It had been a long journey—riding essentially non-stop from Forest's Edge to the capital, only stopping to sleep. Every other waking moment, Karl had been on the road.

He'd been a messenger for a long time, and other than trips to the front line in the south, he'd never been concerned about the messages he carried. However, the one he had now was different. He couldn't explain why exactly—but something about it felt serious. And that was ignoring the fact that three messengers had been sent with the same letter, in case something happened to the others on the road. Karl was a messenger—what could possibly happen?

As he rode into the capital, he was quickly escorted to the palace, where things moved alarmingly fast. The guards who stopped him immediately passed him to the steward of the estate, who in turn escalated the matter to the chancellor, who then handed him off to another man Karl only knew as the King's adviser.

From there, he was led to two of the finest doors Karl had ever seen in his life—each flanked by an incredibly intimidating guard.

With a gesture from the adviser—whose name Karl still didn't know—the great doors were opened, and he was ushered into the grandest hall he had ever laid eyes on. The walls were draped with the kingdom's banners, each bearing the sigils of the powerful houses currently in the King's favour.

At the head of a long table sat a man who, to Karl, looked no older than his thirties—despite having ruled the kingdom for as long as Karl had been alive. The King sat upon a throne-like chair, surrounded by a handful of councillors. All eyes turned toward Karl and the adviser as they entered.

"Gerald, what is the meaning of this intrusion? Who is this man?" The King's voice was soft, but carried unmistakable authority.

"Your Majesty, this messenger comes bearing the Obsidian Seal on his document," the man said, bowing deeply.

Karl quickly followed suit, uncertain whether he should bow, kneel, or both. He'd never delivered a royal message before. He was far out of his depth.

"Very well, Gerald. Read it. Everyone who needs to hear it is present," the King said, gesturing for him to proceed.

Gerald took the letter from Karl, briefly presenting it to the King, who broke the magical seal. If it had been tampered with, the message would have been destroyed instantly.

Once the seal was undone, the King tossed it back to Gerald, who unfurled the parchment and began to read.

"Your Majesty, on this day I have witnessed events that bring our kingdom into peril. The Tempest Dragon that resided within Mount Divinus has broken free," Gerald read aloud.

A frown formed on the King's face, and murmurs spread among those seated.

Gerald continued, "It began with a battle against the Guardian of the Dark Forest—a Green Dragon we have had no contact with in any recorded history."

The King's expression darkened further.

Karl heard whispers ripple through the chamber.

"A second dragon—this close?" "It lost? It's dead?"

With a gesture from the King, Gerald read on.

"It next appeared at the town of Forest's Edge, where it interacted with a boy from our kingdom—a Chef and orphan of Dunhearth by the name of Trevor. It is believed he also possesses a third, continent-destroying threat as a companion, in the form of an Ancient Shadow Cat."

That last line broke the room's composure.

"That's preposterous! Who would believe such a tale? Who sent this prank?" one of the nobles snapped.

"Nonsense! How could a dragon have been there this whole time and no one knew?" another scoffed.

"A boy getting a Shadow Cat as a companion? This lord and messenger must be drunk to waste our time with such—"

"Silence," the King said softly, raising his hand. Instantly, the room fell quiet.

After a moment, Gerald spoke again. "Your Grace, I can attest to the authenticity of the seal. If these were falsehoods, the lord who wrote it could not have sealed it."

"I understand, Gerald," the King said, leaning back. "I am concerned about the content. We have someone who has come into contact with two beings capable of destroying our kingdom—and a boy, no less. Boys are often hot-tempered and easily influenced." He sighed.

"We need to meet this child immediately," he said at last.

Orders were issued rapidly. Two groups of Imperial Guards were dispatched to the Adventurer's Guild for information. The largest contingent was sent to Dunhearth to investigate the boy and the events leading up to this report.

Karl watched in stunned silence as the room turned into a flurry of movement—a full mobilisation unfolding before his eyes.

But he hadn't been dismissed, so he stood there awkwardly until the King finally addressed him.

"Thank you, messenger. I did not catch your name, but with what you've learned here today, I will require you to remain in the palace for a time. Gerald will arrange a room for you. It will be temporary, but you will be richly compensated for the inconvenience."

Karl blinked, stunned. Stay in the palace—and be richly compensated?

That sounded amazing

***

Despite the eventful journey from Dunhearth to Boltron, he didn't think it was terrible. There had been some of the best food he'd had in a long time. He regretted alienating Trevor early on—he honestly hadn't known that mentioning the front line would have that effect. He'd thought it was common knowledge.

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According to Saddie, in the days that followed, it was common knowledge—to everyone except those raised in the orphanage. Jordan thought that was a great injustice, but what was done was done.

When he finally made it to Boltron, he was in awe of the size of the city. What should have been an easy task—finding work—became a challenge very quickly, as the few places he found were already full of apprentices. The only workshop that wasn't full had no lodgings available.

That was of course until the mountain broke, and the dragon attacked.

He'd been lucky that day. He'd found some day work at the docks helping to repair a mast when the city was struck. What followed was both a blessing and a curse. So many buildings were damaged that carpenters were in incredible demand, and he was quickly found by one of the masters he'd visited earlier.

He didn't even need to go to them.

He was offered a wage far better than he'd expected—and even a room to live in.

The downside was the work itself. It almost broke him. From sunup to sundown every day, he worked non-stop repairing houses across the city. It was exhausting—but great for his levels.

