The Dragon Emperor of Another World: Awakening of a Legend

CHAPTER 4: Shadows

Late that same night, an amber lantern glow danced across the walls of their cramped inn room. The small hearthfire offered warmth, but it did little to dispel the tension coiled in the air like a serpent ready to strike. After the trials of the day—dodging Syndicate spies, enduring hostile stares, and whispering of danger around every corner—both Ethan and Celestia remained on edge.

Celestia stood by the single window, peering through a gap in the shutters at the empty moonlit street below. Her long silver-white hair shimmered in the flickering light, and her obsidian scales caught the glow each time she shifted. Even in this moment of vigilance, there was a grace in her stance that Ethan couldn’t help but admire.

He sat on the edge of his cot, absentmindedly fiddling with the strap of his gauntlet. His gaze kept drifting to Celestia. The way her horns curved elegantly and the determined set of her jaw were highlighted by the gentle light—it was a rare moment to appreciate her beauty amid constant danger.

“You keep staring,” Celestia said, her back still to him. Despite the tension, her voice carried a note of teasing.

Ethan huffed a soft laugh. “Just appreciating the view while I can.”

She cast a sidelong glance at him, lips curving ever so slightly. “Careful. Flattery won’t save you when trouble comes knocking.”

He was about to retort when—CRACK!

Trouble didn’t knock. It kicked the door straight off its hinges.

A burst of force shattered the wooden frame, and masked figures in dark cloaks swarmed into the room—blades gleaming, movements swift and silent like living shadows.

“Finally,” Celestia snarled, a fierce grin flashing across her face as inky black magic curled around her fists. “I was getting bored.”

Ethan was already in motion. He snatched up his greatsword from the table and placed himself back-to-back with Celestia. Three attackers rushed forward—two with short swords, one with twin daggers. Their eyes behind their masks were cold and focused.

One assassin lunged at Ethan, a short sword arcing toward his ribs. The blade struck Ethan’s breastplate with a dull thud—the Arcane Godslayer armor held strong, sparing him a fatal wound. Ethan countered with a powerful sweep of his sword, the steel edge catching the attacker in the side and sending the man crashing into the dresser.

Celestia moved like smoke. With a graceful whirl, she lashed out with twin whips of shadow that extended from her hands. One whip coiled around a dagger-wielder’s ankle, yanking him off his feet and sending him headfirst into the ceiling beam. The other whip wrapped around the neck of a sword-wielder, and with a wrench of Celestia’s arm, the attacker’s attempted shout turned into a choked gurgle. She released the tendril and the man collapsed, gasping.

From the hallway outside came the thudding of more footsteps—reinforcements. Another trio of dark-clad assailants surged through the ruined doorway, and behind them, a robed figure began to chant under his breath, hands crackling with green arcane energy.

Ethan barely had time to register the spellcaster before a bolt of emerald lightning hissed toward him and Celestia. Scritch-BOOM! The air split with the smell of ozone.

He threw up his arms to shield himself—

THOOM! A shimmering barrier of light flared into existence inches from Ethan’s face, just in time to catch the crackling bolt. The magical shield dissipated the attack in a shower of sparks.

Ethan glanced down in astonishment at the leather pouch on his belt, which was glowing faintly. “The pouch,” he breathed, realizing it had projected an automatic defense. “Handy little thing.”

Celestia didn’t waste the opening. She barreled straight for the spellcaster before he could unleash a second spell. With a feral snarl, she summoned a javelin of solidified darkness and hurled it. The shadowy spear struck true, impaling the robed man’s shoulder and pinning him against the corridor wall. He slumped, unconscious or worse.

Meanwhile, Ethan found himself fending off two sword-wielders at once in the cramped quarters of the room. Steel clashed in brilliant arcs as he parried one blade, then ducked another slash aimed at his neck. He drove his elbow into one attacker’s gut, hearing a satisfying oof, then followed up with a pommel strike to the man’s temple. The assailant crumpled.

The remaining intruder hesitated, seeing his comrades either down or dead. He feinted toward Ethan, then abruptly turned and bolted for the window—preferring a drop to the street.

“Oh no you don’t,” Celestia hissed.

She thrust out a clawed hand. A coil of darkness shot from the shadows of the room, spearing into the fleeing man’s thigh. He cried out, toppling half-way through the window frame and hanging there, suspended by Celestia’s spell. With a flick of her wrist, she dragged him back inside, dumping him on the floor with a heavy thud. A swift kick to the head ensured he wouldn’t be getting up again.

Just like that, the fight was over.

Ethan stood in the wreckage of the door, chest heaving and sword still at the ready, listening for any more footsteps in the hall. None came. Only the crackle of the hearth and Celestia’s breathing broke the silence.

