Primordial Awakening: Rise of the Legendary Dragon God

The square fell into utter silence.

Even the wind, which had been brushing gently through the trees, seemed to hold its breath.

Kael's presence shifted the air itself.

His hand still rested casually on the Leonaris's shoulder, but the lazy tilt of his head and the calm gleam in his golden eyes made the villagers feel as though the very world had stopped moving around him.

Then—softly, carefully—Alenia spoke.

"Lord Kael," she began, her voice steady but firm, "he completely disregarded the rule that everyone here must work for themselves. He believes the people here are his servants—to be ordered around as he pleases."

The words rang sharp in the silence, and a few eyes flicked toward her in surprise.

Everyone could tell—those weren't the exact words the Leonaris had said.

But the way he'd stood, the way he'd glared and acted... it was close enough to be true.

She was twisting the facts to make his actions look worse than they were.

Kael, however, didn't react right away. He just raised a brow, rubbing his chin with a faint hum.

The Leonaris shifted uneasily, his ears twitching.

No matter what he thought about others, he knew that Kael wasn't someone he could offend.

He opened his mouth to protest, but before a word escaped, Kael spoke, his voice smooth and almost too casual.

"Leron," Kael said softly.

The Leonaris froze.

The way his name sounded from Kael's lips—gentle, almost lazy—sent a chill down his spine that made his breath catch.

Kael tilted his head slightly. "You're not going to be punished."

A wave of murmurs swept through the crowd.

Kael's voice, though calm, carried easily. "This is a place where I don't want violence unless it's necessary. Violence is noisy."

His eyes drifted, half-lidded, toward the villagers who still hadn't dared to breathe. "And I hate noise."

He gave a faint shrug. "So this time, you're free to go."

Leron blinked, confused—relieved—but still trembling.

Alenia frowned, stepping forward, her tone sharper now. "But, my lord, he said that he won't work."

Kael waved a hand lazily, not even looking her way. "Let it be. It was probably anger speaking."

His gaze flicked toward the lion-headed man again, his expression serene yet impossible to read. "Right?"

Leron felt that same bone-deep terror surge up again—the kind that whispered of death without sound or struggle.

He quickly nodded.

And the moment he did, that feeling vanished.

Kael's faint smile returned, as if nothing had happened.

Alenia rubbed her forehead, muttering, "He was pampered from birth... probably doesn't know anything about real work."

Kael glanced at her briefly, then turned back to Leron, smiling almost mischievously. "Is that true? You don't know how to do anything?"

Leron stiffened as that invisible pressure returned—a subtle, crushing weight, unseen yet undeniable.

He didn't know what it was and why it was happening, as Kael never changed his expression, nor did he threaten him.

Yet for some reason, Leron could feel that he was walking on a thin thread.

So, without thinking about it—

"I-I can teach," he blurted out, his voice cracking slightly. "Calculations… and numbers."

The weight was lifted immediately, as Kael's expression brightened, the corners of his lips curving in genuine satisfaction.

"Perfect," he said. "We need someone like that."

He turned slightly, addressing the crowd now. "We've been talking about opening a school for the children anyway. Maybe it's time."

Whispers rippled through the villagers. A school—no one had dared dream of such a thing.

All of them had thought that their children would grow into hunters or runners, as that was all they could be in the forest, but now, Kael was saying that there would be a school.

The dragon, on the other hand, continued as if it were the most natural idea in the world. "He can teach. Others who are qualified can join him. Let's make sure the children grow up smarter and sharper."

He smiled faintly, glancing back toward Alenia. "See? Problem solved."

Alenia opened her mouth to argue but stopped midway. Her shoulders dropped with a quiet sigh.

"You're too soft on him," she murmured, half under her breath.

Kael's smile didn't fade. "They're my people now," he said lightly. "You can't really blame me for that, can you?"

With that, he turned toward the house, stretching lazily as though the entire confrontation had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

"I'll leave the rest to you, Alenia," he said over his shoulder.

Her lips quirked in reluctant amusement. "I'll handle it."

As Kael disappeared into the house, the crowd slowly began to exhale—the tension draining from their shoulders like melting frost.

Whispers followed him, not of fear this time, but of something else—quiet awe.

Even after all that, he hadn't punished the Leonaris.

He'd spoken calmly, with no anger, no display of power.

