Chapter 1: The Lonely Knight
It had been two years since the wizard fell.
Two years since Strom had buried his fists into vengeance… only to crawl out empty, hated, and alone.
The village no longer saw him as a savior.
They saw the glowing Dragon Aura in his eyes and whispered:
"That's no hero… that's a monster walking in human skin."
So Strom lived in the forest now — a lone shack at the edge of a broken cliff. His days were filled with silence, his nights with nightmares.
And yet… there was one person who still came.
Sam.
The quiet mage from Slayer Tower, his only real friend.
That morning, Sam found Strom punching a thick log wrapped in rope. Each strike cracked bark, splinters flying as the forest shook.
Sam crossed his arms. "If you keep that up, I don't think any demon will even stand in front of you."
Strom wiped sweat from his face, turning with a tired grin. "What's up, bro? This is just… my daily training."
Sam dropped a small bag of food onto a rock. "Training's fine, but damn, man… you ever thought of dating someone? Getting out of this 'angry hermit in the woods' phase?"
Strom froze, chuckling bitterly. "I already told you… I don't need anyone. Nobody loves a monster."
Sam's gaze sharpened. "You're not a monster, Strom. You're just… broken. And broken things can still be loved."
For a moment, silence. The wind moved through the trees. Strom's fists clenched, his eyes on the ground.
"…don't joke about that," he muttered. "Just tell me about the demons."
Sam sighed, then leaned against a tree. "Fine. There's word of a Red Hell Demon spotted near the lower marshes. Vicious thing. Body count's rising fast."
Strom's dragon aura flickered faintly around his fists. "Good. I'll handle it."
Sam nodded. He didn't argue anymore. He knew that was Strom's way of saying thank you.
By nightfall, he left for home.
The next morning…
The Slayer Tower woke to gasps and whispers.
Hung by its horns on the Tower's black iron gate was the severed head of the Red Hell Demon. Its eyes were still frozen in terror, its blood dripping onto the stone floor.
Everyone knew who had done it.
Everyone knew it was Strom.
But not one person said thank you.
Not one person dared to step forward.
They only whispered again, hiding their fear behind clenched teeth:
"That monster's still out there…"
Chapter 2: The Unknown Letter
The forest was quiet that evening. Too quiet.
Strom leaned against the balcony rail of his wooden shack, staring into the endless black trees. The silence pressed on his ears, heavy and suffocating.
A sharp thunk! broke the calm.
A stone hit his chest. Tied around it was a crumpled scrap of paper.
He unwrapped it and read:
"You ugly monster. You think you can hide from your sins? I'm coming for you. Hahaha."
Strom blinked, then scoffed.
"Ugly monster, huh?" He crumpled the letter, tossing it aside. "Fuc# you, bitc# @ss guy. I'm going to sleep."
He blew out the lantern and dropped into bed.
But sleep didn't come. The words dug into his head like claws.
What if this guy goes after Sam?
He sat up, fists tight. He couldn't risk it.
From a small chest, Strom pulled out the only thing left of Angela — a blood-stained scarf, her final memory. He tied it around his wrist like armor.
By the time thunder rolled across the sky, he was already sprinting through the rain toward Sam's house.
Lightning flashed as Strom reached the mage's home. The windows glowed warmly. Everything looked… normal. Safe.
Relief hit him, until his dragon eyes caught a shift in the bushes.
A figure — hooded, motionless.
Strom stepped forward. His voice cut the storm.
"Hey. You!"
Lightning split the sky — and in that flash, the hooded figure vanished. Like mist.
Strom's instincts screamed, but before he could react, the door of the house burst open.
Sam's father stormed out with two knights, blades drawn.
"There! The monster's here!"
"Not tonight," Strom muttered, dodging their strikes. He didn't fight back — just slipped between blades, weaving through the rain until he melted into the trees again.
Back in his shack, drenched, he dropped onto his bed.
"Now even Sam's family hates me. Wow."
