Byron suddenly recalled his youth—before he had become a knight, before he had become a mercenary, even before he had become a Swordsman Apprentice.
It had been during his teenage years. He had once accomplished something that still seemed incredibly impressive in hindsight—while herding cattle for his family, he had climbed onto a bull's back, jabbed the bull in the back with a long nail, and spent the next three minutes imagining himself as a heroic knight attempting to tame an Evil Dragon.
Ah, aside from spending a full ten days bedridden afterward, what could possibly have been more thrilling, dangerous, and exciting than such a feat?
There was one thing: when the bull beneath his backside was replaced by a real, enraged female dragon.
Byron could not quite remember how he had reached the ground. He only remembered a series of violent jolts, a sudden ascent, repeated midair rolls and spins, deafening roars, and a "landing" even more unforgettable than falling off a bull. His whole body hurt, yet miraculously, he had not broken a single bone. As he climbed to his feet, grateful that he was still in such good shape, he came face-to-face with the Red Dragon's head as it slowly lowered from above.
A pair of orange-red Vertical Pupils gleaming with magical light stared fixedly at him, close enough for him to see his own reflection clearly within them. The Red Dragon's nostrils flared slightly, and she bared her teeth in a terrifying snarl half a meter wide. Byron would have sworn he could see smoke and flames rising from the corners of her mouth. Remembering what he had just done on this lady's back, he quickly took half a step backward. "Asalina, calm down! I didn't mean to just now—"
"Left or right?" the Red