Heart.

Rael glanced at his interface once more before meeting Weyrn's gaze. The elf's golden eyes watched him with an unreadable calm, but the sheer presence he radiated sent a subtle chill down Rael's spine. The pressure wasn't aggressive—just the weight of someone who'd survived countless hunts.

"I'm ...Rael," he said, keeping his tone even. He wasn't about to introduce himself as ezpz4040—his current username—unless he wanted an arrow lodged somewhere unpleasant.

Weyrn simply nodded.

"What were you doing here?" Rael asked, breaking the brief silence.

Weyrn adjusted the leather bracer on his arm, his greatbow resting casually against his back. "Chasing something. Came across the commotion in the cave and decided to take a look."

"...Thanks for the save," Rael replied after a pause. He turned to leave, but Weyrn's voice stopped him mid-step.

"You use a bow," the elf stated, his tone carrying the finality of a conclusion already reached.

Rael glanced back. "Yeah?"

The hunter's gaze flicked briefly to Rael's weapon, then back to him. "I need help with something. Follow me."

Before Rael could respond, a notification blinked into view:

[New Quest: Rite of the Dragon Hunter]

Objective: Follow Weyrn

Reward: ???

Rael eyed the quest notification, a knot tightening in his chest.

'A dragon hunter chasing something... The quest's called Rite of the Dragon Hunter...'

It didn't take a genius to figure out where this was going. Since Ascent's launch, stories had spread like wildfire—players stumbling upon dragons in dungeons or daring to hunt them in the wild. Without exception, the encounters ended in disaster. Even the weakest dragons required hordes of players to bring down, and most still walked away with broken gear and empty respawn timers.

And now Weyrn wanted him to tag along. Alone.

Rael swallowed, his gaze flicking toward the elf's back as he moved through the trees, his footsteps soundless against the forest floor. The bow slung across Weyrn's back seemed to hum with restrained power, a silent reminder of the level gap between them.

'...Is It time to get an EXP penalty?'

The thought curled in his mind like a shadow. This wasn't some low-level dungeon or a test of skill—if a dragon was involved, one wrong step meant death. Yet despite the unease prickling beneath his skin, a spark of anticipation flickered somewhere deep inside.

Rael stepped out of the cave, boots crunching against gravel as his eyes adjusted to the faint moonlight filtering through the trees. His gaze lifted—and immediately froze.

A bird loomed just beyond the clearing, nearly five times the size of Weyrn. Its sleek feathers shimmered faintly with a bluish-silver sheen, and arcs of faint electricity crackled along its wings. Sharp golden eyes locked onto Rael with a gaze that could've pierced stone—though its expression held more boredom than menace.

Without hesitation, Weyrn leapt onto the bird's back with practiced ease. "Come. Don't worry—he won't bite."

Rael didn't move right away. His instincts screamed at him to stay cautious. The thunderbird's eyes remained fixed on him, unblinking. Yet there was no malice in its gaze—just disinterest, as if Rael were little more than a leaf drifting by. Still, experience taught him that the line between docile and dangerous was razor-thin.

After a moment of hesitation, he exhaled and approached slowly. No flicker of hostility.

Good enough.

Rael grabbed hold of the bird's thick plumage and hauled himself onto its back, settling in behind Weyrn.

"This is Foren," the elf said over his shoulder. "A thunderbird."

As if in response, faint sparks crackled along Foren's wings, illuminating the night air with pale blue light. Then, without warning, the bird crouched low and launched itself skyward.

The ground vanished in an instant, and the air roared past Rael's ears as the forest shrank to a patchwork of distant shadows. Wind whipped through his hair, and the force of acceleration threatened to tear him from the saddleless perch. Clamping his legs tighter, he leaned forward to brace against the gale.

Rael had ridden rented mounts before—horses, Lizards, even the occasional hybrids—but they had always been land-bound. Teleporters were faster, sure, but they offered none of the thrill of movement. Yet Foren... this was something else entirely. The air vibrated with raw power as the thunderbird shot through the night like a bolt of lightning, the world blurring beneath them.

Subsonic speeds, maybe even faster.