Hours passed before exhaustion finally dragged him under.
But peace didn't come.
His dreams dragged him back — the night the wizard slaughtered his parents. The screams. The fire. Angela's voice crying out for help… his hands stretched toward her, but chains of shadow held him still. He watched her fall again. Helpless.
Strom snapped awake, gasping, sweat pouring down his face.
"Fu#k that dream."
He punched the wall hard enough to crack it, then staggered to the basin, splashing his face with cold water. His reflection glared back — dragon eyes glowing faintly in the dark.
He returned to the balcony, the soaked letter clenched in his fist.
His voice was low, dangerous.
"I don't know who you are… but you better stay away from me. Or you'll regret being born."
Thunder rolled. The night itself seemed to shiver.
And anyone looking at Strom in that moment could see it clearly—
this was no broken hermit.
This was a man who could rip apart a dragon again.
Chapter 3: The Phoenix That Left
The next morning, Strom walked deeper into the forest. He wasn't looking for food, or demons, or even peace. He was just… walking. His boots pressed into the wet soil, echoing in a silence that always followed him, like even the forest feared his presence.
Then his eyes caught it — a glow between the trees. Golden feathers scattered in the grass.
A phoenix, magnificent and rare, lay collapsed on the ground, its brilliant body scorched with burns and one wing twisted unnaturally. The creature let out a weak cry, embers falling from its beak like dying sparks.
Strom rushed forward without hesitation. He scooped the phoenix into his arms — and the flames bit into his skin. His hands blistered instantly, the fire clawing through his veins.
But Strom didn't flinch.
His voice was steady:
"If pain is the price to save you, then let it burn."
He carried the bird home, every step heavy with fire biting into his flesh.
For weeks, Strom cared for the phoenix. He wrapped its broken wing with rough bandages, fed it meat and berries, and protected it from the night's cold. His burns never healed properly, but he didn't mind.
At last, the day came. The phoenix opened its eyes fully, golden flames reigniting. Strom stepped onto the balcony as the creature spread its wings.
It looked at the horizon… and without a sound, it flew. No glance back, no acknowledgment.
The balcony was empty again.
Strom stood there in silence, gripping the bloodstained scarf of Angela. He pressed it over his mouth, muffling his bitter laugh.
"Now even a bird hates me. This is the life of the Dragon Knight."
The scarf's crimson stains — once the blood of his first love — almost looked like a design in the sunlight. A cruel design fate refused to erase.
Later, Strom wandered into a nearby village, scarf tight around his face. He searched alleys, markets, anywhere for clues about the hooded man who sent him that letter. Nothing.
Then, as he turned to leave, a gust of wind pulled his scarf away.
Gasps filled the street.
Whispers spread instantly:
"It's him… the monster."
"The Dragon Knight…"
"Get the knights! Now!"
Armor clattered. Two knights, blades drawn, marched toward him. Villagers grabbed whatever they could — pitchforks, stones, anything.
Strom raised his hands.
"Wait. I'm not here to hurt anyone."
But fear silenced reason.
The first knight swung. Strom dodged, but another blade slashed his shoulder, blood spraying. Pain jolted through him, yet he didn't fight back. Instead, he grabbed his scarf, pressed it to his wound, and sprinted out of the village before they could surround him.
Alone again.
That evening, Sam arrived at Strom's hut, holding a loaf of bread. He froze when he saw the blood soaking Strom's shoulder.
Sam: "Who the hell told you to wander into the village?!"
Strom (grinning through pain): "Just for fun."
Sam: "Blood loss is fun?!"
Strom: "Hell yeah."
Sam (facepalming): "You're a psycho."
Strom (mock bow): "Yes, I'm the psycho monster Dragon Knight."
Sam: "Oh gods, why am I even your best friend?"
Strom (dead serious): "Because you're my only friend, bitc#."
Sam blinked… then burst out laughing.
Sam: "That savage reply hit hard."
