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The sun had barely risen over the horizon when Phainon left Aedes Elysiae behind. At that time, he was merely a young dreamer from a small village barely visible on the continent's grand maps, peaceful and far too quiet to contain the restless beat of his heart. The goal driving him was simple, though grand: to travel the continent from end to end, fight monsters, brave dungeons, explore the unknown and extend a hand to anyone in need of help.
Due to this unquenchable thirst for movement and the almost natural habit of getting involved in the most varied and unpredictable troubles — the kind most mercenaries ran from —, Phainon never put down roots. He joined temporary groups only for as long as it took to complete a contract and split the reward, setting off again immediately after. He became a well-known adventurer and a loner by choice, perfectly comfortable with the rhythm of his own steps on the road, the dust of the trade routes and the familiar weight of his cherished greatsword strapped to his back.
His most recent journey had brought him to the far east of the continent, to a small community nestled at the foot of the imposing and gray mountain of Kremnos.
Upon stepping into the village entrance, the air he inhaled did not carry the usual scent, let alone the bustling activity of a main street, but rather the bitter soot of burning wood. The atmosphere in the place was one of pure despair, and soon a shout could be heard.
“Bring more water from the well! We need to put out the flames before they spread!”
Phainon's eyes widened and his body acted instantly, heading straight toward the fire to assist the villagers in dousing the flames. After several good minutes, the man coordinating everyone finally seemed to notice his presence.
“Thank you for your help, young adventurer. Unfortunately, we are in no condition to pay for your commission, as we lost one of our supply sheds.” The village chief explained, turning back to face what was left of the structure.
“There's no problem. I was passing through and decided to help on my own. If you don't mind me asking, what happened here?” Phainon analyzed the damage, searching for a possible cause for such destruction.
“It wasn't really 'what', but rather 'who'. The red dragon residing on the mountain attacked us! It simply appeared in the sky, scared off the livestock, destroyed what it could and left. Luckily, we managed to act quickly and contain the flames before the entire village was destroyed.”
The adventurer looked at the village chief with curiosity written all over his face.
“A dragon? I have walked through many parts of the continent and this is the first time I've heard a report of one appearing in such a hostile manner.”
The man seemed to get even angrier. “A true monster! My family has lived here for generations and we've never had trouble with any monster from the forest! That vile creature was merely trying to destroy us to quench its bloodlust and plunder the village's treasures!”
Other villagers, hearing the conversation, approached indignantly and added to what had been said.
“That's right! I swear I could hear its monstrous laughter as it blew fire on everything!”
“Me too! I heard it said it would kill everyone!”
“I heard from some friends that it kills anyone who gets close to the mountain!”
“True! My acquaintance's uncle's cousin's friend said it has already killed several adventurers and not even the capital's guild knows what to do!”
The crowd grew around Phainon, voices overlapping in a chorus of indignation and fear. Each resident brought a new detail, a new confirmation of the terror the red dragon represented. They spoke of flames dancing like serpents, eyes glowing in the mountain's darkness, and promises of death whispered through the smoke. Phainon listened in silence, letting the stories pile up like stones in a wall, but his gaze remained calm, almost curious.
When the commotion began to subside, he stepped forward and raised his hand.
“If you'll allow me, I can solve this problem.”
The silence that followed was as sudden as the fire. The village chief frowned, evaluating the adventurer with distrust.
“You? Young man, I don't mean to disparage your help from moments ago, but a dragon isn't put out with a bucket of water. And we... have no way to pay the price of a dragon slayer. Not even with the combined effort of the entire village could we gather enough coins to hire someone qualified from the guild.”
Phainon smiled, an easy and carefree smile that effortlessly charmed everyone.
“I ask for no gold. I only ask for a roof over my head for the duration of my stay, food to replenish my strength and a few supplies for my next journey. If you can grant me that, I will consider myself more than paid.”
The chief blinked, incredulous. The villagers exchanged confused glances. Someone whispered that it was madness, that no sane adventurer would make such a deal and risk their own neck alone against a dragon of that size. But Phainon was already extending his hand, waiting for confirmation.
“Very well,” said the chief, gripping the young man's hand firmly, as if sealing a pact with destiny. “May the Aeons above watch over you.”
