Zephros soared through the sky like a living storm, wings slicing the wind with rhythmic grace. The morning sun shimmered off the surface of the sea below, glinting off his scales in brilliant flashes. On his broad back, Petunia sat cross-legged, her umbrella unfurled to shade her from the harsh light above. The air around her hummed with static, yet her posture was calm, almost regal.
Beside her, Vald was curled up like a drenched pup, his red hair plastered to his forehead, clothes heavy with seawater. His teeth still lightly chattered from the cold, but more than that, the adrenaline was still ebbing out of his veins. The memory of that shark's dorsal fin trailing him—far too close—was burned into his skull.
Then, with a flick of her fingers, Petunia summoned a long, thick cloak of grey wool, and it gently landed over his shivering shoulders. He blinked at it in surprise, the warmth sinking into him like sunlight after a blizzard.
He looked at her, unsure. She didn't even glance his way.
Instead, her gaze was set skyward, watching the cloudscapes roll by, her mind elsewhere. She held the umbrella in one hand, poised like a noblewoman on a battlefield, while faint lines of light scrolled across her vision—lines only she could see.
[Ding! Many constellations are surprised by a new channel opening out of nowhere.]
[A few constellations are questioning its origins.]
[Ding! You have a follow request.]
[Ding! You have a follow request.]
[Ding! You have a follow request.]
She calmly read them one by one. A steady stream of notifications blinked in the corner of her vision, but her expression didn't change.
[A bored constellation has DMed the channel owner.]
[The bored constellation reveals his profile as a sign of goodwill.]
[The constellation 'Abyssal Black Flame Dragon' wishes to follow your channel.]
[Many constellations also express interest in following the channel.]
Petunia narrowed her eyes slightly.
'So they're watching… and intrigued.'
She wasn't surprised—but the sheer number was more than expected.
Was it that channels were scarce now? Or perhaps they had ceased to exist entirely, making hers a glowing beacon in a dead system? Either way, her channel was now a hot commodity.
Too hot to rush things.
[Subscription Fee: ______ ]
[1000 Coins]
[Ding! Black Flame Dragon has joined the channel.]
[Abyssal Black Flame Dragon is pleased by your decision.]
[Abyssal Black Flame Dragon is looking at the scenario with interest.]
[Abyssal Black Flame Dragon is wondering where's the Doekabe who manages the stream.]
A translucent keyboard materialized before her. Sleek and glowing faintly blue, it hovered just above her lap. Her fingers hovered over it for a second. Its presence was familiar, oddly nostalgic.
'Almost like those old forums I used to use,' she thought.
She began to type:
[Stream Manager: That is me. The girl atop the dragon.]
No reason to hide it. If he stayed long enough, he'd learn anyway.
[Abyssal Black Flame Dragon expresses his surprise. He says it's impossible for an incarnation to have rights to a channel.]
[Abyssal Black Flame Dragon sponsors 300 coins.]
[Abyssal Black Flame Dragon wants to know how.]
She paused, then typed:
[Stream Manager: How about we exchange information instead?]
[Abyssal Black Flame Dragon agrees.]
[Stream Manager: Are there other channels besides this one?]
A pause, then:
[Abyssal Black Flame Dragon says this is the only one he's found in the past 2,000 years. He says all other channels disappeared—along with the Doekabe and the ■■■.]
That last word flickered. Obscured. A system redaction.
Petunia's brows furrowed faintly.
[Stream Manager: I created this channel after obtaining a private attribute
[Abyssal Black Flame Dragon is surprised by the unfamiliar attribute. He says it must be a
[Abyssal Black Flame Dragon asks if you would accept the other constellations in the channel.]
[Stream Manager: Not yet.]
Before the stream of thoughts could continue—
Gurgle.
A loud, unmistakable sound.
Vald's face turned red, and he clutched at his stomach, trying to cover the rumbling.
"Ahem!" he coughed, awkwardly trying to stand tall despite his shivering and disheveled look. "Why are you, uh… swaying your hands around like that?"
Petunia glanced at him, unimpressed. "Nothing."
Then, after a beat, she sighed, brushing a lock of windblown hair from her face. "You must be hungry. Here."
She raised her hand lazily and summoned a small spread: a bright red apple with a sheen like polished ruby, and several strips of dried fish wrapped in leaves.
Vald's eyes widened. His stomach made another traitorous noise.
"I'm ending up taking care of baggage now," Petunia muttered, more to herself than to him, as she handed him the food.
