The body of Tsunemaru, the legendary white dragon, lay still.
Covered in moon-pale scales, enormous and majestic—even in death. His golden blood spilled across the frozen ground, forming foamy streams that sizzled when they touched the stone. The air reeked of smoke and shattered magic.
Ryo stood beside the corpse, trembling.
His hands were stained with that golden liquid. His clothes torn. His hair soaked and clinging to his face. And his eyes—brilliant gold with vertical pupils—were wide open, as if unable to grasp what they were seeing.
"Why…?" he whispered.
He knelt beside the dragon, placing a hand on the cold scales of its neck. His voice was barely more than a breath.
"I… I wasn't fast enough…"
Tears streamed down his cheeks.
He didn't wonder why he was there.
He didn't question the claws on his hands.
Or why his breath came out white as frost.
He couldn't remember.
The Curse of the White Dragon had already taken hold.
The enormous body began to swell—slowly, wetly, with a sickening sound.
Ryo stepped back on instinct, confused, but not afraid.
He loved him. That dragon had raised him, had spoken to him like a father…
A shadow fell across the blood-stained snow.
Human figures.
Hunters.
Bloodied, wounded, coated in dirt—but still standing.
Exhausted. But victorious.
Ryo saw them.
He didn't recognize them.
But he hated them.
A cold, consuming hatred—deep and foreign, like it had been forced into him.
His golden eyes locked onto them.
The ones who did this.
The ones who shattered his world.
His claws dug into the frozen ground.
A growl rose from his throat. Low. Animal.
Not his voice. Not his will.
The man in front, tall, a scar across his face, saw him first.
"…That kid?" he muttered.
Ryo didn't hear the rest.
The voices blurred together—murmurs, whispers about the corpse, the dragon… about him.
The love he had for Tsunemaru—the one who raised him…
It twisted together with a rage so raw and pure it hurt to hold inside.
It was real.
Tsunemaru's body creaked.
His scales strained, swelling like an overfilled shell.
The hunters noticed.
"GET BACK, KID!!"
That was Lirya, second-in-command of the hunter squad.
Ryo turned toward her.
"I'll kill you," he growled.
His claws grew longer. Sharper.
"You'll all pay for what you di—"
Suddenly, the air turned heavy—like something massive had taken a breath beneath the earth.
A long, wet, animal scream came from the dragon's corpse.
His scales split.
The remaining magic inside him reached its breaking point.
And then—
Tsunemaru exploded.
A blast of frost, golden blood, and raw magical pressure tore through the area.
The ground shook.
Ice and stone flew like shrapnel.
The hunters were thrown like rag dolls, screaming as the world turned white.
Ryo barely saw it coming.
An invisible force slammed into him, flinging him through the air.
His vision shattered into lights, snow, and blood.
The ground beneath him crumbled.
The cliff gave way.
He fell.
His final memory before the darkness: the hunters' faces.
Some were screaming.
Some were just staring.
But all wore the same expression—
Fear.
Then came the water.
Cold.
Violent.
It swallowed him whole.
And the world disappeared.