The evening sun stretched long golden rays across Rugarda Forest, filtering through dense canopies and washing the forest with molten light.

In the far depths, where the ancient groves slept and roots were thicker than tree trunks, a ripple passed across the moss.

A tall, feminine silhouette emerged from the heartwood of an enormous tree.

Bare feet touched the soil.

Emerald eyes opened.

Lyratheia, Dryad of the Verdant Veins, had made her choice.

She had laughed at Druvarn—mocked and teased him.

Till the end, not believing his words.

But his words…

They had planted a seed of curiosity deep within her.

So she came.

That same evening.

Before Druvarn could even think that she would.

Before the city could sense a powerful being slithering into its midst, and certainly before this "Kael" could expect a visitor like her.

With a thought, her vines retreated beneath her skin.

Her bark-smooth legs became soft flesh.

Green gradients faded into warm earthly tones, though faint patterns still glowed beneath like hidden tattoos.

Long brown hair—still tinged with moss-green strands—fell in waves down her back as she conjured simple clothes around her form: a loose brown cloak, a green blouse, earthy-toned trousers, and boots woven from her own fibers.

Her aura dimmed, folding inward like a coiled root.

Only if one knew what to look for would they feel the vast, ancient presence beneath her quiet steps.

She took a breath.

"…Let's see what impressed that dumb bear so much."

And with that, she walked toward the city, which could be seen from afar, as the bear had told her about the big tree at the center of it.

The developing city—no, town—lay ahead, lit by torches and faint magical lamps.

Wooden fences formed the rough outline of an outer ring.

Beyond them lay rows of simple but sturdy houses, smoke drifting gently from chimneys, and people cooking, talking, and laughing.

It was alive.

Too alive.

Lyratheia's lips parted slightly.

'This many humans and demi-humans in the heart of Rugarda? Without being eaten?'

She slipped between groups unnoticed, her steps as light as falling petals.

Families walked about safely.

Merchants packed up their stalls.

Children ran in the streets—none of them afraid of beasts or nightfall.

"Impossible," she muttered.

She wandered deeper.

Past workers carrying lumber …

Past hunters returning with massive game …

Past guards moving in neat patrols—not sloppy mercenaries, but trained, disciplined watchers.

And then—

As she crossed the inner threshold, where the homes grew sturdier, cleaner, and elegantly built—

Her heart stilled.

Even the weakest people here—those sweeping porches, those chatting grandmother types—radiated strength.

E-rank, at worst.

"Ridiculous…" she whispered. "No city in the world trains its citizens like this."

The common people in any city in the world were powerless, F-rank at best.

But here, even the weakest, the children, were E-ranked.

She couldn't see their status window like Kael, but as she was older than anything around here, she could feel it.

Her eyes narrowed because the power wasn't all that she noticed.

This place functioned too well.

Too efficiently.

No infighting.

No tension.

No hunger.

Mana flowed through the streets like an invisible river, drawn by some powerful core she could not yet sense.

Then—

A flutter of mana above her.

Lyratheia tensed immediately.

High above the inner district floated a figure with silver hair and golden eyes—eyes that seemed to peel back layers of the world.

Selene.

Her white dress fluttered around her like moonlight-made cloth.

Her expression was calm.

But her senses…

Sharp enough to slice stone.

She paused mid-flight as her gaze locked onto Lyratheia.

And Lyratheia felt it—that predatory sense of detection that only belonged to one who had seen far too many fates.

Selene slowly descended, landing a few meters away.

Her gold eyes remained steady.

Her voice was soft but carried a weight that tugged on the air. "…You do not belong here."

Lyratheia raised an eyebrow.

Her disguise, or more like her human form, was flawless—no stray mana leaking, no root signature showing.

Yet this girl saw through her the moment she looked.

"Bold of you to say to a traveler," Lyratheia answered smoothly.

"A traveler," Selene repeated, expression unreadable. "With mana far denser than any traveler should possess."

Her calm steps closed the distance. "Who are you? And what are you doing in Kael's city?"

Lyratheia chuckled softly. "Oh? So the name was not just a delusion of that bear. There really is a Kael ruling this… surprisingly well-tended settlement."

Selene's eyes narrowed.

It was subtle, but the air tightened around them.

"If you know his name, then you are not merely wandering. I will ask again."

Her voice slid into a dangerous whisper. "Who are you?"

Lyratheia tilted her head coyly, one finger tapping her cheek.

"You may call me Lyratheia. As for the rest… perhaps it's best if your fake dragon 'Kael'—"

Before the Dryad could finish her words, Selene's aura flared.

She wasn't a fighter, but hearing someone call Kael, who had changed her life and given it meaning, fake didn't sit well with her.

She knew that even if she couldn't fight well, she could send a signal.

Lyratheia stepped back slightly, vines itching beneath her skin.

