Darius had to practically drag Elira back from the vibrant marketplace of Kur’thar, her voice rising above the hum of traders and travelers. “At least let me try all the food!” she hollered, wriggling in his firm grasp like a determined child. Her amber eyes burned with stubborn resolve as she stretched her arm dramatically toward a nearby stall, where a vendor was grilling spiced meat skewers over an open flame.

  Darius, unbothered by her antics, hoisted her effortlessly by the waist as though she weighed nothing. His red scales shimmered in the midday sun, reflecting hues of crimson and gold as he sighed heavily. “Elira, we’ll have plenty of chances to come back,” he said, his deep voice steady but tinged with weariness. “Just... not right now.”

  Elira twisted her upper body to glare at him, her fiery hair swaying with the movement. “You don’t understand, Darius! I didn’t even get to try the honey-glazed deep-fried moonberries or the spiced mango-flame ice cream! Do you realize what you’re depriving me of?”

  “Delicious food, yes,” Darius replied dryly, adjusting his grip as she flailed. “A kingdom on the brink of collapse? Kind of more important.”

  Lorian jogged up beside them, the leather straps of his satchel bouncing against his side. His youthful brown eyes sparkled with amusement as he reached out to pat Elira’s shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t worry, Elira. Next time we’re here, we’ll make a whole day of it. I’ll even map out the food stalls for you.”

  Perched on Lorian’s shoulder, Cheese wobbled slightly before extending one of its gooey pseudopods to mimic Lorian’s reassuring pat. Its gelatinous body jiggled as it did so, earning a small, begrudging smile from Elira.

  She sighed dramatically, crossing her arms as she slumped in Darius’s grasp. “Fine, but I’m holding you to that, Lorian. You promised!”

  “Consider it a sacred vow,” Lorian replied with a grin, adjusting the small creature on his shoulder. “You’ll get your honey moonberries, I swear.”

  Cheese nodded—or rather, its entire body wobbled in agreement—eliciting a soft laugh from Lorian.

  Behind them, the rest of the group watched with varying degrees of amusement. Caelus leaned against a wooden post, his blue eyes crinkling in quiet humor, while Magnus shook his head with a soft chuckle, his pale green hair catching the light. Even Riven, usually aloof, allowed a faint smirk to tug at her lips.

  “You’d think we were dragging her away from a treasure hoard, not a food stall,” Riven muttered, adjusting her gloves as she turned to mount her dragon. Noctis, as usual, seemed completely indifferent to the world around him. His expression was unreadable, a mask of detached calm that rarely shifted, even in the midst of chaos. He moved with an effortless grace, as if the hustle of the marketplace, the tension of the mission, and the chattering of the others were all mere background noise.

  “Knowing Elira, food is the treasure,” Magnus replied, his tone light but fond.

  Elira caught the comment and pointed an accusatory finger at Magnus from where she dangled in Darius’s grip. “Don’t act like you’re above it, Magnus. I saw you eyeing those curry buns earlier!”

  “Maybe,” Magnus admitted with a serene smile. “But I have restraint.”

  Elira groaned dramatically. “Ugh, you’re all the worst.”

  Darius finally let out a chuckle, his exhaustion momentarily lifting as he adjusted his grip again.

  The group made their way back to the stables, the dragons waiting for their return with impatient snorts and the occasional low rumble.

  The towering beasts shifted restlessly as the champions approached. Sunlight filtered through the wooden beams of the stable, casting golden streaks across the dragons' shimmering scales. Each dragon, unique in its form and hue, moved with a barely-contained energy, their sharp eyes locked onto their riders as low rumbles of anticipation filled the air.

  Verdan, Magnus’s dragon, a sleek creature with iridescent green scales that caught the light like liquid emeralds, let out an audible grumble as Magnus stepped closer. Its large, green eyes narrowed with an almost accusatory glare, and it snorted sharply, a faint wisp of smoke curling from its nostrils.

  Magnus placed a gentle hand on Verdan’s snout, his pale green hair brushing against his shoulders as he leaned forward. “What’s wrong now?” he asked softly, his voice carrying the kind of calm patience one might use with an overly dramatic friend.

  Verdan responded with another disgruntled rumble, angling its head toward the feeding trough at the far end of the stable. The dragon’s powerful tail flicked against the wooden post behind it, making the structure groan under the pressure.

  Magnus followed its gaze, noticing the half-empty trough filled with plain, dried meat and coarse grains. The other dragons chimed in, their low growls and occasional huffs creating a symphony of discontent. One even pawed at the ground, its talons scraping against the stone floor in protest.