The following morning, Phainon adjusted his sword belt, checked his backpack containing a few supplies for the brief trip and followed the trail winding up the foot of Kremnos Mountain. The air grew thinner and colder with every step, and the forest's silence was broken only by the distant song of a bird and the adventurer's own breath. The cave entrance appeared like a dark wound in the gray rock, exuding an odor of sulfur and heated metals.
Phainon slid inside with the lightness of someone who had traversed hundreds of monster lairs, fingers brushing the hilt of his sword, eyes adjusting to the dim light. The floor was uneven, covered in a thin layer of dust and small fragments of shimmering minerals. As he advanced, the air grew warmer, and the light from natural torches — bluish flames sprouting from the walls — revealed pile upon pile of treasure: gold coins, encrusted jewels, ancient armor, and carved wooden chests. Everything there breathed wealth accumulated over decades. Wealth that could easily sustain a small country.
Phainon stopped, holding his breath. The creature was magnificent: red scales that looked like glowing rubies, a crest of black horns, folded wings covering part of its body, and a long tail moving slowly, as if dreaming of hunts. Its chest rose and fell in a deep, steady rhythm.
For a long moment, Phainon simply admired it. Then, with a decisive movement, he unsheathed his greatsword and drove the tip into the ground, producing a metallic sound that echoed through the walls.
“Red dragon of Kremnos! I am Phainon of Aedes Elysiae and I come on behalf of the village you attacked! Rise and face me in a fair duel!”
The dragon's eyes opened slowly. They were golden — as golden as the gold glinting around it — and fixed on Phainon with an almost bored indifference. A warm huff escaped its nostrils, and then, with a minimal sweep of one wing, a brutal gust of wind hit the adventurer head-on, ripping him off the ground and launching him out of the cave like a ragdoll.
Phainon rolled across the grass, stood up with his face covered in dirt, and spat a streak of blood. His eyes, however, shone with pure excitement.
“Interesting,” he muttered, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Very interesting.”
The following days turned into an unusual routine.
Phainon would wake up, eat, interact briefly with the villagers, climb the mountain, enter the cave, announce his challenge, and be expelled in increasingly creative ways: a breath of fire that made him leap aside, a tail swipe that sent him flying, or even a roar so powerful the ground shook. On one occasion, the dragon simply ignored him, and Phainon spent hours trying to get its attention by tossing a few coins in its direction — which earned him a huff of smoke and yet another expulsion.
The villagers, who initially watched with hope, were soon divided between those who laughed at the spectacle and those who were astonished that the dragon had not yet eaten the young adventurer. Phainon, however, never lost his good humor. Every failed attempt was a lesson, every fall a learning experience. He studied the dragon's movements, the way its wings shifted, the speed of its tail, the intensity of its breath. And deep down, something about that creature fascinated him: there was no malice in its eyes, only an immense, tired superiority.
On the seventh day, when Phainon entered the cave for the fifteenth time, the dragon raised its head before he could even open his mouth. Its golden eyes now carried a different gleam — impatience, yes, but also a spark of curiosity.
“You don't give up, human,” it said, its voice a deep thunder that reverberated in Phainon's bones. But then, to the adventurer's surprise, the dragon's body began to glow, contract, and transform.
Phainon blinked. Before him, where the colossal beast had just been resting, now stood a man — or something very close to one. Tall, broad-shouldered, with golden-blonde hair streaked with blood-red highlights, and vivid red tattoos winding across his body in sinuous patterns that seemed to glow. Pointed ears, a pair of black horns curving backward, and a long tail moving with almost feline elegance. His golden eyes exuded a natural authority, heightened by a scowl of someone who had lost all patience with the world.
And he was completely naked. Caring very little about that minor detail.
Phainon froze on the spot. At first, his chest filled with pure joy upon seeing that his challenge had finally been accepted. However, as his mind processed the creature's intimidating beauty and then its complete nudity, all the blood in his body rushed straight to his face. Feeling his neck and cheeks burn, Phainon spun around quickly, turning his back.
The dragon, understanding absolutely nothing of that abrupt reaction, crossed his muscular arms over his chest.
