The camping aisle smells faintly of canvas and dust. Markus pushes the cart slowly, the wheels squeaking on the polished floor, while Sally darts ahead, her sneakers thudding against the linoleum.

  Rows of stacked boxes rise on either side, each printed with glossy photos of smiling families in neat, glowing tents.

  Sally stops in front of a towering wall of them, her gaze moving over the different colors and shapes. She presses her hands against one box as if she can feel the fabric through the cardboard. Markus joins her, scanning the price tags, his brow furrowing.

  He lifts one tent from the shelf and sets it in the cart. Sally drifts down the row, running her fingers along the edges of the boxes, pulling one free — bright green, smaller than the rest. She hesitates, then places it carefully on top of the pile.

  The cart fills slowly, one box after another, until Markus gives it a small push toward the register. Sally trails behind, glancing back once at the wall of tents before they reach the end of the aisle.

  “Hey, Dad… do you watch the news?” Sally asks, her eyes dropping to the floor.

  Markus glances at her. “What makes you bring that up?”

  “Well…” She hesitates, twisting her fingers together. “I saw a piece about my sister. They said she’s a criminal. That she should be put down… like a dog. Is that true?”

  Markus looks down at his full hands, unable to set anything aside to reach for her shoulder. His voice stays steady, though a little tired.

  “They can say what they want. We’re going to give them a home. If that makes her a dog in their eyes… then fine. But I believe in her. That’s what matters.”

  The automatic doors hiss open as Markus and Sally push the cart outside, boxes of tents stacked nearly to the brim. The afternoon air is cool, heavy with the smell of asphalt after rain.

  Markus stops by the truck, lifts a hand, and carves a shimmering oval into the air. The tents slide off the cart one by one as he tosses them through the portal, vanishing into the dim outline of his yard.

  Sally leans close, sticking her hand in and out of the glowing threshold, her face lit with curiosity.

  “Why don’t we go through too?” she asks.

  Markus closes the portal with a slow wave.

  “We could,” he says quietly. “But I was hoping to find your sister. The cops will be looking for her soon—especially if the news keeps priming people to think punishing her is normal.”

  Sally freezes mid-step, her eyes locking on a slim figure across the street—a girl just a little older than her, hood pulled low.

  “That’s Kanna,” she whispers.

  Before Markus can react, Sally bolts.

  “Kanna!” she shouts, weaving through traffic.

  The girl glances back, panic flashing in her eyes, then sprints into a narrow alley. She tries to vault a chain-link fence, but her foot slips, and she crashes hard onto her knees.

  “Kanna!” Sally skids to a stop beside her. “Are you alright?” She reaches out, trying to help her up—

  Kanna slaps her hand away, eyes wild with fear.

  Markus eases his wheelchair closer, the rubber wheels crunching softly on the gravel.

  “I won’t let you take me away like the others,” Kanna says, forcing herself to her feet. Her fists tremble as she swings—a shaky punch that barely carries any weight.

  Markus doesn’t flinch. He simply holds out a candy bar.

  “Sally said you used to love these. Mind if we talk?”

  “I know you’re a cop,” Kanna spits, though her voice quivers. “You’re going to arrest me. Just… stay away.”

  She turns, tries to climb the fence again, but her injured leg buckles. She slides back down, landing hard.

  “You just want the reward for stopping a gang,” she mutters, her head hanging. “I’m hungry, I’m tired… and no matter what I do, there’s always more.”

  Markus wheels closer, quiet and steady, holding the candy bar out again, palm level with hers.

  “Not the most nutritious,” he says gently, “but it’s still food.”

  For a long second, nothing moves. Kanna’s eyes flick from his face to the wrapper, searching for a trick. Finally she snatches it, turns the bar over and over to check the seal, then tears it open. She breaks off the tiniest square—too small to hide anything dangerous—and slips it into her mouth, chewing slowly.

  Markus waits until she swallows before he speaks. “If I could ask one question… how do I convince you to put your faith in me?”

  Sally stiffens, pointing over Markus’s shoulder. “Dad…” she whispers.

  Markus turns as an officer steps into the mouth of the alley, hand already resting on his holster. “There she is,” the cop barks, nodding toward Kanna. “Back away. She’s dangerous.”

  Kanna shrinks against the fence, fists clenched and trembling.

  Markus wheels forward, voice calm. “That won’t be necessary, officer,” he says evenly. “That kid is with me.”

  The officer narrows his eyes, thumb brushing his holster. Markus opens his mouth to explain—

  Gunshots crack through the alley.

