Reborn as a Dragon:Rise of The Draconic King-Chapter 68 - 64: A Dragon Among Friends

Several more days passed in Greenwood Village.

At first, the presence of the black dragon had felt like a storm cloud hanging over the settlement. Even when John did nothing threatening, the villagers had watched him carefully. Warriors had kept their hands close to their weapons, scouts had quietly tracked his movements, and even the elders had debated what it meant for a dragon to live beside them.

But time had a strange way of softening fear.

Nothing terrible happened.

No village was burned.

No elf was harmed.

John hunted monsters outside the forest, returned without causing trouble, and most of the time simply rested around the village like a large, lazy guardian.

Slowly, the tension faded.

The villagers stopped whispering when he walked by.

Hunters began greeting him casually.

Children began getting curious.

And the three people who had spent the most time around him—Sylvara, Lythriel, and Commander Aerion—found themselves slowly treating him less like a dangerous creature and more like... a person.

An unusually large one.

---

The morning was quiet.

Soft sunlight filtered through the massive forest canopy, painting golden lines across the wooden platforms of Greenwood.

John rested on the reinforced clearing platform near the village edge.

His massive body stretched across several beams, and one of his wings hung lazily over the side like a dark curtain.

Below him, Sylvara was working.

The healer’s hall had its doors open, allowing sunlight and fresh air to flow inside. Wooden tables were covered with herbs, bowls, small knives, and glass bottles.

John watched her from outside.

For several minutes he didn’t say anything.

Sylvara noticed.

Without even turning around, she spoke.

"You’re staring again."

John blinked.

"I’m observing."

Sylvara sighed.

"That’s what you said yesterday."

John rested his chin on the edge of the doorway.

"...You noticed?"

"I notice everything that happens in my clinic."

She finally glanced over her shoulder at him.

"And dragons the size of houses are very noticeable."

John chuckled quietly.

"Fair."

He watched as she crushed a handful of dried leaves inside a stone mortar.

The smell of herbs drifted through the air.

"What’s that one?" John asked.

Sylvara continued grinding.

"Silverroot."

"And it does what?"

"It helps with infections."

John tilted his head slightly.

"You have a plant for everything."

"That’s the idea."

He studied the herbs.

"...Dragons usually just burn wounds closed."

Sylvara paused.

"That sounds horrible."

"It works."

She gave him a skeptical look.

"Yes, I’m sure burning your own wounds is very effective."

John shrugged lazily.

"Painful but efficient."

Sylvara shook her head.

"Sometimes I forget that dragons solve problems very differently."

John smirked.

"Your method smells better."

She couldn’t help smiling slightly at that.

For a while they worked in quiet.

Then John spoke again.

"You’re always busy."

Sylvara tied a bundle of herbs together before answering.

"That’s part of being the village healer."

"Don’t you ever get tired?"

"Of course I do."

"Then why keep doing it?"

Sylvara stopped for a moment.

She looked down at the herbs in her hands.

"...Because people rely on me."

John watched her carefully.

"That’s a lot of responsibility."

"It is."

She placed the herbs neatly on a shelf.

"But it’s also meaningful."

John was quiet for a moment.

"...I think I understand that."

Sylvara raised an eyebrow.

"You do?"

"I’ve protected things before."

She studied him curiously.

But before she could ask more—

A loud shout echoed from outside.

"Commander! You’re doing it wrong!"

Both Sylvara and John looked toward the training clearing.

John lifted his head.

"...That sounds entertaining."

---

Near the training grounds—

Several young warriors stood in a circle.

Commander Aerion held a training spear while Lythriel stood across from him with a grin.

"You’re leaning too far forward," she said.

Aerion narrowed his eyes.

"I’ve been fighting longer than you’ve been alive."

"Then why are your foot placements sloppy?"

The surrounding trainees snickered quietly.

Aerion sighed.

"Fine. Show me."

Lythriel stepped forward confidently.

She took the spear from him and demonstrated the stance.

"Your center of balance should be here."

She shifted her feet slightly.

"If you lean too far forward, someone can do this—"

She moved quickly and tapped Aerion lightly on the shoulder with the spear handle.

"—and now you’re open."

Aerion rubbed his chin.

"...That was actually a good example."

One of the trainees suddenly pointed upward.

"Uh... we have an audience."

Everyone looked up.

John’s massive head was leaning over the platform edge.

He had clearly been watching the whole thing.

Lythriel folded her arms.

"How long have you been there?"

John answered casually.

"Long enough to see the commander get defeated."

The trainees burst into laughter.

Aerion looked unimpressed.

"You’re enjoying this."

John nodded.

"Very much."

Lythriel pointed the spear toward him.

"If you’re such an expert, why don’t you give advice?"

John considered that.

"...Your stance is good."

Lythriel blinked.

"Oh."

"But your grip is too tight."

She frowned.

"It is not."

John tilted his head.

"Try loosening your wrist."

She hesitated.

Then adjusted slightly.

"Like this?"

"Yes."

She swung the spear once.

The movement felt smoother.

Lythriel paused.

"...Huh."

Aerion crossed his arms.

"The dragon might actually know what he’s talking about."

John looked mildly offended.

"I fight things bigger than your village."

"That’s not exactly common practice for elves."

Lythriel twirled the spear once before handing it back to Aerion.

