Meanwhile, the village with no name but a dragon leader, once nothing but a clearing in the heart of the great forest, was now a living, breathing miracle.

One and a half months had passed since Kael's quiet declaration in that sun-kissed backyard, and the world around him had reshaped itself in ways no one could have foreseen.

The village that had once been a humble cluster of fine houses but uneven fences had now turned into a thriving fortress-hamlet.

Great walls of intertwined timber and stone encircled it—natural yet formidable—rising high enough to block the view of the inner homes. Moss crept along the seams, and pale green runes glowed faintly along the walls' edges at night, forming barriers that pulsed like living veins.

Inside, the air buzzed with life.

Demihumans of every kind moved with purpose—fox-eared craftsmen hauling lumber, horned builders shaping stone with controlled bursts of mana, rabbit-folk carrying baskets of herbs, and even bird-winged messengers swooping overhead with letters and reports.

Children ran along paved paths where mud once ruled, chasing each other between neat rows of wooden houses reinforced with vines and enchanted roots.

The smell of baked bread drifted from the new dining house, mingled with the metallic tang of the forge where sparks still danced.

The number of people in the village seemed to have multiplied since Alenia, after consulting with Kael, had decided to send scouts to bring more people.

Now, they even had fence guards, who walked with the quiet confidence of seasoned warriors. Their eyes gleamed faintly with inner light—the unmistakable glow of awakened mana.

And all of it—every heartbeat of progress, every breath of order—had begun with one man's breathing technique.

It was all done by Kawl, who had done more than train fighters.

He had rewritten the village's rhythm.

Every class had been given its own breathing method.

A technique that synchronized heat and mana, enabling them to control flame and temperature with their bare hands for cooks.

For craftsmen, he made one that strengthened their muscles without dulling precision.

For servants, a flow that allowed them to move for hours without fatigue.

For teachers, one that enhances focus and comprehension, letting even a dull mind grasp the roots of mana theory.

For a month straight, the entire village had sat in unison under Kael's quiet guidance—men, women, and children alike—breathing as one.

Kael wasn't going to teach everyone at first, but then he realized that it wouldn't do any harm.

There was no need to teach everyone the best technique he could make. He could make one that suited their profession and teach it to them.

Along with it, he could even name them, making it so that they would stay loyal to him.

By the time the cultivation phase ended, everyone in the village had been named by Kael and had a breathing technique similar to that of a dragon.

The best thing was that the whole village was loyal to him.

Even the ones who joined the village were named by Kael soon after and then taught a technique that suited them.

Now, even the mana in the village had turned denser because of so many people using such a high-level breathing technique.

However, this phase wouldn't last for long.

Soon, Kael would stop giving out the breathing techniques. It wasn't that he feared something—some betrayal.

He was merely lazy.

.............................

Now, as the sun dipped low, turning the sky to molten gold, the hunters trudged back from the outskirts—arms heavy with wild boars, pheasants, and river fish that shimmered faintly with mana scales.

They weren't the strongest group in the village, but the hunters were strong enough to hunt in the village's surroundings without worrying about dying.

Now, as the hunters passed the wide ground at the northern end of the village, like everyone else, they couldn't help but glance at the training ground.

That place was where one could see the strongest of the village, who were once criminals but now were known as the village's fighters.

Whenever the fighters had time, they would come here and spar, honing their skills.

Right now, one such fight was going on.

Dust and leaves swirled in a frenzy as a blur darted between four massive figures—Ronan, Tazruk, Korven, and Velren.

Sweat glistened on their skin, and the ground trembled beneath their weight as they lunged, parried, and swung.

And in the center of that chaos was her.

Lyra.

Gone was the meek, polite bunny girl with her apron and shy smile.

Now, her once-pale skin was kissed with bronze, her muscles toned, and her silver-white hair tied back with wild grace. Her eyes, bright red, glowed like twin shards of bloodlight in the dusk.

A long wooden staff spun in her hands, each strike ringing like steel against the fighters' blades.

Her movements were a blur of elegance and ferocity—roots sprouting with each step to propel her forward, petals bursting from the ground as she moved faster than the eye could follow.

Korven, the bull-headed minotaur, grunted, swinging his hammer downward.

Lyra ducked, twirling, and the hammer struck only air, followed by a sharp crack as her staff smacked his shin.

"Damn it, rabbit!" He growled, stumbling back.

He didn't have any visible injury, but this fight wasn't one where anyone was supposed to get injured anyway.

Lyra, on the other hand, flashed a grin at his words, panting lightly. "You were wide open again, big guy. You should really stop underestimating herbs and tea girls."

Ronan, the wolfman, charged in next, blade flashing. His strikes were fluid and relentless—but Lyra's staff blurred, parrying with precision that made his fur bristle.

A root coiled up from the soil, snaring his ankle.

"Not again—!" He started—

—And Lyra used the root as leverage, vaulting over him and kicking him square in the chest.

He crashed into Tazruk, the lizardman, who hissed irritably.

"By the gods, she's worse than Kael!"

"Flattery won't help you either," she replied sweetly—before a vine yanked his tail, flipping him onto his back.

Velren, the shy antlered boy, was the last standing. He hesitated—then sighed. "I yield," he murmured.

Lyra straightened, breathing hard, staff planted in the ground. Her tanned skin glistened in the fading light, her grin triumphant yet playful.

The others groaned and sat up one by one, muttering curses under their breath.

