The forest was quiet that afternoon, filled only with the hum of cicadas and the rustling of leaves swayed by the breeze. A young boy, no older than eleven, stood in front of a massive shadow sprawled against the trees. His small hands trembled as he held a pouch filled with herbs and crushed medicine.
Before him lay a dragon—wings torn, scales cracked, bleeding from a battle unknown to the boy. The beast hissed, smoke curling from its nostrils, golden eyes narrowing in warning. Any other human child would have fled, yet this boy took a step closer.
"I… I just want to help," the boy whispered, his red eyes soft but unwavering.
The dragon flared its nostrils, suspicious. Yet when the boy's soul radiated a faint warmth—gentle, untainted malice—the great beast lowered its head and allowed him near. The boy carefully applied the medicine to the dragon's injured wing, his tiny fingers pressing the paste against scales that shimmered faintly in the dappled sunlight.
"There," the boy said after a long pause, brushing his forehead with the back of his hand. "It still hurts, right? But this will make it better."
For the first time, the dragon looked at him not with hostility but with curiosity. His golden eyes softened as he rumbled deeply.
"You are strange, little one… Why do you not fear me?"
The boy blinked, tilting his head. "Why should I? You're hurt. People need help when they're hurt."
The dragon's gaze lingered on him. That light—glowing faintly from within the boy's soul—was what drew him in. It was not power, not ambition, but kindness. Something rare, something he had not seen in centuries.
"What is your name, human child?" the dragon asked.
The boy smiled brightly, brushing dirt from his tunic. "My name is Kael!"
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From that day forward, Kael always came to the forest. No matter the season—rain or sunshine—he would find his way to the clearing where the dragon rested. Sometimes he carried flowers, sometimes books stolen from the orphanage shelves, sometimes he brought nothing but chatter. And always, the dragon waited.
The beast, who once devoured ships at sea and scorched armies from the sky, now found himself listening to the laughter of a child. He told Kael stories of battles, of distant lands, of kings who once trembled at his shadow. In return, the boy shared stories of the orphanage, of the palace where he sometimes worked, and of his dreams.
One day, as they sat together, Kael tilted his head. "You always tell me stories, but… what's your name?"
The dragon stilled. "I have no name, young human. Some call me the Guardian of Delcra. Others, the Sea Destroyer. Some fear me as the Sky Grim Reaper. I am all these things… and none."
Kael frowned, shaking his head. "That's sad. Everyone should have a name. How can I call you my friend if I don't know your name?"
The dragon blinked. No human had ever called him friend.
Kael then looked up, squinting at the sunlight that streamed through the canopy. The beams struck the dragon's scales, scattering light like fractured gemstones. His eyes widened in wonder.
"Then your name will be Licht," Kael declared. "Because your scales shine so beautifully when the light touches them. Like the sun itself."
For the first time in his long life, the dragon smiled. His great body trembled with something unfamiliar, something warm. "Licht…" he repeated softly. "So be it."
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Time passed. Their meetings became the brightest part of Licht's days. But one afternoon, Kael's expression was troubled.
"Licht… I can't come here anymore."
The dragon stirred. "What do you mean?"
"The palace sent for me. They want me to serve there. I… I'll be living in the capital." Kael's voice wavered as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "This might be the last time I see you."
Licht's heart, ancient and scarred, ached in a way he had long forgotten. He lowered his massive head, exhaling slowly. "So this is farewell."
Kael's eyes brimmed with tears, but he nodded.
"…Then take this," Licht rumbled. His claw scraped against the earth, revealing a black stone that glimmered faintly. It was no ordinary jewel, but a crystal born from sorrow. He nudged it forward.
"This is my tear. Dragons rarely cry. But when we do… our grief becomes stone. Carry it with you, Kael. One day, you will need it."
The boy picked it up, and as his small fingers curled around it, the stone flared with light. Kael gasped softly.
"Thank you, Licht. I'll treasure it forever."
The dragon looked at him for a long moment, then spoke again, his voice resonant with weight.
