Dorin coughed twice, his lungs desperately trying to purge the burning sensation that coated his insides. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t be rid of it. It was as if someone had poured enough hard Zelkovan whiskey down his throat to kill a horse, only worse. It didn’t just burn the inside of his throat and mouth, it was in his chest, his nose, and he swore that he could even feel it burning in his teeth.

  He groaned, rolling to his side to give another concerted attempt to hack up even a small amount of the fire inside him—anything to ease the flames before they ate him from the inside. As he coughed and wheezed, something dripped past his lips, and cool relief spread through him.

  Until he opened his eyes.

  Dizziness blurred his vision as he stared down at the glowing pool of fire beneath him. For a moment, he wondered if he’d fallen asleep at his cousin’s tavern. Samara used to be willing to slip him a few extra drinks if she thought he needed it, but he couldn’t remember having gone to see her. In fact, he didn’t think he’d been there in over a week, and he knew with certainty that he hadn’t touched her liquor since Tanev had been sick over five years ago.

  Instead, he remembered the horrible truth. Samri and Tanev, as the ringleaders of their little friend group, had gone beyond the walls. They’d met the monsters and nearly died, and in saving them, Dorin had fallen into the dungeon. He shouldn’t be alive. Not after being skewered clean through by the spikes of a boss drake. He remembered the pain, and he remembered the cold.

  It was hardly the first time he’d been fatally injured. He’d jumped in front of no fewer than two arrows and a spear while protecting his wife from harm. It was only thanks to Fallia’s quick thinking and field training that he’d lived long enough to reach a healer in every instance. But, there was no healer here, not one that could actually heal him.

  [Initializing System Interface

  Welcome, new monster]

  Dorin scrambled back, his hands patting the ground for a weapon. The voice had come from nowhere, but not even the cries of pain from his muscles would stop him from defending himself from a potential threat.

  [Initialization complete.

  New Status Sheet is now available]

  “New…what? I already have a stat sheet. It’s right…” Dorin flicked his wrist, just as he’d done a thousand times before to access the arcane runes that declared him a knight.

  They didn’t react.

  He flicked his wrist again. Still no response. Worried, he looked down at his wrist to determine if something was wrong with the runes that triggered his connection to the system.

  This has to be a dream. It has to be. I’m at home…in bed…this has to be a dream! But, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that his children were waiting for him downstairs, the cold truth stared him in the face.

  No more did the carefully inked runes adorn his skin. In their place, hard red scales grew from the outside of his forearm, protecting pale skin beneath. Those scales extended from his wrist all the way up his arm to his shoulder.

  “What is going on?” His words felt strange in his mouth. Feeling around with his tongue, he found that several of his teeth had sharpened, including his canines, which were more like fangs.

  [Welcome, new monster. To access your stat sheet, simply ask the system.]

  Dorin fought down panic. Everything about this was wrong. He wasn’t a monster, he was human! Or…at least he used to be. Humans don’t have scales. They don’t have fangs, and they don’t cough up fire. Whatever he was, now…the situation was bad. More information was better. That’s what his wife always said.

  “Access stats?” he asked cautiously, his words still slurred slightly as he tried to speak around his unfamiliar teeth.

  [Name: Dorin Ironclaw, Tier 2 Draken Flameknight

  Health: 46/46

  Mana: 20/20

  Health Regeneration: Medium

  Mana Regeneration: Slow

  Injury Index: 1 - Recently healed

  -

  Might: 7

  Resilience: 9

  Agility: 5

  Versatility: 4

  Affinity: 5

  Presence: 8

  -

  Special Abilities:

  Fire resistance

  Fire breath

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Control Flame

  Tongue of the Ancestors

  Flaming Strike

  Summon Fireblade

  Patriarch’s Last Stand

  -

  Tags:

  Monster

  Dragonkin]

  Dorin had to ask the system to repeat the list three times before he finally felt comfortable with its contents. The first time, he’d been unable to get past the part that read: “Dorin Ironclaw, Tier 2 Draken Flameknight,” and had missed the entire rest of the message. On the second and third time through, he was able to grasp more. His stats were different—he’d never had an [Affinity] stat as a human—and he had different skills than before. Now, he could speak draconic fluently, and not just the few phrases, common items, and swear words his grandmother had taught him. He could breathe fire which was only cool, no matter how he tried to twist it in his mind. But, at the end of it all, it all just reinforced one simple truth: Dorin was no longer human.

  How had this happened? How had he become dragonkin? Is this what happened to all those who died in Dragon’s Gate? Did people become monsters in the afterlife?!

  If that was true, the Church of Flames was going to have a conniption if they ever found out. Dorin never fancied himself a believer, but no knight of Kyelnor could operate without running into the church’s monster hunters at least once. They were fanatics who believed that the only good monsters were either dead or enslaved. Dorin had seen their work, and their brutality was no small part of why he and his wife chose to raise their children in the backwaters of Felsporo.

  They’d hunt me now, too. Dorin realized with a start.

  Could he even go home like this? How would he take care of his children? Monsters could only exist in towns as slaves. How could he raise his children without entering town? Would they be taken away from him? They were all he had left of Fallia…would they be taken away just like she was?

