Asachi Valley, a miraculous valley. Though modest in size, it sits nestled against towering mountain ranges, with only one exit—Newborn Canyon. The steep elevation drop endows its surroundings with remarkably diverse geography and an abundance of natural resources.
The forest that passes through Newborn Canyon to Graystone Beach is the Natalin’s favorite hunting ground. There are no large, dangerous predators, and the trees intercept the moist ocean air, leaving the woods perpetually misty. Broadleaf laurels, tree ferns, spruces, golden vines, and a tangle of shrubs grow wildly together. Moss and lichens drape the gnarled roots that crisscross the ravines, concealing cunning beasts, birds, and insects.
The dragons, too, are fond of this valley.
Generally speaking, most small to medium-sized social dragons enter their breeding season once every three years, lasting about six to eight months. First, several unfamiliar dragon groups gather at a communal nesting ground. The males then fight amongst themselves while scouting for nest sites, driving away thieves who covet their nests and treasures, and court the females by flaunting their “hoards”—usually shiny, glittering objects.
If the lucky male doesn’t get killed by jealous rivals or impatient females and manages to win the favor of a mate, the dragoness will soon lay one or two eggs.
Then comes the perilous and exhausting incubation phase. The dragon couple usually takes turns keeping the eggs warm, with one standing guard and foraging for food. Only when the hatchlings emerge and grow strong enough to join the group does the breeding cycle truly conclude.
Most dragons never get to keep their own eggs, and most hatchlings never grow up. A nesting site that is hidden, safe, and rich in food is key—and Asachi Valley would be perfect, if not for the Natalins and Windstrider Aizela.
This was already the third group of intruders that the Windstrider had driven off within a single week. The furious dragon, too enraged to groom its ruffled feathers, shrieked and circled frantically through the sky above the valley—like a cat trying to catch a laser dot.
The larger the dragon, the later it matures—and Aizela, still just an adolescent, had no comprehension of the love-stricken woes plaguing his kin.
To be honest, it was unbearably noisy.
A single, resonant dragon’s call could make any scene feel epic—but nonstop howling just turned into a louder version of a squeaky rubber chicken: deafening and maddening. Fortunately, Windstrider seemed to hear something and abruptly folded her wings, soaring off toward the snowcapped mountains.
Once again, the ever-wise and valiant Divine Chosen had heroically saved the eardrums of the Natalins.
The sunlight was pleasant this season, but the scree slope where Azukar now standing is already crepting close to the snowline. Most forms of life ended here; only a few frail yet resilient plants barely managed to cling to the heights.
The wind flowed across in a particular rhythm, forming a stable layer of insulation that kept the body from freezing. From here, one could see Asachi Valley in the distance, though the Natalin rarely came this far. No one could be sure whether the passing cloud drifting over the ridge carried deadly hail and lightning or just a light misting rain. Only dragons dared roll about here freely, preening their feathers and scales, soaking in the rare highland sun.
Thus, this scree slope could be loosely considered the private domain for bonding between the Divine Chosen and his oversized screaming chicken.
Windstrider, who had been lying on the ground enjoying a good scratch, suddenly lifted his head, narrowing his iridescent green eyes.
Azukar also looked down toward the sound. The approaching figure appeared both sudden and bedraggled—bundled in a thick robe with a leather backpack, climbing the incline in unsteady steps. Loose stones slid with every movement, and the progress made uphill seemed less than what had already slipped back down.
Suddenly, the figure stumbled as if tripped. He tried to brace himself with his hands, but the slipping gravel made it impossible to balance—his head was about to slam into a jagged rock. Just before disaster struck, Azukar sighed and flicked his fingers. A strange current of air swept in, lifting the man out of the rubble and gently setting him upright beside him.
“Thanks. Good morning.”
He was panting heavily, replying in halting Natalin tongue.
“Good morning, Professor. What brings you here?” Azukar replied in his native tongue, calming the restless dragon with a hand on its neck, his gaze circling to the bandage on the black-haired youth’s neck.
…Was the wound that deep?
“Based on my calculations, this is the only spot with a full view of Asachi Valley. To revise the valley’s defense systems, I need to collect some data.” Finally catching his breath, the youth stared at Windstrider with a slightly crazed look that made the dragon bristle and bare his teeth. Only then did the man reluctantly look away, sit down, and open a parchment notebook, sketching in charcoal as if no one else were present.
“…Is it really appropriate to map the valley right in front of me?” The Divine Chosen rubbed his brow, faintly exasperated.