"Listen well, Kael. In a few years, your life will change. The world will demand of you more than you can imagine. But you must stay strong… and kind. Save those who cannot save themselves."
Kael clutched the stone to his chest, nodding fiercely. "I promise."
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Years later, Licht lay slumbering within his mountain nest. The forest outside had changed, humans built cities, seasons passed, yet he remained alone. Without Kael's presence, silence pressed heavier than it once did.
Then, one day, his eyes shot open.
The world pulsed—bright, radiant. It was a light unlike any he had felt before. He rose slowly, stretching his vast wings, a smile curling across his maw.
"So… it has begun," he whispered, gazing towards the distant capital where the light shone brightest. "The boy who gave me a name… has been chosen as a Hero."
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Deep inside the heart of the mountain, Licht lay in his nest of stone and silver roots, his body curled, wings folded tight. He had long since withdrawn from the world outside. The earth trembled with the clash of humans and demons, but he did not stir. Once, long ago, he had walked upon battlefields, his shadow striking fear into soldiers and kings alike. But now, he remained within his cavern, waiting.
Waiting for the boy.
Kael had never promised him, never said the words. But Licht wished—no, he believed—that one day Kael would return, asking him to fight by his side. Only then would he take to the skies again. Until then, he could not move. That was the law of his existence, the binding thread of his soul: he would only rise at Kael's call.
The gift Kael had given him still remained. A small seed the boy once pressed into his hand had taken root beneath the dragon's nest. Over time, the barren stone blossomed with life. Fragile flowers grew, their pale petals glowing faintly in the dim cavern. Each time Licht opened his eyes, those blossoms reminded him of the warmth of that young boy's hands, the boy who had once called him friend.
"I miss you," Licht whispered, his deep voice echoing softly through the cavern. "But I cannot come to you… not unless you ask."
For years he slumbered, dreaming of sunlit forests and the sound of Kael's laughter.
But then—everything changed.
Shadows crept into his cavern. The air grew thick with foul mana as demons intruded upon his sacred nest. Their chants reverberated against the walls, black incantations weaving around him like chains.
Licht roared, thrashing, wings striking against the stone. The earth quaked as his fury tore through the mountain. But the dark spell coiled tighter, searing into his veins, binding his spirit with corruption. He clawed at the ground, refusing, resisting, until the last of his strength waned.
The demons laughed as they tightened their hold.
Through the haze of pain, Licht's golden eyes fell upon the flowers Kael had planted. Their petals trembled under the wind of his struggles, but their light did not fade. His heart clenched.
I cannot fail you.
With the last fragment of his will, Licht tore off a piece of his soul, condensing it into a fragile crimson butterfly. He hid it, releasing it into the shadows where the demons could not see.
"Go…" his voice cracked like thunder inside his own chest. "Find him. Protect Kael… no matter what becomes of me."
The butterfly fluttered once, twice, before vanishing into the night.
Then the spell sank fully into his mind. Darkness consumed him.
The demons twisted his memories, poisoning his heart. They showed him visions—images of a family he never had, slaughtered by human hands. They planted lies in his soul: that he had been betrayed, that humans deserved only his wrath.
And so, with tears hidden inside his soul, he became their weapon.
The Guardian of Delcra became its Destroyer. Entire cities burned beneath his wings. Flames swallowed homes, screams rose into the sky, rivers boiled. Yet as he scorched the land, his true self wept silently within. This is not me. This is not what he would have wanted.
Then, on one cursed day, Kael stood before him.
Not the small boy who once smiled and named him, but the Hero—the warrior chosen by fate. The one the world demanded to slay him.
The boy he had waited for had returned… not as a friend, but as an executioner.
Bound by chains of black magic, Licht tried to resist. His wings shook violently as he fought the commands in his mind. His heart screamed his denial, but his body obeyed the curse.
Kael's sword pierced through his heart.
A cry left Licht's throat, half agony, half release. For a moment, the spell wavered. His eyes cleared, and he saw him—not the Hero, not the killer—but Kael. His Kael. The boy who once touched his scales with gentle hands.