It was one night at the inn, after a long day of repairs, that Jordan first heard the rumour: that a boy had caused all this. That he had brought a beast that angered the gods.

No name was mentioned, but it didn't take a genius to guess which beast—and which boy—that referred to.

Did Trevor really cause all this damage?

How was that even possible? He was a chef—and a low-level one at that.

Maybe it was just the ramblings of a drunk.

***

Lily had been having a great time. She'd been eating the best food she'd ever had—so much better than the raw meat of her kills. At this point, she needed to figure out how to keep this boy around. Humans lived such incredibly short lives.

That wouldn't do.

She'd even gotten to attack that fat lump from the mountain. She never thought he'd have the courage to leave his hoard, considering his reputation—but not only did he leave, he attacked Sylverith.

She wasn't happy that Sylverith had tried to merely punish the lazy beast instead of killing him outright, but Lily tried. If he'd landed—just once.

It was in the last few days that the boy's actions had truly intrigued her. She knew he made the best food, and that alone was reason enough to keep him around. No other human could match it. She'd checked.

But lately, all the food he'd been serving her had granted permanent stats. Granted, it was only a few points—but a meal a day for a few thousand years? That would be… many stats.

This was why her new goal was to find a way to make the boy last longer.

When he asked her to walk into the city with him, it had been amusing—at first.

Until the realisation dawned on her: if someone killed him, or stole him, she'd lose her food forever. His already pitifully short life would be even shorter.

No, that wasn't acceptable.

That was her human cub to protect. And she supposed that the elemental child, who had accepted the task of defending him, was also hers in a way. He was a smart one—Crisplet; she thought he was called. Yes, Crisplet was clever. He would grow to be adequate protection, at least enough to buy time for her to arrive.

Naps were important, after all.

Ultimately, she still didn't know why they'd been brought together. Perhaps some god was playing games.

She didn't care.

No one would hurt or take her food source. If they tried, there would be no one left— whether man, beast, demon, or any other creature in this world.

***

Sylverith meditated in her lair. It had been nearly a millennium since she had truly awakened, but the recent fight had drawn her out of her long slumber—and it was just as well.

Her favourite guardian—her daughter of the forest—was currently very preoccupied. The most recent visit had raised some rather interesting questions and observations. Initially, Sylverith had feared that the humans had managed to trick her daughter into serving their needs. But having tried the food herself… it was very good.

Not the greatest, though.

She was now leaning towards the idea that some meddling god had influenced these events—that was until it was brought to her attention that the dragon he cooked for them had provided permanent stats.

This was important for many reasons, but chiefly because it was long held among dragonkind that the only source of true stat growth came from the System itself.

For a mortal—a human child, no less—to be able to create such a thing… complicated matters.

Lily, of course, was trying to find a way to extend the lifespan of her human. Sylverith had heard of certain human-like creatures who lived for a few centuries, but she didn't believe this boy was one of them.

Perhaps she would need to refine her illusions and make a trip into the human cities herself—to do a little research.

***

Crisplet had to grow up quickly. He'd been learning from his friend Lily, who had told him that Trevor was weak and needed protection—and that if he wanted to protect him, he'd need to get stronger. Fast.

He wasn't entirely sure what he needed to do. Since he'd woken up in this world of light and colour, everything had been amazing. He didn't really have memories of before, but he could have sworn it had just been endless fire. That had been comfortable—or at least, it used to be.

But as Lily said, if he left now, how could he be sure he'd ever be the same flame that returned? That was why, when he explained the skill Ashborne Soul to Lily, she immediately encouraged him to take it.

Lily told him that a soul was the first step on the path to becoming a guardian creature—and that it would be required if he wanted to be strong.

There were some risks. Lily mentioned he might only gain experience through combat once he had his soul, but luckily, he still gained experience from everything he built and every meal he helped to cook.

Crisplet would become the world's strongest elemental—nothing was going to stop him. And with Lily's guidance, she said he'd reach that point quickly. Then he could help her with a super-secret mission regarding Trevor.

Well… once she found out what the details were.

First, they needed to make sure the humans in the city knew not to mess with them.

***

Stefan was sitting at the inn, drinking. He had been an adventurer, but the most recent events had nearly broken him. Not just having his party leader nearly get them all killed—that was one thing—but what followed after.

Attacking that group… they were wiped out in seconds. Not even seconds.

Then the dragon.

The conversation tormented him. All it wanted to know was why they had tried to steal its food—and when it found out about Greg's clan and their desire to rid the world of dragons, all he heard was a laugh. A laugh that chilled him to his bones.

There had been no concern, no fear—just amusement. Then came the threat:

If he ever raised a weapon to that boy again, not only would he die, but every single person he had ever known or cared for would also die. And he believed it.

The threat was crystal clear, and somehow, he knew it was the honest truth.

Who was that boy—and why did he have such protection? He had told Greg not to bother, that it was not worth it. The boy had been seen with the Cat in the middle of the Adventurer's Guild. He had been seen speaking with the dragon. And all that over a few scales, and a grudge?

Ever since he'd been released from the dungeons after extensive questioning—and expelled from the Adventurer's Guild for life—he'd been living and drinking at the inn. This was his life now.

He was broken. All because of some grudge that was laughable to the creature Greg had hoped to strike.

What had he done to anger fate so much?

And that boy… he hoped he'd never return. He was already gaining a nickname among the locals—The Dragon Whisperer—or, as Stefan thought more fitting, Fate's Chosen.

For who else could be so impossibly lucky?

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