“Five minutes,” Ethan panted, adrenaline still coursing through him. “We… we cleared them out in five minutes.”

“Too long,” Celestia replied, though her taut posture relaxed as the shadows around her hands faded. She cast a glance at the quivering innkeeper who had been roused by the noise and now peeked up the stairs, lantern in hand and eyes wide with terror.

Ethan winced at the scene: splintered wood, unconscious or dead attackers strewn about. He lowered his sword and raised his free hand to the innkeeper in a placating gesture. “Sorry about the mess,” he managed, chest still rising and falling rapidly. He reached into a pouch and tossed the man a coin purse heavy with silver. “For the damages. And for your silence. You didn’t see us, understand?”

The innkeeper caught the pouch on reflex. He nodded shakily, clearly eager to be away from whatever trouble had just torn through his establishment. Without a word, he scurried back down the stairs.

Ethan and Celestia exchanged grim looks. The Syndicate had come at them full force—and they had survived. But staying here a moment longer would be courting death. Both of them knew it.

“Time to leave,” Celestia said quietly, already pulling a canvas travel cloak over her shoulders to obscure her distinctive features.

Ethan quickly retrieved their belongings, shoving what little they’d unpacked back into his bag. He took one last look at the carnage in the room—grim satisfaction mixing with worry. They had won this round, but the Syndicate wouldn’t give up so easily.

By the first light of dawn, the two of them had slipped out of Feya Town like ghosts, leaving behind whispers of a midnight brawl that few understood. With their packs secured and weapons at hand, they headed east, down a lonely dirt road that quickly gave way to untamed wilderness.

They didn’t stop moving until the town’s silhouette was a memory and the Suya Forest stretched endlessly before them. Ancient trees loomed overhead, their interlocking branches forming a high canopy that bathed the forest floor in emerald twilight. Ethan and Celestia paused at the threshold of this primal woodland only long enough to share a nod. Then, together, they plunged into the green gloom.

The forest welcomed them with birdsong and the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush. It was a deceptive welcome; Suya’s beauty was known to hide countless dangers. Nevertheless, compared to the malice of scheming assassins, even lurking monsters felt like a relief.

As morning wore on, golden shafts of sunlight pierced through the foliage here and there, illuminating patches of moss and clusters of luminescent fungi. Ethan found his tensed nerves easing slightly under the forest’s spell. Yet his hand never strayed far from his sword, and Celestia’s ears twitched at the slightest abnormal sound.

“They’ll follow our trail,” Ethan said during a brief pause by a crystal-clear stream. He splashed the cool water on his face, scrubbing away the last traces of smoke and blood. “We embarrassed them. They won’t just give up.”

“Let them,” Celestia murmured, though her eyes were as hard as garnet. “We could use the exercise.” Despite her bravado, she reinforced her declaration by muttering a quick incantation and pressing a hand to a tree trunk. Dark magic pulsed and the bark twisted, closing up the gash their passage had made—hiding their tracks.

They moved on, deeper into Suya’s embrace. Hours passed, marked only by the changing chorus of forest life. They navigated around colossal trees wrapped in glowing vines and waded through knee-high fern groves. Once, they stumbled into a meadow filled with soft blue flowers that released clouds of glittering spores when disturbed—Ethan sneezed them out for ten minutes while Celestia quietly laughed behind her hand.

But danger was never far.

It struck in the late afternoon as they traversed a rocky ravine within the forest. Without warning, the ground erupted ahead of them in a shower of dirt and leaves. A creature emerged—lion-like, but with scales instead of fur, and a long scorpion tail arched over its back. Then another, and another. Within seconds, five chimeras had encircled them, hissing and baring fangs that dripped with venom.

Ethan and Celestia found themselves back-to-back again. “Chimeras,” Celestia whispered, confirming his own guess. Each of the beasts had a different twisted combination of features—one with goat-like pupils and a snake’s body from the midsection down, another sporting two heads snapping in hungry tandem. They moved with predatory coordination.

“Right flank,” Celestia breathed, and Ethan understood. Two were creeping to their right, attempting to draw attention while the others prepared to spring.

He tightened his grip on his sword, muscles protesting from the prior night’s exertions but rallying under adrenaline’s surge. “Ready,” he whispered.

A chimera with a lion’s mane and serpent’s tail coiled, then leapt at them from the front with a bloodcurdling snarl.

“Now!” Celestia shouted.

Ethan lunged forward to meet the attacker head-on. He sidestepped its lunging claws and brought his blade down in a precise arc. The sword sheared off the stinger from the beast’s tail mid-strike, drawing a spray of acrid venom that hissed against the rocky ground. The chimera howled in agony and recoiled.

