The forest path grew quieter as the patrol moved deeper into elven territory.

The chaos of battle felt strangely distant now.

Only a faint smell of crushed bark and dried blood lingered behind them, slowly fading as the forest reclaimed the space.

John walked at the center of the group.

His massive body moved surprisingly smoothly between the towering trees. Every step of the black dragon was slow and controlled, careful not to crush the delicate moss and roots beneath him.

Even so, the sound of his claws pressing into the soil carried through the quiet woods.

*Crunch.*

*Crunch.*

The younger elves walking nearby continued glancing at him.

Then glancing again.

Then whispering.

They were trying very hard to look subtle.

They were failing miserably.

John flicked one golden eye toward them.

“You know,” he rumbled casually, “if you stare any harder you might burn a hole through my scales.”

The group immediately froze.

One of them coughed awkwardly.

Another tried to look at the trees instead.

A third one raised a finger nervously.

“…Can we still stare a little?”

John chuckled.

“Go ahead.”

The tension eased immediately.

Sylvara sighed softly beside him.

“This is going to encourage them.”

“They were already encouraged,” John replied.

“That’s true.”

Ahead of them, Aerion walked calmly with the front guard.

Even while moving, the commander remained alert.

The earlier battle had reminded everyone how dangerous the deeper forest could be.

But the presence of the dragon walking among them had changed something.

Normally a patrol moving after encountering a Tier-7 monster would be tense.

Quiet.

Wary.

Now?

The elves were whispering excitedly.

A dragon had joined their patrol.

And it had casually defeated two apex predators.

That fact alone made the forest feel a little less threatening.

Behind the dragon, several wounded elves continued walking slowly.

Most of them had already been healed by Sylvara, but a few injuries still required attention.

One of the warriors leaned heavily on his spear as he walked.

Sylvara noticed immediately.

“Stop.”

Her voice was calm but firm.

The patrol halted.

The injured warrior looked embarrassed.

“I’m fine, Lady Sylvara.”

“You are limping.”

“It’s only a scratch.”

Sylvara raised an eyebrow.

“Sit.”

The warrior immediately obeyed.

John watched with quiet curiosity as she knelt beside him.

Emerald mana slowly gathered in her palms again.

The air shimmered faintly.

“This will sting,” she warned.

“It always does.”

The warrior nodded bravely.

Then the light touched his leg.

“AH—!”

Several younger elves jumped.

John raised his head.

“Sting, huh?”

Sylvara smirked.

“I said it would.”

The glow intensified for a few seconds.

The torn muscle beneath the armor slowly closed, knitting itself back together.

The warrior exhaled slowly in relief.

“That… feels much better.”

Sylvara stood again.

“Good.”

John studied her thoughtfully.

“You have excellent control.”

She glanced up at him.

“Thank you.”

“Your mana flow is clean.”

Aerion looked over his shoulder.

“Coming from a dragon, that sounds like a compliment.”

“It is.”

Sylvara tilted her head slightly.

“You can see mana that clearly?”

John shrugged.

“Pretty easily.”

She considered that for a moment.

“That must make magic… interesting for you.”

“Very.”

As they resumed walking, another voice spoke from further back.

“Lady Sylvara!”

One of the scouts hurried forward.

“There are still two wounded near the rear.”

Sylvara nodded.

“I’ll handle them.”

But before she could move, Aerion spoke.

“No.”

Sylvara looked at him.

“Commander?”

Aerion turned slightly.

“Lythriel should handle the next one.”

John noticed the reaction immediately.

Several elves straightened.

A few whispered quietly.

Sylvara sighed.

“She’s going to complain.”

Aerion smiled faintly.

“She always does.”

John looked curious.

“Who?”

As if summoned by the conversation, another figure approached from the rear of the patrol.

She moved quickly through the trees.

Unlike Sylvara’s calm grace, this elf walked with sharp confidence.

Her armor was lighter than Aerion’s but far more ornate.

Silver leaves were engraved across the chestplate.

Her long hair was pale gold, tied high behind her head.

And the mana surrounding her…

Was intense.

John’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Oh.”

Sylvara smiled knowingly.

“That’s Lythriel.”

The elf approached them with clear annoyance.

“You stopped the patrol again?”

Her sharp green eyes shifted toward Aerion.

Then she noticed the dragon.

She froze.

For two full seconds.

“…Commander.”

“Yes?”

“Why is there a dragon walking with our patrol?”

John raised a claw.

“Hello.”

Lythriel blinked slowly.

Then looked back at Aerion.

“Explain.”

Aerion sighed.

“He helped us defeat two Tier-7 monsters.”

Silence.

Lythriel looked at John again.

Her gaze was far more analytical than the younger elves.

She walked around him once.

Studying.

Observing.

John watched her calmly.

