Hydra began to push his way deeper into the bustling market, weaving through the crowd as people haggled and bartered for various goods. The air was thick with the smell of exotic spices, the metallic clank of weapons, and the sharp notes of vendors shouting about their wares. It was a busy scene, yet despite the crowd's apparent normalcy, Hydra's instincts told him there was something more beneath the surface—something darker, something wrong.
His attention was drawn to a figure, cloaked and shrouded in mystery, engaged in a heated exchange with a merchant over a gleaming emerald tail-ring.
"Forty royal coins for such a ring?" the cloaked figure scoffed. His voice was firm but edged with frustration.
The vendor, a semi-dragon with iridescent scales shimmering under the midday sun, replied with a well-practiced smile. "This emerald is one of a kind, my friend, powered by the blood of pure dragons."
"Pure-blooded dragons, you say?" The cloaked man's voice dripped with sarcasm. "You yourself are a semi-dragon, and you're trying to tell me this ring is dipped in the blood of creatures that haven't been seen in centuries? Do I look like a fool to you?" He gestured to himself. "I'm buying this for my wife, not marching into battle. Make it seven royal coins, or I walk."
The vendor frowned but seemed reluctant to lose a potential sale, yet Hydra was too distracted to see how the deal ended. His focus shifted back to the cloaked man. There was something about him—something that felt... out of place. Hydra's mission pushed him forward, and before he could overthink it, he made his way to the man.
"Excuse me?" Hydra said, stepping beside the cloaked figure, his voice barely cutting through the noise of the market.
The man turned his head slightly, just enough for Hydra to catch a glimpse of a bearded chin beneath the shadow of the hood. "What do you want, kid?" His voice was gruff, but not hostile—yet.
Hydra held up a small holographic image of the missing mage. "Have you seen this woman?"
The man didn't even glance at the picture before replying. "There are plenty of mages around here, boy. You'll have to be more specific."
Hydra sighed, frustration beginning to gnaw at him. He pressed the image closer to the man's face. "Look. This mage. Her name is Reviora. I need to find her."
The man's demeanor changed immediately. He froze for a second, then gave Hydra a sideways glance, sharp and assessing. "Elementals, huh?" he muttered, his tone low and cautious.
Hydra blinked in surprise. "How did you know?"
The man chuckled under his breath. "That picture—it's made with inter-sci tech. That kind of stuff doesn't exist here. You might as well be waving a flag that says 'I don't belong.' You new, kid?"
Hydra hesitated. "Are you... an agent of the Elementals too?"
The man's eyes darted around the crowded market, scanning the faces of people nearby. "Enough with the questions," he growled. "You shouldn't make your presence as an agent so obvious, especially here. Trust me, it could get you killed."
"Killed?" Hydra stepped forward, but the man was already backing into the sea of people, moving quickly to disappear into the crowd. "Wait! Where are you going?"
"I don't want any trouble," the man threw over his shoulder. "Watch your step, kid. People here aren't too fond of your kind."
And just like that, he was gone, swallowed by the masses, leaving Hydra with more questions than answers.
Frustrated but determined, Hydra decided to follow the man's advice. He approached a nearby vendor—this time cautiously, doing his best to blend in. He repeated his question, showing the image of the mage but keeping his tone low.
The vendor, an older semi-dragon with a thick tail and sagging scales, glanced at the picture before frowning. "Was she human or semi-dragon?" he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.
"Human," Hydra answered, watching the vendor's face shift from neutral to concerned.
The vendor leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Humans... they don't fare well here, kid. The semi-dragons, they think humans are inferior—weak. They blame them for the downfall of their pure-blooded ancestors. The things they do to humans... well, let's just say it's best not to ask."
Hydra's stomach twisted. "What kind of things?"
The vendor shook his head. "Slavery, Torture, sex slaves, trafficking and Worse. They see humans as little more than pests—something to be crushed. If this woman was caught..."
Hydra's mind raced, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "If it's a woman... what happens then?"
"Let's just say they're not exactly gentle. They treat them like criminals, like something to be punished for existing. If she's still alive... you'd best hope she isn't in one of their prisons."
Before Hydra could respond, a deafening bang erupted from the direction of the palace. The sound cut through the market, sending a shockwave of silence through the crowd as people paused mid-barter, mid-sentence, mid-breath.
Hydra's heart jumped, and his eyes darted toward the palace.
Hydra sprinted through the crowded marketplace, weaving and dodging the sea of people that stood in his path. His heart pounded in his chest as he focused on the source of the explosion that had come from the palace. The streets were narrow, forcing him to twist his body and squeeze between vendors and startled civilians, his gaze locked ahead. Whatever had caused the blast couldn't be a coincidence -it had to involve Xenon or Phoenix.
The closer Hydra got to the palace, the more the air buzzed with unease. He rounded a corner and immediately saw a throng of people forming a crescent-shaped crowd, their voices tense, their eyes focused on the center of the gathering. The atmosphere was thick with tension. A fight. Hydra's instincts screamed at him.
He pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring the protests of onlookers, his senses flaring as he reached the front of the mob. And there, standing in the middle of the clearing, was Xenon-his blade out, his body poised for combat. Facing him were several semi-dragons, their scaled arms gleaming in the light, their faces twisted with anger.
One of the semi-dragons spat in Xenon's direction. "You work for the Elementals, don't you? You fucking rats!" he growled, his voice laced with venom. His claws flexed as if eager to tear into Xenon's flesh.
Xenon's expression was cold, his body tense and ready. His eyes burned with restrained fury, the dark power within him simmering beneath the surface. One wrong move and the whole situation could spiral out of control. Hydra could feel it-a storm brewing in the air.
Without hesitation, Hydra stepped
forward, raising his hands in an attempt to defuse the tension. "Wait! There's no need for this. Let's resolve this without violence," Hydra said, his voice firm but calm.
But the semi-dragons weren't interested in peace. One of them snarled, his reptilian eyes narrowing at Hydra. "So you're with the Elementals too, huh you bastard?" He bared his fangs, his muscles tensing. "We're ready to crush you both! You think we've forgotten what your society has done?"
The hostility in his words made the other semi-dragons stir, their claws flexing in anticipation of the fight. Hydra glanced at Xenon, who was bristling with rage, his fists clenched tightly around his blade. The last thing Hydra wanted was for Xenon to unleash his full power in the middle of the town-it would lead to devastation, not only for the semi-dragons but for the innocent civilians caught in the crossfire.
Just then, a familiar fiery energy surged toward them, and Phoenix appeared at the edge of the crowd, his eyes scanning the scene. His usually vibrant and carefree expression darkened as he took in the situation.
"What's going on here?" Phoenix demanded, though his voice lacked its usual playful tone. It was clear from the tension in his stance that he understood the gravity of the situation.
Hydra turned toward him, desperation in his eyes. "It's too late, Phoenix. They're not backing down. We've got no choice but to fight."