The sky was clear again, a vast blue that seemed to stretch endlessly above them, broken only by the rhythmic sound of gigantic wings forcefully displacing the air. Scarlett flew ahead, her draconic form firm and stable, supporting Ouroboros and Tiamat on her back as if the weight were irrelevant, while beside her, slightly above and advancing in smooth parallels, Strax kept pace with an ease that did not go unnoticed.

There was no urgency in that flight.

But there was energy.

Scarlett turned her head slightly, her golden eyes sliding towards him as she maintained her stability with almost instinctive precision, and for a few seconds she simply observed, analyzing the movement of his white wings, the lightness with which he cut through the air, the way his body seemed... different.

"Aren’t you going to rest?" she finally asked, her voice carrying a more casual than worried tone, but still attentive.

Strax let out a soft laugh, the deep sound vibrating in the air around him as he slightly adjusted his body’s tilt, rising a little higher before descending again in a gentle curve, almost as if testing the limits of this new state.

"Rest?" he repeated, as if considering the idea for a second, before shaking his head slightly. "I’m more than rested."

He flapped his wings harder, and the effect was immediate—his body surged forward a few meters with clean acceleration, without apparent effort, before he slowed down again to maintain alignment with Scarlett.

"Actually... I was getting bored," he added, with a slight trace of amusement in his voice.

Ouroboros, who was sitting closer to the base of Scarlett’s neck, slowly looked up at that, her fingers still resting on the red dragon’s scales, but without that constant restless movement of before. She seemed calmer now, not yet fully recovered, but much more present.

"Bored..." she murmured, almost to herself, but with a slight hint of humor.

Tiamat, beside her, crossed her arms and made a small sound through her nose.

"Of course," she said. "We almost brought down half the sky yesterday, and today you’re bored."

Strax smiled slightly, clearly unoffended, and spun gently in the air, aligning himself better beside Scarlett.

"Yesterday was yesterday," he replied. "Today I’m whole."

He then slightly extended one wing, as if feeling his own body, testing the response of his muscles, the flow of energy beneath his scales.

"And this body..." he continued, his tone more thoughtful now, though still light. "After the white flames... it’s become different."

Scarlett narrowed her eyes slightly, now more interested.

"Different how?" she asked.

Strax tilted his body, lowering it slightly before rising again, creating an undulating movement in the air that seemed more natural than forced.

"Lighter," he said. "Much lighter."

He spread his wings wider, supporting himself with less visible effort.

"I’m bigger," he added, "but at the same time... faster."

There was a short pause, only the sound of the wind filling the space between them as those words settled.

Scarlett watched silently for a few seconds, analyzing not only what he was saying, but what she was seeing.

And she agreed.

"It’s strange," she murmured, more to herself at first, before continuing in a clearer voice. "Every time you evolve... your body changes."

She tilted her head slightly, as if organizing her thoughts.

"It’s not just growth," she continued. "It’s not just raw power."

Her eyes returned to him.

"It’s... adaptation."

Strax nodded slightly.

"Yes," he said. "I noticed that too."

Scarlett then looked away for a moment, as if remembering something specific, and exhaled slightly through her nose.

"That black shape..." she murmured.

Tiamat raised an eyebrow.

"Black shape?" she repeated.

Scarlett nodded.

"Yes," she said, now with a slight, almost imperceptible smile. "That version of him... was terrifying."

She looked at Strax again, assessing him.

"But this one..." she continued, "is more dangerous."

Ouroboros remained silent, but her eyes moved toward Strax, observing more closely now, as if she too were noticing the difference.

Strax chuckled softly.

"I won’t disagree," he said.

He then spun his body again, this time making a tighter turn before returning to formation, as if deliberately testing his agility.

"But it’s true," he continued, now more serious. "Every time I evolve... my draconic body gets an upgrade."

Tiamat tilted her head slightly.

"You talk like it’s some kind of upgraded equipment," she commented.

Strax shrugged, still in the air.

"In a way... that’s exactly it."

Scarlett let out a small, low laugh.