The thought flickered through Rael's mind, unbidden: 'Man... Having a mount like this wouldn't be half bad.'

But the fleeting envy vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by a heavier realization.

He was barely level 7.

And now, somehow, he was running errands for an NPC who looked like he could solo a raid boss without breaking a sweat.

Rael's lips pressed into a thin line as the wind howled past his ears. 'Sometimes, I really wonder if my luck's good or bad...'

* * *

They soared past jagged peaks crowned with snow, the wind whipping past Rael's face in a near-deafening roar. The thunderbird's wings cut through the air with effortless grace, each powerful beat propelling them forward at a speed that made land-based mounts feel like crawling insects in comparison.

Rael shifted slightly, adjusting his grip on Foren's feathers. The view below stretched endlessly—sharp cliffs, dense forests clinging to the slopes, and deep valleys carved into the earth like scars. Despite all his travels, this landscape was unfamiliar.

"Where are we?" he called over the wind.

"The southwestern edge of the central continent," Weyrn replied from ahead, seated with practiced ease atop the thunderbird's neck. His cloak barely stirred despite the wind. "Few come this far. Dangerous territory."

Rael blinked, impressed. Southwest? The sheer distance from where they'd started hit him. No mount he'd ever used could cover so much ground so quickly.

Weyrn continued, eyes fixed ahead. "This mountain range is called the Saints Divide. It is said that Long ago, two demigods fought here—both revered as saints in their respective arts. Their battle scarred the land, splitting the mountains apart. Ever since, this place has been known as their divide."

As they approached one of the smaller peaks nestled within the range, Weyrn spoke over the rush of wind. "We can't fly too close. It'd sense us and flee again."

Foren tilted its wings, beginning a smooth descent toward the forest below. The wind whipped past Rael's face, cold and sharp, as the thunderbird circled once before landing gracefully atop a rocky outcrop surrounded by trees. Its talons scraped against the stone, but the creature barely made a sound.

Weyrn dismounted first, stepping lightly onto the ground before glancing over his shoulder. "Come," he said simply.

Rael slid off Foren's back, his boots hitting the stone with a faint thud. The air smelled of pine and damp earth, laced with the faint chill of mountain wind. Shafts of sunlight filtered through the canopy of towering trees below, their leaves rustling faintly in the breeze. Somewhere in the distance, a bird called out, but otherwise, the forest seemed to hold its breath.

"It's nearby. I placed a mark on it earlier," Weyrn said as he adjusted his bowstring with practiced ease. His gaze swept the terrain, sharp and focused. "I know you're weak. One aftershock would likely kill you." The blunt statement held no cruelty—just fact. "But strength isn't measured by power alone. Will and perseverance are what carry a hunter through the impossible."

Rael paused, tilting his head slightly. Why do so many NPCs sound like righteous knights giving motivational speeches? Then the thought clicked. Right... the whole setting's built around a God-Emperor. Guess that mindset rubs off on everyone.

"Still… what exactly are we hunting?"

"An infant dragon," Weyrn replied casually, adjusting the strap of his quiver.

Rael blinked. Infant? His expression remained neutral, but internally, he questioned how that was supposed to be reassuring. Infant or not, dragons were still considered raid bosses for a reason.

"Listen carefully," Weyrn said, his tone firm. "Do exactly as I say. Any mistake could cost you your life."

Rael nodded, keeping his focus sharp. As they started moving, Weyrn added, almost as an afterthought, "Besides… you're a Blessed."

Rael stiffened slightly at the term. Blessed. It was what the Order called players—immortals who could return from death as if nothing had happened. The title extended to non-human races as well, though their existence often invited suspicion and hostility. Unless they proved their worth, they were hunted as anomalies that didn't belong.

Still, "immortal" didn't mean "invincible." Death in Ascent carried harsh penalties, and the idea of respawning miles away from this remote location wasn't appealing.

"Right," he muttered. "Lead the way."

They descended from the outcrop, weaving through dense clusters of trees as they moved deeper into the forest. Every step Rael took crunched against fallen leaves and twigs, though Weyrn moved so silently that it seemed as if the ground itself refused to betray his presence.