Vald accepted the apple with wide eyes, like a starving dog unsure if he was dreaming.
He didn't say anything—but in that moment, he looked at her like she had hung the moon.
Vald Ivarson, seventeen, soaked to the bone not long ago, now sat bundled in the wool cloak Petunia had conjured, his legs folded beneath him as he clutched the apple with both hands. He had already devoured the dried fish moments ago with quiet gratitude, though he had kept sneaking glances at Petunia all the while—curious, cautious, and maybe just a little starstruck.
The silence stretched thin, pierced only by the rustling of wind.
"Mmm…" Vald started, his voice breaking the stillness as casually as if they were seated in a village hut instead of riding a mythical storm dragon, "so… where are we heading?"
Petunia didn't look at him.
"Somewhere," she replied flatly, her golden eyes focused on something beyond his perception. Her fingers flicked slightly, manipulating panels that only she could see—system notifications, stream settings, channels… things far removed from this world of axes and sagas.
Vald blinked, a little deflated but not discouraged. He hugged the apple closer to his chest, taking a cautious bite before speaking again.
Petunia, meanwhile, mentally confirmed their heading—the direction Zephros had earlier described in quiet tones through their link: "The place where dragons are safe. Hidden. Untouched."
Vald, his mouth full, glanced over again. "Drekamær," he mumbled, still clinging to the title the villagers used, "what's your name?"
Without looking away from her panels, Petunia answered, "Petunia."
Vald paused mid-chew.
"Þórný?" he repeated, confused, brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of the foreign-sounding name. "Thorny?"
Petunia finally turned her head and stared at him. One brow arched ever so slightly.
In Old Norse, Þórný meant "thorny," often used to describe difficult women or challenging situation.
She considered correcting him, but then—why bother?
She simply let out a soft, "Hmm," and turned back to her invisible panels.
From the stream's interface, a new message scrolled by.
[Abyssal Black Flame Dragon says the little boy seems slow.]
Petunia snorted lightly through her nose, lips twitching into something not quite a smile.
Vald, entirely oblivious to the commentary of a cosmic audience, continued to chew thoughtfully on his apple, gazing out over the sea like a dog finally brought indoors.
‐— - — - — - —
The second day greeted them with the cold kiss of northern winds, the air growing thinner and sharper as Zephros soared higher. Below them, a breathtaking landscape began to unfold—a jagged expanse of ice constructs stretching for miles, glittering under the pale morning light like a frozen kingdom suspended in time.
Massive pillars of ice jutted skyward like the ribs of some ancient beast, and between them ran intricate tunnels and hollowed chambers. The entire formation shimmered with dragon-sized passageways, and through them dragons of every shape, size, and breed glided effortlessly—slipping in and out like birds returning to a sanctuary.
Vald leaned dangerously far over the side of Zephros's back, his red hair whipping in the wind, wide-eyed with wonder. "How fascinating! What's that?!" he shouted over the rushing air, craning his neck to see every corner of the icy sprawl.
Petunia didn't answer. Her eyes narrowed as she assessed the structure. It wasn't just a nesting ground—it was a sanctuary, a fortress, a hidden empire sculpted from ice itself. The dragon architecture was purposeful, not random. These constructs were alive with energy and protected by sheer complexity.
Zephros tilted his wings and began circling the stronghold, searching for a wide enough opening to accommodate his massive wingspan.
Then his voice flickered into Petunia's mind.
"Hold on. going in."
Petunia glanced behind her at the gawking boy. "Hold on to me, ginger boy!" she barked, grabbing the front of her cloak and clutching Zephros's back spikes tighter.
Vald barely had time to react before Zephros dived.
Wind screamed past their ears as Zephros dove straight into one of the colossal icy tunnels. The world became a blur of flashing blue and white. The dragon swooped down like a child diving into a mountain slide, twisting through arches, spiraling around frozen columns, banking left, then sharply right. Vald screamed—a mix of pure terror and giddy thrill—as he clung to Petunia's cloak like his life depended on it.
Zephros was clearly enjoying himself.
At last, they broke through the final tunnel and into an open forest—a clearing nestled within the heart of the ice. It was warmer here, with large glaciers surrounding the area like gentle guardians, enclosing a haven where dragons lounged peacefully. Some lay coiled in slumber, their bellies rising and falling gently. Others played in the shallow, glacial pools. Two distant dragons chased each other across the sky, their laughter like thunder in the clouds.
And others… mated among the trees and glades, without shame or pause. Vald blushed furiously and turned his head.
