Primordial Awakening: Rise of the Legendary Dragon God

Evethra and Kael left the square without ceremony.

She guided him through the outer parts where people rarely gathered, even on peaceful days.

Today, with the heat in these areas, no one would come here.

The village still breathed uneasily behind them—whispers, muffled cries, the distant sound of Alenia's voice carrying authority—but here, there was only the soft crunch of stone beneath their steps.

Kael said nothing.

His shoulders were straight, his pace steady, but Evethra could feel it through their joined hands—the tension he hadn't allowed himself to show.

The weight of restraint.

The kind that came not from fear, but from knowing exactly how much damage one could do.

"You did what you had to," she said softly after a while.

Kael's gaze stayed forward. "I did what I allowed myself to do."

Evethra slowed half a step, gently tugging his hand until he looked at her. Her red eyes were calm, unwavering.

"And you stopped," she said. "That matters."

He exhaled through his nose, a quiet sound. "It shouldn't have reached that point."

She squeezed his fingers. "You're allowed to be shaken. Even dragons aren't invincible."

A faint, humorless curve touched his lips. "Careful. That almost sounded like reassurance."

"That's because it was."

They walked on.

Minutes later, the familiar shape of the house came into view—intact, mercifully untouched by the chaos. The lights were dim. Too dim.

And someone stood outside.

Druvarn was waiting by the door.

Not in his towering, mountain-shaking true form—but as the oversized plushy bear he favored, round ears drooping, stitched eyes tilted downward.

His massive paws were clasped together in front of him, shoulders hunched.

He wasn't grumbling.

He wasn't pretending not to care.

That alone made Kael's steps slow.

Evethra felt it too. Her fingers tightened around Kael's hand.

"What's wrong?" Kael asked, his voice low.

He knew something was up.

Druvarn, however, didn't look up.

As they came closer, the bear shifted, sensing the atmosphere around Kael—sharp, quiet, and dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with power.

"I'll get to the point," Druvarn said quickly, voice rough. "Rue and Rina are missing."

The words hit wrong.

Kael stopped.

"…I'm not in the mood for jokes," he said flatly.

Druvarn's head snapped up, stitched eyes meeting Kael's golden ones. "I'm not joking."

Silence fell between them, thick and immediate.

Evethra straightened.

Kael stared at Druvarn for a long second, then spoke again, slower. "Explain. Everything."

Druvarn nodded, relief flickering across his plushy face at being believed.

"It started like normal," he said. "They asked to play hide and seek."

Kael frowned slightly. "At this hour?"

"No, it started hours ago. Because they always play at that time," Druvarn grumbled. "And they're annoyingly good at it."

Despite everything, Kael could picture it—Rue giggling, Rina tugging her sleeve, both of them whispering like conspirators before vanishing into impossible hiding spots.

"We searched," Druvarn continued. "Everyone did. Evening came. Night came. They didn't answer."

He hesitated.

"I thought they were just too into it," he admitted. "Wouldn't be the first time."

Evethra swallowed.

"Then the explosions happened," Druvarn said quietly. "But they still didn't return."

"At that point, I knew something was wrong." He clenched his fluffy paws. "So… I went to their room."

His paws unclasped. One lifted, holding a folded piece of paper, edges slightly crumpled.

"I can't read," he muttered. "But I know when something's wrong."

He held it out, and Kael took it.

The paper was neat.

Too neat for children.

Kael unfolded it slowly.

And read.

[We're sorry for doing this without telling anyone.

We didn't want to scare you, or Lyra, or Selene.

But this was the only way we could think of.]

Kael's brow furrowed.

[Our memories came back when you named us.

It was one of the times we weren't supposed to remember yet.

From lives we had forgotten.]

Evethra leaned closer, reading over his shoulder, her expression tightening.

[We aren't normal.

We never were.

But after remembering who we were—which shouldn't have been possible for at least ten more years—we realized we couldn't stay.]

Kael's fingers curled slightly around the paper.

[We belong to a group we can't talk about.

Even writing this is dangerous.]

The next line made his eyes narrow.

[They're very powerful.

So strong that even you won't be able to defeat them. Not yet, at least.]

Silence pressed in.

[If we stayed here, you and the village would eventually be noticed.

And once noticed… things would get bad.

Because the people behind us would want to use you, the last dragon alive.]

Evethra's lips parted, but no sound came out.

[So we left.

Before that could happen.]