The two of them laughed until the tension broke, the kind of laugh that hides wounds deeper than the body. When the sun dipped, Sam left for home.
Strom leaned back on the balcony, scarf around his neck, staring at the night sky.
And though no one else knew it — he was carrying a wound that no sword could ever heal.
Chapter 4: The One More Letter
That night, Strom leaned against the balcony rail, the scarf of Angela draped around his neck. His eyes wandered to the stars, distant and unreachable, like everything he ever cared for.
Thud!
A small rock smacked him right in the forehead.
Strom (clutching head): "Ouch! Who the fu#k—?!"
He looked down. A note was tied to the rock, stained in red ink that looked almost like blood.
"If you want to see your friends alive… come to the Old Execution Ground."
Strom's hand clenched around the paper, veins popping.
Strom: "If this MF even touched Sam, I'll bury him six feet under."
Without hesitation, he grabbed his sword, the steel glinting under moonlight, and sprinted into the night.
The Old Execution Ground was a place no villager dared to enter. Centuries of blood still painted the stone floor, dark stains that rain could never wash away. Shackles and broken posts remained as reminders of countless deaths.
And in the middle of that empty courtyard stood a single man.
Cloaked in black, hood pulled low, holding a massive execution blade forged from magic iron. Its surface shimmered with a faint glow, pulsing like it carried the screams of the dead.
The man's voice was low, sharp.
Hooded Man: "So… the monster finally arrives."
Strom raised his blade, eyes burning.
Strom: "Where is Sam?!"
The man chuckled.
Hooded Man: "Relax. He's safe in his little house, probably snoring like a fool. This was just a trick to lure you… to your death."
Strom tilted his head, unfazed.
Strom: "Oh wow… my death? What a joke. Who the fu#k are you?"
The man lifted his hood slowly, revealing sharp features, and eyes blazing with hatred.
Hooded Man: "My name is Jack. Son of the wizard who raised you, gave you power… and you repaid him with betrayal and death."
Strom narrowed his eyes. His grip tightened on his sword.
Strom: "So you're the son of that lizard. Cute. I'll give you one chance—run. Or I'll beat your ass right here."
Jack's lips curled into a wicked grin.
Jack: "You think you can threaten me?"
From beneath his cloak, Jack pulled out four glowing stones — red, yellow, green, and purple — the fragments of the wizard's power. They pulsed with dangerous energy, casting colorful shadows across the bloodstained floor.
Jack: "Want to see a magic trick?"
Strom tilted his head, unimpressed.
Strom: "Yeah, sure. But don't expect claps."
Jack's eyes gleamed with bloodlust.
Jack: "I don't want claps. I want your blood… and your tears."
The stones floated into the air, humming with ancient power. The execution blade began to glow with multiple colors, becoming heavier, deadlier. Sparks cracked across the courtyard.
Strom lowered his stance, scarf swaying in the night breeze, his aura pressing like a storm.
Strom: "Then come and take them, Jack. Let's see if daddy's tricks can save your ass tonight."
The ground trembled as the clash of fate was about to begin.
Chapter 5 – I Can't
Jack swallowed the last stone, his body glowing like a false god, veins burning with unstable power. The air itself trembled.
Strom (mocking) – "Done flexing with your glowing tricks?"
Jack (smirking) – "Just wait… and watch."
His body twisted—until Strom froze. Standing before him now was Angela. Her hair, her eyes, her trembling voice… all real. Too real. In her hands, Jack's massive execution blade.
Angela (illusion) – "Why didn't you save me, Strom? You promised to protect me."
Strom's breath stopped. His chest caved. The sword in his hand felt heavier than the world. Memories of her smile, the day she died—all flooding in like daggers.
Strom (shaking, broken) – "No… no… you're not her. Stay away… stay away from me."
Angela (crying, stepping forward) – "He killed my family, Strom… and you fought beside me… only to leave me. Why?"
Strom (pleading, collapsing inside) – "I didn't leave you! I tried—I fought—I was too weak! Please, forgive me… please, Angela!"
