Chapter 75: Chapter 71: The First Threads Unravel

Night had fallen over Greenwood Forest. Mist curled among the trees, shrouding the forest floor in a ghostly haze. The clearing where John had confronted Roderic and his hunters was silent, the remnants of scorched earth and splintered branches glowing faintly under the silver moonlight.

High above, perched on a massive branch of an ancient oak, John flexed his claws. His wings were folded neatly against his back, but every muscle in his massive body was coiled, ready. The forest beneath him hummed with mana, and he could sense every disturbance, every subtle shift in energy.

“…Someone’s watching,” he murmured, golden eyes scanning the shadows.

The faint hum of restrained mana was subtle but distinct—a signature that didn’t belong to the hunters he had already encountered. His tail lashed slowly, stirring leaves. Whoever was moving through the forest wanted to remain hidden, but they had left traces.

—

Below him, in the darkened forest, three figures moved with careful precision. They were cloaked, their forms partially masked by the mist and shadow. Each carried a weapon imbued with mana, their steps deliberate to avoid detection—but John could feel them, just as a predator senses the slightest tremor in its territory.

He tilted his head, observing. “…Elite hunters. Or mercenaries. Not the guild’s usual. Someone sent them specifically.”

A small smile touched his snout. “Curiosity… always gets the better of humans.”

With a sudden movement, he leapt from the branch. The forest trembled beneath his weight, leaves scattering like startled birds. He landed several meters away, hidden by darkness and fog. From there, he watched the cloaked figures pause, sensing something amiss.

“…They know I’m here,” he whispered.

The tallest of the three cloaked figures raised a hand, whispering a few arcane syllables. A faint shimmer of light flickered around their forms. Protective enchantments. Low-level concealment magic designed to hide them from ordinary eyes. But not his.

John’s claws dug into the earth. “…Cute.”

He exhaled a slow plume of smoke, eyes narrowing. Then, with a single, deliberate movement, he disappeared into the shadows, moving silently through the forest.

—

The cloaked figures froze, whispers of mana radiating from them in tension.

“Did… anyone else feel that?” one asked, voice trembling.

The tallest whispered sharply, “He’s here. The dragon is here.”

The other two gasped. “…Impossible. We were… careful.”

The figure in front shook his head. “…Careful isn’t enough. Not for him.”

A single branch snapped somewhere in the shadows, and the trio spun, weapons ready. But it was too late. John stepped into the clearing, his massive form appearing from the mist. Golden eyes glowed in the darkness. Smoke drifted from his nostrils as his tail curled lazily.

“…And here you are,” he said softly, his voice echoing across the trees like distant thunder.

The tallest figure stepped forward, staff raised, a barrier shimmering faintly around him. “…Dragon…”

John tilted his head. “…Curious. You’re not part of the hunters from yesterday.”

“We were sent after you,” the figure admitted. “By… higher authority.”

John’s claws dug into the soft earth. “…Higher authority?”

“Yes,” the figure said. “Someone wants to… control or contain you.”

John’s eyes gleamed golden in the moonlight. “…Interesting. And you’re their first attempt?”

The cloaked figures exchanged uneasy glances. “…We are to capture you, yes,” the tallest said. “We are to prevent you from roaming freely and… gathering information.”

John exhaled slowly. “…So they know curiosity will make me act. They’re using me.”

The dragon’s wings stretched slowly. The protective enchantments flickered under the sheer magnitude of his aura. “…And I intend to see who’s pulling the strings.”

—

In Greenwood Village, Lythriel watched through the mana lens, her brow furrowed.

“They’ve moved again,” she murmured. “John is tracking something—or someone.”

Aerion folded his arms, gaze fixed on the distant forest. “…This is the beginning. Whoever sent those cloaked agents… they are the orchestrators. And John is already onto them.”

Sylvara’s voice was tight. “We need to be ready. This isn’t just hunters anymore. Someone is actively manipulating events now.”

Lythriel’s eyes narrowed. “…And if John finds them, we’ll know as well.”

Aerion’s lips pressed into a thin line. “…Let him. It’s the only way to uncover the true threat.”

—

Back in the forest, John moved silently through the mist, following faint traces of mana that only he could detect. The cloaked agents ahead were careful, leaving minimal magical residue—but not enough to escape him entirely.

“…Very meticulous,” he murmured. “…They’re good—but not quite good enough.”

He descended slowly to the riverbank, crouching in the shadows. The water reflected fragments of moonlight, casting faint ripples across the clearing. From here, he could observe their movements without revealing himself.

The tallest figure tapped a small rune on his staff. A faint magical signal shot into the air—a message. Someone in a distant city, somewhere behind the veil of the guild, would receive it.

John’s tail flicked lightly. “…So the puppet master remains hidden. But they’re reaching out. That gives me a clue.”

—

Suddenly, one of the agents turned sharply. “…Did anyone else feel that?”

John moved before they could react. A shadow shifted. A gust of wind rolled across the clearing. Leaves scattered. And then he appeared, landing lightly behind them.

“…I suggest you reconsider your approach,” John said softly. His claws scraped the earth, leaving deep furrows. Smoke curled from his nostrils. “…I can make this very… unpleasant for all of us.”

The cloaked figures raised their weapons simultaneously. Spells hummed, enchanted blades shimmered, but John didn’t flinch.

“…Brave,” he murmured. “…Or foolish.”

The tallest figure spoke through gritted teeth, “…We have orders.”

John tilted his head. “…Orders from someone hiding behind walls and desks, telling you to risk yourselves? Fascinating. And you obey without question.”

“…We follow protocol,” the figure admitted.

John’s golden eyes glinted. “…Protocol won’t save you.”

With that, he leapt forward, wings unfurling. The wind ripped through the trees, knocking the agents back. They barely managed to maintain their stances.

“…The first threads,” John whispered. “…Now we see where they lead.”

—

In the distant capital, the hooded figure observed the crystal orb.

“They’ve made contact,” a distorted voice said. “The dragon is aware.”

The figure’s hands rested on the orb. “…Good. Let him follow. Let him unravel the threads. Every movement, every action, every choice leads him closer. Closer to… everything.”

Lightning flickered across the horizon, illuminating the citadel’s towers. “…Phase two is now in motion.”

—

Back in Greenwood Forest, John stepped closer to the cloaked agents, his massive form blocking the faint moonlight. He wasn’t angry—at least, not yet. But his curiosity burned hotter than any fire he could unleash.

“…Someone wants me discovered,” he murmured. “…And now I will follow the threads.”

The cloaked agents stiffened. “…We didn’t expect him to approach,” one muttered.

John’s golden eyes glowed brighter. “…Curiosity… always gets the better of humans. And it appears it’s about to get the better of me as well.”

The forest was quiet once more, but the tension in the air was thick. Somewhere beyond the mist, plans were already unfolding. Guild politics, hidden manipulators, and unseen forces were all moving against him.

But John was no ordinary prey. He was a predator, a thinker, a force that could unravel the threads of conspiracy—and he had just begun.

The game had entered a new phase.

And John intended to follow it to its end.

—

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