Petunia, however, had eyes for something else.
A group of young, mischievous dragons zipped past them, giggling with high-pitched roars, and darted toward the center of the clearing. Following their path with her eyes, Petunia spotted their target—a massive white dragon lounging calmly in the clearing, utterly unfazed by the baby dragons leaping and tumbling over his mountainous body.
The sheer size of him made Zephros look like a housecat by comparison.
His scales shimmered like packed snow, soft yet edged with charcoal-gray tips. Coral-like armor crowned his massive body. Large spikes jutted out from behind his neck, elegant and regal. His mouth, though vast, bore surprisingly small teeth—giving him a strangely kind appearance.
Petunia narrowed her eyes. She summoned her DragonPedia, like an app in the shape of an old camera. A floating lens-like panel hovered before her, targeting the white dragon's broad, serene face.
Click.
A new panel blinked to life, lines of text unfolding:
---
[DRAGON SCAN: BEWILDERBEAST]
[Class: Tidal
Fire Type: Masses of water that freeze upon impact when shot
Features:
Large spikes protruding from back of neck
Small teeth compared to body ratio
Coral-like scales
Tail fins
Abilities:
Mind-controlling dragons
Creating dragon nests out of their self-generated ice
Underwater adaptations
In addition to its icy breath and alpha's ability to bend other dragons to its will, the Bewilderbeast is also a formidable force underwater.
As a Class 10 Leviathan (the aquatic equivalent of a Titan Wing), a full-grown Bewilderbeast swims at incredible speeds and bursts to the surface with devastating power.
Colors:
Snowy white with charcoal highlighted tips
Dark, muddy gray with red highlighted tips
Size:
Length: 647 feet 11 inches (197.49 meters)
Height: 160 feet 5 ½ inches (48.9 meters)
Weight: 200,000 lbs (90,718.5 kilograms)]
---
Petunia read the stats silently, mentally calculating the power such a creature could wield—mind control, leviathan-level strength, and complete dominance over dragonkind?
She closed the window and stared at the resting behemoth.
This was no sanctuary's guardian—this was the sanctuary itself.
And they had just entered the domain of a king.
Before heading down into the heart of the sanctuary, Petunia decided to make a few quick upgrades. With a thought, she pulled open her internal panel and redirected the coins she'd earned.
---
[1600 coins invested in Axemanship]
Axemanship: LV.1 → LV.6
[400 coins invested in Agility]
Agility: LV.5 → LV.6
[400 coins invested in Stamina]
Stamina: LV.5 → LV.6
Remaining coins: 500
---
That should be enough for now.
Zephros descended into a clearing ringed by ice formations, steam rising where the sun caught them. Dragons of all kinds milled around below—some curled lazily beneath the frost-covered trees, others flitting between towers of ice, wings catching the light like stained glass.
As they landed, smaller dragons began to gather, curious and unafraid.
Vald watched the growing group with a mix of wonder and anxiety. "Uh... they're coming closer."
"Stay behind me," Petunia said, stepping forward calmly.
Despite being taller and broader, Vald instinctively obeyed. There was something about her presence—quiet, focused—that felt steadier than his own footing.
Dragons, both small and mid-sized, came sniffing and nudging, their eyes full of gleaming intelligence. One nibbled the hem of her sleeve. Another tugged playfully at the end of her braid.
There was no fear in her. None.
She passed through the crowd with ease, laying a hand on a snout here, brushing a wing there. The connection was hard to describe—faint but present, like a thread humming between them. She felt drawn to them, and they didn't push her away.
Vald watched from behind, his voice rising a bit. "Should I follow or…?"
"Stay there," she said, not looking back. "As long as you don't do anything stupid, they won't hurt you."
He sank down obediently, trying to keep still while tiny dragons started poking around his boots.
Petunia moved steadily toward the larger presence deeper in the clearing. She pushed off the ground gently, floating upward with the help of a few protruding rocks, stepping across them like a natural part of the terrain.
Ahead of her lay a titan—a Bewilderbeast.
The massive dragon lay half-asleep, its breath sending little clouds into the cold air. Spikes arched along its neck like coral. Its scales shimmered white and pale gray, dusted with snow.
She stopped before its face, and their eyes met.
No words passed between them. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead gently to his. A low, warm hum filled her chest.
Emotions rolled over her like waves—
Calm.
Confidence.
A little boredom.
A lot of kindness.
A strong, quiet protectiveness.
It wasn't a greeting. It was a welcome.
