At the foot of the snowy mountains of the Stelia fief, a boy with a spear walked along a narrow, treacherous path, one so dangerous that even horses couldn’t pass through. But the boy was tall for his age and could spot danger from afar. His slightly curly golden hair and his muscular frame easily identified him as Warm Rio Draconis, a knight apprentice of Stelia.
Every day, Warm trained until late at night while he assisted the knights with their nightly patrol. He also routinely ended his patrol early to visit the gravesite of his beloved beast, Flugel. It was tradition in Stelia to tame wyverns and ride atop them for combat and transportation. If a Stelian’s wyvern mount passed away, rather than build a grave, it was customary to leave the body as it was, to let them rest in that same place.
Though wyverns were a low rank of dragon, they were a draconic species nonetheless, and their scales, meat, organs, and hair fetched a very high price. Though demand for these parts was high, many viewed their own steeds as family and refused to dissect and cut open their beloved wyvern’s body for money or other uses.
It was impractical to transport a dragon’s massive body and dig an enormous hole to bury it completely. There wasn’t enough land to spare anyway. And so, when a wyvern died, they were quite literally returned to nature, perpetuating the circle of life as their rotting body sustained the ecosystem and led to new life.
However, leaving them exposed to the elements came with its own risks; due to the high demand and price that wyvern parts fetched, there were grave robbers of sorts who would dissect or pillage these beasts. Oftentimes, a grave keeper was hired to keep watch and ensure that the dragon knight’s wyvern was left in peace before it rotted away completely, but Warm had volunteered to guard his fallen steed by himself. And so, every night, without fail, the boy would visit Flugel with flowers in hand and talk to his recently deceased partner about the day’s events.
One day, a mechbeast suddenly arrived from the empire. Mechbeasts were weapons made by the empire to protect the borders, and they prowled about like security guards. They came in all sorts of shapes and sizes, and every now and then, they would wander too far out and break free from the empire’s control, crossing the border to wreak havoc in Stelia.
Strays, these beasts were called, and at times, they would pounce and attack people. Whenever one appeared, the knights would be deployed to subjugate it. On one particular day, a stray took the form of a gigantic, ancient wyvern, and it proved to be a powerful foe. The dragon knights—an elite squad of knights who rode atop dragons—couldn’t handle this beast alone, and as the mechbeast began to destroy nearby homes and villages, Warm joined the fray with Flugel.
After a grisly battle, Warm had managed to take down the stray, but in the scuffle, he was knocked off his wyvern and plummeted from the sky. Flugel rushed ahead to protect its rider, and the wyvern managed to catch Warm with its mouth, but that had put it in an unwieldy position. Unable to twist its body around in time, the wyvern plunged into the mountain while cushioning Warm’s fall.
Both Flugel and Warm sustained no fatal wounds, but the wyvern had broken one of its wings. A wyvern’s wings were its lifeline, and without them, the beast could hardly move; Flugel was thus forced to sit in place, and Warm did whatever he could to treat and heal the wing. Potions were made for humans, so they were practically ineffective against monsters. Even the strongest, most expensive potion couldn’t heal a wyvern’s broken wing. Warm’s only other option was to rely on healing magic. The boy rushed into a church, explained his situation, and implored for help, but no one would hear his request. Fixing a broken wing was no small order; even among healers, only the most advanced and highly ranked could even hope to accomplish such a feat.
There were a few healers in Stelia capable of advanced spells, but of course, they all held lofty positions and required a hefty donation to be hired. A child like Warm couldn’t have possibly afforded it. It was then that Sacred Sword Eric, Warm’s mentor and master, offered to pay. Treatment was supposed to start shortly afterward, but after all was said and done, the church ultimately turned this request down, claiming that devout followers of God were forbidden from treating a monster.
Sacred Sword Eric even got Margrave Stelia’s house involved and protested, but the church stubbornly refused to budge on its position. Ultimately, Flugel never got the treatment it so desperately needed. Even so, Warm refused to give up. Every single day, without fail, he solemnly made the trek to the mountain and brought food while talking about whatever was on his mind to his partner. But it soon became clear that Flugel was growing weaker and more weary by the day, and ultimately, it could no longer eat its food.