Kael read the last lines slowly.

[Please don't look for us.

And please don't be angry.]

At the bottom of the page—

Another note.

[We wrote separate messages for everyone else and left them inside the table.

Please read them.]

Kael lowered the letter.

For the first time that night, his hand trembled.

Druvarn watched him anxiously. "So?"

Kael didn't answer right away.

His gaze drifted to the door.

To the house.

To the empty rooms inside.

"…They left on purpose," Kael said finally.

Evethra's voice was barely a whisper. "Because of us."

"No," Kael corrected quietly. "Because of me."

He knew that it was his fault this time.

Had he not named them, none of this would've happened.

Had he not been a dragon, they wouldn't have left.

And as he thought more about it, he couldn't help but grind his teeth.

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

Meanwhile, the town square was packed.

Not shoulder to shoulder—fear still left space between people—but full enough that the silence felt heavy.

Burn marks scarred the stone. The air still shimmered with residual heat. Above them, the sky remained bruised black, as if the heavens themselves hadn't decided whether to forgive what had happened.

Alenia stood on the raised platform, Selene beside her.

She didn't raise her voice.

She didn't need to.

"A while ago," Alenia said, calm and clear, "this town was targeted by a force powerful enough to erase it."

A ripple went through the crowd.

"An enemy strong enough that even Lord Kael could not defeat it instantly—especially while protecting all of you."

Eyes widened. Hands clenched.

"But he did protect you," she continued. "He stood between this town and annihilation. He fought while holding back, while shielding you, while bearing the full weight of an attack meant to leave nothing behind."

Murmurs rose—fear, awe, and gratitude tangled together.

"The attacker was defeated," Alenia said firmly. "Captured alive. And we will ensure that he will never threaten this place again."

Relief spread like a breath finally released.

Then her gaze sharpened.

"To those of you who have received Lord Kael's gift," she said, eyes sweeping the inner circle scattered among the crowd, "but still live as if this is a peaceful world—this is your warning."

Some shifted uncomfortably.

"He cannot always be everywhere. He should not have to carry everything alone." Her voice hardened. "Train. Grow. Take this seriously. Because next time, standing beside him might be the difference between survival and extinction."

The crowd bowed.

Not in ritual.

In instinct.

Selene stepped forward then, nodding, adding gentle words of reassurance—about patrols, about safety, about tomorrow still coming.

And then—

Druvarn, the plush bear, rushed to the square and went up on the stage.

He reached toward Alenia, his plushy face unusually grim, and murmured something to Alenia.

Her words stopped mid-sentence.

Even Selene, who heard that, had her breath caught.

"…What?" She whispered.

Druvarn repeated it, this time in a lower tone.

Alenia's eyes widened—just for a fraction of a second—before she composed herself.

Her hand lifted slightly, signaling the guards to continue organizing, her voice resuming with practiced steadiness.

But something had changed.

Those close enough, especially Lyra, saw it.

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

At the same time, at the edge of the square, half-hidden among the townsfolk, a woman stood motionless.

Black hair.

Red eyes.

She was the clone sent by the woman from the prison in the Vampire Empire.

Her gaze wasn't on the stage.

It was fixed in the direction of Kael's house.

"I still can't believe it…" She whispered, fingers curling. "He's a dragon."

And not just any dragon, but the guy Evethra had chosen as her partner.

Her lips trembled—not with fear, but disbelief.

After all, she knew that her mission was a failure.

She needed to bring Evethra and Kael back, but—

"I can't take you," she murmured. "Because I know you won't come willingly."

"As for taking you both forcefully…" A bitter laugh escaped her as her eyes flicked to the sky, to the scars carved into reality itself. "With the amount of power I have right now, it's impossible."

She exhaled slowly.

Then smiled.

"…But that's fine."

Her hand moved to her chest. Mana stirred—tight, precise, practiced.

"I've seen enough."

The woman closed her eyes.

And drove the energy inward.

There was no scream.

No spectacle.

She merely collapsed, her body dissolving into faint motes of blood that scattered like ash on the wind.

She was a clone, and once she killed herself, all of her memories would return to the original body.

It was the fastest way.

And as soon as she did that, the main body in the prison of the Vampire Empire opened her eyes, a grin slowly spreading on her face.

'This is good. This is better than good.'

That was all she thought before she closed her eyes again, focusing on recovering faster because now she knew that she had to push her plans for escaping this prison forward.