Ronan wiped his mouth. "You're getting too damn cocky."

"Not cocky," she said, twirling her staff once before resting it on her shoulder. "Just… inspired."

The wolfman growled but couldn't help the twitch of a grin.

"Kael's influence," muttered Korven. "We all used to be wild, and now she, who wasn't even a part of us, is the worst of us."

The others nodded grimly—then laughed.

Lyra smiled as well, staring at the four of them, now getting surrounded by the other fighters who were watching from the sidelines.

She could see them making fun of the four guys, and that just made her smirk to herself.

Still, looking at all this, she was again reminded of how much she had changed after she awakened that one ability of hers. Kael's naming had only helped.

At first, the change wasn't major, as she had always been like this—just not in the open, as she wasn't powerful enough to live up to this personality.

But now, she could be whatever she wanted.

All because of Kael.

A sweet smile marred her face as soon as she thought about him, but before anyone could see it—

The earth trembled long before the gates opened.

A low, rhythmic thoom… thoom… thoom echoed through the village, rattling the wooden fences and making ripples dance in the water barrels. Conversation faltered.

Children stopped mid-laughter, craning their necks toward the western edge of the settlement.

Even the birds nesting in the roofs took off in alarm—until the first furry shadow loomed through the misty trees.

Then the cheers began.

"Druvarn's back!" A child squealed, voice bright and shrill.

The next heartbeat brought a giant into view—a hulking, bear-like beast draped in twilight and molten gold.

His eyes surveyed the village with the unspoken question: What did they break this time?

"Druuvarn!!"

"Guardian Bear!"

"Carry us! Carry us!"

Before he could even finish sighing, a flood of children crashed into his legs like an invading army. Tiny arms hugged his fur, squeaky laughter filling the air as they clambered up his broad shoulders.

"H-hey! No climbing—agh, watch the fur, you little—no, not the ear!" He rumbled, his voice a mix of gravel and reluctant warmth.

A giggle bubbled from somewhere near his head. "You said the same last time!"

He snorted, sending a gust of warm air that ruffled their hair. "And I'll keep saying it until one of you listens. Spoiler: none of you ever will."

The village hummed again—workers, hunters, and craftsmen looking up from their tasks as the giant strode in, his five-meter frame making even the training ground quake beneath his paws.

Lyra straightened, sweat still glistening on her brow, her staff tapping lightly against the earth as she watched the children hanging off his fur like ornaments on a holiday tree.

"You're late," she called with a smirk. "Was the forest giving you trouble again, or did you just stop to nap?"

Druvarn shot her a glare that would've withered a tree—if it weren't followed by a grumbled, "Keep talking, carrot-head. Maybe next time I'll let the wild boars handle you."

"Promises, promises," Lyra said sweetly, twirling her staff.

He would've retorted—but the air changed.

A sudden stillness swept through the clearing, so profound that even the playful chatter of the children dimmed.

The mana in the air thickened, humming in the bones. And then, with a whoosh of displaced air, he appeared.

Kael.

He stood not far from Druvarn, black coat fluttering from the brief distortion that marked his arrival. Golden draconic eyes gleamed beneath half-lidded lashes, reflecting the fiery sunset as if they owned it.

His gaze swept the training ground once, and the effect was immediate—every adult dropped into a respectful bow, their movements practiced and near-instinctive.

Everyone but Lyra.

She stood where she was, smiling faintly—an expression she didn't even bother hiding anymore when it came to him.

Behind Kael, the air shimmered again.

A pair of elegant, bat-like wings unfurled mid-air, descending with the grace of moonlight itself.

Evethra, who had followed behind him, landed softly beside him, her black hair catching the glow, her crimson eyes brimming with quiet devotion.

The moment her boots touched earth, the wings vanished into fine red mist.

She didn't say anything and stood behind Kael, who smiled inwardly at how fast she was.

He hadn't even asked her to come, but she still did.

He gave her a brief nod before turning his eyes toward Druvarn. "So," he said, his tone calm and smooth but carrying a faint undercurrent of amusement, "what happened out there?"

Druvarn nodded—still standing tall but careful not to step too close, lest the children clinging to him tumble off. "She'll be coming soon," he said finally, voice low and serious.

Kael's brows lifted slightly. "She?"

The giant nodded again. "The tree's a she."

Kael exhaled slowly, the faintest smirk ghosting over his lips. "Well, isn't that good news? I prefer women anyway."

The tension broke like glass.

Lyra leaned on her staff, cocking her head. "You two always talk like prophets in riddles. Mind sharing with the rest of us mortals?"

Kael's gaze flicked toward her, his expression unreadable but edged with fondness. "In due time," he said.

Druvarn rolled his massive eyes, the ground vibrating as he shifted his weight. "Don't encourage her, Master. She's been unbearable since she started winning spars."

"Unbearable?" Lyra echoed, grinning. "Coming from the literal bear?"

A chorus of laughter rippled through the training ground, breaking the last remnants of tension. T

The children giggled from Druvarn's shoulders, tugging on his ears while the adults smiled and exchanged glances.

And there Kael stood in the midst of it all—his presence calm yet commanding, eyes gleaming like the promise of storms yet to come—while Evethra lingered quietly behind him, gaze soft and adoring, hands clasped neatly before her.

The golden hour washed over them, painting the scene in light and shadow—a wild bunny girl, his devoted maid, the tsundere bear, and the radiant village that had come alive under his breath.

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