Angela (voice cracking) – "I believed in you… only to die because of it."
Her execution blade cut down, faster than lightning. Strom blocked, but every strike ripped his heart more than his flesh. Whenever he raised his sword, he saw Angela's tear-stained face. He couldn't strike. He couldn't breathe.
Strom (screaming, desperate) – "Go back! Please! Not her! Please don't do this to me!"
Angela's tears fell as her blade tore through his guard—cutting deep into Strom's left arm. Blood spilled. He staggered. His world blurred.
And then—silence.
Pain cleared his mind. The illusion cracked. His breathing steadied. His sorrow turned to rage. His eyes burned red.
Strom (growling, voice raw) – "You know bitch … you're not Angela. She wasn't even real."
He roared. His blade slashed across Jack's thigh—dropping him to one knee. The next strike smashed into his chest, blasting him back, the Angela illusion shattering like broken glass.
Strom ripped the execution blade from the ground, his aura swirling like a storm.
Strom (snarling coldly) – "You wanted to put salt in my wounds? Here. Taste it yourself."
He rammed the massive blade through Jack's leg, pinning him into the earth. The ground split open, dust and rock exploding around them. Jack screamed, trapped by the very weapon he once boasted.
Strom (calm, merciless) – "Consider this mercy. I'm not killing you."
Jack (choking, furious) – "You'll regret this… you'll regret ever sparing me!"
Strom leaned down, eyes filled with venom, and pushed the blade even deeper, making Jack's body jolt in agony as the steel bit into the earth.
Strom (low, final, with a twisted smirk) – "Thank you."
The battlefield shook as Strom's aura exploded—dark, heavy, and suffocating. He stood tall, execution blade humming with wrath, a monster born from sorrow and rage.
Chapter 6 – The Last Meeting
The sun rose, painting the sky in faint gold.
Strom sat quietly on a huge stone, the weight of last night's battle still in his chest. His arm ached, but the wound inside was far deeper.
His eyes were wet, his mind replaying Angela's smile, her laughter—the only warmth that once made him human instead of a monster.
Strom closed his eyes, whispering softly:
"Thank you, Angela… for everything."
A breeze brushed past him, carrying a voice so faint he almost doubted it.
Angela's voice in the wind: "You are my Knight."
Strom's eyes shot open. He looked around, searching, but there was nothing—only silence. After a moment, he let out a shaky breath, accepting it as a memory… or maybe her blessing.
Later that day, Strom returned to the village, his face hidden beneath a scarf. He spotted Sam sitting on a bench.
Strom walked up and tapped his shoulder.
Strom: "Thanks, Sam… for believing in me."
Sam turned, shocked to see Strom bleeding.
Sam: "What happened? Why are you—"
Before he could finish, the villagers and knights noticed Strom. Their eyes widened in fear and hate.
"Monster!" one shouted.
"Kill him before he curses us all!" another cried.
Without warning, they rushed at him with weapons drawn.
Sam tried to step forward, but Strom raised his hand to stop him. His eyes were calm, resigned.
The chase began. Strom ran through the narrow paths of the village, his heart heavy, not from fear—but from sorrow.
Reaching the edge of a high cliff, Strom stopped. Behind him, the mob closed in, surrounding him.
He turned one last time to face them, eyes glimmering with sadness under the morning sun.
Strom: "I love you all… even if you hate me."
And with those final words, he stepped backward—falling into the endless ravine below.
The villagers gasped, some cheering, some relieved, watching him vanish into the abyss.
But Strom did not hit the ground. His dragon aura pendant glowed, creating a barrier around him, slowing his fall until he disappeared like mist.
Strom landed softly in the shadows below, smirking faintly.
Strom: "Heh… thanks, old pendant. I knew you'd save me."
Above, the crowd declared the monster gone.
They celebrated his disappearance, believing their nightmare had ended.
But far below, hidden in the darkness… Strom was alive.
And someone out there knew the truth.