Behind her, Vald let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He watched the two—girl and dragon—as if witnessing a myth unfold. Then something yanked at his side.
"Hup—!"
One of the younger dragons had grabbed his belt and lifted him an inch off the ground before dropping him with a soft thud. It snorted with amusement.
Then a chime echoed in Petunia's vision.
---
[Ding! Main Mission Triggered!]
Protect the last two Bewilderbeasts in this scenario.
REWARDS:
— 5,000 Coins
— Dragonification
— ???
— ???
PENALTY:
— Return to Home Scenario
— Increased Restrictions in the Next Scenario Missions
---
Last two?
She glanced at the Bewilderbeast again and asked softly in Valyrian, "Is there another like you?"
She felt a vague flicker of emotion in return—uncertainty. Not denial, just… not knowing.
The other one could be out there. Somewhere. Hidden. Alone.
And she had to find it.
Petunia returned to where she'd left Vald—only to find him pinned beneath the massive talon of a dragon. The sight made her stop dead. Beside him stood a tall figure cloaked in animal pelts, wearing a peculiar mask shaped like the head of a praying mantis.
Instinct flared. Her eyes darted to the dragon—a sleek, broad-winged beast with frills along its head and four powerful wings that flexed like drawn blades. With a practiced motion, she opened her dragonpedia:
---
[Stormcutter]
Class: Sharp
Fire Type: Sustained and blazing torus of fire
Features:
— Two pairs of wings
— Head frills
— "Smashed" face
— Three tail fins
— Hooked talons
Abilities:
— Unmatched aerial maneuverability
— Can fly sideways and rotate head 180°
— Flammable saliva
Size: Large
Length: 80 feet (24.7 meters)
Height: 31 ft (9.53 meters)
Weight: 2,500 lbs (1134 kg)
---
Just then, a thunderous roar echoed from above—Zephros had returned, swooping down from the icy ridges with a flair of wind and frost trailing his wings. Whatever "date" he'd just abandoned, he landed beside her with the possessiveness of a scolded sibling. His eyes burned into the masked figure as he bared his teeth.
The surrounding dragons stilled. Despite the tension, none made a move against Petunia. Instead, they gathered around her like guardians.
Seeing this, the masked stranger slowly lifted her hands in a peaceful gesture, then removed her mask.
A woman—late twenties perhaps—with auburn braids and glacial blue eyes stood revealed. Her expression wasn't fear, but cautious interest.
Petunia's hand hovered near her side, ready to summon her axe if needed. Her voice was cold, even. "Can I ask who you are and why exactly my companion is trapped under your dragon?"
Vald, still pinned and red-faced, wiggled slightly. "The Drekamær said I'm her companion!" he squeaked.
"I meant no harm," the woman said, her voice calm, softened by sincerity. "I thought he was a threat. Strangers here don't usually come with... good intentions. I acted on instinct."
Petunia didn't let her guard down, not yet.
"Who are you? And what exactly are you doing here?"
"I told you—Drekamær!" Vald cried again, louder this time, as if it'd clear the misunderstanding.
Petunia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Vald. For once in your life, shut up."
"Right. Right, okay. I just—get chatty when I'm nervous and coincidentally, there's a dragon on me... so, you know..."
The woman let out a faint chuckle and gestured to her Stormcutter. The dragon lifted its talon, releasing Vald, who scrambled up and brushed off nonexistent dust with all the dignity he could fake.
"I'm Petunia," she said at last. "Let's just say I have reasons for protecting this place."
The woman studied her for a moment, then offered a small, uncertain smile. "Þórný?"
Petunia didn't argue. "...You can call me that."
The dragons' comfort around the girl clearly wasn't a trick. They were drawn to her. The way the Bewilderbeast had welcomed her earlier... it was impossible to fake that kind of bond.
Trust bloomed quietly in the woman's eyes.
"I'm Valka," she said, lowering herself from her dragon. "And I suppose we're alike. I came here many years ago. And I've stayed ever since—because like you, my purpose is to protect them."
She extended a hand. "Please, come inside."
Petunia followed, with Vald still muttering under his breath about his crushed dignity. They made their way into a cave at the base of one of the massive glacial spires. It was... warm. In a world of ice and wind, the cave glowed with a soft amber light. Pelts lined the floor. Bones were stacked carefully along one wall—tools, perhaps. Dried herbs hung overhead, giving the space a fragrant, earthy scent.
There was history here. Comfort. A life carved in isolation.