  Sally and Kanna flinch, turning their heads away. When they look back, Markus sits steady in his chair, the Life-Giving Blade raised before him. The steel hums faintly; the bullets flatten harmlessly against its edge and clatter to the ground.

  “Sorry,” Markus says, calm but absolute. His gaze pins the officer. “Nothing is going to happen to these kids. Not while I’m here.

  The officer’s face twists with anger. With a sudden shove, he knocks Markus from his wheelchair.

  “Dad!” Sally screams as Markus hits the pavement, the Life-Giving Blade clattering beside him.

  Before Markus can recover, the officer’s fists come down—hard, again and again.

  Kanna freezes, caught between flight and fear, her hands trembling as she presses against the fence.

  Tires screech at the mouth of the alley. A sheriff’s cruiser skids to a halt, door flung open.

  “What the hell are you doing?” the sheriff shouts, sprinting toward them. Backup spills out behind him, red-blue lights flickering across the brick walls.

  The officer straightens, chest heaving. “This man was getting in the way.”

  The sheriff’s face darkens. “Do you even know who that is? That’s the Dragon Slayer. Did you stop to think about the PR nightmare when the media finds out you assaulted him—while he was protecting kids?”

  The officer’s mouth opens, but no words come.

  “Exactly.” The sheriff jerks his thumb toward the street. “Clear out. Now.”

  Engines rumble as the others retreat. Silence seeps back into the alley.

  The sheriff looks down at Markus, who’s struggling to sit upright, his breath ragged. His tone softens.

  “Hope you enjoy the rest of your day,” he says, then turns and walks away.

  As the cruisers pull off, the alley falls quiet again. Sally and Kanna rush to Markus’s side, trying to lift him back into his chair. Markus grimaces but manages to open a portal with a trembling hand.

  “Sally,” he rasps, “go get your mother.”

  She doesn’t hesitate—just nods and runs through the glowing threshold.

  Kanna lingers, her gaze drifting to the half-eaten candy bar lying on the ground. She swallows hard, then looks back at Markus.

  “Why did you do that for me?” Kanna asks, her voice trembling.

  Markus chuckles weakly. “Sally wouldn’t have let me hear the end of it if I hadn’t.” He straightens in his chair with a wince. “But honestly? Even after everything… you’re still a good kid. And you shouldn’t have to feel like less just because your parents died when a dragon fell from the sky.”

  Kanna’s eyes burn. She turns her face away. “How many… how many of us do you think there are?”

  Markus studies her. “How many of you kids are left?”

  She clenches her fists. “We got raided again. By the cops. We used to be one hundred and twenty-seven.” Her voice cracks. “Would they have been good kids too? Didn’t they deserve—”

  Her words break off as tears stream down her cheeks. Markus doesn’t hesitate. He reaches out and pulls her into a rough embrace.

  The portal shimmers steadily at the edge of the alley, its glow spilling across the cracked pavement. From its light, Sally and Liddle step through. They rush to Markus, who has slumped to the ground, his strength failing him. Together they lift him back into his chair, worry etched across their faces.

  “Markus,” Liddle says softly, “you should come back. Alexia’s here. We can heal you.”

  Markus shakes his head, his gaze dropping to Kanna. “I’m sorry, Liddle… but my job isn’t done yet. There are still kids out there I need to find.”

  He reaches out, squeezing Liddle’s hand before turning back to Kanna. His voice is gentle but firm.

  “That is—if you’re willing to show me where they are.”

  Kanna hesitates, then gives a small nod.

  Markus leans back in his chair, exhaling. “One more favor, Liddle. Could you get some soup ready for them? They must be starving.”

  She blinks, then smiles faintly, brushing hair from her face. “Alright. But you’d better be back soon. You look like you’ve been through a war.”

  “Trust me—you don’t want to know.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Markus leans forward, catching Liddle’s hand as she turns to go. For a moment, she bends down and wraps her arms around him, holding him carefully against her chest.

  The hug lingers only a breath before they pull apart, and Liddle steps back through the portal with Sally. The glow winks shut behind them, leaving Markus and Kanna alone in the alley.

  Markus turns to her. “Walk beside me,” he says gently. “People will just think you’re my daughter. It’ll keep us from drawing attention.”

  Kanna’s cheeks flush. She hesitates, then gives a small nod and falls into step beside him.

  “Doesn’t it hurt? I’m pressing on your bruises.”

  Markus gives a tired laugh. “Nothing I’m not used to. Now come on—let’s get to your base before the cops do.”

