"Ha... I actually thought I'd finally get some peace."
I was wrong. Again. I was standing on the deck of the galleon, watching the coastline of Nordara vanish into the mist, when a shadow fell over me. It was a man named Elio. He walked up to me with a face twisted in such pure, unadulterated hatred that I almost felt nostalgic.
"You bastard," he hissed, his hand white-knuckled on the hilt of his rapier. "I'm going to take everything you possess. I'm going to strip you of your life just like you stripped me of my family."
I stared at him. He had the same bulging eyes and weak chin as Felo. "Let me guess," I drawled, leaning back against the railing. "You're that dead prick Felo's brother? If you want to find out exactly how his throat felt when it was opened, by all means, keep talking. I'm happy to give you a matching scar."
As I spoke, I felt something shift deep within my chest. A heavy, suffocating pressure radiated from my skin—a Dragon's Aura. It was a remnant of the power I had inherited from Ilea's mother. It meant that either my DNA was literally rewriting itself into a Draconian race, or I had inherited the full, raw potential of the Frost Dragon. Either way, the air around us grew ten degrees colder.
Elio flinched. The passengers around us quickly averted their eyes. It was understandable. Over the last two months, my reputation had evolved. I was no longer just the 'Human Demon'; I was the 'Nightmare Death of the Snow Mountain Masters.' People didn't just fear me; they treated me like a walking natural disaster.
But Elio was blinded by grief and stupidity. As I turned to walk away, he lunged from the shadows, his fist connecting with my jaw. The blow didn't hurt as much as it annoyed me. I was about to paint the deck with his blood when the ocean itself decided to intervene.
The water didn't just ripple—it buckled.
"Why did we have to take the Shadow Ocean?" I cursed under my breath.
From the black depths, a Five-Headed Hydra erupted. Its scales were the color of bruised oil, and its breath smelled of rotting kelp and ancient death. The ship groaned as the massive beast coiled around the hull.
Panic turned the deck into a madhouse. I had a choice: flee with Ilea or fight. But since we were in the middle of a literal abyss, fleeing wasn't exactly an option.
"To the front, you cowards!" a voice roared. It was Elio, backed by a group of Shadow Hunters from the Eclipse Rebellion Army. Surprisingly, the bastard had some spine.
The battle was a chaotic symphony of steel and spray. Elio used high-tier magical artifacts to distract the main heads, glowing charms that buzzed like angry hornets. The Shadow Hunters focused on the regenerating stumps, cauterizing them with fire magic. My job, apparently, was to pierce the core.
I moved like a blur of shadow and frost, my stolen blades seeking the beast's heart. We were seconds away from victory, the Hydra's middle head lolling in exhaustion, when a sixth head—larger and more prehistoric than the others—burst from the deck itself. It didn't just bite; it crushed. The ship snapped like a dry twig.
The last thing I remember was the cold, black water swallowing the world.
I woke up on a beach of obsidian sand. My lungs burned, and my black robes were plastered to my skin. Ilea was perched on my shoulder, her tiny turquoise scales shimmering in the eerie, dim light of the Isle of Nightmares.
I wasn't alone.
A young man—a "Lord" by the looks of his expensive, ruined silk—stood up nearby. He looked barely six months older than me, yet he carried himself with the arrogance of a god. He looked at me, then at the wreckage, then back at me.
"Where are we, you needy brat?" he demanded, his voice dripping with condescension.
I felt a vein throb in my temple. Needy brat? I've killed more people than he's had hot meals. Before I could respond, Elio crawled out of the surf, still wearing his dented armor. He scrambled toward the young lord, bowing low.
"My Lord! Stay away from this unkempt street rat," Elio spat, pointing a trembling finger at me.
I lost it. "Unkempt?" I shouted, my voice echoing off the dark cliffs. "You bastard, my black robes cost more than your entire suit of rusted tin! And who are you calling unwashed? You look like you haven't heard the word 'soap' since the day you were born, you fat, stinking pig!"
Silence followed. I realized I had thought out loud. Again.
Elio looked horrified. But the young Lord... he actually grinned. It was a sharp, dangerous smile. "The brat has spirit," he mused. "I like him."
"Brother, be careful," a female voice interrupted. A girl, likely his sister or betrothed, stepped forward. She looked at me as if I were a venomous insect. "This 'brat' is known in Nordara as the Human Demon. The Nightmare Death. The King of Nordara wants his head for two attempted assassinations of Order Leaders, multiple attempts on the Hero, and the total genocide of the Snow Mountain Masters. He is a public enemy of the crown."
The Lord raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "So, we have a dangerous serial killer with us on this godforsaken island? How fortunate. He might actually be useful." He stepped closer, his eyes falling on my shoulder. "And what is that creature on your shoulder?"
I felt the familiar itch of a lie forming on my tongue. I wasn't about to tell the 'Club of Arseholes' that I was carrying a legendary Frost Dragon hatchling.
"She's just a lizard," I said flatly, petting Ilea's head. "A pet I found in the mountains. Nothing more."
The Lord didn't look like he believed me, but he didn't care. On the Isle of Nightmares, a pet lizard was the least of our problems. I looked into the dark forest behind them, where things were moving in the shadows—things that made the Hydra look like a goldfish.
I sighed. "This is going to be a long trip."
Until next time.