Serendipity (Veldora x TBATE)

"You see, sometimes friends have to go away, but a part of them stays behind with you."

—Ash Ketchum

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Weeks melted into one another like ice under a summer sun. For a dragon such as myself, this passage of time was barely a flutter of eyelashes. But for my... traveling companions (I hesitate to use a more familiar term), these weeks seemed to hold great meaning.

We traversed the Beast Glades, going deeper and deeper with each passing day and facing mana beasts that would have sent novice adventurers scrambling for their mothers. A pack of fiery wolves here, a nest of venomous drakes there—child's play, really.

I found it all rather mundane, truth be told. Just a little snort was often enough to send the beasts fleeing or, more frequently, to their doom. Yet the Twin Horns derived an almost obscene amount of satisfaction from our little adventures.

I watched it all, quite amused but unmistakably conflicted—disdained, even. Their jubilation over such trifling victories, their reliance on each other—it was all so utterly human… very mortal. And yet, I couldn't deny a certain fascination with their dynamics.

One evening, as we huddled around the campfire after a particularly grueling day (for them, not for me, obviously), I found myself the subject of the Twin Horn's unwanted scrutiny. Angela turned to me with a quizzical expression.

"Veldora," she began with a careful tone, "we've been traveling together for weeks now, but I feel like we barely know you. You're always so... distant. Aloof, even."

Oh? It's been weeks already? I raised an eyebrow as I smirked dismissively. "And why should that matter? Our association is temporary at best, a mere blip."

Adam frowned, setting down the piece of wood he'd been whittling—a crude attempt at a bear, I believed. He spoke like he's been wanting to say the words for a while, like he's been keeping these feelings bottled up for a long time.

"That's a rather cold way of looking at things, friend. We've fought side by side, shared meals and stories. Hells, you saved Durden's life last week when that chimera nearly took his head off. Does that truly mean nothing to you?"

"Friend?" I scoffed at the bitter word. "You people and your petty attachments. Friends are merely tools, temporary amusements to pass the time."

The silence that followed was so complete I could hear the blood rushing through their veins. Even the fire seemed muted, as if the flames themselves were holding their breath. I could tell they were offended, but it was honestly how it was to me.

Jasmine was the first to break the oppressive quiet, her normally impassive face clouded with emotion. "Is that all we are to you? Some kind of... of entertainment?"

I shrugged, feigning indifference even as a strange discomfort settled in my chest. "What else would you be? Your lives are but fleeting moments, and I dare you to tell me otherwise."

Durden stood up abruptly, his hands clenched into fists. "I've had just about enough of your high-and-mighty attitude, Veldora. If that's how you feel, why bother traveling with us at all? Why not just go off and be superior all on your own?"

A part of me—the part that terrorized my world for eons—wanted to laugh in their faces, to remind them of their place. They're speaking to me, the Storm Dragon, goddamn it. But another part, a part I scarcely recognized, felt... uncomfortable.

Uneasy, even.

"I..." I began, then stopped, unsure of how to proceed. This was unfamiliar territory, like treading into a stormy sea without a compass. "It passes the time," I finished lamely, inwardly cringing at the weakness of my own words as I looked away into the distance.

Angela, meanwhile, was darting around with her gaze, unsure of how to break out the argument. Helen, who had remained silent until now, stared at me. "Is that truly all it is, Veldora? In these weeks, have you felt nothing beyond mere amusement? No connection, no warmth, no... friendship?"

Unbidden, memories flashed through my mind—Adam's hearty laughter as he shared a bawdy and corny joke over breakfast, Angela's quiet strength as she tended to our wounds after a particularly nasty encounter, Durden's fierce loyalty as he stood between me and a charging behemoth—not that I needed protection, of course—Jasmine's childlike wonder as she marveled at a rare flower we'd discovered, and Helen's serene calm as she mediated a dispute between two adventurers we'd encountered.

"I..." I faltered—again. "This is pointless," I declared as I sighed, standing up abruptly. "I need not explain myself to yourself."

As I walked off into the darkness of the glades, I heard Adam call out behind me, "Running away won't change the truth, Veldora. Whether you admit it or not, you're one of us now!"

One of them? Preposterous, I thought. And yet...

I found a clearing not far from the camp and sat down. Was this normal between... friends? The arguing, the hurt feelings, the uncomfortable truths laid bare?

No, I reminded myself sternly. Friends are just tools, temporary amusements. Nothing more.

But if that were true, why did their words bother me so? Why did the thought of leaving them behind create a strange ache in my chest, as if someone had reached in and squeezed my heart? The night wore on, and for the first time in eons, I felt truly and utterly lost.

