The mountains thinned behind them.
Snow gave way to stone, and stone to hardened earth carved by countless wheels and hooves. The road widened gradually, marked by deeper tracks, more frequent signs of travel—merchant caravans, hunter convoys, armored escorts.
Four hours had passed since they left the frozen pass.
The wind had softened, though the air remained sharp with northern cold.
Then—
They saw it.
Rising from the plains like a stone colossus against the horizon stood the Main City of the Northeast.
Its walls were not delicate.
They were massive.
Built from dark granite blocks stacked with brutal efficiency, reinforced by steel-banded gates and watchtowers that rose like spears toward the sky. Banners hung from the battlements, their fabric heavy and muted in color—deep crimson embroidered with the silhouette of a winged beast.
Kel slowed his horse slightly.
Reina's silver eyes lifted toward the crest.
A drake.
Wings spread.
Head raised skyward.
Fangs bared.
"This is…" she murmured quietly.
Kel nodded.
"Drakenfall."
The City of the Fallen Drake.
The name carried weight.
And irony.
Here, the largest trade market for monster parts in the Northeast flourished beneath the emblem of a monster.
Hunters came from distant provinces.
Caravans carried hides, fangs, bones, mana cores.
Blacksmiths, alchemists, mercenaries—all converged here.
And yet—
The city bore the name of a beast.
A beast who once hunted for survival like any other creature.
Kel's gaze lingered on the banner as they approached the outer gate.
He knew the story.
Every northern child did.
Long ago, when the city had been little more than a fortified settlement, there lived a wild drake in the surrounding mountains.
Not intelligent like dragons.
Not refined like wyverns.
But powerful.
Savage.
A hunter of the skies.
It had clashed with men often—raiding livestock, attacking convoys, defending its territory.
Until—
A hunter girl arrived.
She was said to have been barely past her youth, yet her eyes sharper than any blade. She hunted not recklessly—but patiently.
When she encountered the drake, she did not slay it.
She fought it.
Alone.
The battle lasted three days, or so the legends claimed.
In the end—
She did not kill the beast.
She tamed it.
Not through chains.
Not through magic domination.
But through something stranger.
Understanding.
The wild drake, wounded and exhausted, had bowed its head.
And from that day forward, it followed her.
Where she walked, it soared above.
Where she hunted, it guarded.
Years passed.
They traveled across provinces, across war-torn lands and frozen peaks.
The drake grew stronger with time.
As monsters lived, they accumulated power.
seven decades passed.
The hunter grew old.
Her hair silvered.
Her steps slowed.
And in her final years, she chose to settle in the northeastern settlement that would later become this city.
When she died—
Her ashes were buried within the outskirts.
And the drake remained.
It did not return to the wild.
It did not seek new territory.
It stayed by her grave.
Years turned to decades.
Decades to generations.
The drake guarded the settlement fiercely.
No beast dared approach.
No bandit dared linger.
The city grew under its silent watch.
Then—
War came.
A siege led by a coalition of hostile forces.
Mages, soldiers, siege engines.
The drake rose to defend the city.
It fought for days.
Flames scorched battlements.
Its wings tore through siege towers.
Its roar shattered morale.
But even a legendary beast could bleed.
And at the height of battle—
A grand mage pierced its heart with forbidden magic.
The drake fell outside the northern wall.
Its body remained there until the siege ended.
The city survived.
But its guardian did not.
They named the city after it.
Drakenfall.
Not in mockery.
But in remembrance.
Kel's horse halted before the massive gates.
Guards in heavy northern armor stood at attention. Their steel breastplates bore engraved drake sigils, worn but polished. Fur-lined cloaks hung from their shoulders. Spears glinted beneath pale daylight.
Reina adjusted her posture subtly, back straight, expression calm but alert.
The city gates were open.
Beyond them—
Noise.
Life.
Commerce.
A stark contrast to the silent mountains they had crossed.
The scent of smoke and cooked meat drifted outward. Metal clanged in distant forges. Voices overlapped—merchants shouting prices, hunters boasting of kills, caravans negotiating entry fees.