Valka brewed a thick drink over a modest flame, pouring it into clay cups as they sat around a smooth slab of stone that doubled as a table.
She stirred the drink thoughtfully, then began her tale.
"I was taken here by Stormcutter," she said. "Many winters ago. I was stuck in a violent , bloody place ... lost. She found me. Took me to this sanctuary."
Her eyes drifted toward the entrance of the cave, where flickers of dragon wings glinted like silver leaves in the sunlight.
"I'd never seen anything like it. The harmony. The wildness. The freedom they had. And the way they cared for one another..."
She paused, searching for the right words.
"I fell in love with this place. With them. I couldn't go back. Not to the world I came from. Not even to my village. Or my son."
looking away at the last part .
Petunia didn't interrupt. She listened, quietly sipping the warm drink, her thoughts trailing down the paths Valka had left behind.
"Well! Thanks for the drink," Petunia said flatly, brushing her hands off and standing. "From now on, we're your new neighbors. We'll use this place as a base."
No dramatic pause, no asking for permission—just a plain statement. Valka blinked, halfway through sipping her own cup.
Petunia didn't wait for a reply. After all, the one who ruled this sanctuary, the actual power behind the place—the Bewilderbeast—had already welcomed her with more warmth than most humans ever had. That was enough.
She had a mission, and her mind was already racing ahead. Dragon hunters were still out there. Somewhere in this cold world, the second Bewilderbeast was possibly enslaved or not. who knows.
She'd start hitting the hunting villages. Sharp, fast attacks. Burn their weapons, ruin their camps, push them into the open. That would do two things:
1. Trigger more side missions.
2. Maybe, just maybe, flush out the other Leviathan.
She walked off without another word, leaving behind the mismatched pair at the stone table—Valka still recovering from her story, and Vald awkwardly sipping his drink, slouched like a guilty child trying not to make eye contact with an adult.
Once outside, Petunia found a clean, empty cave nestled higher up on the cliff wall. Remote, sheltered. Good view of the valley and enough space for two dragons if needed. She unloaded furs and supplies from her storage—no glamor, just efficiency. A bedroll, some dried food, a blade propped against a wall. The essentials.
Then she dropped onto the bedding and passed out within minutes.
Meanwhile, inside Valka's cave, things got... curious.
"So," Vald started, legs crossed, drink in hand, "want to hear how I met Þórný?"
Valka raised a brow, tilting her head like a mother listening to a child's tall tale. "Sure. Hit me with it."
"I'm telling you, it's the truth. She's a Drekamær."
Valka narrowed her eyes. "A half-human, half-dragon? Please."
"No, no! Listen. First time I saw her, she jumped off a dragon . Like—clean off it. Not screaming, not falling. Jumped." He stood up and mimicked the leap with exaggerated arms. "And then whoosh, landed like a cat on top of another one . You ever seen a Viking do that? Yeah, didn't think so."
Valka gave a skeptical hum but said nothing.
"And get this," Vald leaned in, lowering his voice like he was sharing a dark secret. "Lightning. Real lightning. Comes out of her finger. And her eyes. Like—'zzrkkk!'" He made finger-gun motions, buzzing his lips like an electrocuted squirrel.
Valka snorted. "You're either the best liar I've met or you've been chewing fireweed."
"I saw it!" Vald insisted, now waving both arms as he imitated Petunia's stance mid-attack. "Stood like this, eyes lit up, lightning shot out and zapped a strong Viking straight into the dirt!"
Valka chuckled despite herself. "You're entertaining, I'll give you that."
"Oh, and she flies with dragons. I saw her mid-air with Zephros. Not holding a saddle or anything. Just—floating."
Valka leaned back, her smile fading slightly. There was a flicker of something in her expression. Doubt? Or maybe the tiniest thread of curiosity.
It was all ridiculous. Impossible.
But she had seen Petunia earlier. The way the dragons greeted her. How the massive Bewilderbeast didn't react to her sudden approach. How she moved without fear through them.
Valka didn't say much after that. She simply nodded and turned back toward the fire, her eyes now distant.
She wasn't convinced.....
But she wasn't dismissing it either.
Back in her own cave, Petunia was out cold, breathing softly, her hand resting near her axe handle.
[Abyssal Black Flame Dragon is watching Petunia Targaryen with interest]
[Abyssal Black Flame Dragon offers an exclusive sponsorship]
[Abyssal Black Flame Dragon says this partnership could be mutually beneficial]
[Abyssal Black Flame Dragon notes Petunia's connection to dragons is unusual]