"So it is in the forest," Noa said while sitting on the bed, legs crossed loosely like a predator resting after a hunt rather than a nobleman taking leisure. His arms were folded across his chest as his head tilted upward slightly, eyes closed in quiet confirmation as if he were listening to something only he could hear—perhaps fate itself whispering the coordinates of his next prey.
"Yea. We must go through the forest it seems," Vionette replied.
She was draped sideways across a high-backed chair, the picture of lethal composure. One leg was crossed over the other, her movements possessing the fluid grace of a viper basking in the sun. She was eating her honey-glazed pork slowly, deliberately, each bite taken with the precision of someone who had learned to treat pleasure like a strategic resource rather than a simple appetite, her pink lips glistening faintly with sweet glaze like morning dew resting on rose petals.
While the two had enjoyed their time together over the last three days, they had inhabited this space like two spiders weaving a common web. They had gathered whispers and information about the dragon, confirming what they had known before: the beast lay coiled in the green throat of the forest.
KRRRRKK!
The sound erupted suddenly through the city like the cracking of a colossal eggshell somewhere beneath civilization's skin.
"What the fuck?" Noa's eyes snapped open.
"My meal!" Vionette hissed, her composure fracturing as the sudden jolt sent the honeyed meat sliding toward the edge of her plate.
Then the ground began to shake.
Not violently enough to destroy architecture outright, but powerful enough to send tremors through the city's bones. Dust loosened from wooden ceiling beams drifted downward like gray snow falling from dying heavens. The ceramic pot on the table began to vibrate softly, tapping against the wood surface in rhythmic panic like a frightened heart trying to escape its chest.
The two of them looked at each other for only a single breath—but within that breath, trust, strategy, and shared excitement passed between them like silent communication through invisible threads binding their souls.
Noa and Vionette walked outside the inn while the other customers ran past them in a blind, mindless fear. They stood in front of the building and looked far ahead toward the horizon.
There, they saw it.
One from the race said to be born with oceans of magic in their veins and strength beyond mortal comprehension. A race that once ruled skies and land alike, bending lesser beings beneath their shadows—and though they had fallen from dominion, fear of them had never fallen with them.
The Dragon race.
A red dragon stood between buildings like a mountain that had chosen to walk. It was twice the height of the tallest structure nearby, its metallic scales gleaming beneath smoke-filtered sunlight. Those scales were not merely armor—they were like overlapping plates of forged crimson steel, reflecting the firelight that now consumed the city around it.
Its pupils were vertical slits, narrow and merciless. Horns swept backward like curved blades. Its wings—vast and bat-like—unfurled once, and the gust alone shattered windows and tore roofs from houses.
The dragon exhaled flame.
A torrent of crimson fire swallowed a row of buildings whole, the blaze roaring with a sound that rivaled thunder.
"Heheh—Hahahah."
Noa's lips curved upward into something that was not entirely sane.
His purple-black eyes lit in flames. His gaze was locked on the dragon that was throwing breaths of flames at the city nonstop. The prey they were worried about having to go through all that trouble to find in the woods had now appeared in front of him on its own. It was a gift of chaos, and he intended to take it.
He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white, and took the first heavy step.
"Don't kill it until I says so to."
From behind him, Vionette spoke. Her voice was cool and sharp as a razor's edge. He looked back, turning his head just enough to catch her eye, and smiled.
"Don't worry. It's not that easy to kill that thing, you know?" His gaze returned to the dragon. "I have a 45% chance of winning at most."
"Do your best."
He did not question why she forbade killing it without signal. She did not pray for his victory despite the odds. That was the nature of their trust—no unnecessary reassurance, no wasted doubt. They understood one another in silence.
They were not reckless. They simply enjoyed danger a little too much.
…
The ground trembled with each wingbeat of the dragon, but his stride did not falter. Burning buildings flanked him like pillars of a collapsing temple. Civilians screamed in the distance as soldiers scattered like leaves in a storm.
