As he stood, Ranann rummaged through his bag and pulled out a few coins, placing them on the table. Azrath observed him with a mix of surprise and amusement.
“I didn’t expect you to pay. With your reputation, I thought you’d just leave, and if the barkeep complained, you’d cut out his tongue.”

Ranann let out a heavy sigh.
“Being an assassin doesn’t mean I enjoy killing without reason. There’s no need to spill blood all the time—it’s not practical.”

They left the tavern and ventured into the labyrinthine streets of the city. They walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Upon reaching the outskirts, they entered a forest whose dense canopy seemed to swallow them whole.

The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. After some time, they reached a clearing where a large group awaited, shrouded in gray cloaks that concealed their features.

As Ranann and Azrath approached, the figures pulled back their hoods, revealing their faces.

They appeared human, but something set them apart. Atop their heads were horns of various shapes, sizes, and colors—some curved like a ram’s, others sharp like daggers. Scales ran along parts of their skin, reflecting the light like embedded gems. Some had sharp claws, while others sported long, restless tails.

The color of their scales distinguished their class and determined the type of magic they could wield: Red Scales controlled fire, Blue Scales mastered ice, and Yellow Scales wielded lightning.

Despite their magical limitations, draconids had the unique ability to absorb magic corresponding to their class. Unlike other species, they didn’t use ambient mana; they were born with a lacrima in their hearts that allowed them to use magic from a very young age. However, this lacrima generated what was known as tainted mana, as it didn’t come from the environment but from an internal source that could consume them over time.

Ranann scrutinized his future companions. None seemed to have elongated pupils like Azrath’s. However, one of them already had a fully developed tail. That could pose a problem later.

“So, this is the assassin I’ve heard so much about,” came a deep voice from the draconid Ranann had been eyeing. He was sharpening his sword with methodical movements, the sound of metal against stone echoing in the clearing. “Do we really need the help of a human?”

A dark cloak partially concealed a set of light armor, and a belt full of daggers crossed his chest. His hair was black, and his yellow eyes gleamed with intensity. Blue scales ran along his neck and part of his face, and a muscular tail swayed impatiently behind him.

“What’s that one’s name?” Ranann asked Azrath, nodding toward the draconid.

“That’s Fafnir, a Blue Scale. He’s one of the most talented in our infantry,” Azrath replied with a proud smile. “Want to know anyone else’s name?”

“No need,” Ranann replied dismissively. “I just wanted to know who he was. The rest don’t matter to me.”

Fafnir approached Ranann with heavy steps, each footfall leaving a deep imprint in the ground. Up close, he was even more imposing, standing over two meters tall. Compared to Ranann’s height, he seemed like a giant. Ranann had never been particularly tall, measuring less than one-seventy, but his stature allowed him to slip easily through his enemies.

Fafnir stared at Ranann with his elongated pupils, but Ranann felt no intimidation.
“You’re pretty scrawny for an assassin. What’s your name?”
“Ranann.”
“Ranann what?”
“Just Ranann.”

Fafnir smirked, revealing sharp fangs.
“I’m Fafnir. We’ve paid a lot for your services, so I expect you to be useful,” he said, eyeing Ranann with suspicion. “Though I still don’t understand why you’d ally yourself with us. Are you really going to betray your own kind so easily?”

“I ally myself with those who pay well. If the pay is good, I don’t care who I have to kill, even if it’s the king himself. Though I can’t guarantee success.”

“How old are you?”
“Thirty-seven.”
“Really? You look much younger.”
“I have no reason to lie to you.”
“Doesn’t matter. Let’s get along,” Fafnir replied with a smile, extending his hand. “Even if it’s just for a short time.”

Ranann glanced at his hand, noticing the sharp claws protruding from his fingers. His gaze shifted to the blue scales on Fafnir’s torso and then to the tail that hadn’t fully grown yet.
“How long until you lose your sanity?” Ranann asked, ignoring Fafnir’s extended hand.

Fafnir blinked, surprised by the blunt question. His tail struck the ground harder, kicking up small clouds of dust.
“I have no idea. I never think about it, so I couldn’t tell you.”

“Are you aware of the danger you pose to all of us?”

“Don’t worry,” Fafnir replied.

He dragged a finger across his neck, smiling with an expression only a madman could wear.
“I’m willing to have my head cut off if necessary.”

Ranann stepped away without saying another word. To him, Fafnir was nothing more than a ticking time bomb that could go off at any moment.

The draconic lacrima in a draconid’s heart granted them immense power, but it was also their greatest weakness. The tainted mana coursing through their bodies gradually corrupted their anima. The more they used their power, the more contaminated their anima became, causing changes to their very being. Sharp claws, dragon scales, a fierce tail, and even wings would begin to emerge over time.

But it wasn’t just their appearance that changed; they also lost their ability to reason, consumed by an insatiable thirst for destruction. Eventually, they would lose the ability to use magic altogether.

It was said that a draconid became fully corrupted when the whites of their eyes turned yellow and their pupils elongated like a reptile’s. In that state, they transformed into mindless dragons, devastating everything in their path. The only way to prevent this was to sever their head before the transformation became irreversible. In past wars, corrupted draconids were used as weapons of mass destruction, sent against enemy armies even though they would never return.

After the brief introductions—though Ranann had barely exchanged words with the rest of the group—they set out for the city. The plan seemed straightforward, but Ranann knew that things rarely went as expected.