Celestia simultaneously whirled toward the right where two chimeras charged. With a sweeping gesture, she conjured a mirage of herself veering left. The simple-minded beasts fell for it—pouncing at empty air. In that heartbeat of confusion, Celestia struck. Her claws, wreathed in shadowy flame, slashed across one chimera’s throat, felling it instantly. She pivoted to the second, ducking under a wild swipe of its talons, then drove her knee into its chest with a sickening crunch. It collapsed, wheezing and broken.

Ethan had his own hands full. The tailless chimera, enraged and bleeding, lunged again with renewed ferocity. It barrelled into him with its full weight. He managed to get his sword up crosswise, catching the beast under its chin and straining to keep its snapping jaws at bay mere inches from his face. Its hot, fetid breath choked him, and venom drooled from its stump of a tail.

“Get—off!” Ethan snarled through gritted teeth. With a burst of effort, he twisted the sword, leveraging the flat of the blade against the chimera’s throat. The beast gurgled as the pressure crushed its windpipe. A final heave sent it toppling to the side, where it lay thrashing weakly. Ethan ended its suffering with a swift downward thrust.

A shriek from above. Ethan looked up to see one of the remaining chimeras—a scaly creature with the wings of a bat—diving from a perch in the trees straight at Celestia. “Above you!” he cried.

Celestia reacted instantly. Her wings (normally held tight and subtle) unfurled in a flash, propelling her backward in a powerful burst. The diving chimera missed its mark and slammed into the ground where she’d stood. Before it could recover, Celestia landed upon its back, both hands pressed to its skull. With a guttural incantation, she poured rippling shadowflame directly into the creature’s head. It thrashed once and went limp, tendrils of dark smoke wafting from its ears.

The final chimera—a brute with an especially misshapen form, like a wolf fused with a giant lizard—took stock of the carnage and decided survival trumped hunger. It bolted toward the undergrowth, trying to disappear into the dense ferns.

“Oh no you don’t,” Ethan muttered. He raised his sword, feeling the now-familiar surge of void energy course along its edge. With a shout, he unleashed a Void Arc Slash—the crescent of purple energy burst forth, cleaving through bushes and trunk before finding its fleeing target. The chimera stumbled, a deep gash across its hindquarters, and then fell silent among the roots.

The forest settled once more, the echoes of battle fading into the rustle of leaves. Ethan stood hunched, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. Celestia wiped a spatter of dark ichor from her cheek.

“That all of them?” he panted.

Celestia listened for a moment, then nodded. “For now.”

Ethan surveyed the area: five chimera bodies, some still twitching. These were not small foes, and the two of them had felled them in moments. He should have felt triumphant, but instead, he felt exhaustion crash down. The adrenaline ebbed, leaving his limbs leaden.

“We… need a break,” he said, dragging an arm across his forehead.

Celestia opened her mouth to protest, then closed it. She gave a curt nod. “A short one. This ravine will funnel anything else toward us from one direction, at least.” She jerked her chin towards a sheltered nook beneath a rocky overhang. “There.”

Gratefully, Ethan trudged over and sank down with his back against the cool stone. Celestia produced a waterskin and some dried fruits from her pack, handing half to him. They chewed in silence for a time. Above them, the high canopy swayed gently, oblivious to the vicious fight that had just played out below.

After a few minutes, Ethan glanced sideways at Celestia. She was alert, her eyes scanning their surroundings even as she nibbled a strip of dried apple. Yet the set of her shoulders betrayed weariness. He realized with a pang that she was pushing herself just as hard to keep him safe.

He reached over and placed a hand atop hers. “Hey,” he said softly. “We’re alive. That’s what matters.”

Her crimson eyes flickered to him, and the corners of her mouth lifted. “I know. But I can’t help thinking that if those Syndicate thugs catch up to us while we’re bogged down fighting monsters, it could get… messy.”

Ethan sighed. She wasn’t wrong. Every battle, every delay, increased the risk. The Syndicate wouldn’t stop, and who knew what else was stirred up out there.

As if echoing his thoughts, a pillar of distant black smoke suddenly rose above the treeline in the direction they had come from. It seemed the Syndicate “cleanup crew” had arrived at the chimera fight site—perhaps burning the evidence of magical beasts, or maybe the bodies of their own fallen assassins. Either way, it was a clear sign they were still on Ethan and Celestia’s trail.

Celestia followed his gaze to the oily column of smoke. A muscle in her jaw tightened. “They’re nothing if not persistent.”

“We’ll have to be more persistent,” Ethan replied, pushing himself up. The rest time was over. “And maybe a bit creative.”

They trekked on. By twilight, they had put the ravine and likely a few more miles between themselves and that smoke. The forest grew denser here, older. Gnarled roots jutted from the ground like the fingers of giants, and in the gloom, fireflies danced in lazy patterns.