"You’re absurd," she said.

"I know," he replied, without hesitation.

The atmosphere between them, despite the subject, was... light.

Not completely free of the tension of what had happened before.

But better.

Much better.

Ouroboros lightly rested his hand on Scarlett’s scale, his fingers now still, simply feeling the stability of the flight, the warmth of the body beneath her, the steady rhythm of the wings.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment.

And breathed.

This time—

Effortlessly.

When she opened her eyes again, she looked at Strax, who was still flying beside her, and for a moment... just observed.

There was no anxiety in that look.

There was no immediate fear. There was still doubt.

There was still something there.

But there was also trust.

And that... was new.

"Strax," she called, her voice more steady than before.

He turned his head slightly toward her.

"Yes?"

She hesitated for a second.

Just one.

"Thank you... for yesterday," she said simply.

No frills.

No beating around the bush.

But full of meaning.

Strax held her gaze for a few seconds.

And then smiled.

"You’re still here," he replied. "That’s worth everything."

Tiamat looked away, crossing her arms with a small sigh.

"You two are ridiculous," she murmured.

Scarlett let out a low laugh.

But she didn’t disagree.

The sky remained open ahead of them, the capital still distant on the horizon, but each beat of their wings brought them closer to their destination.

And, for the first time since what happened—

The flight didn’t feel heavy.

It felt... like a journey.

And that made all the difference.

...

[Elsewhere...]

The Royal Capital shone in the distance like a living organism, its elegant towers reflecting the evening light and its main streets pulsating with commerce, nobles, and constant movement. But like any city that grew too large, it had edges—places where the brilliance didn’t reach with the same intensity, where the stone was more worn, where the smell of iron, soot, and survival replaced the expensive perfume and promises of security.

That’s where Ladira lived. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

Her forge was nestled between two ancient buildings, its walls marked by time and the constant heat of work. The interior was simple, functional, dominated by a worn anvil, carefully organized tools, and a furnace that still held live embers, even at the end of the day. The air carried that heavy smell of heated metal, charcoal, and sweat—the smell of those who build things with their own hands.

But at that moment—

None of that mattered.

Because Ladira wasn’t working.

She was cornered.

Three men occupied the forge space as if they owned it, their presence out of place there, not because of their size, but because of their intentions. They weren’t there for weapons, nor for tools.

They were there for her.

"So... blacksmith," said the largest of them, stepping forward while dragging the tip of his boot against the floor, scattering ashes around the room. "We came to collect."

Ladira swallowed hard, keeping her back against the wall near the workbench, her hands still dirty with soot trembling slightly, though she tried to hide it by crossing her arms defensively.

"I... I already paid this week," she replied, her voice low, hesitant, trying to maintain some firmness, but failing to hide the fear that was already evident in her eyes.

The other two laughed.

Not loudly.

But enough.

"Paid?" the man repeated, tilting his head slightly, as if genuinely curious. "Funny... because we don’t remember."

He took another step.

Ladira instinctively recoiled, her body tensing, her heart racing so fast it felt like it was pounding in her ears. She knew this. She knew this game. It wasn’t about money.

It was never just about money.

"Look..." she tried again, raising one hand as if she could negotiate with it. "I can... pay more next time—"

"Next time?" the man interrupted, now with a crooked smile forming on his face. "You always say that."

He reached out and grabbed the collar of her shirt, pulling it slightly forward with enough force to cut off any illusion of control.

"But we’re here now."

Ladira’s body froze.

She didn’t scream.

She didn’t react.

But the fear—that deep, ingrained fear—was completely visible now.

One of the other men moved closer, glancing around the forge with disdain.

"Pathetic little place," he muttered, kicking a small pile of tools, scattering some across the floor with a dry thud of metal against stone. "I don’t even know why we still waste our time here."

"Because she pays," the first replied, without taking his eyes off Ladira. "And because she knows what happens if she doesn’t."

He tightened his grip on her clothing a little more.

Not enough to really hurt her.

But enough to make it clear.

Control.