On its final day, Flugel gave a small cry to Warm before it closed its eyes to slumber—an eternal one that it would never awaken from. Warm and Flugel had always been together ever since the boy was young. At times, they fought over food and petty issues, but that was only a happy memory now. Flugel was practically family to Warm, and the boy felt a stronger bond to this beast than he did with his own parents.
Naturally, denial washed over the boy. He refused to believe that his beloved steed was gone, and every night, he visited Flugel without fail. At times, he’d even delude himself into dreaming that Flugel might wake up one day, that it was simply taking a nap and wasn’t dead at all. Warm could only hope that this was a prank that Flugel played on him.
“You must be Warm Rio Draconis,” a voice called.
As Warm visited his wyvern, someone approached him while hiding his presence. A young boy with chestnut-colored hair donning a white coat appeared before the grieving Warm.
“Who are you?” Warm asked warily.
The boy flashed a fearless smile. “My name is Raymond. And I hope we can be lifelong friends, Warm.”
This was the first encounter between Raymond, the future second Demon Lord, and Dragon Rider Warm.
✶✶✶
Raymond’s power was mystifying. He was able to communicate with monsters, and he used this power to befriend them or form contracts with them. This was how he managed to secure a menagerie of summons to do his bidding. Raymond essentially had an army at his beck and call, one that could triumph over a military. His fearsome ability had brought many powerful monsters into his ranks, including one who could resurrect the dead.
Raymond summoned Lethe, a demilich skeleton in a black robe. This monster had the moniker “Bellwether of the Dead,” and it was an undead of the highest rank. Lethe was capable of casting a host of spells, but it was most known for wielding the lost art of wraith magic. Thanks to this spell, it breathed new—albeit false—life into Flugel, resurrecting the wyvern from the other side.
Normally, Flugel would’ve been reduced to a low class dragon zombie, one who prowled about with its rotting body, but thanks to Lethe’s spell, the wyvern’s body regenerated by the moment, transforming into a whole new being. To be precise, this revived wyvern was no longer the Flugel that Warm knew and loved. Flugel’s body was simply used as a medium to house the spirit of a high-ranked undead that Lethe created. Though the wyvern’s body was changed, when Warm saw his dead partner now parading around with the spirit of another, his body trembled with joy.
“Flugel?” he murmured. “Is this real? Flugel... Flugel!”
Tears streamed down this boy’s cheeks as though to wash away the powerlessness he’d felt when watching his dear wyvern waste away. But now, Flugel was right before his eyes.
“E-Ever since you...fell asleep, so many things happened,” Warm said to his wyvern. “Did you hear what I said to you? I’ve been dying to converse with you once more, so I kept talking to you. Did you know that?”
“And now you can converse with it to your heart’s content,” Raymond said gently. “The two of you will have plenty of time in the future for that.”
Warm sobbed. “Is this real? Resurrection... Even holy magic shouldn’t be capable of that...”
“Your wyvern is alive and well. I simply held power that the church does not. That’s all there is to it.”
“Raymond, was it? How can I ever thank you?”
Warm cried as he bowed his head to Raymond. The Dragon Rider knew more than anyone else that his own inexperience and clumsiness had caused the passing of his beloved dragon, one who was more important to him than anyone else. With Flugel gone, Warm had even considered suicide, unable to bear the pain of going through life without his steed. He felt like he deserved such a punishment for having destroyed the young wyvern’s future. But a miracle had occurred. Even the church, the voice of God, couldn’t resurrect the dead, and yet the impossible had become possible right before Warm’s eyes. He could soar through the skies with Flugel once more.
“You saved me, Raymond, more than you’ll ever know,” Warm said. “But I’m just a knight apprentice. How can I even begin to repay you?”
The boy knelt and gazed up at Raymond. The boy with chestnut-colored hair firmly grasped Warm’s shoulders.
“I’ve got a dream, you see,” Raymond said. “And to make it reality, I must overcome a host of obstacles. To prevail, I need power—your power.”
“You got it,” Warm agreed. “I’ll do anything within my power to clear the obstacles in your path. From this moment forward, I am your spear.”