Rael felt the air grow heavier with anticipation as they pressed on. Eventually, the trees thinned out, revealing a peculiar clearing. It wasn't natural—the ground dipped inward like a crater, the earth cracked and uneven, as if someone had drilled into the mountainside. Jagged rocks protruded from the soil, and faint claw marks scarred the surrounding trees.

Weyrn crouched at the edge of the clearing, pressing both hands to the ground. His brow furrowed in concentration before he whispered, "It's gone to hunt. We wait."

So much for an action-packed quest, Rael thought, ducking behind a fallen log nearby. The minutes dragged on. One hour. Then two. His legs started to cramp from crouching, and boredom threatened to set in. Is this what being a hunter is? Sitting around waiting for something to show up?

He opened his interface to pass the time when a distant roar rolled through the air like thunder. Every leaf seemed to tremble with the sound, and Rael's pulse spiked as he peeked past the log. His breath caught.

A dragon burst through the trees on the far end of the clearing. Its sleek, muscular frame gleamed with obsidian-black scales that reflected faint purple hues in the light. Its wings folded close to its sides, each membrane etched with faint purplish veins. Twin horns curved back from its skull, and its violet eyes burned like molten amethyst—alien, predatory, and far too intelligent. Despite being on all fours, the beast was nearly as large as Foren, only slightly smaller. Every step it took cracked twigs and pressed deep into the soil.

Rael had a wry smile. This is an infant?

The ground trembled faintly beneath the dragon's weight as it approached the clearing's center, sniffing the air. It paused, claws digging into the dirt as if sensing something was off. Hidden behind the thick roots of a fallen tree, Rael clutched his bow tighter, pulse hammering in his ears.

"I have a task for you," Weyrn's voice broke through the tension like a blade through taut rope.

Rael tore his gaze away from the dragon's hulking form, staring at the elf crouched beside him. The hunter's expression was calm as ever, unshaken by the monster mere meters away. He extended three arrows toward Rael. Unlike standard ammunition, their shafts gleamed with faint silver runes etched along their length.

"Approach the dragon," Weyrn instructed, his voice calm but firm. "Shoot one of these arrows directly into its eye."

Rael blinked, unsure if he'd heard correctly. "...Why can't you do it yourself?"

Weyrn simply looked at him.

Rael stared back, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief—the kind reserved for watching someone confidently attempt to open a locked door by pushing instead of pulling. Is this guy serious?

"Consider this a trial." Weyrn's golden gaze held no room for argument.

...Right. Trial. Sure, Rael thought bitterly. His grip tightened on the bow as he exhaled through clenched teeth. The dragon was still sniffing the air, its wings twitching slightly as it turned its head in their direction.

Rael took a step forward. Then another. Each movement felt like a gamble with death as he crept through the underbrush, bow in hand and arrow nocked. Sweat dampened the back of his neck. The dragon's breath rumbled softly in the air, vibrating through the ground beneath his boots.

Just as he raised the bowstring to full draw, a notification flashed before his eyes:

[Debuff Applied: Dragon Might]

Rael's heart lurched. A pulse of fear shot through his veins, raw and primal. His hands trembled slightly from the invisible pressure as sweat slipped down his brow. His instincts screamed at him to run—every fiber of his being recoiling from the predator before him.

Focus… He gritted his teeth and forced himself to aim.

He loosed the arrow.

It veered past the dragon's head, clattering against stone.

The beast's head snapped toward the noise, violet eyes narrowing. Its chest swelled with a slow inhale, claws flexing against the dirt as faint purple wisps began curling from its maw.

Rael cursed under his breath, already knocking another arrow. His hands trembled more now, the pressure pressing harder against his nerves. C'mon… He drew, aimed, and fired.

Another miss—this time skimming just past its horns.

The dragon's eyes locked onto him.

Cold terror clawed down his spine as the pressure intensified. A deep growl reverberated through the clearing, shaking leaves from branches as violet flames began flickering between its jaws. The air crackled with heat and raw mana.

Rael's mind raced. There was no time. No room for error. The next shot had to land— had to.

RNG gods, don't screw me now…

He aimed, heart hammering against his ribs, and released the arrow.

