slightly.
"On behalf of the Greenwood patrol," he said respectfully, "you have our thanks."
John blinked.
"Oh?"
"You saved several of my warriors today."
The commander gestured toward the battlefield.
"If those two Tier-7 monsters had reached our patrol... the outco would have been grim."
John glanced at the destroyed corpses nearby.
Then shrugged.
"I was bored."
Several elves stared at him.
The commander chuckled softly.
"That may be the most dragon answer I have ever heard."
John smirked.
"Good."
Behind them, movent caught John’s attention.
Near the edge of the clearing, several elves were gathered around wounded warriors.
One of them stood out imdiately.
She wore robes rather than armor.
Long silver hair flowed down her back, tied loosely with a green ribbon.
Soft erald light glowed from her hands.
She knelt beside an injured warrior whose arm had been badly torn during the earlier battle.
Her voice was calm.
"Hold still."
The light intensified.
A faint humming sound filled the air.
John watched with interest.
The torn flesh slowly began knitting back together.
Blood stopped flowing.
The warrior gasped in relief.
Nearby elves looked visibly relieved.
One of them whispered in admiration.
"Lady Sylvara’s magic is incredible as always."
John tilted his head slightly.
He could feel the mana flowing from her.
Strong.
Very strong.
Stronger than most of the warriors here.
Aerion noticed where the dragon was looking.
"Ah."
He gestured toward the healer.
"That is Sylvara."
John watched as she finished healing the wounded warrior.
The elf bowed gratefully before stepping aside.
Another injured soldier imdiately took his place.
"She’s one of our high guardians," Aerion explained.
John raised an eyebrow.
"High guardian?"
Aerion nodded.
"Among our people there are a few who possess deeper connections to the forest."
He spoke with quiet pride.
"Sylvara and I are among them."
John glanced back at him.
"So you two are the strongest ones here."
Aerion smiled faintly.
"Sothing like that."
As if sensing their attention, Sylvara finally looked up.
Her erald eyes landed on the dragon.
She froze.
For several seconds she simply stared.
The glowing mana around her hands flickered.
"..mander."
Her voice carried across the clearing.
"Why is there a dragon in the middle of our patrol?"
Several younger elves imdiately started whispering again.
John chuckled.
"Good question."
Aerion rubbed the back of his neck.
"It’s a long story."
Sylvara slowly stood.
Graceful.
Calm.
But John could feel the powerful mana surrounding her like an invisible aura.
She walked toward them carefully.
The other elves instinctively stepped aside.
When she stopped a few ters away from the dragon, she crossed her arms.
"So," she said.
"You are the one who defeated the two Tier-7 monsters?"
John nodded.
"Yep."
Sylvara studied him carefully.
Her gaze was sharp.
Observant.
Unlike the younger elves who stared in awe, she looked at him like a puzzle she intended to solve.
After a mont she spoke again.
"You spared the wolf."
John shrugged.
"It ran."
Sylvara tilted her head slightly.
"Most dragons would have killed it."
John smirked.
"Most dragons aren’t ."
Aerion laughed quietly.
"That is becoming increasingly clear."
Behind them, the younger elves were still whispering excitedly.
A small group had gathered behind a fallen log.
One of them whispered loudly.
"Do you think we can touch the scales?"
Another whispered back.
"Are you insane?!"
"But imagine telling everyone we touched a dragon!"
A third one said nervously.
"My grandmother says dragons eat people."
John sighed.
"I can hear you."
The group froze instantly.
Their faces turned pale.
Then John snorted.
"I’m kidding."
Their relief was imdiate.
Even Sylvara laughed quietly.
She looked back at Aerion.
"So what now?"
Aerion gestured toward the forest path behind them.
"Our settlent is close."
Sylvara raised an eyebrow.
"You want to bring the dragon ho."
John grinned.
"I like how she says it like that’s a bad idea."
Sylvara stared at him.
"Because it *is* a bad idea."
Several elves chuckled nervously.
Aerion sighed.
"It is also the correct one."
Sylvara looked thoughtful.
Then she studied John again.
After a mont she nodded.
"If he wanted to harm us," she said calmly, "we would already be dead."
That statent made several elves gulp.
John gave her an approving nod.
"Smart elf."
Sylvara rolled her eyes slightly.
Aerion clasped his hands together.
"Then it is settled."
He looked at the patrol.
"We return to Greenwood."
Several younger elves looked thrilled.
One whispered excitedly.
"The village is going to explode when they see him."
Another said,
"The elders might faint."
John chuckled.
"Now I definitely want to see that."
Sylvara sighed.
"This is going to be chaos."
The patrol began organizing themselves.
Wounded warriors were helped to their feet.
Sylvara continued healing the worst injuries before they prepared to move.
John watched her work with mild curiosity.
The mana control she displayed was impressive.
Precise.
Efficient.
She finished healing one last warrior and stood again.
When she walked past the dragon, she glanced up at him.
"You are surprisingly calm."
John looked down at her.
"What were you expecting?"
She shrugged.
"Dragons in our stories are arrogant tyrants."
John grinned.
"Oh, I’m arrogant."
She smirked slightly.
"I noticed."
The patrol finally began moving through the forest.
Elves walked ahead, behind, and beside the dragon.
So still nervous.
Others fascinated.
The younger ones kept sneaking curious glances.
One brave girl walked beside Sylvara and whispered,
"Lady Sylvara..."
"Yes?"
"Do dragons really live for thousands of years?"
John answered before she could.
"Depends."
The girl nearly jumped.
Sylvara laughed softly.
"Ask him yourself."
The young elf looked up at the dragon nervously.
John glanced down.
"Relax."
Then he said,
"Yes."
Her eyes sparkled with excitent.
Behind them, Aerion walked quietly.
He glanced back at the dragon once more.
Sothing about John’s presence felt... strange.
Not dangerous.
But ancient.
Far more ancient than even the oldest forest spirits.
Aerion had fought powerful monsters before.
But nothing had ever felt like this.
Not even close.
Ahead of them, the forest slowly began to change.
The trees grew taller.
More organized.
Small wooden lanterns hung from branches.
A faint path appeared beneath their feet.
John noticed imdiately.
"Elven territory?"
Aerion nodded.
"You’re about to see our ho."
John smiled slightly.
This was getting interesting.
Behind them, deep in the wilderness—
The wounded wolf monster finally stopped running.
Its body trembled with exhaustion.
Blood still dripped from its muzzle.
But its eyes were clear.
It looked back toward the distant clearing.
Golden eyes flashed in its mory.
The wolf slowly lowered its head.
Not in fear.
But in instinctive submission.
Sowhere in the forest now walked a creature far above it in the hierarchy of predators.
A true king of monsters.
And the wolf knew one thing with certainty.
It would never challenge that dragon again.
Not in this life.
Not ever.
anwhile—
The elves of Greenwood were about to receive the most unexpected guest in their entire history.
A living dragon.
Walking calmly toward their village.
And absolutely no one there was prepared for what was coming.
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