by Ian Rodgers
The silver masked man then raised a finger to where his lips would be in a mocking ‘shhh’ gesture before stepping backwards into the tree.
His back touched the bark and the surface of the tree distorted, like muddy ripples. The man slipped inside the tree itself, his body vanishing along with the magical presence.
“Jellik? Are you alright? Do you need to go back to the hotel and rest?”
I broke out of my stupor and glanced at Yorrik who was standing anxiously at my side. A few people nearby were also shooting me worried looks.
“Y-yes, I think I do,” I muttered weakly and clutched my staff tightly.
A warning. Don’t tell anyone? Was that it?!
Not only that, but from the way that bastard had acted with the discarded scale, it was as if he was saying he had provoked the Lord of the Dullwilds to come after us…
I swore to myself, as did Tara and Rosa as we all realized it was true.
As Yorrik escorted me back to my hotel room I vowed silent vengeance on that wretched craven. Because of him, so many good people had died! He was threatening not just me, but everyone around me!
I had to get stronger!
And I would. Drakon was not known as the Dragonlands for nothing. If I couldn’t improve while I was there, fighting against the dragons and other powerful monsters that called that continent home, then I would have to take more drastic measures to keep everyone I knew and loved safe.
The World Rebellion wouldn’t know what hit them!