Finally she spoke.

“You’re not a drake.”

“Nope.”

“Not a wyvern.”

“Nope.”

She crossed her arms.

“You’re a true dragon.”

“Yes.”

She turned back to Aerion.

“…And you brought it home.”

John chuckled.

“I prefer the term *guest*.”

Lythriel looked back at him.

“You talk a lot for something that could destroy half this forest.”

John shrugged.

“Talking is more fun.”

Sylvara laughed.

Lythriel exhaled slowly.

“Fine.”

She walked toward the wounded elves at the rear.

“Let me see the injuries.”

As she knelt beside the wounded warriors, John watched carefully.

The mana gathering around her hands was different from Sylvara’s.

Sylvara’s magic felt warm.

Nurturing.

Connected to nature.

Lythriel’s power was sharper.

Focused.

Controlled like a blade.

When she touched the wounded elf’s shoulder, pale silver light spread across the injury.

The bone beneath the skin shifted.

Realigned.

The wound sealed quickly.

John raised an eyebrow.

“Two healers.”

Sylvara nodded.

“We balance each other.”

“How so?”

“Her magic specializes in structural repair.”

Sylvara gestured toward the healed warrior.

“She can restore bones and deeper injuries much faster than I can.”

John nodded slowly.

“That’s efficient.”

Aerion added,

“The forest doesn’t waste talent.”

Lythriel finished healing the last wounded soldier and stood again.

She glanced toward the dragon.

“You’re staring.”

John shrugged.

“You’re interesting.”

She looked unimpressed.

“I doubt that.”

Sylvara smirked.

“He said the same thing about me earlier.”

Lythriel looked at her.

“Of course he did.”

John grinned.

Aerion cleared his throat.

“Enough.”

He pointed ahead.

“We’re close.”

The forest had changed again.

The trees were no longer random.

They grew in wide circular patterns.

The ground was covered with soft moss so thick it felt like walking on cushions.

Small glowing flowers hung from branches above them.

John inhaled slowly.

His eyes narrowed.

“There’s a lot of mana here.”

Sylvara nodded.

“You’re entering the outer boundary of Greenwood Village.”

The younger elves immediately perked up.

One whispered excitedly.

“They’re going to lose their minds.”

Another nodded.

“My mother will faint.”

John chuckled.

“I want to see that.”

Lythriel glanced at him.

“You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Absolutely.”

They continued walking.

The path widened.

More signs of civilization appeared.

Carved symbols marked the trees.

Elegant lanterns hung from branches.

Soft green lights glowed along the path.

John noticed something else.

The forest itself seemed…

Ordered.

Intentional.

“You shape the forest,” he said.

Aerion nodded.

“For thousands of years.”

Sylvara added quietly,

“Greenwood is grown, not built.”

Then the trees parted.

John stopped.

The village appeared.

And even the dragon paused for a moment.

Massive ancient trees rose hundreds of meters into the sky.

Homes were built along their trunks and branches.

Wooden platforms spiraled upward around the massive trees.

Elegant bridges connected them high above the ground.

Streams of water flowed between roots into crystal pools.

Lanterns floated through the air like drifting stars.

Children ran along rope bridges.

Merchants worked small wooden stalls.

It was alive.

Peaceful.

Beautiful.

John slowly smiled.

“Well.”

“That’s impressive.”

Aerion chuckled.

“We try.”

But then something happened.

One of the villagers looked toward the approaching patrol.

They waved casually.

Then they noticed the enormous black shape walking behind them.

The wave stopped.

Their eyes widened.

“…Commander?”

Another villager looked.

“…What is that?”

Then someone screamed.

“A DRAGON!”

Instant chaos.

Children ran.

Merchants dropped baskets.

Warriors grabbed bows.

Several elders nearly fell over in shock.

John blinked.

“That reaction seems familiar.”

Sylvara groaned.

“This is exactly what I expected.”

Aerion stepped forward immediately.

“Calm down!”

But panic spread through the village.

“Why is there a dragon here?!”

“Are we under attack?!”

“Someone get the elders!”

John raised a claw.

“Relax.”

His voice echoed across the village.

“I’m not here to eat anyone.”

One villager shouted nervously,

“That sounds like something that would happen before we get eaten!”

John sighed.

Sylvara pinched the bridge of her nose.

“This is going to be a very long evening.”

Meanwhile…

High above the village.

Inside the tallest tree.

An ancient elf slowly opened his eyes.

He had felt the moment the dragon entered the forest.

And now he could feel the creature clearly.

The mana was overwhelming.

Ancient.

Powerful.

The old elf smiled faintly.

“…Interesting.”

Far below…

Greenwood Village continued panicking.

Because a dragon had just casually walked into their home.

And no one there knew what would happen next.

—

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