Its scales shimmered in the dim light, brilliant blue like the sky before a storm. It wasn’t fully grown, probably a baby, but it was still massive. From the way it moved, I could tell it was injured, as its damaged wing proved so. It must’ve fled from somewhere, separated from its parents, and ended up here. But why the hell was there a dragon on this island? The chieftain was supposed to have wiped them all out from here due to how dangerous they were!

  No, none of that mattered now.

  The dragon reared back, its throat glowing brighter as it prepared to unleash a breath attack. I had no time to think.

  “RAGNA, BEHIND ME!” I roared, throwing my ax up in front of me like a shield.

  Ragna hesitated, but she listened, stepping behind me just as the dragon unleashed its breath. A torrent of blue flames erupted from its maw, slamming into me with the force of a tidal wave. My ax glowed red as the flames washed over it, and I felt the searing heat burn into my skin, peeling it away layer by layer.

  My body was on fire. Every inch of me screamed in agony. But I couldn’t fall. If I fell, the flames would hit Ragna, and we’d both be dead.

  Instinctively, I activated [Endure], gritting my teeth as I stood my ground. The Skill kicked in, fortifying my body and giving me the strength to hold on. But the pain… it was unbearable. I screamed, my voice echoing through the cave. My mind felt heavy.

  It wanted to give in, it wanted to go blank. That would be terrible. Because if I fell, the flames would slam into Ragna, and all our survival probability would be done for. Not because of some silly sense of justice but because it was logical. If Ragna survived this till the end, from what I’d learned about her so far in our journey, she'd at least grab my body and make a run for it. But if I fell and it slammed into her too, both of us would be done for. So… I couldn’t fall.

  Not here. Not like this.

  [The Valtherian Physique is being temporarily amplified due to your intense emotion!]

  [Osmotic Evolution (B) - Amorphous Shell - is reacting with your Valtherian Physique, temporarily entering a synergy!]

  Time seemed to still. In pain, everything felt slower. How long did I burn under the blue fountain of flames? I didn’t know. The pain didn’t let me. But when the flames didn’t last forever, I did. I stood as the stream of flames finally stopped. I felt like an immovable object whose sole existence was to take the impact and keep my ally safe.

  I, Thorvyn Valteria, was a shield at that moment.

  My legs trembled under me. My skin was charred, blackened and raw, my hair gone, my eyelids seared off. Ragna shouted something, but I couldn’t hear her over the blood rushing in my ears.

  I wasn’t done yet.

  “...CHARGE!” I roared, my voice hoarse. I wasn’t running. I had a plan now.

  Ragna didn’t hesitate. The dragon’s chest heaved with exhaustion, each breath ragged and strained, but its blue eyes still blazed with fury. The fire that had nearly taken me down was clearly a last-ditch effort. It was waiting for an ambush because it couldn’t afford to fight us head-on.

  This dragon wasn’t in its prime—young, injured, likely out of mana, and probably a runaway from its home—but it was still a dragon.

  And dragons didn’t go down without a fight.

  Ragna’s eyes narrowed, her lips curling back into a snarl of her own. She wasn’t just angry; she was furious. Seeing me endure those flames, screaming in pain to shield her, seemed to have ignited something in her. Had she never seen someone take that kind of punishment for her sake? The weight of it hit her all at once, and all that fury poured into her next move.

  With a primal scream, she charged. Her club swung down with a force that seemed impossible for someone her size, and it connected with the dragon’s skull with a sickening crack.

  The sound of bone splitting echoed throughout the cave, but the dragon wasn’t finished yet. It roared in agony, its deep voice reverberating through the stone walls, but Ragna didn’t stop.

  She raised the club again, her arms trembling from the effort, and slammed it down, over and over. “RAHH!!” The ground beneath the dragon’s head shook with each blow, and blood began to pool beneath its massive body. The dragon’s scales were thick, and each hit sent splatters of blood and bone flying across the cave floor, staining the walls with the creature’s lifeblood.

  But Ragna’s eyes didn’t waver. Her face was a mask of rage and fear, her teeth bared as she poured all her strength into each strike. She let out a guttural scream with every swing, a furious cry that cut through the dragon’s roars.

  The club was a blur in her hands, moving faster than seemed possible, fueled by pure adrenaline and fury.

  The dragon tried to move, its wings twitching feebly, but it was cornered. Trapped. And Ragna wasn’t letting up. She aimed for its head, cracking the thick bones beneath its scales, again and again. Each time the club came down, the impact sent tremors through the cave floor, the sound of bone splintering almost drowned out by the dragon’s pained roars.

  But it wasn’t finished yet.

  With a desperate roar, the dragon reared back, swinging its massive claw toward Ragna. She barely had time to react before the claws raked across her chest, three deep, jagged lines cutting through her armor and flesh like paper. She stumbled back, blood pouring from the gashes, her hand instinctively flying to her wound.

  “Grgh!” But the dragon didn’t stop. It lurched forward, its blue eyes wild with pain and desperation, and its maw opened wide, ready to tear her apart. It moved faster than its injured state should’ve allowed, its massive jaws aimed straight at Ragna’s head.