“Didn't you want to challenge me, human?” he questioned. His voice, deep, low, and slightly raspy, echoed against the stone walls. “Grab your sword and let's get this over with.”
Phainon stumbled over his words, pointing a hand over his shoulder while trying to reorganize his thoughts.
“C-clothe yourself! So it's a fairer fight!”
The dragon let out an irritated click of his tongue, his tail thumping against a pile of silver coins.
“My skin is as tough as the steel of your blade. There is no need.”
After a long period of silence, the adventurer sighed and surrendered to his embarrassment.
“...I won't be able to concentrate if we fight like this...” Phainon admitted without a filter, covering his red face with both hands.
With a resigned sigh, the dragon rolled his golden eyes. He walked with heavy steps toward one of the piles, grabbed a random mantle of thick cloth from inside a chest, and draped it over his shoulders, tying the knot haphazardly around his neck.
“There. Satisfied?”
Phainon turned around slowly. The dragon was wearing a dark, simple mantle that barely covered his shoulders, leaving his chest tattoos and muscular arms exposed. Still, it was enough for Phainon to breathe a sigh of relief.
“Thank you,” he muttered, gripping his sword with renewed firmness. “Now, yes. Let's go.”
Both adopted their combat stances. The adventurer with his gleaming blade, and the dragon with only his sharp claws, bare fists, and a provocative smirk at the corner of his lips.
“Let's go.”
Their clash was resounding and immediate.
The battle didn't last for just a few minutes — it stretched on for hours on end. The sound of steel colliding against the dragon's dense claws echoed through the cave like continuous thunder. Phainon launched heavy diagonal slashes, while the creature dodged with superhuman grace, counterattacking with strikes of his fists that cracked the surrounding stone whenever they missed their mark. Coins flew through the air, jewels scattered and the gleam of gold reflected both of their frantic movements.
And, against all expectations, both of them began to smile.
As time passed, however, frustration and fatigue gave way to something entirely unexpected: absolute delight. Superficial wounds began to appear on both of them, dust rose with every impact, but they both smiled openly. Phainon felt his heart race not out of fear, but out of pure euphoria. Every dodge, every counter, every charge was a silent dialogue between two warriors who had finally found an equal. The dragon, for his part, had his golden eyes lit with a primitive pleasure — it had been years since he last felt the adrenaline of a true fight, and that stubborn human was, admittedly, a worthy opponent.
The feeling was visibly mutual: "Finally, a good challenge. Someone worthy of fighting."
The deadly dance continued until both needed to switch their fighting styles repeatedly to try and break through the other's guard. Phainon noticed that the dragon was faster than his size suggested. He, in turn, realized that Phainon was more resilient than any human he had ever faced. Amidst the dizzying intensity of the battle and the pure euphoria of the challenge, the dragon anticipated the adventurer's move and, with a quick pivot, disarmed him. The sword flew away, landing with a metallic clatter.
Phainon didn't hesitate. Despite losing his weapon, he immediately raised his fists, ready to continue in hand-to-hand combat.
With the sudden shift in dynamics and the frantic pace of their footwork, Phainon's foot caught on the hem of his opponent's mantle. As he tried to balance himself, he crashed into the dragon, whose tail accidentally wrapped around the adventurer's cloak.
In a clumsy sequence of movements, both lost their balance and fell heavily to the ground in a confused tangle of fabric, arms, legs, and tail.
When the dust settled, Phainon was on top of the dragon, breathless, his face inches away from his. His blue eyes met the deep golden ones, and for a long moment, nobody moved. Only heavy breathing and an accelerated heartbeat that felt as though it wanted to leap out of Phainon's chest.
He blinked.
Slowly, breaking the spell of the moment, he asked in a voice raspy from exertion:
“Do you have a name?”
The dragon, keeping his gaze fixed on his and in the same state of euphoric exhaustion, answered softly:
“Mydeimos.”
“Phainon,” the adventurer replied, a tired smile forming on his lips. “But you already knew that.”
“Yes. You wouldn't stop repeating your name every time you entered here, Phainon of Aedes Elysiae.”