"Kael…"
He could not speak the words aloud, but his gaze said everything. His eyes widened when he saw Kael's tears falling, dripping onto his scales like the day the boy had given him a name.
Kael's hand trembled on the hilt, his breath breaking. "Goodbye, my friend," he whispered, voice cracking under the weight of his grief. "I'm sorry… I was too late to save you."
Licht closed his eyes, a single tear sliding down his cheek.
And then, with a swift motion, Kael sliced through his neck, ending his suffering.
The dragon's massive body fell still, and for the first time in centuries, the cavern grew silent. Yet within that silence, the crimson butterfly continued to fly, carrying the last unbroken piece of Licht's soul—forever watching, forever protecting Kael.
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Though Licht's body had fallen that day, his other soul endured. The crimson butterfly lingered in the world, unseen by mortal eyes. From the shadows of time, he became Kael's silent companion.
He watched.
He watched Kael grow from the young boy he once knew into the Hero of legend. He saw him fight on countless battlefields, surrounded by new comrades. The boy who had once tended to an injured dragon now fought with a blade of light, standing against the darkness of the world.
What made Licht's soul stir with pride was not Kael's victories, but his heart. Even on the battlefield, Kael showed mercy. To enemies who surrendered, to demons who laid down their weapons, Kael spared their lives. He was strong, but he was also kind—just as Licht had once told him to be.
Be strong. Be kind.
Kael had never forgotten.
What touched Licht even more deeply was the weapon Kael carried. A sword forged from the dragon's tear—the farewell gift Licht had given him as a child. Kael never let it go. He wielded it with reverence, as if the blade itself were a part of his soul. Every time it gleamed under the sun, Licht felt as though he still stood by Kael's side.
The butterfly concealed itself from Kael's eyes, unwilling to disturb him. Yet even from the shadows, he bore witness to every step of Kael's journey.
Until that fateful day.
The battle against the Demon King.
Licht's soul trembled as he watched Kael clash with the embodiment of darkness. The fight tore the heavens apart, shook the land, and shattered the sky itself. With every strike, Kael bled, his body breaking under the curse that gnawed at his soul.
And yet—he fought on.
Finally, with a desperate cry, Kael delivered the final blow. The Demon King fell. The war was ended.
But victory came with a price.
The curse spread through Kael's body like black fire, burning away his strength. His knees buckled, his chest heaved, and he staggered forward, blood soaking his garments. The butterfly's wings quivered as it hovered near, powerless.
Then Kael turned.
Slowly, weakly, he looked over his shoulder—right where the butterfly drifted. His crimson-gold eyes, clouded with pain, locked onto it.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"…So… you were here… all this time." His voice was broken, yet tender. "Thank you… for watching over me."
The butterfly froze, its wings trembling. For the first time, Licht realized Kael had always known.
Summoning his final strength, Kael lifted his sword—the blade forged from Licht's tear. His fingers shook, his breath ragged.
"I… can't let this curse… consume me." His voice wavered, but his eyes were resolute.
With one final strike, Kael shattered the blade into five fragments. Light burst from the steel, scattering across the battlefield like falling stars.
The next moment, his body collapsed.
"Kael!" Licht's soul cried, but no sound escaped his fragile butterfly form. He fluttered down, desperately circling Kael's limp figure. He could feel it—the curse clawing at Kael's soul, threatening to drag him into oblivion.
He could not let that happen.
Not to him.
Not to his friend.
The butterfly beat its wings, flying toward the scattered sword fragments. Each shard still carried the warmth of Kael's soul, bound by his final act of will.
Gathering the last of his strength, Licht pressed himself into the fragments. His crimson glow sank into the steel, merging with its broken pieces.
"Kael…" his voice echoed faintly as his essence poured into the shards. "Even if it costs me my soul, I will protect you. Always."
The butterfly's form dissolved, its light sinking deep into the fragments of the broken blade.
And so, Licht was gone—yet not gone. His spirit intertwined with the remnants of the sword, waiting for the day when Kael would rise again.
For even in death, a dragon's vow could never be broken.