  Anger welled up within him, a flame that burned him with a heat that was far more real than it had ever been in the past. Whatever did this, it threatened his life. All he wanted was to live a peaceful life with his children. He’d hung up his shield and sword over seven years ago, all in the name of protecting his family. He’d given up his title as a knight, his wife’s nobility, and any power they’d once had to move back to Dorin’s ancestral home and hide away as a meager blacksmith. And now, all of that was being burned down around his ears. He wanted to unleash the fire inside him. He wanted to burn whatever had done this. He wanted to-

  A small whimper of pain reached his ears, cutting off his fiery rage. In the dark, his eyes found the green puddle quickly. Ignoring the aches in his limbs, he lunged forward, scooping the slime into his arms as best he could.

  “Suri!” he whispered. “Suri, can you hear me?!”

  “Do…Dorin?” the slime murmured.

  “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

  “You’re…alive?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m alive.”

  “I’m glad.” The slime relaxed, dripping down Dorin’s arm as the knight frantically tried to keep it in one piece. “I didn’t think I could heal you…but I tried anyway.”

  “You healed me?” Dorin breathed.

  That was even more impossible. By Suri’s own admission, he could only heal monsters. It was why Dorin had stumbled through the dungeon’s stoney halls on the sprained ankle and cracked ribs the healing potion had been unable to fully fix. How had he…

  A sickening thought grew in the back of Dorin’s thoughts. If Suri could only heal monsters, and he tried to heal Dorin…was the slime responsible for making him into a draken?

  Dorin didn’t know how to feel about that. On the one hand, he was alive, and being alive as a draken was better than being dead as a human. But, the change wasn’t that simple. He could never go home. He didn’t know if he could ever see his precious Samri and Tanev ever again.

  It’s not his fault, Dorin tried to convince himself. Be rational, Dorin. He just saved your life. You can’t resent him for that.

  “Suri, I just want to say-”

  But the slime was oozing down Dorin’s arm at an alarming rate. Something was very wrong. Suri didn’t feel right. More than just the lack of viscosity in the normally round slime, his magic felt wrong. He didn’t radiate mana the way he used to. His slime was dull instead of bright green with gold sparks. Dorin didn’t know how or why, or even how to fix it, but he knew the slime was severely injured.

  I have to get him out.

  Dorin pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the aches that still persisted from his transformation. Carefully pooling Suri in the tattered remains of his shirt, he grabbed his pick and began searching the room for the escapeway Suri swore was in every boss room. He skirted the walls, scouring the walls for any loose stones or raised sections of the dragon patterns that might reveal a hidden door. Finding nothing on his first pass, he did another, desperation growing hot inside him…or maybe that was just his fire. Whatever it was, it made his scales prickle uncomfortably.

  As he finished his second pass of the room, ending at the double doorway that led further into the labyrinth, a breeze tickled the scales on the back of his neck. The latch clicked and the door swung open. The breeze turned to a gust that pushed his hair back, and on the air, he heard sweet whispers.

  Songs in draconic echoed from the depths below, and Dorin was reminded of its history. The Old Ones created Dragon’s Gate to hide their great city below. If that city was still there, would they be able to help Suri? Or were the whispers just the sweet nothings of a dungeon trying to lure them both to their deaths?

  Lacking any other options, he stepped into the darkness. Shoving the make-shift bone pick through the leather strap on his back that normally held his shield, Dorin summoned a small flame in his free hand. This was one power he’d had as a human, and though the feeling of the mana through his veins was unfamiliar, the flame still burned with ease.

  At least some things don’t change, he mused. He’d always had an affinity for fire, one he’d always suspected ran in his family. There weren’t many heroes or adventurers in Felsporo, but Dorin’s great grandfather had supposedly left and become a knight, much like him. In that way, becoming draken hadn’t changed him much at all. He still had the fiery gifts of his ancestors.

  Dorin followed the corridor as it twisted, turned, and doubled back before opening into another wide room. However, unlike the boss room, this place was clearly built for civilization.

  Stone brick buildings with metal reinforcements rose high overhead. It was reminiscent of Felsporo keep, where the local lord lived, with high battlements and small windows for archers to safely attack those below, except that unlike the keep, a road wound through the center of the buildings. Dorin wondered if it was once a checkpoint of some kind.

  Whatever purpose it once served, it was in a time long past. Dust covered every surface and cobwebs hung in abandoned strands along the ceilings. Eerie silence was broken only by the sounds of Dorin’s own footsteps.

  “Hold on, Suri,” he whispered. “Where there were people, there must have been supplies at one time.”

  He tried a door, only to find it stuck fast. Putting his shoulder into it, he shoved with all his might. It gave way, revealing a hall filled with tables. Plates, bowls, and cups still covered their surface from meals never finished, though any food that once filled them had been picked clean by scavengers long ago. With a gentle hand, Dorin grabbed a bowl and poured his green friend into it. The bowl proved far easier to carry than pooling him in his shirt.

  With his slime friend in hand, he began exploring further. If this was a checkpoint and there were people here, then there had to be a barracks nearby. Barracks had supplies and infirmaries, and if Dorin was lucky, healing and mana potions.

  He glanced down at the bowl. The slime within was still. He picked up the pace.

  Yes, he would need luck. He would need the luck of the Gambler himself to get out of this with both of them alive.