A laugh escaped Phainon — a clean, genuine sound that echoed through the cave walls. Mydei felt something stir in his chest, something he hadn't felt in centuries. And then, against all expectations, he laughed too. It was a deep, raspy sound, like that of someone who hadn't done it in a long time, yet sincere. The two fell into laughter together, lying on the floor of stone and gold, exhausted.
Phainon rolled to the side, untangling himself from the mess of fabrics and lying on his back on the cold stone, right next to Mydei.
“Your sword techniques are excellent,” Mydei admitted, staring at the shadows on the ceiling as he tried to slow his breathing. “I haven't had a good fight like this in years.”
“I say the same,” Phainon turned his head to observe the profile of the being beside him. “Your body is impressive for absorbing hits of that magnitude. And in all my travels across the continent, I've never seen that style of fist fighting. You must fight a lot to have such skill.”
Mydei huffed, venting a small cloud of warm smoke through his nostrils.
“Nobody who could offer a real challenge. I don't care for useless conflicts. All the treasures in this cave were won in fair fights against warriors who challenged me in the past. They are proof of my strength, not simple theft.”
Phainon propped his weight on his elbow, raising himself slightly to look at Mydei with a curious frown.
“And the village's treasures? And the destruction of the supply shed?”
“I didn't steal anything from those people,” Mydei answered, narrowing his golden eyes slightly in disgust. “I only wanted to give them a scare because they were hiring humans to plunder my treasure. I was losing my patience with those weaklings trying to rob me. I set fire to an isolated shed just to show them what I was capable of, thinking I would finally get some peace.”
Phainon couldn't hold back a low laugh, laying back down on his back on the floor.
“I'm glad no one actually got hurt. They were wrong to try and rob you, of course, but that's human greed for you. Either way, I'm grateful. I had a wonderfully fun week trying to convince you to get off that pile of gold, and in the end, it was worth every second. It was the best fight of my life.”
Mydei nodded slowly, a corner of his lips rising into a slight smirk.
“It was a defeat you should be proud of, human.”
Phainon blinked, turning to him with an expression of mock outrage.
“Defeat? It wasn't a defeat! Technically, it was a tie.”
“I disarmed you,” Mydei turned his head toward him, firm and categorical. “Therefore, it was indeed my victory.”
“Hey! I switched to hand-to-hand combat and still had plenty of energy! We only fell because we tripped over your mantle, so it doesn't count as a defeat!” Phainon protested, gesturing in the air.
Mydei huffed, and a challenging, warm, and playful spark ignited in his pupils.
“Let's have another showdown then.”
Phainon let out a radiant smile, his blue eyes twinkling with a spark of mischief as he adjusted his posture on the stone, staring at the dragon. The phrase hovered in the air, loaded with promise.
“Then, it's a date, Mydei.”
The dragon raised an eyebrow. "A date? Are you scheduling a date with a dragon, human?"
“Why not?” Phainon stood up, extending his hand to help Mydei up. “It's the best fight I've had in years. And you said yourself that you felt the same.”
Mydei looked at the extended hand, hesitated for a second — and then took it. The contact of Phainon's warm skin against his was brief, but charged with an electricity that neither of them commented on.
“You're strange,” Mydei muttered, already standing, his golden eyes fixed on the adventurer's face. “Most people run away or try to kill me. You want to repeat the experience.”
“Call it determination,” Phainon answered simply. “I don't usually back down when something genuinely interests me.”
“And what exactly interests you, Phainon of Aedes Elysiae?”
The question hung heavy in the air. Phainon met the golden gaze, feeling the weight of sincerity slip past his lips without any filter.
“At first, I just wanted the experience of defeating a dragon,” he confessed, tilting his head slightly. “Now... I think I want to discover who you are when you're not defending this cave. What you think, what you like to do... and if you're in the habit of receiving visitors as persistent as me.”
Mydei held the silence for several long seconds, searching the young man's features for any trace of cynicism or fear. He found nothing other than an almost irritating frankness.
A subtle, dangerous half-smile curved the dragon's lips.
“If you want to know me so badly, adventurer... be here at the first light of dawn. We will fight again. If you survive my fire, perhaps I'll answer your questions.”
Phainon felt his chest burn with a delicious sense of anticipation.
“Then you can start preparing your answers.”