Dragon Game: All My Dragons Are Ranked 'SSS'

The man led Ayvira through the hall with doors on both sides of the wall, each marked with different runes. She feasted her eyes on them, studying and examining.

Sometimes she squinted, other times she just stared at them fixedly as they shimmered softly.

The fat man with the horns said nothing as they went through, his face hidden from her sight since he was walking ahead. Finally, he stopped at a door and pushed it open.

The room was simple but elegant. A wide bed stood against the far wall, draped in dark sheets that shimmered faintly under the soft light of glowing crystals set in the ceiling. A wooden desk and chair rested in one corner, and a small chest lay at the foot of the bed. The air smelled faintly of parchment and polished wood, but it was nice nevertheless.

Ayvira stared at it, pleased.

"This should do it, right?" the man asked.

Ayvira nodded. "Thanks."

However, she still had that look of skepticism on her face, like she didn't quite understand what this man was about, or even what this Dragon Shop was about.

"If you want anything, or if you want to call me," the man said, "Don't forget to whisper 'menu.' It will bring out a list of things that are available."

Ayvira nodded, and the man took his leave, shutting the door gently as he left.

The man then went on to open the door of Drahon's room and told him the same thing about the menu.

Drahon nodded and said that he would tell Devon if he woke up.

Now that gave him time to think about this place. He wasn't sure if it was nighttime, but Devon was sleeping and he himself was feeling kind of sleepy, so that should be the answer to his question.

Drahon decided to use this time to think… to try and find answers to his questions.

Firstly, where was he? Of course, he knew he was in the Dragon Shop, but he was still having second thoughts about the realm he was in. And what were realms, even? Wasn't this supposed to be a single world?

By the looks of things, this world had realms—different worlds, each complete on its own, all contained in one.

He tried to think how this could be possible. Coming up with nothing, he decided to use the menu as the man with the fat belly and horns had instructed.

"Menu," he whispered.

Runes became visible in front of him.

To be cautious (for no reason in particular), he glanced at Devon and noticed that he was still sleeping very comfortably, not giving a damn whatsoever. Drahon was surprised he could sleep so easily with the glowing lights that illuminated the room, especially considering how dark in nature he usually was.

He now checked through the menu:

[What do you want?]

[Food]

[Water]

[Drinks]

[Weapons]

[Clothing]

[History books]

[E—]

Drahon quickly selected history books before it could show anything else.

The runes reshuffled, and now Drahon could see:

[All history books in the library door]

Drahon squinted one eye. All history books at the library door?

"Where is the library door?" he whispered.

[It's one of the many doors in this library]

Drahon quickly stood up, unsummoning the menu.

It was time to explore.

He looked at Devon, who was snoring softly. For some reason, he wanted to wake him up so they could go look for the library door together. But then Drahon realized that this— this curiosity, was his thing. At least for now, only he was curious enough to want information. So he might as well go seek it alone.

---

Drahon stepped carefully into the corridor, pulling the door shut behind him. The silence out here was different from the silence inside his room. In the room, it had been a soft, calming kind of silence, broken only by Devon's snores. Out here, the air felt heavier, and the hush pressed against his ears until even his breathing sounded too loud.

And the thing was… he was just noticing this for the first time, even though it wasn't the first time they had passed through here.

The runes above each door glimmered faintly, casting soft pools of color that bled across the silver-veined walls. His eyes darted over them, trying to guess which might be the "library door" the menu had spoken of. There were too many. A hundred? A thousand? The deeper he peered down the corridor, the more doors there seemed to be, lining both sides like rows of watchful sentinels.

He approached the first one on his right. The rune above it glowed with a dull amber light, shaped vaguely like an open eye. With hesitant fingers, he pushed the door inward.

It swung open soundlessly, revealing… a room. Simple, square, and quiet. It was nothing extraordinary, just a bed, a small table, and a narrow slit of a window spilling pale golden light onto the floor.

Drahon lingered at the threshold, scanning every inch. He stepped inside, circling slowly. The air was clean and it smelled faintly of something floral, though he couldn't place it.

"Not that one."

He moved on.

The next door was different. The room beyond was larger, its walls rough-hewn stone instead of polished silver. Heavy torches burned in brackets along the sides, and a wide tapestry hung at the far end, depicting men in armor kneeling before some indistinct beast.

The floor was layered with rugs, and on the low wooden tables were goblets, plates, and flagons as though the room had been abandoned mid-feast. The air carried the faint tang of smoke and iron, and it reminded Drahon more of a medieval hall than anything else.

He wandered slowly through the space, his fingertips brushing the edge of the tapestry. The figures woven into it seemed blurred, like they were shifting when he wasn't looking straight at them, like something out of a movie he had watched back at the orphanage.

Unease prickled at his skin.

"This isn't the library either," he muttered.

Backing out, he shut the door firmly and moved on again.

The third door stood out. Its rune burned a harsh crimson, shaped like a jagged shard. When he pushed it open, the air that greeted him was cooler and sharper, carrying the faint metallic bite of steel.

...faint metallic bite of steel?

His eyes widened.

The room stretched longer than the others, and every wall was lined with weapons. Racks upon racks of them, blades of every shape, polearms, shields, bows strung with gleaming cord.

Some glowed faintly, humming with quiet enchantments. Others looked plain, but carried an edge so keen he could feel it from where he stood.

Drahon was genuinely shocked. His instincts screamed to step inside, to take something, anything. A dagger, a sword, maybe even one of the strange spears gleaming like frozen fire. His Draconic Essence was enough to afford food, surely it could buy more?

But then his eyes fell on the far wall.

Words blazed across it in red letters:

[Do not take for free. Punishable by system law. Only obtainable by essence.]

Drahon froze, his hand halfway lifted toward the nearest rack. A cold sweat slid down his neck.

System law? Punishable?

Ah, damnit!

He was just about to step out when he heard…

Footsteps.

At first, they echoed from somewhere deeper in the corridor. Then they grew louder, steadier and heavier. Each one sharp against the silence.

Drahon's breath hitched. His mind leapt instantly to the horned man. Had he followed him? Had he been watching? Or worse… was it someone else entirely?

He pressed back against the doorframe, his eyes wide, trying to decide whether to step out into the hall or retreat further inside the weapon room. His heart hammered against his ribs.

The footsteps grew closer.

And closer.

Until it sounded like whoever it was had reached the very row of doors where he stood.

Drahon panicked now.

Could it be… him?

The sound stopped, right outside.