Domination.

"And you know it, don’t you?" he murmured, lower now, bringing his face closer to hers.

Ladira nodded quickly, her eyes lowered, her breath short.

"I know..." she said, almost inaudibly.

And it was at that moment—

That something changed.

Not in the atmosphere.

Not in the sound.

But in her presence.

One of the men, the one furthest away, was the first to notice.

He frowned, looking over his shoulder, as if he sensed something... wrong.

But he saw nothing.

Or thought he saw nothing.

Because she was there.

From the beginning.

Standing.

Silent.

Behind them.

The woman made no sound as she approached, her steps completely muffled by the surroundings, as if the space around her simply accepted her presence without question. Her gaze was cold, calculated, and there was no hurry in her movements—only certainty.

She tilted her head slightly, observing the scene like someone evaluating something already decided.

And then—

She moved.

Quickly.

Directly.

Her hand emerged from behind the man holding Ladira, closing around his neck before he even had time to react. The movement was so precise that for a second it seemed almost... smooth.

But it wasn’t.

The sound came next.

Dry.

Violent.

A grotesque crack that didn’t seem human, followed by absurd pressure being applied to a point that simply shouldn’t give way like that.

And then—

It exploded.

His neck snapped under the force of her hand, flesh, bone, and blood fragmenting in a brutal instant, without warning, without a chance, without any real resistance. His body completely lost its support, falling like a dead weight before his brain could even process what had happened.

Ladira froze.

The other man—

Panicked.

"W-WHAT THE HELL—?!"

But he didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t try to fight.

He didn’t try to understand.

He just ran.

Desperate.

Stumbling in her own haste as she left the forge, practically throwing herself out the door, disappearing into the street like an animal fleeing an invisible predator.

The silence that followed—

Was worse.

The headless body fell heavily to the forge floor, blood slowly spreading through the cracks in the stone, mixing with soot and charcoal remains, creating a grotesque scene that didn’t fit the simple routine of that place.

Ladira didn’t move.

Not for a few seconds.

Her gaze was fixed on the body.

Or what remained of it.

Until—

"You really need to stop this."

The voice came from behind her.

Calm.

Controlled.

As if none of this had been... out of the ordinary.

Ladira slowly turned her head.

And saw.

"Shalom..."

The woman walked into the forge as if entering her own home, completely ignoring the body on the floor as she slightly adjusted the glove on one hand, her gaze now fixed on Ladira with a slight, silent disapproval.

"You keep letting these kinds of people exploit you," she said, tilting her head slightly. "It’s getting repetitive."

Ladira still seemed... to be processing.

Her gaze alternated between Shalom and the body.

And then—

She took a deep breath.

Once.

Twice.

Trying to compose herself.

"If you keep killing everyone who bothers me..." she began, her voice still a little unsteady, but slowly returning to normal. "I won’t have any more clients."

Shalom raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Clients?" she repeated.

Her eyes then returned to the body on the floor.

And with a simple snap of her fingers—

The floor seemed... to move.

First subtly.

Then not.

Small shapes began to emerge from the hem of her skirt, like a living tide, countless, spreading with terrifying speed across the forge floor. Spiders. Hundreds. Thousands. Their dark bodies moving in perfect coordination as they advanced upon the still-warm corpse.

The sound—

It was the worst.

Small cracks, tears, a quick and efficient consumption, as if it were routine.

In seconds—

Flesh disappeared.

Then muscles.

Then...

Nothing.

When the movement ceased, there was no more body.

Not even enough blood to tell the story.

Just the floor.

Clean.

As if nothing had happened.

Shalom looked back at Ladira.

"If these are your clients," she said calmly, "you need to rethink your business model."

Ladira ran a hand over her face, still covered in soot, letting out a tired sigh while shaking her head.

"...You never change," she murmured.

Shalom didn’t answer.

"Then... why are you here?" Ladira questioned.

"Hm... there are four dragons heading towards our capital, so I came to get some dragon slayers." Shalom said smiling~ "Please <3" She said smiling.