The Dragon Emperor of Another World: Awakening of a Legend

CHAPTER 4: Shadows at the Inn

Late one night, beneath the amber glow of lantern light, Ethan Lockwood and Celestia Draconyx settled into a modest room at a quiet inn in Feya Town. Though the fire in the hearth offered warmth and comfort, unease lingered in the air like the heavy scent of rain before a storm. The events of the day—dodging Syndicate watchers, enduring the stares of strangers, and surviving whispers in alleyways—had left their nerves on edge.

Celestia, now in her humanoid form, paced by the window. Her long, silver-white hair glimmered beneath the flickering candlelight, her features regal yet sharp. Even here, in the supposed safety of a room above a tavern, her instincts remained coiled like a serpent.

“You keep staring,” she said, voice teasing yet measured.

Ethan smiled faintly. “Just appreciating the view.”

Her crimson eyes met his with a spark of amusement. “Careful. Flattery won’t save you if trouble comes knocking.”

Trouble, as it turned out, didn’t knock. It kicked the door down.

A burst of force shattered the wooden frame, and masked Syndicate assassins swarmed in—blades gleaming, cloaks fluttering like shadows come to life.

“Finally,” Celestia growled, shadows curling around her hands. “I was getting bored.”

Ethan’s greatsword was already in hand. “Time to show them what happens when you knock on the wrong door.”

The battle erupted with violent precision. One attacker lunged at Ethan, but the Arcane Godslayer Gear absorbed the strike with a dull thud. Ethan countered with a sweeping arc, knocking the man into the far wall.

Celestia moved like smoke. Her dark magic wrapped around her arms, coiling into twin whips that lashed outward. One whip ensnared an assassin by the ankle, yanking him into the ceiling, while the other silenced a scream with a crushing strike to the throat.

The Syndicate had underestimated them.

From the hallway, more enemies emerged—a trio of sword-wielders and a robed spellcaster. Ethan spotted runes glowing on the mage’s wrist just as a bolt of energy surged toward them.

The magical pouch at Ethan’s hip glowed. A barrier burst to life in front of him, absorbing the hit.

“Auto-shield,” Ethan muttered. “Now that’s new.”

Celestia didn’t wait. She launched forward, twin spheres of compressed shadow spinning in her palms. The spellcaster barely had time to scream before darkness consumed him.

Ethan met the swordsmen head-on, his blade clashing with theirs in a blinding dance of steel and sparks. He ducked, rolled, and countered with brutal efficiency. One foe dropped with a fractured collarbone; another fell to a reverse slash across the chest. The third tried to run but was stopped cold by Celestia’s magic spear.

The fight was over.

“Five minutes,” Ethan panted. “We cleared them in five minutes.”

“Too long,” Celestia replied, glancing at the innkeeper peeking up the stairs with a trembling lantern.

Ethan tossed the man a pouch of silver. “Sorry about the mess.”

By sunrise, they were gone. Feya Town, once a place of opportunity, had become a trap. With packs loaded and weapons ready, they slipped into the Suya Forest—a wild expanse of ancient trees and forgotten ruins. The world around them turned emerald and gold, sunlight threading through high branches like liquid fire.

The forest was breathtaking. But beauty often masked danger.

“They’ll follow,” Ethan said as they walked. “We embarrassed them. They won’t forget that.”

“Let them,” Celestia murmured. “I need the exercise.”

They didn’t get far before danger found them. A troop of chimeras ambushed near a stream—creatures with leonine jaws, scorpion tails, and reptilian claws. They attacked in coordinated bursts.

“Right flank!” Celestia called, already in motion.

Ethan’s blade whistled through the air, severing a chimera’s tail as it struck. Another lunged at him from behind—Celestia intercepted it mid-leap with a shadow spear to the chest.

They moved as one. Ethan lured the beasts toward the stream while Celestia struck from cover, her illusions disorienting the enemy’s sense of space. He used the terrain—tree roots, narrow paths, slippery rocks—to control their movement.

In one final charge, Ethan unleashed a blade skill—Void Arc Slash. The technique tore through the final two chimeras in a luminous purple sweep.

The beasts fell.

Ethan knelt beside the corpses, wiping blood from his cheek. “We need a break.”

Celestia stood nearby, watching the horizon. “We don’t have time for one.”

They pushed deeper into the Suya Forest. Days passed in tense travel. Along the way, they refined their teamwork—Celestia crafting traps of shadow that sapped stamina, Ethan enhancing his detection pulses to predict ambushes.

In hushed moments, they laughed. Shared stories. Celestia confessed she once burned down a noble estate because someone insulted her tail. Ethan talked about the time he glitched into a game’s final boss chamber and had to fight his way out underleveled.

But always, the tension returned.

Tracks followed them. Smoke rose in the distance. Shadows lingered too long.

“The Syndicate won’t give up,” Ethan said one evening as they set up camp beside a fallen log.

“They want the pouch,” Celestia replied, narrowing her eyes at the darkening woods.

Ethan touched the pouch. It hummed against his palm. “They’ll never get it.”

“Even if it kills you?” she asked.

His gaze met hers. “It won’t.”