"Well... he’s not wrong."

She glanced up at John.

"Don’t let it get to your head."

John grinned.

"Too late."

---

Later that afternoon—

The central clearing smelled like roasted meat.

Several hunters had returned from patrol carrying a large forest deer.

They were preparing it near the fire pit.

John rested nearby with his head lowered comfortably to the ground.

The smell reached him quickly.

His nose twitched.

"That smells good."

One of the hunters laughed.

"You say that every time."

"Because it’s true every time."

Another hunter walked past carrying meat.

"I thought dragons only eat monsters."

John looked thoughtful.

"Monsters are just animals with more attitude."

The hunter snorted.

"That’s one way to describe them."

Lythriel approached carrying a basket of fruit.

She sat down near John’s head.

"You’re drooling."

"I am not."

She pointed.

A small puff of smoke escaped his nose.

"Close enough."

John snorted, making the nearby leaves rustle.

"Don’t mock a hungry dragon."

She tossed an apple toward him.

"Try something healthy."

John caught it with one claw.

He examined it carefully.

"...This is suspicious."

"It’s a fruit."

"Dragons don’t trust fruit."

"Just eat it."

John bit into it cautiously.

The crunch echoed loudly.

He chewed slowly.

Everyone nearby watched.

"Well?" Lythriel asked.

John swallowed.

"...Acceptable."

She rolled her eyes.

"You’re dramatic."

"Dragons have standards."

---

A small elf girl approached carefully.

She held something behind her back.

"John?"

He lowered his head so his golden eyes were level with her.

"Yes?"

She pulled out a small wooden carving.

It was clearly a dragon.

A bit uneven.

The horns were crooked.

But it was clearly meant to be him.

"I made it."

John stared at the carving quietly.

"...That’s me?"

She nodded eagerly.

"You’re the village dragon."

John looked at the horns.

"These are very big horns."

"They look cool."

He chuckled softly.

"That’s fair."

He carefully took the carving between two claws.

"You did a good job."

Her face lit up.

"Really?"

"Yes."

He placed it beside him.

"I’ll keep it."

She ran back to her friends happily.

Lythriel watched the whole thing with a smirk.

"You’ve become popular."

John looked offended.

"I was always popular."

"With dragons maybe."

He flicked his tail lazily.

"I refuse to comment."

---

That evening—

The village gathered around the central fire again.

This had quietly become a routine since John arrived.

Food was shared.

Stories were exchanged.

The atmosphere was calm and relaxed.

John rested comfortably around the edge of the clearing.

Sylvara, Lythriel, and Aerion sat near the fire.

The flames crackled softly.

Lythriel leaned forward.

"So... dragon."

John opened one eye.

"Yes?"

"You’ve lived a long time."

"Probably."

She pointed at him.

"Which means you must have interesting stories."

Sylvara nodded.

"I’m curious too."

Aerion added calmly,

"Most dragons guard their history carefully."

John stared into the fire.

For a moment he didn’t answer.

Then he sighed.

"...Fine."

Lythriel grinned.

"I knew it."

John spoke slowly.

"I once flew across an ocean so large that the horizon didn’t change for weeks."

The elves listened quietly.

"The storms there were strong enough to tear ships apart."

Sylvara asked softly,

"And you crossed it alone?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

John shrugged.

"I wanted to see what was on the other side."

Lythriel smirked.

"And what was there?"

"A bigger ocean."

Everyone laughed.

Even John.

Then he continued.

"I’ve also seen cities built from crystal."

Sylvara leaned forward slightly.

"Crystal?"

"Yes. Towers taller than mountains."

Aerion raised an eyebrow.

"Those must have been ancient civilizations."

"They were."

His voice became quieter.

"...Most of them are gone now."

The fire crackled softly.

Lythriel studied him.

"You’ve seen a lot."

"Yes."

Aerion spoke again.

"Then why stay here?"

The question hung in the air.

John looked around the clearing.

At the peaceful village.

At the people sitting with him.

At the warm light of the fire.

He finally shrugged.

"...It’s quiet."

Lythriel laughed.

"That’s your answer?"

"For now."

Sylvara smiled gently.

"Well... we’re glad you stayed."

John didn’t respond immediately.

But his tail moved slowly behind him.

Relaxed.

Comfortable.

---

Later that night—

The village was mostly asleep.

Moonlight filtered through the forest canopy.

John sat near the edge of the clearing.

Watching the quiet trees.

Lythriel walked over and sat beside him.

"You don’t sleep much."

"Not really."

They sat quietly for a while.

Then she spoke.

"When you first appeared here... I thought you were going to destroy the forest."

John glanced at her.

"That would have been rude."

She laughed.

"Very rude."

She looked at him seriously.

"But you didn’t."

"No."

She leaned back against the railing.

"You know... I expected you to leave after a few days."

John looked toward the dark forest.

"Dragons usually do."

"Then why stay?"

He thought for a moment.

"...Maybe I needed somewhere quiet."

"A break?"

"Yes."

She nodded slowly.

"Well... you picked a good place."

John looked at the peaceful lights of the village.

"...Yeah."

For the first time in a long time—

The dragon didn’t feel restless.

And the small village deep in the forest had gained something rare.

Not just a powerful ally.

But a friend.

---

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