The basement smelled worse than last time.
Dust. Rust. And pure, concentrated attitude.
I descended the spiral staircase with a lantern in hand, each creak echoing like a countdown to my humiliation.
The chains clinked faintly before I even reached the bottom.
And there it was.
The miniature menace.
Brown-scaled, red-eyed, sitting on a pile of broken crates like a smug monarch waiting for his peasant to kneel.
Pixie yawned. "Oh. The human returns. I was hoping you'd died from stress."
"…Good evening to you too."
He tilted his head. "You look worse. Studying doesn't suit you."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
I approached carefully, holding up my lantern. "I'm here to form a pact."
Pixie's wings twitched. "A pact?" The dragon's tone dripped disbelief. "You? Form a pact? With me?"
"Yeah." I said flatly. "I've been doing my homework."
Pixie floated down, circling me like a shark with wings. "The last time you came here,you ran, and didn't come back for three days. What happened ?"
"…Character development."
The dragon's tail flicked. "Cute words. Do you even know what kind of pact I require?"
"Of course I do!" I said confidently, then froze.
"…Mostly."
Pixie grinned, revealing tiny but wickedly sharp fangs. "Then say it. What's the ritual, human?"
I swallowed. "D-drinking your blood."
He snorted. "You sound disgusted."
"I am disgusted!"
You're a flying lizard, not a wine bottle!
I screamed internally.
The dragon laughed so hard he actually rolled midair. "And yet, here you are, begging to drink my blood. The mighty heir of Dravara reduced to a mosquito."
I clenched my teeth. "Are you going to cooperate or not?"
Pixie hovered close, his glowing eyes meeting mine. "Hmm. Convince me."
"Convince you?"
Pixie's voice slithered through the cold air, his red eyes narrowing.
"You're the one who trapped me here, feared me—and now you're talking about drinking dragon blood?"
He floated closer, small wings glinting under the lantern light. "You know what happens when a Dravara drinks dragon blood?"
I stayed silent.
Pixie leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "They need to keep drinking it."
What—wait—WHAT!? That was not in the scroll!
Pixie smirked. "A Dravara shares blood with a dragon, and gains abundant power. Now tell me—why should I share that power with you?"
This damn tiny lizard was too clever for his size.But if I was going to tame the others, he had to cooperate.
Shouldn't he be grateful? Like—yay, reunion with his dragon buddies or something?
"I'll tame the other dragons too," I said firmly.
"And I need your help."
Pixie blinked once. Then—
He exploded into laughter.
"Hahahahahahaha! You—haha—you WHAT? Oh, you brat! You couldn't even tame me, and now you're talking about greater dragons!? What gives you that much confidence!?"
"I know where the other dragons are," I said quietly.
That shut him up.
His wings froze mid-flap. "You're lying."
"If you knew," he hissed, "you wouldn't be alive right now. The thought of a dragon is enough to drive people insane. And you— the son of Dravara—claim to know their locations? Nice try, kiddo. Now get lost. I'm not giving my blood to a lying bastard."
He turned away, his tail swishing like an annoyed cat.
"Moon dragon Luna," I said. "She'll open her eyes again in a week."
Pixie froze. The look on his face—oh, priceless.
"And how do you know that?" he demanded.
I smirked inwardly.
Because I read the book, you lizard.
But aloud, I only said, "You wanna bet?"
Pixie squinted. "Why would I bet with you?"
"Let me drink your blood."
He snorted. "Don't blindly trust those scrolls. Drinking my blood alone won't bind us. I need to drink yours too. But why should I?"
"On the night of the Lunar Rise," I said, "I'll leave my blood here. If you believe me—drink it. Then come to the royal ball."
Pixie smirked. "Hah! This damn brat…"
Let's be honest—I was terrified. Never in my life did I think I'd be discussing blood exchange etiquette with a talking lizard. What am I, a vampire? A savage!?
But before I could even blink, Pixie snapped his claws—
and an emerald glass bowl appeared out of thin air.
Then he poured at least a kilogram of blood into it.
"Drink," he said flatly. "Finish the bowl. Then I'll think about it."
I stared. "Where the hell did that much come from!? You're the size of a chicken!!"
"Do you want the power or not, brat?"
"Fine!" I snatched the bowl, clutching it like my life depended on it—which it probably did—and ran out of the basement before my sanity changed its mind. Not a drop spilled. Guess my old army reflexes still worked.
And, of course, waiting right outside the door—Argos.
And behind him—Lord Lancel Dravara himself.
"You finally did it, son," Lancel said proudly.
"I… still haven't drunk it yet," I muttered, gulping.
He patted my shoulder, "It's already midnight." His smile widened—like a man who just won the royal lottery. "Go to your room. Finish your work. And tomorrow, join your mother for royal lessons."
That look on his face screamed: My useless son finally did something productive. I will BRAG about this all week.
"Good night, young master," Argos added, clearly pitying me.
I sighed.
Walking back through the corridors, bowl of dragon blood in hand, I couldn't even feel my legs.
Four days since I last slept. Four days since my sanity started cracking.
And now—here I was, holding a glowing bowl of questionable liquid, about to commit magical cannibalism for the sake of power.
What could possibly go wrong?
***
The room was buried under scrolls—piled, scattered, and open.
Argos had delivered every single one I'd asked for, though even he didn't dare question why.
Smart man.
I sat on the cold marble floor, the emerald bowl before me.
My legs trembled. My hands shook.
Hell, even my organs felt like they were shivering.
The scent of the blood was thick—metallic and wrong.
And I knew the moment I drank it, I'd be less of a human.
Not that anyone in this world was really human.
Phoenixes, bats, wolves, spirits, elves—every damn being here was something else pretending to be people.
And now me? I was about to join their masquerade.
Not as a vampire, not as a beast—but as something between man and dragon.
Great. Totally normal life choices!
I took a deep breath and lifted the bowl.
The blood was thin and moist.
My throat convulsed. I almost vomited.
But… something inside me stopped it.
Something telling me, to tame the dragon it's just the beginning. There's going to be worst cases further.
Maybe Yurio really was a Dravara after all.
In the mirror before me, my reflection twisted.
My pupils bled red. My short hair uncoiled, growing longer until the ribbon holding it snapped and fluttered to the floor.
"Ah… hah… hah…" I gasped.
Too hot.
Too damn hot.
The air thickened around me. I tore at my clothes until they fell in a heap. The glow in my eyes and hair flared, pulsing in rhythm with my racing heart.
The bowl trembled in my hands.
And then I did it.
I tilted my head back and drank—every last drop.
The blood slid down like fire, but the aftertaste was strangely bittersweet… it lacked salt.
"Now I get it…" I panted. "Why the Pixie said the Dravara needs dragon blood."
Because once you taste it—you can't go back.
A high-pitched sound sliced through my skull.
Chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii—
"The fuck—" I clutched my head. My ears rang, my vision blurred.
My pulse became thunder.
And then—
Darkness swallowed everything.