—Also, isn’t this guy’s language aptitude too terrifyingly talented? It had only been a few days, and he was already speaking so fluently, even with technical terms?
The reply was a disdainful look. “There’s a soul pact in place. Besides, is something you can figure out just by looking really considered a secret?”
Azukar: “…”
Hah, such an overly lively nemesis.
And so, the two humans and one dragon returned to silence.
Aizela was somewhat displeased by the sudden appearance of this stranger, but it didn’t think the scrawny, black-haired human could pose a threat to itself or its master. So, it slowly lowered its neck again, signaling its rider to resume his work.
Those resilient, thick, and luminous white feathers were excellent for keeping the dragon warm. When raised, they became as hard and sharp as metal—enemy claws would simply slide off them, never reaching the flesh. However, they were also difficult to shed from their sturdy shafts and required regular, meticulous grooming.
The Divine Chosen’s golden hair swayed softly in the sunlight, its ends reflecting a dazzling brilliance, making the hues of coral and turquoise around him appear even more vivid and rich.
The tip of Windstrider’s streamlined tail fin became gradually translucent, with faintly glowing green fluid pulsing between its membranes. That strange and beautiful tail fin was now lazily sweeping across the scree, making soft clicking sounds.
The dragon half-closed its eyes, basking comfortably in the warm sun, so relaxed it nearly wanted to roll over—hm? Wait, what was pressing down on its tail? A rock?
It lazily flicked its tail a few times, and the thing disappeared. But shortly after, something brushed lightly against the feathers on its hind leg again.
Not a rock! Aizela’s eyes shot open. It raised its head from its master’s lap in outrage and glared seriously at the other human present. The man looked back with an innocent expression—and was even holding a broken half of a feather shaft in his hand.
“RAWR—!”
Despicable human thief! Stealing dragon feathers!
“What’s wrong?”
Azukar watched in confusion as his screaming chicken suddenly jumped up like its tail was on fire and began yelling at the other person. Seeing his dragon preparing to peck the man, he quickly intervened, lest the heavy-handed beast kill the human.
“Feather shaft.”
The professor emotionlessly showed what he held in his hand, then attempted to stuff the half-shaft into his pack. Finding it too full, he began pulling things out—completely ignoring the infuriated dragon.
On the other side, Aizela finally broke free from its master’s restraint, jumped aside, gave its feathers a vigorous shake, and let out a furious screech toward the two before spreading its wings and flying off toward the valley—leaving the professor ducking to shield his bag in the sudden wind and the Divine Chosen, who’d been smacked on the head by a stray dragon tail, standing in baffled silence.
“…So, what exactly are you doing?”
The Divine Chosen dusted himself off and stood, expressionless, looking down at the culprit squatting amid a pile of clutter.
“Collecting plant and animal specimens,” the other replied without even looking up.
“For what purpose?”
The professor didn’t answer. He merely sidestepped a small clump of wildflowers flattened by the wind, gently picked up a delicate blue blossom among them, and carefully pressed it between the pages of his notebook.
“What is that?”
“A blue flower,” the other replied. “We call it Langrom. It has mild pain-relieving properties.”
“This is a miracle of life.” The black-haired young man stared at the nearly translucent, sky-blue petals gleaming under the sunlight. His tone, for the first time, softened—almost gentle. “There’s barely any soil here. The temperature drops sharply the farther we go. The oxygen is thin. The conditions are so harsh, it’s practically a death zone… so who sows the seeds, who provides the nutrients, who pollinates it?”
“…I’ve never thought about that,” Azukar admitted honestly, even though he didn’t fully understand some of the terms.
“That’s why it’s a miracle—because it shows that life will always find a way…” The black-haired youth closed his notebook, but the other suddenly sensed a strange, hopeless weariness emanating from him.
“—And I want to remember this rare feeling.”
To remind Nova Brody that he was still someone capable of feeling freely.
Azukar’s eyes widened slightly.
“You…”
The professor interrupted him. “Of course, I already have a rough guess as to who pollinates it.”
Like performing a magic trick, he flipped his palm over and revealed a plump, fuzzy insect. It had a black-and-yellow striped body and a pair of translucent wings, and was currently lying dazed on a soft deerskin glove. “A bumblebee—I’m not sure what you call it. It’s a bit chilled right now, but with a bit more sun, it’ll be back to pollinating.”
A faint crack appeared in the Divine Chosen’s expression.
“…You afraid of bugs?”
It wasn’t very obvious, but Nova still noticed the subtle lean in the other’s body.
“No.” The other answered firmly, then quickly changed the subject: “Anyway, how do you plan to modify the valley’s defense?”