  Ragna’s eyes widened in panic. She could feel the heat of its breath, see the sharp fangs gleaming in the dim light. The world slowed down for a moment, her mind racing as she realized that this might be it. She’d fought with everything she had, but now she was cornered, her body screaming in pain from the wounds across her chest.

  Just as the dragon lunged, its maw inches from closing around her head, I moved. For I finally could.

  The heat from the dragon’s breath still radiated from my ax, the obsidian blade glowing red-hot. I activated [Leap], launching myself through the air, my body a blur as I closed the distance. I felt scared. I was shaking. But I didn’t stop. I raised my ax high, my muscles screaming in protest, and brought it down with all the force I could muster.

  [Slam] activated, and the heated blade slammed into and sliced through the dragon’s neck like butter.

  The beast’s head hit the ground with a sickening thud, its body collapsing a moment later.

  [You’ve killed a Blue Dragon – Level 39!]

  [You’ve leveled up!]

  [You’ve leveled up!]

  [You’ve leveled up!]

  [You’ve leveled up!]

  [Level 27.]

  The notification filled my vision, but I barely registered it. I fell to my hands and knees beside the severed head, panting. Every inch of my body hurt, and I could feel my skin hanging off in blackened patches. Ragna’s voice was a distant echo in my ears as she knelt beside me, her face pale.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Thorvyn!” she shouted, shaking me. “Thorvyn! You okay?!”

  Before I could answer, a wave of blue mana rippled through my body. The System was doing its job. My skin began to knit itself back together, the burns fading as my wounds healed. My hair grew back, even longer than before, and the pain slowly subsided.

  For health to heal after a Level Up, such was common in many RPG game settings. Thankfully, it was the case in this world as well, how I’d experienced during my very first battle. Although it didn’t totally fix me, my skin had regrown.

  I let out a shaky breath, staring at my hands. They looked as good as new now. I was alive. I had… survived.

  If my heart beat any harder, people might mistake it for an engine.

  [You’ve endured a great deal! Your Valtherian Physique has ranked up to [D]. You’re a step closer to its true rank!]

  I couldn’t help the grin that split my face. I was growing stronger, and I loved it. Ragna collapsed beside me, a wide grin on her face. “We did it,” she said, grabbing my arm. I looked at her arm, which had also healed. She must have leveled up, too.

  "The System restores our vitality and heals our wounds when we level up," I said, examining my healed skin. "It's a fascinating physiological response that–"

  Ragna stared at me blankly. "Me think you drop on head as baby."

  I laughed despite myself. "Maybe I was. At least it didn't affect my fighting skills."

  “Stop talking already! We did it, Thorvyn!” She roared, and I nodded, too tired to speak. “We killed Dragon!”

  That we did, indeed.

  ****

  The sun hung low over the Valtherian village, casting early morning light over a scene of triumphant chaos. The smell of blood and charred meat filled the air, mixing with the scent of wet earth. All around the village center, the spoils of the great hunt lay scattered.

  Giant boars, ogres, hobgoblins—each carcass more grotesque than the last. But amongst them were smaller, pitiful creatures: goblins, wild dogs, even a couple of kobolds with broken skulls. Every young warrior had returned from the pilgrimage. All except for Thorvyn and Ragna. The village was filled with their game.

  In the middle of the gathered crowd, Draegan stood tall with his head held high. A smug grin was plastered across his face. The village had formed a circle around the massive drake’s head, its dead eyes staring into nothingness.

  While it was no full-grown beast, the size of its skull alone was enough to dwarf most men. It wasn’t an ancient drake by any means, but it was a drake, nonetheless. And that was enough for the Valtherians. It was an achievement.

  “They actually did it!” someone shouted from the crowd.

  “Draegan, the strongest! He and his team take down a drake!”

  The cheers rang out loud, carrying through the village. Both the old and young cheered his name. Draegan basked in it, his arms crossed, the picture of pride. His group stood beside him, all wearing similar expressions. They had done it. They were the best, and everyone was making sure to let them know.

  The cheers only calmed down when the sound of heavy boots approached as the chieftain herself, Yrsa Valteria, made her way through the crowd.

  Her presence immediately silenced the praises, though Draegan’s smug expression didn’t waver. He was proud to show his mother what he had achieved.

  Yrsa didn’t look at him right away. Her sharp eyes scanned the dead creatures strewn about, her lips curling slightly at the sight of the weaker prey. Goblins, kobolds—such pitiful catches. “Is this it?” she muttered, her voice laced with disappointment. The barbarians to whom those games belonged lowered their heads.

  Yrsa scoffed. her eyes glinted with contempt as she walked past the smaller games, offering little more than a glance. She looked at the bigger games next, but before she could comment on them, when her gaze landed on the drake’s head. Her entire demeanor shifted. The corner of her lips twitched upward in a prideful grin.

  “A drake...” she muttered to herself, a dangerous glint in her eye.

  The crowd shifted as she approached, her gaze falling upon Draegan. “Not bad,” Yrsa said, loud enough for everyone to hear. Draegan stood straighter, his grin widening.

