Chapter 2 — The Dragon's Instinct
Razan was wandering through the broken alleys of Hell, keeping his footsteps light as he searched for some random thug he could take down to farm a bit of money. The place reeked of smoke, rust, and old blood; neon signs flickered overhead, buzzing faintly like dying insects. Hell wasn't just dangerous — it was loud, chaotic, and unforgiving. Anyone weak was prey.
He was about to turn a corner when a familiar sound cut through the noise.
A nervous, cornered growl.
Followed by filthy, mocking laughter.
Razan froze. His draconic senses flared so sharply it felt as if the world stopped moving.
Loona.
Her scent, her heartbeat, her fear — everything crashed into his awareness at once. Without thinking, he bolted.
When he rounded the corner, he saw her. On the other side of the alley, Loona stood tense, shoulders raised and jaw clenched. And in front of her were the same two thugs from before, the ones who had nearly attacked him earlier.
"Well, well…" one of the thugs drawled, stepping closer with a grin that made Razan's blood boil. "Look what we've got here — a little hell-wolf. Might be worth some coins for us to play with."
He reached out a hand toward her.
Loona stepped back, her claws twitching, her ears pinned flat.
Why did I even help that kid? she thought bitterly. This is Hell. Nobody here is worth anything… nobody except idiots who get themselves killed.
The thug's hand hovered inches from her face.
And then a shadow fell over them.
A black claw sliced down from above.
A single clean strike — and both of the thug's hands flew through the air.
The man's scream ripped through the alley as he collapsed, blood spraying in thick, dark arcs across the cracked pavement.
The second thug stiffened, eyes widening in pure terror as Razan stepped forward — no longer human-shaped, no longer harmless-looking. He was in a half-dragon form, shadows curling off his body like smoke. His wings stretched wide, pitch-black and sharp. His claws gleamed like blades of obsidian. His eyes glowed with a destructive, predatory light that didn't belong to a child or even a demon, but something far older.
His aura pressed against the alley like a physical weight.
His voice came out cold, tyrannical, and absolute:
"Don't lay your filthy hands on her, trash."
Loona stared. Her breath caught. The boy she'd saved earlier — the awkward, polite kid who'd thanked her — was gone. In his place stood something terrifying, a monster wearing a child's face.
No—
Something worse.
Something powerful.
The mutilated thug tried to crawl away, blood leaving a wide trail behind him. He didn't make it far.
Razan didn't hesitate. One swipe — a claw wrapped in swirling, black destructive energy — erased him completely. No ashes, no remains. Just nothingness.
The second thug fell back on his rear, trembling so hard he could barely breathe.
"W-what the hell are you?!"
Razan paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. He glanced around the alley, as if comparing himself to the chaos around him.
"There's this demon boss here called Alastor," he said calmly. "Goes by the Radio Demon."
His lips curled into a dark, confident smile.
"Well… I'll call myself… Acnologia."
He opened his wings, his body glowing with raw destructive force.
Then he roared.
Not a scream, not a shout — a dragon's roar. A black, earth-shattering wave of power surged forward, ripping the air apart. The thug didn't even have time to scream. The roar disintegrated him and everything behind him for several meters, leaving a smoking, silent void in the alley where life had existed moments before.
When the sound faded, Hell itself seemed to hold its breath.
The crimson sky flickered. The distant screams quieted. Even the chaotic energy of this domain recoiled for a moment from the presence Razan had unleashed.
Then it was over.
Razan's body shrank, scales dissolving, wings fading. Within seconds he returned to his human form — or rather, his small child form — breathing heavily but steady.
He ran straight to Loona.
"Are you okay?" he asked, genuine worry filling his voice.
Loona blinked slowly at him. The same kid who'd mumbled thanks earlier now stood calmly after erasing two hell thugs like it was nothing. She felt conflicted — scared, impressed, and confused all at once.
"Why…" she whispered. "Why are you being nice to me? This is Hell. People like me aren't worth anything."
Razan scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed, avoiding her stare.
"Well… first off, you saved me earlier when I was weaker. Without you, I probably would've died. So I want to help you too."
Loona narrowed her eyes, unconvinced.
"And the second reason?"
Razan turned a shade of red so strong it almost showed through his dark skin.
"It's kinda stupid," he muttered. "But… wolves were my favorite animals when I was human. Always were. And you… I don't know. Something about you makes me want to protect you. Even though we've only known each other for a few hours."
He laughed weakly, rubbing his cheek.
"Weird, right?"
Loona stood completely still. Her chest tightened in a way she wasn't used to — not fear, not annoyance, something else entirely. Something she didn't understand.
She didn't know what to think of him.
Didn't know how to react.
All she could do was stare at this impossible boy — a gentle, awkward kid who turned into a monster to protect her — and wonder for the first time in a long time if maybe, just maybe, someone in Hell wasn't lying.