Ren opened his worn book once more, his fingers tracing the illustrations of the Dragons.
According to the book, the Wandering King had found lots of information alongside his medicine…
It wasn’t just any medicine that Ren wanted, it was in the heart of dragon territory, where mana flowed so densely it could be seen in the air.
The Wandering King had traveled for months, crossing the lands of each Dragon Lord.
The Red Dragon, whose scales burned like the desert sun, ruled over all fire beasts and reptiles. Under his domain, even tiny lizards could breathe flames.
The Blue Dragon reigned in the ocean depths with his majestic fins and gleaming horns, where every marine creature swore loyalty.
The Green Dragon, covered by a thick layer of vegetation, was lord of the deep forests, where every beast and plant danced to his will.
In the eternal skies, the White Dragon commanded all flying creatures, while the Black Dragon governed the beasts of night and shadow.
The book showed a particularly detailed illustration of the Articulated Dragon, whose domains were filled with giant insects and creatures with exoskeletons.
Each evolutionary line, each egg color, was represented by a dragon. Scholars denied the correlation between dragons and egg colors due to variations diverging from logical branches in egg outcomes.
But that wasn’t relevant knowledge for the child.
Ren paused at a page that had always intrigued him: the Dragon of Decay, lord of fungi, spores, and all creatures that fed on decomposition.
Reigning above, feeding and creating all creatures of his evolutionary line.
“At least dragons respect their subjects,” he murmured bitterly, looking at his pathetic spore. “Unlike humans.”
But the dragons and their territories were far from the human city, and for good reason.
Humans had chosen to settle in this area precisely because the mana was so scarce that great beasts found it repulsive. They had no interest in it.
For humans…
This was their only protection.
Only the weakest creatures, expelled and rejected by the stronger ones, prowled near the city. In the plains.
But it was very rare, they had to be injured, dying, to dare leave the forest.
Without mana, hunger would catch them and they would die soon.
The mana here, in human territory, wasn’t nearly sufficient.
And yet they were deadly dangerous, maddened by the hunger that mana scarcity provoked in them. Like wild animals seeking their next meal, they attacked anything that moved.
Ren shuddered remembering the stories his father told about the forest outskirts.
How the beasts there had an empty, desperate look. How they ignored their own wounds, driven only by hunger and lack of mana. Even herbivorous creatures turned aggressive, attacking any source of mana they could find.
But that was just the outskirts.
In dragon territories…
Mana would be Ren’s worst enemy, with a beast of this level, he could barely enter the first iron circle, with the lowest-ranked beasts. Fortunately, the ruin his father found was right at the beginning of the bronze ring… And he could enter through the middle of the iron ring.
Something like that could be possible even for him, right?
Sure, he wanted to go to dragon territory and find a miracle like obtaining two beasts.
However, he would have to settle for medicine that could expel his spore from his body or something similar.
Something like that could be close to the medicine that cured his mother.
Dragon territory, or even the silver ring, were out of consideration. If he ventured too deep…
The mana would consume you quickly and…
Ren slammed the book shut, his heart pounding.
Would he really go to that forest?
Even thinking about it was madness. With his useless spore, mana might not be a problem, as he probably wouldn’t survive even his first encounter with a beast.
But while listening to his parents’ muffled sobs through the wall…
What other choice did he have?
♢♢♢♢
As night fell…
Determination had awakened more than courage in Ren… his stomach growled.
The aroma of sweet root stew still floated in the air, more tempting than ever as his hunger had returned now that he had a clear purpose.
He slipped out of his room like a shadow, the spore floating silently behind him. The floorboards creaked treacherously under his feet, but years of sneaking out to steal midnight snacks had taught him where to step.
In the kitchen, the feast his parents had prepared remained untouched. Ren wrapped large portions of bread with stew in clean cloths, also packing several wild berries.
His father always said berries helped keep the mind clear when fatigue struck.
From the tool cabinet, he took his father’s smallest kitchen knife, the one used for delicate work, and a worn canteen. Rope and his father’s most precious map. He hesitated a moment before also taking the flint for starting fires.
It wasn’t much, but it would have to be enough.
A noise in the hallway made his heart stop. Footsteps.
He snuck back to his room and got into his bed just as the door opened.
“Ren?” His mother’s soft voice. “Darling…”
Ren dove under the covers, grateful for the darkness hiding the packed bag under his bed. The spore settled on his pillow, its weak gray glow perfectly matching the moment.
“I’m so sorry, my love,” whispered his mother, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Her hand, rough from years of work but always gentle, stroked his hair. “If we could have gotten you a better egg…”
“It’s not your fault, Mom, or Dad’s,” replied Ren, and for the first time in hours, he wasn’t faking the emotion in his voice. “It… it was just bad luck.”
“Would you like some stew? It’s still warm…”
“Tomorrow,” promised Ren, hating the lie but knowing it was necessary for his mission. “Thank you for cooking it.”
She leaned down, kissed his forehead, and the familiar aroma of spices and love almost broke his resolve. Almost.
“I love you, little one.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
The door closed softly.
Ren waited, counting his heartbeats, until the footsteps retreated and the house fell silent.
With movements practiced during his afternoon escapes with friends, he tied the rope. His bedroom window overlooked the back garden, a drop of barely two meters. The spore watched silently as he secured the rope to his bedpost.
“If you’re going to follow me on this journey,” he whispered to his companion while shouldering his backpack, “you’d better at least not get in my way.”
The night was clear, illuminated by nearly a dozen moons. From his window, he could see the dark forest beyond the city limits. Somewhere out there lay his only hope for a different future.
He took the rope in his trembling hands.
I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry, Dad.
And he began his descent.