The first thing to wake my senses wasn't the smell of pine or the cool breeze—it was the massive, shadow-casting silhouette swooping across the sky. To anyone else, a winged behemoth dropping out of the clouds would signal an incoming boss fight. To my battered, reincarnated soul, it was the sweet sight of absolute salvation.
The dragon hit the dirt with a thud that rattled my fillings, sending up a shower of dry leaves and golden sunlight.
Before the dust could even settle, she dismounted.
Tixi was a sight that could make a weary traveler forget he'd just survived a cosmic war. She wore a flowy, cherry-blossom pink bliaut beneath fitted steel-blue armor plates—a combination that somehow managed to accentuate every curve while warning you she could snap a spear in half with her bare hands. Standing there, bathed in the midday light, she felt like a shaded oak tree at the end of a hundred-mile march.
"Purna!" Her voice sliced through my lingering grogginess, sharp and brimming with exasperation. "What on earth are you doing sprawled out in the dirt? It's getting late—if we aren't back before Elder Odysseus finishes his dungeon raid, we're going to be scrubbing the wyvern stables until next spring!"
My brain was still half-scrambled, but my instincts knew exactly what to do. Abandoning all dignity, I dragged myself forward on hands and knees, executing a pathetic yet determined crawl toward her like a man lost in a desert reaching for a clear stream.
When I reached her boots, I didn't hesitate. I threw both arms around her waist and clung to her as if gravity itself had ceased to exist.
"Tixi! Oh, my sweet Tixi!" I wailed, burying my face into the soft fabric at her hip. "Don't leave my side! You hear me? Never leave my side again!"
For a fraction of a second, the universe held its breath.
Tixi froze. A crimson blush erupted across her cheeks, spreading all the way to the tips of her ears. The fierce dragon-riding warrior vanished, replaced instantly by a flustered 17 year old girl who realized her personal space had just been invaded by a shameless, weeping brat.
A thick, tender silence settled over the clearing, wrapping around us like the climax of a tragic romance novel.
Pfft.
The silence shattered.
"Pahahahaha!" A boisterous roar of laughter erupted from a nearby boulder, immediately followed by a chorus of uncontrollable snickers.
I blinked through my fake tears and glanced sideways. My entire squad—every single one of my so-called brothers-in-arms—was crouching in the tall grass, holding their stomachs, wiping tears of hilarity from their eyes, and nudging each other with their elbows.
Ah. We had an audience.
The romantic spell didn't just break; it exploded. Tixi went from blushing red to pure, unadulterated crimson rage.
"You—you absolute idiot!" she shrieked.
Before my brain could register the threat, her elbow moved. It was a clean, textbook straight punch, aimed squarely at my sternum with all the momentum a dragon trainee could muster. I caught sight of her windup, but my sluggish body couldn't react in time.
As her fist made contact, a oddly peaceful thought crossed my mind: Honestly? Dying by her hands is a vast improvement over getting vaporized by that bastard of a god.
CRACK.
And just like that, the mighty warrior known as the Third Heaven was knocked out cold by a seventeen-year-old knight trainee.
When I finally blinked my eyes open, the sky outside was painted in twilight, and the sharp scent of dried lavender and alcohol stings filled my nose. The village infirmary.
Sitting on stool-side duty next to my bed were two familiar faces: Arog and Ladab. The twin prodigies. The local nerds. And, most importantly, the two brave souls who had apparently dragged my unconscious body away before an enraged Tixi could pulverize me into actual paste.
"Whoa—hey! Don't move!" Arog, the older twin by three whole minutes, scrambled up the moment my eyelids fluttered. He reached out with panicked hands, trying to wave me back down without actually touching me.
I tried to sit up, but a sudden, blinding ache shot straight through my chest.
Gah. I winced, clutching my ribs. Real, physical pain. Genuine, un-magic-boosted agony. I hadn't felt raw, mundane pain like this since before my regression. My former god-slaying body was currently reduced to that of a fragile, bruised teenager.
Before I could collapse back onto the mattress, Ladab stepped in. With terrifyingly linear, mechanical efficiency, he supported my shoulders, adjusted my pillow, and safely maneuvered me back into a lying position—all without wasting a single unit of kinetic energy.
Once I was secured, Ladab adjusted his round glasses, looked down at me, and delivered his verdict with cold, analytical precision.
"Purna. That was entirely unacceptable," he stated flatly. "While the statistical probability of you harboring romantic feelings for Tixi approaches ninety-nine percent, your execution was abysmal. One does not simply tackle a high-ranking knight trainee, weep snot into her tunic, and demand she never leave your side."
He pushed his glasses up his nose, his tone turning genuinely bewildered.
"Furthermore, your dialogue was completely illogical. 'Don't leave my side'? You were the one who insisted on solo hunting in the outer woods for the past month, ignoring all squad formations."
Arog crossed his arms, chiming in from my right like a tag-team interrogator. "He's right, you know. I saw your hunting quota...uh, I mean umm.. you've achieved impressive results lately, but a high kill-count doesn't excuse utterly bizarre behavior."
The twin nerds looked down at me in unison, synchronized in their disappointment. They slowly shook their heads from side to side, silently mourning the future of our village's so-called 'Young Chief.'
I lay there, listening to the left-and-right lecture from the two guys who, in my past life, had sacrificed everything to hold the line for me. Seeing them standing here—alive, healthy, nagging me over teenage romance instead of dying in a apocalyptic war—a warm, ridiculous smile spread across my face.
"She's totally into me," I muttered softly, staring at the wooden ceiling. "Just wait. You'll see..."
I shifted slightly, looking between the two of them with genuine warmth.
"...But man, I'm just really glad you guys are doing well. I hope you two find love someday, too."
The air in the room instantly froze.
For a second, neither twin moved. Though their expressions barely cracked, I could practically hear their high-IQ brains short-circuiting. They exchanged a subtle, mentally flustered glare—as if calculating the terrifying odds of themselves ever navigating romantic interactions—before stiffly turning back to me.
"Do not speak," Ladab snapped, his face faintly flushing.
"Just rest," Arog grunted, turning on his heel.
Together, in perfect, embarrassed alignment, the two genius brothers retreated from the room, leaving the Third Heaven to chuckle himself back to sleep.