  “I get it, I get it,” Magnus said with a soft chuckle, stroking Verdan’s snout in slow, soothing motions. The dragon relaxed slightly under his touch but kept its eyes fixed on him, clearly unimpressed.

  Magnus sighed, tilting his head in mock defeat. “The stable food is bland. I know. I heard you the first ten times.” He glanced around at the other dragons, who all seemed to nod—or at least it felt like they did.

  Verdan huffed, a puff of warm air brushing past Magnus as if to say, “Exactly.”

  The elf smiled, a gentle and almost apologetic expression crossing his serene face. “We’ll fix it when we’re back in Helia, promise. Maybe even something with spices this time.”

  At this, Verdan let out a softer, more contented growl, nudging Magnus’s chest with its snout.

  “Looks like Verdan speaks for all of them,” Darius quipped, patting Lunara’s neck as it flicked its forked tongue at him.

  Elira rolled her eyes, her fiery red hair catching the light as she walked past her own dragon, a hulking, crimson beast with glowing topaz eyes. “Drama queens, all of them,” she muttered, though her tone held a playful edge.

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  “They’re just cultured. Right, Albaris?” Lorian chimed in, climbing onto his smaller, more agile dragon, its sleek body shimmering in shades of white and silver. Cheese wobbled on Lorian’s shoulder, seemingly nodding along as it stared curiously at the feeding trough.

  As the group mounted their dragons, the stable came alive with the sounds of wings stretching, claws scraping against stone, and the occasional snort of impatience. The dragons’ excitement was palpable, their restless energy carrying a promise of swift flight and open skies ahead.

  With a final glance back, Magnus patted Verdan’s side. “Alright. Let’s go. Bland food or not, Helia’s waiting.”

  Verdan responded with a sharp trill, unfurling its massive wings as the group prepared to take to the skies, leaving the stables—and their dragons’ complaints—behind.

  As the champions climbed onto their dragons, the rising wind tugging at their cloaks, Lorian couldn’t resist the pull of curiosity. Settling onto his sleek, white-scaled dragon, he opened his Soulbound Interface with a practiced swipe of his hand. The familiar warm silver glow flickered to life, illuminating his youthful features with an ethereal sheen. He leaned into the floating display, flipping through his spellbook with a focused intensity, murmuring the names of his abilities under his breath to refresh his memory.

  Cheese, perched comfortably on his shoulder, leaned forward with exaggerated interest. Its gelatinous body quivered as it pressed itself against the shimmering interface, its translucent surface reflecting the screen’s glow. Suddenly, its bulbous eyes bulged dramatically, nearly popping out of its gooey head. Its mouth stretched impossibly wide, trembling in what could only be described as cartoonish shock.

  Lorian noticed the movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head slightly. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked, his tone half-amused, half-concerned.

  Cheese wobbled, lifting a pseudopod with an urgent wiggle, pointing directly at the interface.

  “What?” Lorian muttered, narrowing his eyes at the glowing text. He squinted at the screen for a moment, and then his jaw dropped. “Level 38?!” he yelled, his voice echoing across the stable yard. “What the—?! We were Level 21 like... a few days ago!”

  The shout caught Darius’s attention as he secured his grip on the reins of Caelus’s blue-scaled dragon. Intrigued, he opened his own Soulbound Interface with a quick hand gesture. The glow reflected off his vibrant green eyes as he skimmed the numbers. A low whistle escaped him, his lips curving into a grin.

  “Well, what do you know? Those minions of Soren’s were packed full of EXP,” he said, his deep voice tinged with satisfaction. “Guess all that work paid off.”

  Elira, seated on Ignis, craned her neck to glance at the commotion, her fiery red hair whipping around her face. “Level 38? Already?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I knew those fights felt harder than usual, but wow.”

  Magnus, ever serene, merely glanced at his interface with a small, approving nod. “Progress is progress,” he said simply, brushing a hand over his dragon Verdan’s emerald scales.

  Meanwhile, Caelus stared at his own interface, his blue eyes narrowing as he absorbed the details. His ATK stat had nearly doubled since their last battle, the numbers confirming the surge of strength he’d felt during their skirmishes. A faint sense of pride swelled within him, but it was overshadowed by a deeper feeling: inadequacy.

  He clenched his fist, the glowing screen flickering faintly as he closed the interface. His thoughts turned inward, the image of Vorrath—the legendary warlord whose power he was destined to inherit—looming large in his mind. The gap between who he was now and the force Vorrath had felt immeasurable.

