Itsuki woke to silence.

  Not the heavy, ringing quiet that followed pain—but something softer. The kind that felt alive.

  Leaves whispered overhead. Sunlight filtered through layers of green, warm against his face. The air smelled damp and clean, rich with earth and moss. For a long moment, Itsuki simply lay there, afraid that if he moved, everything would shatter and he would wake back up under a broken sky.

  But the pain didn’t come.

  He blinked.

  No burning in his chest. No pressure crushing his ribs. No mana clawing at his veins like it had his entire life in this world. His body felt… light. Almost hollow.

  “Am I dead?” he murmured.

  “Hardly.”

  The voice came from nearby—deep, amused, carrying a weight that made the air tremble.

  Itsuki’s heart leapt. He pushed himself upright far too fast and immediately regretted it, the world tilting as he sucked in a sharp breath. He looked around wildly.

  The forest stretched in every direction. Trees thicker than castle towers, their roots like coiled beasts breaking through the ground. Mana hung heavy here—far denser than the palace wing had ever been—but it didn’t hurt.

  That alone made his stomach twist.

  “You should sit,” the voice said. “Your body is still… adjusting.”

  Itsuki turned.

  A man leaned casually against a massive tree trunk not ten paces away.

  He was tall—taller than Ser Caldus, taller than any knight Itsuki had ever seen. His hair was a blazing red, wild and untamed, falling past his shoulders like living flame. Crimson-and-gold markings traced across his bare arms, down his neck, and vanished beneath dark clothing that looked more ceremonial than practical.

  His eyes gleamed molten gold.

  Itsuki knew those eyes.

  “…Dragon,” he whispered.

  The man grinned, sharp and unapologetic. “Ah. You remember.”

  Fear tried to rise.

  It didn’t stick.

  Instead, confusion flooded in. Itsuki stared at him, then down at his own hands. That was when he noticed it.

  A gem.

  Set into the back of his right hand, just beneath the skin, glowed a deep, steady red. It pulsed softly in time with his heartbeat.

  “What…” His voice cracked. “What did you do to me?”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  The man straightened, expression sobering—just a little.

  “You named me,” he said. “And I accepted.”

  Memories slammed back into place.

  The black mana. The chains. The pain that wasn’t his. The choice.

  “I named you,” Itsuki echoed faintly.

  “Yes.” The man placed a hand over his chest and bowed his head—an oddly formal gesture, considering the grin that followed. “Destro. Fire Dragon of Destruction. Ancient calamity. And now—”

  He dropped his hand and met Itsuki’s gaze.

  “—your servant.”

  Itsuki froze.

  “That’s not funny,” he said automatically.

  Destro laughed—a booming, delighted sound that sent birds exploding from nearby branches. “Oh, it very much is. For me, at least.”

  Itsuki’s head spun. “You— You said a pact would break me or save me.”

  “And it did both,” Destro replied easily. “You survived. That alone is impressive. Not to mention that you, a tiny little human child could name an ancient dragon. The irony alone could kill me.” He laughed again.

  He stepped closer. Up close, the pressure was unmistakable. Even restrained, Destro’s presence felt like standing too near a roaring furnace.

  “The pact is simple,” Destro continued. “Your mana exceeded even my own capacity to contain. You absorbed the corruption binding me—what you call the black aura—and in exchange, I anchored your existence.”

  Itsuki swallowed. “Anchored?”

  “You have no limit,” Destro said bluntly. “Your body takes in mana endlessly. It would have killed you. Eventually.”

  Itsuki’s hands clenched.

  “The gem,” Destro said, nodding to the back of Itsuki’s hand. “My core. Or a fragment of it, rather. It acts as a conduit. Excess mana flows into me. You expel what you cannot hold.”

  “…That’s why it doesn’t hurt,” Itsuki whispered.

  “Yes.”

  Relief hit him so hard he nearly cried.

  Then another thought struck.

  “My friends,” he said urgently. “Maribel. Caldus. Aislin—the others—are they—?”

  Destro’s expression dimmed.

  “I fled,” he said. “As you ordered.”

  Itsuki remembered screaming it. Run. Don’t get hurt. Don’t let them kill you.

  “I carried you far from the capital,” Destro continued. “To the Great Border Forest. Monster territory. No humans. No armies.”

  Itsuki looked around again, the scale of the trees suddenly ominous.

  “And the city?”

  “…I do not know,” Destro said honestly. “I was not in control for long before the pact. I felt you lose consciousness shortly after.”

  Itsuki’s chest ached—not with mana, but with fear.

  Destro watched him carefully. “You should also know this: from this moment on, you will be hunted.”

  Itsuki stiffened. “Because of you?”

  “Because of us,” Destro corrected. “A pact between an ancient dragon and a human child is… unprecedented. If one of us dies, the other follows. So the humans will target you as revenge to kill me.”

  Itsuki’s breath caught.

  Destro grinned again, sharp and confident. “Which means I am now obligated to protect my weak, fragile master.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Eight years old,” Destro interrupted. “Small. Soft. Easily crushed. Yes. Weak.”

  Itsuki glared at him.

  Destro laughed, clearly pleased. “Do not pout. You overpowered me. Even now, you could kill everything in this forest by accident if you are careless.”

  “That’s not—” Itsuki stopped. “Wait. What?”

  Destro gestured around them. “You are leaking.”

  Itsuki blinked. “Leaking what?”

  “Aura.”

  Itsuki felt it then—a pressure rolling outward from him, subtle but constant. The surrounding forest was unnaturally still.

  “Pull it in,” Destro said. “Like breathing. Focus inward.”

  Itsuki hesitated, then did as instructed.

  The pressure receded.

  The forest breathed again.

  Destro hummed approvingly. “Good. If you do not do that, everything weaker than you will flee. Or die. Or go mad.”

  Itsuki stared at his hands.

  “I didn’t want this,” he said quietly.

  Destro’s voice softened, just a fraction. “No. You wanted them safe.”

  Itsuki swallowed hard.

  He stood, legs unsteady but holding.

  The world felt different now.

  Not painless.

  But possible.

  He took his first step deeper into the forest—into exile, into survival, into something unnamed.

  Behind him, the ancient dragon smiled.

  “Very well, Itsuki,” Destro said. “Let us see what kind of monster you become.”