Five days had passed since we entered the forest. The afternoon where we got ambushed six times never repeated itself. Instead, we settled into a steady rhythm of two or three attacks per day.

One thing puzzled me though. After so many battles, why had no one questioned my strength? I hadn’t lifted a finger in any fight. I was part of this commission—I even got paid. Even Gray, our client, had joined the fray. Yet nobody said a word about me just collecting wages while doing nothing. That felt… off.

“Aefina? Aefina?” Her voice cut through my thoughts via Mind Speech.

Traveling was boring. The initial thrill of entering the forest had long worn off. Chatting was the best way to kill time. But I avoided talking to the adventurers—I feared exposing myself as all bark and no bite. And after reading too many novels, I had zero interest in conversing with Gray, a male noble.

That left only Aefina. Not that I minded—I genuinely enjoyed talking to her. As a Great Dragon, her understanding of human society seemed shallow. I was happy to share my perspectives, even if they weren’t always right. Shaping a dragon’s worldview? The thought thrilled me. It felt like a real-life raising sim.

Aefina disliked others overhearing our talks, so we always used Mind Speech. Since we walked hand-in-hand—fulfilling the technique’s requirement—our occasional eye contact just looked like lovers gazing at each other. No one batted an eye at our constant whispering.

“Luo Sa? Thinking about something?” From my observations, Aefina was… indirect. Not quite tsundere, just unforthcoming. She’d never ask, *“What’s on your mind?”* outright. This phrasing was her compromise.

“Yeah. It’s weird…” I answered the question she truly wanted to ask. Her voice would brighten slightly—a happiness never shown on her face. She knew I was humoring her. This unspoken understanding had become our rhythm. My consideration seemed to melt the last trace of her reserve.

“Do I look like some hidden master?” I voiced my doubt.

“…” Aefina fell silent, turning to stare at me. Her eyes held the same helpless confusion I’d worn staring at calculus textbooks back in college. *Alright, I get it. I’m a pathetic fighter. No need to sugarcoat it.*

“Like Norma said—they should think I’m powerful. But after days of Monstrous Beast attacks, you’re always the one fighting. I’ve never thrown a punch. Don’t look at me like that—I know I’d lose. But others don’t. Why no suspicion? My reactions to beasts aren’t exactly battle-hardened. Isn’t it strange no one questions this?”

My phrasing felt awkward, but Aefina would understand.

“…Luo Sa, you don’t even flinch when beasts appear.” Her blunt retort stung—because it was true.

“But now that you mention it…” Aefina frowned slightly, as if digging through distant memories. “It was… over a century ago?” For a 260-year-old dragon, even a hundred years was a long stretch.

“I met a Sage back then. Never learned her name. She carried a scent similar to yours… No, not magic. She was stronger than I was at the time. I mean the *feeling* she gave off—calm, gentle. Like you. Maybe that’s why?”

At first, I’d hoped this Sage was connected to me—some inheritance waiting to be claimed. But Aefina meant temperament, not legacy. *Gentle.* Someone had called me that once too. I never liked the word. But something else caught my attention.

“Aefina… you knew other humans?” I was genuinely surprised.

Given her standoffish nature around others, I’d assumed she had no close human contacts. Yet her description of the Sage—*gentle*—implied familiarity. Who calls a stranger “gentle”?

Aefina nodded, then shook her head, realizing her vagueness. She began explaining.

Her memories were patchy—understandable after a century—but I pieced together the gist.

Back then, Aefina wandered aimlessly. The Sage crossed her path during those travels.

I’d expected years of companionship for someone Aefina remembered so vividly. But their entire acquaintance lasted only twenty days—from meeting to the Sage’s death.

Dragons weren’t welcome among humans. Aefina knew this well. She avoided settlements, roaming deep forests or high mountains in her true Silver Dragon form. Only near human areas would she shift to human guise.

This world wasn’t Earth. Monstrous Beasts roamed freely; ancient legends spoke of creatures that could move mountains. Humans clung to fortified cities, barely holding back the wilds. Venturing outside was near-suicidal.

So when Aefina—still in dragon form—encountered the Sage on a remote mountain, she never expected company. To the Sage, it was like stumbling upon a wild dragon.

Most humans would’ve panicked. Here, dragons ranked alongside vengeful spirits in folktales. Imagine Sadako crawling from your TV—wouldn’t you scream?

Yet the Sage showed no fear. She greeted Aefina warmly. That civility made Aefina lower her guard. She wasn’t some bloodthirsty monster—and frankly, the Sage outclassed her.

Later, Aefina learned the Sage was investigating a forest where beasts showed signs of demonic corruption. A potential Demon Realm invasion.

Yes, demons existed. They dwelled in the Demon Realm—a neighboring dimension locked in eternal war with this world. The original cause was lost to history; now, only generations of hatred fueled the conflict. Fighting over forgotten reasons? Pathetic.

Aefina, directionless in her travels, proposed joining the Sage. A companion for the journey, far from human settlements.

*Hmm… this scenario feels oddly familiar.*

Twenty days wasn’t long—not even a month by Earth standards. Nothing dramatic happened. No unbreakable bonds formed. They weren’t even true friends; Aefina never learned the Sage’s name.

“Later, I realized she went there to destroy the Demon Realm’s invasion plan.” Aefina’s tone stayed flat, as if recounting a stranger’s tale.

The Sage was female—I’d been startled hearing the distinct feminine pronoun in this world’s language.

“To shatter their half-formed portal, she burned her life force and magic until her body dissolved.” Aefina glanced at me. “She’d planned it all along. Her face was calm as she embraced death… much like yours, Luo Sa.”

She meant our first meeting. *Dying once already plus zero escape options = why bother running?* Best not to explain that.

Earlier, I’d called this world peaceful—humanity’s biggest threats being bandits and mindless beasts. But a millennia-long demon war contradicted that.

Except demons hadn’t appeared in over a century. Not since the Sage’s death. Don’t mistake a hundred years for a blink in an eternal war. Hatred ran bone-deep. Both sides constantly sought to tear chunks from each other. Not even a single year of truce had occurred.

Some tried invading the Demon Realm directly—but the portals stopped working. No one knew why. With no way across, the endless war froze in stalemate. For 120 years.

Human lifespans here mirrored Earth’s—natural limits around 80 years. Average lifespans were far shorter; violent deaths were common. Even mighty Sword Saints or Archmages rarely lived past 120. Beastkin fared slightly better.

Only the Elf Clan lived millennia. But they found gardening more interesting than demon-slaying. Demons, not stupid, avoided provoking them. Between elves and demons, cold indifference was the closest thing to peace.

In short: no demon wars for 120 years. The generation that fought them was long gone.

The new generation had heard from their parents about the Demon Race as their sworn enemy. But since they’d never actually encountered them, the hatred had faded significantly after just one generation.

Moreover, many of the second generation had already passed away. For the third generation, hatred toward the Demon Race had nearly vanished. Many didn’t even know of a race that had clashed bitterly with their ancestors for over ten thousand years.

So now, on this continent, the Demon Race no longer ranked as the universal foe. Plenty of people found bandits far more detestable than demons.

Anyway, none of this really concerned me. I’d never run into any demons anyway, right?