The dragon's tail swung once, reducing a stone structure to rubble as if it were made of sand. Slowly, steadily, Noa entered its field of vision. The ground near the dragon had already been flattened into a barren circle—buildings crushed, earth scorched black, debris turned to powder beneath titanic force.
"Hey," Noa shouted, raising a finger toward it as though calling out a rival across a playground. "You overgrown lizard."
Noa stood before the dragon about 2 miles away, but for a creature of such magnitude, it was like two steps. Wind from its wings whipped through his hair, his jacket snapping violently behind him. His untucked shirt strained against the turbulent air, yet he did not retreat.
At Noa's words, the dragon turned around. At first, it saw nothing more than an insect. It prepared to ignore him.
Then it felt it.
From the small human's fists radiated something wrong—a dense, dark-purple aura coiling like smoke around his knuckles. It was not vast like the dragon's own magic, but it was concentrated, compressed to a lethal degree.
[Echo Reclamation]
As Noa declared his intent, the dragon also charged up its breaths of crimson flames. Its mouth unhinged and Aether began to gather inside its throat, swirling and turning into a deep, murderous crimson color.
The battle between two fallen stars began in the middle of a kingdom they were both happy to see burn.
***
Elsewhere, panic gripped Count Fain's mansion like frost.
He had expected the dragon to appear eventually, yes—but expectation dulled by repetition becomes arrogance. Each day the sky had remained clear, he had reassured himself: 'It didn't come yesterday. It probably won't today either.'
Today had arrived.
He was in his normal green-based noble attire, though the silk was now wrinkled and damp with sweat. His long dark green hair fell down to his shoulders as his green eyes scanned the room in a frantic search for an escape.
"How many time before the heroes arrive?" he asked, looking at the butler before him.
"It was take about 4 hours I'm afraid." The old butler bowed helplessly, his own voice hollow with despair.
Meanwhile—
Vionette sprinted down the mansion's corridors, her breath controlled despite the strain on her fragile body. She moved like a silver streak through hallways of marble and panic, servants scattering out of her path.
How many more minutes?
[15 minutes of sprint is possible.]
Hah. That's more than enough.
She inhaled sharply.
Activate [Hyper-Calculation] and [Mind Fortress].
[Hyper-calculation: Activated] [Mind Fortress: Activated]
Her mind didn't feel fast, but the world did. It felt slow, as if time had turned into thick syrup, but she couldn't move her limbs as quickly as her thoughts moved. Only her mind could truly keep up with the data streaming into her vision.
Give all the priorities to the skills. I'll handle the calculations myself.
[Mission changed!]
Using [Hyper-Calculation], she accelerated her cognition beyond normal human limits, mapping the mansion's interior in layered predictions. She calculated where the servants would appear, which threats could obstruct her advance, and the most efficient route toward the Count's chamber.
The strain should have shattered her focus. But with [Mind Fortress], she reinforced her psyche, suppressing the backlash of accelerated thought—preventing the unnatural dissonance that came from forcing the mind to operate at inhuman velocity. A genius like Vionette might have endured such strain unaided, yet this was her first time invoking the skill, and caution outweighed pride.
Lastly, with the system regulating her output, she sustained both Skills simultaneously. It redistributed the cognitive load, stabilized her Aether flow, and prevented collapse despite her fragile condition.
She ran forward, weaving through the chaos, turning left and right with the precision of a phantom. It was easy to infiltrate because the whole mansion was already in a state of total panic.
And finally—
This must be it. Deactivate the skills and focus on strength.
[Understood!]
She reached the door up ahead and drew her white-crimson sword that resembled herself. The blade's white metal reflected the orange fires across the window as she unsheathed it.
Thiiin
The steel sang a high, lonely note as it left the scabbard.
As the count waited in panic for the heroes of the kingdom to arrive, Vionette entered the room. She didn't knock; she sliced off the lock and kicked the door open.
BAM!
The count's eyes turned towards the door immediately while the butler stood in front of him and drew his sword.
