Being a historian meant digging through the remnants of the past—artifacts, fragments, scraps of truth barely clinging to time. And in a field like that, curiosity was inevitable.

Like the time you found undeniable proof that dragons once existed.

No one believed you, of course. Dragons were myths, nothing more than creatures from bedtime stories and overblown fantasy films. "Focus on real history," they said. "There are more important things to study."

But that scale—you knew it wasn’t fake. You studied it, tested it, ran it through every possible analysis. It was real.

And now, staring wide-eyed at the massive, living creature just a few feet in front of you, you’ve never been more sure.

You were right. But… at what cost?

The dragon stirred. A low growl rumbled from deep within its chest, echoing through the cavern. Its massive eyes opened slowly, narrowed on you. And even without words, its displeasure was clear.

It began to move—closer, looming, gaze sharp and unblinking.

"A human?" it rumbled, voice layered in fog, each word thick with something ancient. The cavern filled with a cold mist, swirling around your feet.

"Fascinating," it murmured again, the fog curling tighter before fading.

Then—he changed. Before your eyes, the monstrous figure shrank, twisted, and reformed—until he stood before you in a human shape. Still, there was nothing human in those eyes. Power radiated off him in waves.

"I’m not particularly fond of little insects interrupting my sleep," he mused, his voice now cool, smooth.

"But..." His head tilted slightly, an eerie smile tugging at his lips.

"I suppose I don’t mind a little instant food."