  “Thank you, m- Chieftain,” Draegan quickly corrected himself.

  She smiled at him and then looked around the other monsters. “Not bad, many of you have done a great job. I am impressed, really,” she said, looking at the gathered hunters with an approving nod. Then she asked, “Are all of you younglings back?”

  A few nods followed, but it was Haldrek who stepped forward and answered. “All are back, except Thorvyn and Ragna, Chieftain.”

  Yrsa frowned, the smile fading from her face. She hadn’t expected that. She hummed, her gaze drifting toward the forest. “Have they ventured too deep in greed?” she wondered aloud, her fingers tapping against her thigh. "Or are they simply late?"

  Regardless, rules were rules. Yrsa let out a deep sigh and raised her voice. “We’ll wait no longer.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll count to ten, and then we’ll proceed. With the ceremony.” The crowd went still, the tension rising as Yrsa began counting. “One.”

  Her voice was like a drum, echoing through the village.

  “Two.”

  Draegan’s smug grin faltered slightly, his eyes narrowing toward the treeline.

  “Three.”

  And then, a murmur spread through the crowd. Eyes turned to the distance, where two figures were making their way toward the village. As they expected, to some’s dismay, it was Thorvyn and Ragna. A ripple of amusement spread through the onlookers. Thorvyn carried the head of a large blue beast over his shoulder while Ragna walked beside him, seemingly empty-handed from this distance.

  Someone from the crowd let out a snicker. “What this? I think that a wyvern head. Why there only one?”

  “It’s impressive, sure,” another said. “But one wyvern can only cover one of them.”

  Little did they know what these two had really accomplished. Well, they soon would.

  Laughter bubbled through the crowd. But only Yrsa’s frown deepened, her gaze falling on the two of them in surprise. What is this? Had Ragna finally shown her worth? Only she could see what the creature truly was.

  For a moment, she had hope for Ragna. But as they drew nearer, something felt off. Thorvyn, the boy once called weak, seemed different.

  His steps were confident, and she recalled how he’d refused to go down to his knees against her release of willpower. Was the crouching tiger finally rising? That creature which he carried—wasn’t that enough proof?

  Even if it was a baby dragon, prompting the children to assume it was a wyvern, it was still an incredible achievement!

  Yrsa’s eyes were full of shock, but a moment later… she sighed. She only wanted her daughter to succeed like her, to become strong like her, but… It must be Thorvyn who hunted the dragon with traps and plans this time. Given who his father was, that had to be the case.

  Unfortunately, her daughter wasn’t capable.

  Ragna, as usual, had disappointed her. A deep sigh built up in Yrsa’s chest. She had hoped for more from her daughter, but once again…

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  The laughter in the crowd began to die down, replaced with whispers and murmurs. As Thorvyn and Ragna drew closer, the shape of the beast on his shoulder became clearer. It didn’t look right. The scales were too thick, too sharp. The teeth… too large. And its throat was burned black with telltale marks of dragon’s breath.

  That wasn’t a wyvern.

  “No… way...” someone in the crowd stammered, their voice filled with disbelief. “Is that a dragon?!”

  "Hah!” someone burst out laughing. “Stop joking! You believe Thorvyn and Ragna kill a dragon? Do you think we fools?!"

  But then someone pointed to the telltale burn marks of the dragon’s breath, and another examined the massive claws. The realization sank in—this was no wyvern, no trick. And then the celebration erupted.

  “Dragon Slayer! Thorvyn a dragon slayer?!” Haldrek’s loud shouted cut through the shocked, doubtful silence. Barbarians were simple creatures, not scheming like the people of the big continents. While they might hold resentment, they bowed before strength.

  The crowd’s collective breath hitched, and the murmurs quickly turned to exclamations. “A dragon?! Thorvyn hunted a dragon? But dragons don’t—”

  Their voices cut off when they noticed the thick blue tail coiled around Ragna’s neck like a trophy. Yrsa noticed it first. It had been hard to see from a distance, but up close, there was no mistaking it. Ragna was also carrying part of the beast.

  They were carrying it like a trophy, meaning they had both hunted it together. Her daughter… Ragna… had hunted a dragon!

  “Two!” another voice shouted. “Thorvyn Dragon Slayer! Ragna Dragon Slayer!”

  Yrsa stood frozen, her stern expression cracking. She tried to hold it back, but a grin slowly spread across her lips. Her lips parted, and then, despite herself, she laughed. It started as a low rumble, but it quickly grew into a loud, booming laugh that echoed through the village. And yet, everyone stared at the dragon slayers instead of herself.

  The villagers surged forward, rushing to Thorvyn and Ragna, cheering wildly. They reached the two of them, hoisting them into the air as chants of "Dragon Slayer!" filled the air. Yrsa’s laughter continued, a deep pride swelling in her chest. Thorvyn was one thing, but her daughter had surpassed even her wildest expectations.

  Just like that, two dragon slayers were born in the village that day. Except, among these stupid barbarians, this would create problems that Thorvyn didn’t anticipate.

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