  He wheels forward as Kanna points the way, her voice quiet but certain. She shifts slightly, settling more comfortably on his lap while Markus lifts a hand to wave at the people they pass. His easy greetings draw a few nods and smiles from strangers, and Kanna finds herself staring.

  It reminds her of her father.

  Her voice slips out before she can stop it. “It doesn’t matter what Sally thinks. You’ll never be my dad.”

  Markus blinks, glancing at her. “Where’s that coming from?”

  “The messages Sally sent me… it felt like you were trying to replace him.” Kanna’s throat tightens. “But my dad—he was a great man. And now he’s gone.”

  Markus slows his chair, resting his hand gently over hers. His tone softens.

  “You never got to grieve, did you? You just kept going.”

  Her lips tremble, but she says nothing.

  “I’m not here to replace your father,” Markus says quietly. “I just… want to give you a chance at life.”

  “I wish I knew,” Kanna whispers, a tear sliding down her cheek. “I was always out with friends. If I’d known… I would’ve spent more time with them.”

  “I know,” Markus says softly. He glances upward, eyes catching on the sky as if he can almost see the dragon looming there again. He blinks hard and forces his focus back to Kanna.

  “The dragon was a tragedy. It took lives that should never have been taken. But…” He places a steady hand on her shoulder. “The best thing you can do now is live the kind of life they would’ve wanted you to have.”

  Despite most of the city being rebuilt in the month since the Morgi Dragon’s attack, the place the kids called Home remains an exception. Here, the scars of the battle cling stubbornly to every corner. Shattered glass glitters in the gutters like cruel confetti, crunching under each wheel of Markus’s chair. Windows stay boarded with warped planks, their edges blackened by fire.

  Whole blocks elsewhere have been patched and painted over, but this street still carries the weight of neglect. A toppled streetlight leans against the side of a crumbling building. Graffiti covers the walls—part warning, part desperate claim of territory. The air carries a faint staleness: smoke that never quite lifted and dust that has settled into every crack.

  And yet, the kids have carved life into the ruins. Faded tarps stretch across broken walls to keep the rain out. Old crates and dented buckets serve as makeshift furniture. On one slab of concrete, chalk drawings bloom in bright colors—stick figures holding hands, flowers, a clumsy sun smiling down. In the shadow of ruin, they’ve made something that’s theirs.

  For the rest of the city, the dragon’s destruction has become a memory.

  Here, it’s still daily life—still, somehow, home.

  Four boys creep out from different hiding spots: behind a toppled door, a pile of crates, the shadow of a broken wall. Their clothes are dirty, their faces tired, but their eyes light faintly when they see Sally.

  “Oh… you’re back,” one of them says, his voice thin with relief.

  Another shakes his head. “The cops came. They took the rest of the

  “They said they had to move fast,” a third adds, his voice bitter. “Before the Dragon Slayer showed up.”

  Kanna’s shoulders sag. She stares at the ground, fists clenched at her sides. “How many are left?” she whispers.

  The boys exchange a glance before one finally answers.

  “Just us. Just the four of us.”

  Markus opens a portal, the glow spilling across the cracked ground. He gives Kanna a gentle poke on the back.

  “Come on. Let’s get your five settled at my house.”

  One of the boys steps forward, arms crossed. “Why should we trust you?”

  Kanna lifts her head. Her voice is steady, even if her eyes are tired.

  “This man fought a cop to keep me from being arrested. And he’s been watching over my sister. I think… he can be trusted.”

  The boys glance at one another.

  “Really?”

  “For real?”

  “That’s… that’s cool.”

  Markus gestures toward the portal. “Let’s step through. We can talk later.”

  One by one, the kids slip into the light. On the other side, the scent of soup and wood smoke greets them. Liddle waits, her eyes wide as she counts the newcomers.

  Alexia jogs up as Markus wheels through last. She doesn’t bother with pleasantries—just grabs his arm and pulls out her healing staff.

  “Come here, hero. What makes you think fighting a cop was a good idea? Could you, just once in your life, think before you do something dumb?” Her voice is sharp, but her hands tremble as green light begins to mend his bruises. “You’re lucky he didn’t shoot you.”

  “Oh, he tried,” Markus says dryly. He manages a faint smile. “Thank you for caring. I feel good enough… but if you don’t mind, save your mana for the kids.”

  As Alexia hurries over to tend the kids, Sally darts straight to Kanna, throwing her arms around her in a fierce hug. Kanna stiffens at first, then slowly lets her shoulders sink, hugging back.

  Markus watches them with a tired smile before turning his chair toward Liddle.

  “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “Hope I didn’t take too long.”