Kel's dark coat fluttered faintly in the breeze.
His gaze remained steady as he observed the walls carefully.
High vantage points.
Ballista placements.
Mage watchtowers.
Drakenfall was not merely symbolic.
It was fortified.
The irony did not escape him.
A city named after a monster.
Sustained by the slaughter of monsters.
Reina glanced at him.
"You are thinking."
"Yes."
He nudged his horse forward slightly as guards stepped forward to inspect travelers.
"People fear what they do not control," he said quietly. "But they revere what protects them."
Reina's silver eyes shifted toward the drake banner again.
"And in the end?"
Kel's gaze sharpened faintly.
"In the end, they sell its kind."
A brief silence passed between them.
The guard approached.
"Halt. State your purpose."
Kel's posture did not shift.
"Travel. Trade."
The guard's eyes lingered briefly on their attire—well-crafted, noble quality, though lacking visible crests.
His gaze paused on the faint dried blood traces along their gear.
"Hunters?"
Kel's lips curved faintly.
"Something like that."
After a moment, the guard stepped aside.
"Entry fee applies."
Kel retrieved a small coin pouch and handed over the required amount without hesitation.
The gates loomed above them as they passed beneath.
Stone swallowed light briefly.
Then—
They emerged inside.
Drakenfall was vast.
Wide streets paved with dark stone stretched outward in organized grids. Buildings were sturdy, constructed from timber and stone alike. Many displayed monster trophies above their entrances—antlers, skulls, preserved claws.
Markets thrived openly.
Stalls overflowed with pelts of every shade—white, grey, crimson-streaked. Mana cores glimmered faintly in glass containers. Weapon racks displayed blades reinforced with bone and fang.
Blacksmith forges roared, sparks flying upward like fleeting stars.
The air was thick with iron, smoke, and coin.
Reina observed quietly.
"This city does not hide what it profits from."
"No," Kel replied. "It celebrates it."
And yet—
At the far northern edge of the city, barely visible beyond rooftops—
A stone monument rose.
A carved statue of a drake.
Wings partially folded.
Head lowered.
Not in defeat.
But in vigil.
Reina followed his gaze.
"They still remember."
"Yes."
Kel's expression became unreadable.
"But remembrance does not change nature."
They rode deeper into the city streets.
Hunters passed them—some armored in mismatched gear, others draped in exotic hides. Eyes sharp. Movements confident.
This was not a city of nobles and silk.
This was a city of survival.
Of commerce born from blood.
Kel's mind turned quietly.
A legendary drake had protected this place for two centuries.
Power accumulated over time.
And even that power had fallen to calculated magic.
Longevity does not equal invincibility.
The lesson lingered.
Reina leaned slightly closer as they navigated through the crowd.
"You are not disturbed by the irony?"
Kel's gaze remained forward.
"Power is power."
He paused.
"It is neither sacred nor profane."
A cart loaded with wolf pelts rolled past them.
Red-stained.
Fresh.
Kel's eyes flickered briefly.
The Crimson pack they had slain would soon become part of this cycle.
Sold.
Forged.
Consumed.
Reina studied him quietly.
"You do not see monsters as enemies."
"I see them as forces."
The wind shifted between buildings, carrying distant forge heat.
Drakenfall pulsed with life.
And beneath its noise—
The weight of history remained.
A wild drake had once guarded this land out of loyalty to a single hunter girl.
Now, generations later—
Its kind were likely hunted in these same mountains.
Kel's gaze hardened faintly.
Sentiment is remembered.
But utility is traded.
They continued riding toward the inner districts, where higher-value markets and guild halls stood.
Above them, banners fluttered once more.
The silhouette of the fallen drake stretched against grey sky.
Reina looked up briefly.
"Two hundred years," she murmured.
"Yes."
"Monsters grow stronger with time."
Kel nodded.
"And so do humans."
A faint breeze stirred his coat again.
Drakenfall had welcomed them.
But beneath its stone and steel—
It was a city built on power.
Protected once by a beast.
Now thriving on beasts.
Kel's eyes remained calm.
Evaluating.
Calculating.