That night, they made camp under the tangled roots of a toppled tree, its earth-crusted underside forming a natural roof. Celestia set to work laying simple wards around their perimeter—magical tripwires that would send a prickle down her spine if crossed. Ethan, clumsy with arcane arts, focused on tending a small, smokeless fire and preparing a meal from their provisions.

Over a thin rabbit stew (Celestia had managed to snare a hare shortly before dusk), they allowed themselves quiet conversation to keep morale up. Celestia recounted, with a dangerous smirk, how once a haughty nobleman in a city far to the west had insulted her tail—so she incinerated his prized carriage in retaliation.

“He stopped laughing after that,” she said, and Ethan snorted into his bowl.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he chuckled.

“Oh, you’ve been on my bad side plenty,” she countered lightly, “but somehow you always manage to charm your way back.”

He grinned at that. In the dim firelight, for a moment, they looked like any two travelers sharing a normal evening instead of fugitives from multiple foes.

Ethan, in turn, told her a story of one of his more infamous gaming escapades: how he had accidentally glitched into a raid boss chamber with no support, under-leveled and alone, and by sheer stubbornness and exploitation of every bug he knew, he somehow triumphed after an all-night fight.

Celestia shook her head in disbelief. “Only you, Ethan, would turn a disaster into a win by being too stubborn to die.”

Her words were meant in jest, but they warmed him. Too stubborn to die—it wasn’t a bad motto for their current circumstances.

At the edge of their firelight, eyes glittered in the dark. For a tense second, Ethan reached for his sword. But it was only a curious fox, slinking by. It disappeared into the bushes, leaving them alone again.

“We need a plan,” Celestia said quietly once the last of the stew was scraped from the pot. “We can’t just keep reacting to everything. We should choose our next move—something to put us ahead for once.”

Ethan had been mulling that over since they fled Feya. His finger absently traced the embroidery on the dimensional pouch, feeling the subtle hum of its magic. This little thing had saved him during the ambush. The Arcane Godslayer armor, the Void-Cleaving sword, the Amethyst ring—all gifts of incredible power, yet he was using them like an amateur. In the hands of an expert, what might they be capable of?

“I might have an idea,” he said slowly. “Back in the game—well, in this world’s lore, really—there’s someone who might help us get stronger. Someone who can… upgrade equipment.”

Celestia’s interest was piqued immediately. “A blacksmith?”

“More than that. A master forge-mage,” Ethan explained. “Her name is Eileen. They called her the Techno-Artificer in some quests. She’s a legend. If half of what’s said about her is true, she could reforge or enhance anything. Maybe she could unlock the true potential of this gear.” He gestured to the pouch and his armor.

Celestia’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I’ve heard the name Eileen whispered in a tavern or two. If she’s real, she’d be in…”

“Dasi,” Ethan finished, nodding. “The great city of inventors, on the other side of this forest and across the Amber Sands. It’s a trek, but we were heading generally that way anyhow.”

Celestia smirked. “You realize if we go there, we’re basically walking from one den of trouble into another? Dasi is half guilds, half gangs, if rumor holds.”

Ethan returned the smirk. “Sounds perfect for us, doesn’t it? At least we might not stand out so much in a crowd of adventurers and mercenaries.”

That coaxed a genuine laugh from her. “Fair enough. Dasi it is, then.”

He extended his hand. “Partners?”

She reached out, clasping his forearm in the traditional warrior’s handshake, her clawed fingers wrapping firmly around his wrist. “Partners,” she affirmed.

As they settled in to sleep, Ethan felt hope kindling anew. Yes, the Syndicate was still on their heels. Yes, a malevolent force with violet eyes was somewhere out in the world, perhaps plotting his demise. But for the first time since he woke up in Astrael, he had a direction—a quest of his own choosing.

They banked the fire to embers. Celestia took the first watch, perched atop the fallen tree so she could see a good distance around. Ethan lay beneath, arms crossed behind his head, watching the thin sliver of starry sky visible through the canopy. Despite the dangers ahead and behind, a small smile played on his lips.

If he played this right, the next time the Syndicate or anyone else came for him, they’d be in for a surprise.

High above in the lattice of branches, a lone owl hooted. Somewhere far beyond the trees, faint and haunting, came the cry of a distant hunting horn—Syndicate scouts frustrated by a lost trail, perhaps. Ethan’s hand brushed the hilt of his sword and the cool leather of the pouch one last time before sleep.

We’ll be ready, he thought.

Celestia’s soft humming drifted down from her post—a gentle, wordless tune, surprisingly soothing. Ethan closed his eyes, letting that melody be the last thing he heard as he surrendered to slumber.