I'm not sure how long I sat there, wrestling with these unfamiliar feelings, before I heard footsteps approaching. I didn't need to look up to know who it was—Adam's heavy tread was unmistakable.

He stood there for a long moment, silent, before finally speaking. "Veldora," he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft, "I have to ask you something, and I need you to be honest. Not with me, but with yourself."

I looked up at him, this human who dared to demand honesty from me of all people. "What?"

Adam met my gaze steadily. "Are we really friends?"

The question hung in the air between us. I opened my mouth to respond, to reassert my superiority, reaffirm my identity as a dragon, to dismiss the very notion of friendship as mortal foolishness. That was the moment I truly lost them.

No words came.

I was speechless.

Adam waited, the silence stretching between us like an ever-widening abyss. When it became clear I had no answer to give, he nodded slowly, disappointment and resignation etched on his face.

"I see," he said quietly. "Well, I think that answers my question." He turned to leave, then paused. "You know, Veldora, for what it's worth... we considered you a friend. All of us did."

With that, he walked away, leaving me alone. In the distance, I could hear the sounds of the Twin Horns breaking camp. The clink of weapons being sheathed, the rustle of bedrolls being packed, the soft murmur of subdued conversations.

And then, silence.

They were gone, leaving me alone in the vastness of the Beast Glades. Alone... and a gnawing emptiness I couldn't quite explain. The first light of dawn broke over the horizon, and I remained motionless. Adam's question still echoed in my mind like a persistent parasite.

Friends…

The great Storm Dragon Veldora, rendered mute by five insignificant mortals and one simple question. How utterly... unexpected.

~🐉~

Veldora's return to Xyrus was meant to be brief, a moment before he would once again embrace the solitude that had become so familiar. But calm was far from what he found. The rumors had reached him from wary adventurers—a veteran, a friend, had fallen in battle. The name struck him like a bolt of lightning.

Adam.

Without hesitation, Veldora's body moved before his mind could even process the emotion surging through him. He tore through the sky and the air screamed in protest as he ripped through the atmosphere.

In that moment, the boundaries between man and dragon blurred; he was once again a storm incarnate, a force of nature driven by something far more potent than mere rage—something he didn't understand himself, grief.

His universal perception expanded across the landscape, searching for the faintest trace of the familiar. It didn't take long for him to find it. The mana signature of the Twin Horns, those who had once adventured alongside Adam, stood out in his eyes. It was clustered at the entrance of a dungeon, mingled with other, fainter presences—none of which mattered to Veldora. Only one thing did.

When he landed, the ground cracked under the impact, sending up a cloud of dust like a shroud. The adventurers, already on edge from the battle that had claimed many of their comrades, raised their weapons instinctively, only to falter when they realized what stood before them was an adventurer—familiar to some, unfamiliar to most.

Their weapons fell to their sides, as they gazed at the mighty figure before them. Veldora's amber eyes, usually bright with a mischievous and arrogant shine, were now dark voids, empty of all warmth. His gaze swept over the survivors, but they were mere shadows to him, unimportant in the face of what he sought.

And then he saw them—the Twin Horns.

Durden was barely standing, his right arm torn from his body, but still clinging to life through sheer force of will. The others were in various states of injury, their clothes soaked in blood—some their own, some not. But all were silent, their expressions despairing with something akin to shame as they met Veldora's gaze, only to quickly avert their eyes.

There, lying on the ground amidst the carnage, was Adam.

Or what was left of him. Veldora's breath hitched in his throat and a strange sensation tightened his chest. Adam's body was a mangled ruin, his lower half completely missing, leaving only a lifeless torso and a face that had once been full of life, now empty and still.

For a moment, Veldora simply stood there, staring at the scene before him. Rage, grief, confusion—he didn't understand why he felt this way, why the death of a mortal, something he had witnessed—and caused—countless times, would bother him to this extent.

But understanding wasn't necessary.

The pain was real, and it demanded action.

His voice, when he spoke, was quiet, but he made it clear that he was not to be disobeyed. "Leave. Now."

The words were met with hesitation. But when the adventurers looked into Veldora's eyes, they saw something that chilled them to the bone—a vast, unfeeling void. The fear of what might happen if they stayed was stronger than their pride, and one by one, they began to retreat—the Twin Horns included—dragging their wounded with them and casting fearful glances back at the towering figure that ordered them so.

Once they were gone, Veldora was alone with the dead. He felt no comfort in the silence that followed, only a deeper, more sickening emptiness. The dragon within him roared for vengeance, but there was no enemy left to fight—only a dungeon that had claimed the life of his companion… of his friend. And so, with a voice that trembled with an emotion he could not name, he whispered into the empty air.

"I'm sorry."