A sharp whistle cut through the air—then a wet, sickening thunk as the arrow pierced the dragon's left eye.

The beast roared, staggering back. Its wings flared open, felling nearby branches with the sheer force of the wind. The violet flames in its mouth flickered and sputtered out, replaced by a furious snarl. Yet, the arrow barely embedded itself deep enough to blind the eye—it wasn't enough to cripple it.

The dragon's head snapped toward Rael, hatred blazing in its gaze as it tensed its muscles to lunge—

Whistle!

A single, piercing whistle of wind sliced through the cavern, swift and sharp as a blade. The next instant, a silver streak embedded itself into the dragon's skull—right between its eyes. The beast's roar died in its throat. It collapsed with a heavy thud, wings twitching once before falling still.

As Rael stood frozen, his pulse pounding in his ears, Weyrn landed beside him in a crouch. The elf straightened without a sound, brushing stray leaves from his cloak as if he'd merely stepped off a porch.

"…That was you?" he asked, voice still shaky from the lingering pressure of Dragon Might.

Weyrn stood beside him, calm and composed as if the dragon's presence had been nothing more than a passing breeze. "If I hadn't, you'd be ashes by now."

Rael exhaled, tension seeping from his shoulders as the system notification popped into view:

[You have slain: Abyssal Hatchling (Infant)]

Contribution: 1%

[You have leveled up!]

[You have leveled up!]

[You have leveled up!]

[You have leveled up!]

"...1 percent and four level-ups…" Rael muttered, staring at the message with a mixture of disbelief and frustration.. "I barely scratched the thing."

"And yet you still earned your reward." Weyrn stepped past him, approaching the dragon's corpse with measured strides. "The trial was not to slay it—only to strike true despite fear. Strength alone does not make a hunter. Willpower, discipline, and resolve separate the prey from the predator."

Rael remained silent, unsure whether to feel accomplished or like the universe had just handed him free levels. His fingers still tingled slightly from the bowstring's pull, the pressure of the dragon's gaze burned into his memory.

"…So what now?" he asked, taking a tentative step toward the fallen beast.

Weyrn crouched beside the dragon and placed a hand against its scaled chest. Faint silver light pulsed from his palm as if drawing something unseen from within. "Now?" He glanced over his shoulder. "Now, we claim our prize."

Weyrn shifted his stance without warning, driving his hand straight through the dragon's chest with a sickening crunch of bone and flesh. Rael's eyes widened as the elf's arm sank into the beast's ribcage up to the elbow. Yet Weyrn's expression never wavered—calm and focused, as if this act were no different from harvesting a plant.

A moment later, he withdrew his hand, holding a massive, still-beating heart. Its surface pulsed with an eerie black sheen, webbed with faint purple veins that glowed with a faint inner light. The thick organ was larger than Rael's head, and the air around it seemed to hum with a faint, unsettling pressure.

Without ceremony, Weyrn tossed the heart toward him.

"Catch."

"What—!"

Rael barely managed to stumble forward and catch the heart, cradling it awkwardly against his chest like an oversized, grotesque teddy bear. Its faint warmth pulsed against his arms, the sensation unnervingly similar to holding something still alive.

"What… what the hell am I supposed to do with this?" he asked, shifting the heart's weight uncomfortably.

Weyrn approached with slow, deliberate steps. His golden eyes locked onto Rael's, their depth carrying an unspoken challenge. "Now you must make a choice," he said simply.

Rael blinked. "What choice?"

The elf didn't answer. Instead, he raised his hand and placed the tip of his pinky finger against Rael's forehead.

Ping!

A notification flashed before his eyes:

[Hidden Skill Awakening Available]

Skill: Dragonrite

Description: By consuming the heart of a dragon, you may inherit a fragment of its power. Each consumption grants a random ability tied to the dragon's nature.

Prerequisite: Must have no active subclass.

Warning: Learning this skill can have adverse effects on the users status.

Rael's breath hitched. He glanced down at the heart pressed against his chest, then back at Weyrn's impassive gaze.

"…You're serious?"

"Decide," Weyrn replied. "Take its power—or let it slip away."