  “I’m getting stronger,” he muttered under his breath, his voice steady but low enough that only his dragon might have heard. “But I’m still not there yet.”

  Riven caught Caelus’s words, her sharp gaze flickering in his direction, but she decided to let them pass without comment. Her expression tightened briefly, a flicker of something unspoken crossing her face, before she turned her attention elsewhere.

  It wasn’t long before her focus landed on Noctis, whose perpetual indifference seemed to spark her irritation.

  The others, caught up in their excitement and banter, didn’t notice the determined set of his jaw or the flicker of resolve in his gaze. As the dragons spread their wings, the morning light catching on their powerful forms, Caelus made a silent promise to himself: When we’re back in Helia, I’ll train harder. I’ll become the warrior we need.

  The moment was broken by Lorian’s laughter as Cheese flopped dramatically onto his lap, still in shock over their newfound levels. “Cheese can’t handle the grind,” Lorian teased, poking the gooey creature playfully.

  Darius chuckled. “Cheese isn’t the only one. Let’s get back to Helia before I keel over from all this leveling up.”

  With a thunderous chorus of wingbeats, the dragons ascended into the sky, their massive forms casting fleeting shadows across the vast, sun-drenched fields surrounding Kur’thar. The rhythmic motion of their wings stirred the air, creating a roar that mingled with the rushing wind. Below, the rugged terrain of Kur’thar unfurled like a patchwork quilt, its rugged beauty fading as the group soared further toward their destination.

  After a day and a half of travelling, the golden spires of Helia’s royal castle rose from the horizon, piercing the pale blue sky. The towers shimmered in the morning light, their gilded edges catching the sun’s rays and casting them outward like a beacon. The sight was both majestic and familiar, a reminder of home and the daunting responsibilities awaiting them.

  When the dragons began their descent, the courtyard of Helia’s castle came into view—a sprawling expanse of neatly arranged cobblestones surrounded by vibrant flowerbeds and towering banners bearing the kingdom’s crest. The central sunburst, with its golden rays spreading outward, seemed to glow in the light, symbolizing unity and resilience in the face of strife.

  The landing was a carefully orchestrated chaos. The dragons touched down in near-perfect synchronization, their talons clicking against the stone as they settled into place with a flurry of wings and shifting scales. Their riders dismounted swiftly, boots hitting the ground with purpose. The courtyard echoed with the creak of saddles and the rustle of gear.

  The champions led their dragons to the nearby royal stables, a sprawling structure of carved stone and sturdy timbers designed to house Helia's prized mounts. As they approached, Darius’s stable hands rushed out to assist. Each dragon snorted or growled softly, their moods instantly lifting as they caught the scent of fresh food wafting from within.

  Inside, the stables were immaculate, with spacious stalls lined with soft straw and reinforced walls to accommodate the dragons’ immense sizes. Troughs were filled with an assortment of delicacies specifically prepared for the creatures—succulent meats, bushels of crisp vegetables, and shimmering mineral stones for the dragons to gnaw on. The dragons eagerly moved to their respective stalls, their talons clicking against the smooth stone floor as they made themselves at home.

  Verdan, Magnus’s sleek and proud dragon, sniffed at a particularly large slab of meat before letting out a low rumble of approval. Magnus chuckled, giving its snout a gentle pat. “See? I told you the food would be better here,” he said, earning a satisfied snort in response.

  Meanwhile, Lorian leaned against the door of Albaris’s stall, watching it dive into its meal with gusto. “Don’t get too comfortable,” he said with a teasing grin. “We’ll be back out there soon enough.” Cheese, perched on his shoulder, wiggled in agreement, its gelatinous body jiggling like a nod.

  Darius, ever the caretaker, made a point to check on each dragon, ensuring they were all content before stepping away. He gave Azurath a hearty pat on its scaled flank. “Eat up, big guy,” he said with a grin. “You’ve earned it.”

  With their dragons settled and well-fed, the champions took a moment to bid them goodbye. Caelus lingered for a moment beside his dragon, running a hand along its smooth, iridescent scales. “Rest up,” he murmured softly. “We’ll need you at full strength soon.” The dragon responded with a low, rumbling purr, its luminous eyes blinking slowly in contentment.

  The group finally turned to leave, their footsteps echoing faintly as they exited the stables and stepped back into the bright morning light. The path to the castle lay ahead, its towering gates and golden spires casting long shadows across the cobbled courtyard. Together, they walked with purpose, the weight of their mission heavy on their shoulders as they approached the entrance to Helia’s heart.