The words felt foreign on his tongue, strange and wrong. A True Dragon should not apologize, should not feel sorrow for the loss of a single life in the vastness of the world. And yet, he did. "But I don't want you to see me this way," he added, almost to himself, as he turned towards the dungeon entrance.

The dungeon stood before him, a pit that had swallowed countless lives over the years. But Veldora's gaze was not one of fear or caution. It was one of cold, calculated destruction. He would not allow this place to exist any longer, to hold Adam's final moments within its depths.

He raised his hand, and power surged through him. Draconic Burst—with a single thought, he unleashed it. A blast of raw, elemental force that tore through the dungeon, obliterating everything in its path. The ground shook as the dungeon collapsed in on itself and earthquakes followed the violence. But Veldora did not stop until the dungeon was no more, until nothing remained but a gaping crater where it had once stood.

And then, it was done. The destruction faded into the distance, leaving only silence in their wake. Veldora stood at the edge of the crater, staring down into the void he had created. But the emptiness within him remained.

For a moment, he simply stood there, with the wind tugging at his clothes, carrying away the last remnants of dust and ash.

Veldora, the Storm Dragon, the embodiment of storms and chaos, had destroyed a dungeon in a fit of grief. He knew for himself that no amount of power could bring back what was lost, and no amount of destruction could fill the void left behind by a single life.

Veldora turned away from the crater. He had avenged Adam, but the victory was hollow, the price far too high. As he walked away, the sky above began to clear, the storm that had gathered in his wake dissipating. His heart inwardly sank with grief.

~🐉~

The morning sun had risen high by the time I decided to return to the Twin Horns' camp. Or, at least, where their camp had been a few days ago. The clearing was empty now, devoid of life save for a few stray birds picking at the remnants of their expired breakfast. The fire had long since died, not even leaving a faint wisp of smoke curling into the air.

It was as if they'd never been there at all.

I stood there, surveying the empty space, feeling empty. The sort of emptiness that couldn't be filled with battle, destruction, or even the most chaotic of entertainments. It was the kind of emptiness that gnawed at you, slowly and steadily, until you couldn't ignore it any longer.

Friends.

The word resonated in my mind like a taunt, refusing to be dismissed. What need had I for something so trivial, so human?

And yet...

I had traveled with them, shared meals, and even fought alongside them. It was only for a few weeks, but they created an ambiance I hadn't experienced since I sprouted from the fabric of the world. They had treated me as one of their own, even though I was so obviously different, so far beyond them in every conceivable way.

But even as I told myself that, I knew I felt otherwise.

In the past, I had always been alone. It was the natural order of things for a being as powerful as myself. Companionship was a weakness and was a distraction from my true purpose.

It was then, standing in that empty clearing, that I realized I was afraid. Not of death, or defeat, or any external threat—those were laughable to a being like me. No, this fear was something more insidious.

I was afraid of loneliness.

No, I corrected myself.

I was afraid of loss.

I am alone, yet not lonely—I used to tell myself. Vulnerability is terrifying—I used to believe. I punched my face so hard that it created a shockwave. How had it come to this? How had I allowed myself to become so... attached?

Attached. Yes, that was the word for it. Despite my best efforts to remain aloof, to keep them at arm's length, I had grown attached to the Twin Horns. To their laughter, their courage, their foolishness. Even their arguments and doubts had become something familiar, something... comforting.

Perhaps, I knew by then the consequences of an immortal befriending mortals. I knew in the back of my mind that it wouldn't work. They can never stand alongside me. How could they when their lives last for only a century?

For what felt like hours, I sat there, staring blankly at the ground. The memories of our time together played out in my mind like a cruel joke. I could still hear their voices, see their smiles—whether I had wanted it to or not.

And in that moment, I understood something crucial that it wasn't just that I had been traveling with them. It wasn't just that they had treated me like one of their own. It was that I had wanted to be one of them. On some level, I had craved the very thing I had always shunned—connection, companionship, friendship.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, realizing that I, Veldora the Storm Dragon, had been seeking something so utterly mundane. And yet, there it was, staring me in the face.

I had wanted friends.

It wouldn't matter if it was only one, I wanted someone to connect to.

The thought was both terrifying and liberating. Terrifying because it meant acknowledging a vulnerability I had long denied. Liberating because, for the first time, I was beginning to understand what it meant to be something more than just a dragon.

I was something else now.

Or rather, I could be.

The choice was mine to make.

So this is how my sisters felt with Guy and Rudra.

Slowly, I rose to my feet. I could return to the life I had always known—alone, powerful, unchallenged. Or I could follow a different path, one that involved more than just destruction and chaos. It was a frightening prospect, but it was also exciting. And if there was one thing I had always sought, it was excitement.

Are we really friends?

"Yes, Adam," I whispered quietly. "We are friends."