Kai Nakamura didn't know when the ache in his chest had started. Maybe it was two years ago, or maybe it had been there forever, a constant, low-level thrumming beneath the surface of his existence. His world was a digital one, an intricate tapestry of blinking cursors, satisfying loot drops, and the rhythmic percussion of his mechanical keyboard. He was a NEET—Not in Education, Employment, or Training—a label he wore with a quiet defiance. The real world, with its demanding jobs, social niceties, and mundane routines, was a frustrating, low-resolution grind. It offered none of the tangible rewards or the profound sense of accomplishment he found in his games.
Right now, he was in the final throes of a high-stakes raid, the climax of the newest expansion pack in "Aerthos Ascendant." The quest was titled "Slayer of the Last Wind Dragon," a fittingly epic name for the final boss. For weeks, Kai had been preparing for this moment, subsisting on a diet of instant noodles and energy drinks. His mind and body were pushed to their absolute limits, his focus a razor's edge honed by years of dedication.
His avatar, a rogue with a newly enhanced poison blade, flawlessly dodged a torrent of swirling green energy. The massive dragon on his screen, a creature of breathtaking scale and detail, let out a piercing shriek that rattled through Kai's headphones. His fingers danced across the keyboard, a blur of motion as he executed a perfect, devastating combo. He watched the dragon's health bar drop to a sliver of red. Victory was within his grasp, the end of his long quest finally in sight.
Then, a sharp, searing pain ripped through his chest. It felt like a physical thing, a dragon's talon tearing through his sternum. He gasped, his hand flying from the keyboard. The screen went dark, his life, his quest, and his world all collapsing into black. The last thought that flickered through his mind was a single, agonizing lament: I didn't even get to finish the quest.
The next sensation Kai felt was not the stillness of death, but the cold, unyielding roughness of stone beneath him. A strange smell, damp earth and mineral, filled his nostrils. He heard a pathetic, high-pitched wail that seemed to be coming from his own throat.
He tried to move, but his body didn't respond. It felt wrong, heavy and alien. He could hear himself whimpering, a sound that was not his own. His vision was a blurry haze that slowly cleared, revealing a wall of jagged, crystalline stone. He knew those stones. They were the legendary Mana Stones of Aerthos, a resource he had farmed endlessly in his past life within the game.
Panic set in. He tried to move his hand, but what he saw was not the pale, spindly fingers of a gamer. Instead, a scaled, silver limb with wicked talons twitched in front of him. He stumbled, trying to get his bearings in the dimly lit cavern. His gaze fell upon a shallow puddle of water on the cave floor. On its surface, a distorted reflection stared back at him—a small, scaly creature. He let out another wail, this time of sheer terror, as he stared at his new form. It was not human. He was a baby… a dragon baby.
The whimpering drew attention. A deep, guttural rumble echoed through the cave, a sound that made his very scales vibrate. It was a sound of immense power, and it was getting closer. A colossal shadow fell over him, and he craned his small, scaly head upwards.
Before him stood a creature of myth and legend, a beast so magnificent it defied all belief. It was a dragon, easily fifty feet tall, with shimmering scales that looked like polished silver and huge, powerful wings. Its eyes, the color of a stormy sky, stared down at him with a mixture of immense sadness and unconditional love. A single, bloody gash ran down its side, a wound of unimaginable size.
Kai's tiny dragon heart pounded against his ribs. This creature was the most terrifying, most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The terror slowly gave way to a strange sense of recognition. The eyes, the scales, the presence… this was the Last Wind Dragon he had just been fighting. The very creature he had wounded.
He was looking at his new mother. And she was dying.
Her great head lowered, her breath a soft, warm gust of wind against his scaled skin. She nuzzled him gently, and her eyes, filled with an ancient, sorrowful wisdom, seemed to look not at his reptilian form, but into his very soul. Her low roar was not one of rage, but of a quiet, mournful farewell. He had been given a new life, a second chance. But it came at the cost of the very being who had given it to him.