"Who are you? How did you get in here?"
Before replying, Vionette took a breather and sheathed her sword with a metallic click, trying to show that she was not hostile yet. Then, she straightened her posture and met Fain's gaze with composed crimson eyes.
"That is not the priority now, is it, Count Fain?" Her voice was calm—too calm.
What is this? Who is this? Inside his mind, Fain was questioning the woman before him.
The butler and Fain were already in such a panic that their thoughts didn't run that fast. They stared at her for a second and saw that she didn't even have any aura left on her. Hoping for a light beyond the dark tunnel, Fain opened his mouth after a heavy gulp.
"What do you mean?" He stopped the butler by extending his hand towards him.
Seeing the reaction, Vionette smiled. Without even being asked, she stepped forward and sat in the chair in front of Fain's. Neither Fain nor the butler moved while she crossed the room with the grace of a queen.
She crossed her legs in habit, put her elbows to the handrests, and her fingers crossed under her face. The atmosphere in the room changed completely, shifting from a scene of flight to one of cold negotiation.
"Who I am or what I am does not matter," she said softly. "Trust me—you do not wish to know."
Who is this woman? Fain thought. If her beauty doesn't lie, then she can be called a noble. Then why doesn't she have any knights?
Whatever it was, he needed to hurry. He was desperate to save his city from the rampaging dragon, or at least save the people in it.
"We will defeat that dragon and save your city. In return, you will form a Soul Contract with me under three conditions."
"A Soul Contract?" he repeated faintly.
Fain was taken aback by the sudden proposal. Somehow, someway, a woman had broken into his sanctum and now she was offering him a contract.
A Soul Contract is not a mere promise. Once both parties agreed, their Aether resonated and formed a joint imprint between their souls. Should either side violate the agreed terms, the imprint would collapse—and the backlash would be death itself.
Looking down in hopelessness, Fain thought what to do. He couldn't trust someone just because they appeared, but he couldn't let his city die either. He didn't even know if they could actually kill the dragon as told.
Thinking for long seconds, he closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He looked at Vionette's crimson eyes directly.
"What are the conditions?"
Good. He isn't that much of a pushover, but if infused with panic, it will be more than enough.
Showing a warm smile to the outside, she laughed wickedly inside.
"Please get your butler out of the room first, Count Fain." She looked at the old butler.
Fain turned towards him too. The butler looked back at him, hesitant. Then, Fain nodded slightly, agreeing to Vionette's request. The butler bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him.
"Now then, my conditions are," She raised one finger. "One, you will owe me a small favor." She raised her second finger. "Two, you will forget everything about this Soul Contract." The third finger raised. "Three, you will not speak of the contract even should the memory resurface."
A Soul Contract is a vow engraved upon the soul itself. Memory of it could be sealed away, buried so deeply that even the mind could not reach it. But forgetting did not mean freedom. The moment a bound condition was invoked, the seal would fracture. Forgotten memories would surge back in an instant—the agreement, the terms, the consequences.
A small favor, no revealing identities, and memory erasure? One small favor can't do anything that bad. Forgetting about it is surely to hide her identity.
Fain analyzed the conditions in his mind and to him, it was an agreeable offer if it could save the city.
"I agree to the conditions."
He extended his hand towards her. Then, his body started to emit a soft, pulsing light. Vionette also extended her hand towards him.
"I agree to defeat the dragon." She started to glow as well.
After the contract was done, Fain was taken aback for a moment. He felt like he did something, but he couldn't remember it. He only remembered that the woman came to him and said that she would help him defeat the dragon and that she had conditions. Nothing more, nothing less.
"As I said, we will defeat the dragon. In return, you will temporary lend me best of your healers, you won't hurt us in any way until we leave and won't tell anyone else about lending me healers."
Fain blinked, a drop of sweat hitting his cheek.
"That's it?"
"Yes!" Vionette smiled. "I can't trust you suddenly, so please make a Soul Contract."