"…So you want to fight?" the dryad murmured, half-amused. "I thought I was being perfectly polite."

"You stepped into the inner district. That alone makes you suspicious."

"Oh, please. I've stepped into kingdoms far older than this—"

"And yet," Selene said, lifting a hand, "you are hiding your true form."

The air crackled.

Lyratheia's smile sharpened.

"You're perceptive. I'll give you that much. But don't think—"

Her vines surged beneath her clothes.

Selene's fate-light spiraled upward.

A clash was inevitable.

Mana thickened between them.

The night wind held its breath.

And just as the first spark of combat flickered—

—shff—

A ripple blurred space.

And a figure materialized between the two women, coat swirling with lazy elegance.

Kael didn't even look like he had teleported.

He looked like he was always meant to stand there.

One hand casually tucked in his pocket.

Golden eyes half-lidded.

Expression mildly curious.

"Ladies," he said, voice smooth and relaxed, "why does it feel like you're about to make my evening less peaceful?"

Selene straightened at once, her mana calming, while Lyratheia froze mid-step.

Kael looked between them, then at Lyratheia.

His gaze lingered.

"…A dryad," he murmured calmly.

Her eyes widened.

'He recognized me instantly?'

Kael tilted his head.

"And not just any dryad. You've got the scent of an ancient grove clinging to you. The kind with roots older than most of this forest."

Lyratheia felt her breath hitch.

Her guise—flawless to almost every being in the forest—felt paper-thin before him.

'This man… this lazy-looking human… is the one Druvarn bows to?'

Kael smiled faintly, not unkindly. "So, are you here to fight, to visit, or to cause trouble?"

He paused, stepping closer to the dryad. "I don't mind any of the three—" he leaned forward "—just tell me which one so I know whether to offer tea or start stretching."

Lyratheia stared at him.

Speechless.

Completely unprepared.

For he was a "master" far more terrifying—and far more effortlessly charming—than she ever imagined.

In the end, she sighed, knowing that she wouldn't win if she were to fight.

"I'm not here to fight. That dumb bear—I mean, Druvarn called me here."

Hearing her words, Kael raised a brow. "Well, why are you sneaking around then? Had you knocked at our door, we would've welcomed you warmly."

Lyratheia, staring at the man, who Druvarn had said was a dragon, didn't know what to say.

She couldn't read him.

She didn't know how he would react to her words, so she did the best thing she could think of.

"My apologies. I'll do that the next time I come."

Kael nodded, turning toward Selene. "Take our guest to the house, and treat them with some tea. I'll be there with Druvarn."

After saying that, he didn't even wait for her response and snapped his fingers.

—shff—

Just like that, he was gone, leaving Lyratheia and Selene staring at each other.

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

Meanwhile, in the Deepwoods Village that Lyratheia Ruled.

The forest was quieter than normal.

Too quiet.

The villagers moved about with their usual dreamy pace—tending fires, weaving baskets, and humming old Dryad-taught songs.

But something in the air had shifted the moment Lyratheia vanished into the deeper wood, her presence withdrawing like a tide.

Vaelen stood at the edge of the central clearing, hands trembling.

At first, he merely thought the fog in his skull was returning—the haze that had clouded him for weeks, muffling thoughts, turning instincts syrup-slow.

But this time…

The fog broke.

A sharp breath tore from his lungs.

His vision snapped into clarity.

Memory returned like a blade to the chest.

Cold blue eyes widened as events flooded in—his journey to track the scattered demihumans… rumors of a "dragon" in Veldora… the moment roots coiled around his mind, not body… the whisper that wasn't his own thought…

His teeth clenched.

A muscle jumped in his jaw.

"…Lyratheia."

The name left his mouth like poison.

Of all the region lord beasts in Rugarda, she was the one he did not want to cross.

She was an ancient Dryad whose control magic could enslave armies—yet he, with his stubborn will, had held out far longer than she realized.

Long enough to retain shreds of himself.

Long enough that when she left the village unguarded… the remnants of her influence finally snapped.

And now he was awake.

Truly awake.

He looked around the village—the people tending the communal fire, the children running barefoot, laughing, unaware how close they were to being tools, puppets, fuel.

Killing them would be easy.

A message to the Dryad. A piece of revenge.

His hand twitched.

But then the smallest memories drifted up—an old woman offering him soup on a cold night, a child placing flowers on his lap when he sat alone, and the hunters greeting him each morning as if he were their big brother.

He exhaled slowly.

"…They're victims too."

He stepped back, wind stirring his hair as determination hardened his expression.

There was no time.

Lyratheia would return soon enough, and he wanted to be leagues away when she realized her hold had broken.

Vaelen turned toward the distant horizon, picking a random direction to move into.

Without another word, he vanished into the forest's shadows, leaving behind the village… and the chains he'd finally broken.

All he wished for was not to encounter another region lord, as they might eat him instead of enslaving him.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.