Above all, everyone knew how easily Kael could have erased the man from existence.

And yet he chose mercy.

Many villagers felt a shift in their hearts. Gratitude. Respect. Hope.

After all, they had seen how much Kael cared—even for someone who had caused disorder.

.....................

Meanwhile, inside the house, the air was warm and faintly filled with the smell of baked roots and firewood.

Kael stepped in, loosening his collar slightly—only to pause mid-step at the sight before him.

Druvarn, in his plushy bear form, was kneeling on the floor like a soldier after battle, panting heavily. His stubby paws clutched his throat while Rue and Rina patted his back.

"There, there," Rina said soothingly, her tiny hands barely reaching the bear's shoulder.

Rue nodded solemnly, offering a small cup of water. "Drink slowly, Mr. Druvarn."

Lyra came running with another bowl, her ears bouncing. "I got him some more. Let him drink as much as he wants."

Kael blinked. "…What happened to him?"

Rue looked up, smiling a little sheepishly. "He roared a while ago."

Kael raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Druvarn gave a weak, wheezing rumble, his round, plush face drooping.

"His throat," Lyra explained, rubbing the bear's head gently. "He said that the last roar was too much for his throat in this form."

Kael stared for a moment, then laughed softly—quietly, like the sound of warm rain.

"Of course, it was."

He crouched down beside the bear, resting a hand on his head. "You did well, Druvarn."

The plushy bear blinked up at him, eyes glimmering faintly with pride despite his misery.

Kael smiled faintly. "Rest. You've earned it."

As soon as he heard that, the bear closed his eyes and slumped into Rue and Rina's arms, again dreaming about the power he had yet to experience.

After all, the 24-hour time Kael had said for the bear's powerless state was almost over.

Alenia, Evethra, and Selene, on the other hand, continued their work.

Under her quiet but firm direction, the village that had once been a scattered collection of survivors began to take form.

She stood in the center of the square, a wooden slab in hand, her tone sharp yet patient as she called out names and gave assignments.

Around her, the once-anxious crowd now listened attentively, their nervousness giving way to focus.

"Those with physical strength," she announced, gesturing toward a growing group of muscular men and women, "you'll form the worker class. You'll handle construction, repairs, transport—anything that needs muscle. You'll answer directly to me or the managers."

She turned, her gaze landing on a few calm, organized faces—those who had been helping her maintain the food stores and schedules before.

"You'll be the management group. Your job is to keep records—resources, shifts, and duties. I want every stone and every loaf of bread accounted for."

Her finger moved next toward a smaller group of neat, well-mannered individuals standing behind Evethra.

The vampire maid stood with her hands clasped, her elegance unmistakable even in the humid air.

"These will form the maid and butler group," Alenia declared. "If a family's workers are busy with construction or patrols, you'll help keep their homes in order. Cleaning, cooking, maintenance—whatever's needed. Evethra will be your head maid. You answer her."

Evethra bowed slightly, her smile graceful but commanding. "Understood, my lady."

That last 'My lady' almost made Alenia's lips twitch, but she controlled it and nodded, pointing toward another cluster.

"The hunters and fishermen will continue providing food. Stay within the marked safe zones. Anything beyond that," she said, her gaze drifting toward the forest's dark edge, "will fall under Kael's command."

Lastly, she looked toward the few who stood with scrolls, ink, and tools of study—Leron among them, now standing straighter than before. "The teachers will begin planning lessons for the children. Reading, writing, numbers, and basic survival. Knowledge is as vital as strength."

It didn't end there, as she made more classes, such as cooks, who would cook for the whole village, and messengers and distributors, who would be carriers of messages and deliverers of food, both of whom fell under Selene's command.

And by the time she finished, a sense of quiet pride rippled through the crowd.

For the first time since their exile, the village had structure—purpose.

And above it all, Alenia stood tall, the wind catching her hair as she wrote the final note on her clipboard.

"Let's make this place worth living in," she said, and the people nodded, as the village had found its order.

Alenia, however, only had one problem now.

Staring at the multiple slabs of wood next to her, on which she had done all the documentation, she muttered, "We really need papers in this village."

Because even if she could write on the slabs, the children, who would be going to school in a while, would need papers.

In the end, she merely shook her head. "One thing at a time, I guess."

With that, she was done with her work for today.