  Liddle moves to him immediately, slipping her arms under his shoulders. She helps lift him from the chair and ease him onto the couch.

  “There you go. Get some rest, Markus.” She bends down and kisses his nose with a tender little smile.

  Markus shifts, trying to sit up again. “But I still have to put up the tents—”

  Liddle gently presses him back down, then lies across his chest to pin him in place.

  “Don’t worry. Alexia and Sally will help with that. You need to rest.”

  “I know, but…”

  “Just for a little bit, okay?” Her voice softens. “I know you care about those kids, but I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

  Markus sighs, finally letting his body relax. “You’re right.”

  “The soup should be ready soon if you want to try it. But for now…” She nuzzles against him, smiling. “You’ve already got a demon on you.”

  Markus wraps his arms around her and smiles. “I sure do.”

  He sinks back into the couch, closing his eyes and trying to hold onto the rare quiet. Liddle nestles beside him, her head resting lightly on his chest.

  “Hey, Liddle,” Markus murmurs, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

  “Nope.”

  He cracks one eye open. “But I haven’t even asked you anything yet.”

  “I know.” She tightens her arms around him. “And I know you’re about to ask if I mind staying here and getting kisses… so no.”

  Markus chuckles—and then notices headlights sweep across the window as a car pulls into the driveway.

  “Oh—Alexia invited Sid to help with the tents,” Liddle says, her tail curling gently around his leg. “That way you can just relax.”

  Markus cups her chin, meeting her eyes. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

  “I know,” Liddle says softly. “You’ve got a lot to do. But look at the town—it’s starting to look like it used to. Maybe… maybe we could have some time that’s just you and me.”

  Markus exhales. “I know. You’re right. But it doesn’t feel like I can really relax. The nightmares, the dragon… there are still so many people who don’t get to rest. How can I?”

  Before he can say more, Liddle leans in and kisses him, silencing his words. When she pulls back, her cheeks flush as she presses her forehead to his, her horns brushing lightly against him.

  “I get it,” she murmurs. “You’re the wielder of the Life-Giving Blade. But not every problem in the world is yours to carry.” She nuzzles against him, her voice firm but tender. “You’re doing amazing with the kids. And I love that about you—the way you care for everyone, even someone like me. It’s why I fell in love with you. But it’s hard watching you wear yourself down.”

  “I love you,” Markus says, voice low. “But it doesn’t feel right to sleep soundly while kids are homeless in our yard. I promise—once the orphanage is built, I’ll rest.”

  Liddle’s ears dip, and her voice softens. “I understand.”

  Markus reaches for her hand. “How about this—why don’t we pitch a tent with them? It’ll be like camping. We can make s’mores, drink apple cider… and when the kids fall asleep, we’ll still have our own tent. Just you, me, my arms around you, and maybe a little time to play with your tail.”

  Her lips curve into a small smile. “You make that sound nice.”

  “Why don’t we head out? I think the soup’s about ready,” Markus says, absently rubbing one of Liddle’s horns.

  She tightens her hold on him, eyes closed. “One more minute, okay, dear?”

  After a little while, Liddle finally pulls herself away from Markus. She steps outside, picks up a folding table, and sets it firmly in place. A large pot of soup follows, steam curling into the cool air.

  Once everything is ready, Liddle returns to Markus. With practiced care, she lifts him from the couch and eases him back into his wheelchair. Her hands linger for a moment on his shoulders before she wheels him to the table, setting him at the side, ready to help hand out bowls of soup to the waiting kids.

  “How are you feeling?” Markus hears Alexia ask as she finishes healing the last of the children.

  He watches her with quiet admiration. The kids giggle as she works, their eyes bright as Alexia tells little jokes and exaggerated stories about her “adventures.” For a moment, Markus just sits back, taking in how happy they look.

  “Why don’t you all go grab some soup?” Alexia says at last.

  The kids take off running toward the table, where Liddle and Markus wait with steaming bowls. One by one, the boys grab their soup, laughter filling the air. Kanna is the last to step forward. Markus hands her a bowl and raises his hand. She blinks, then smiles faintly and gives him a quick high-five before hurrying after the others.

  Alexia walks up beside Markus, smirking. “Didn’t know you’d be so good with kids,” she teases.

  “If I can handle you, the kids are easy,” Markus replies with a grin.

  Kanna walks back toward Markus, her steps hesitant. “Thank you… for everything. If there’s anything I can do, just—”

  Markus shakes his head gently. “Don’t worry about that. For now, you’ve got some boys who would be lost without you.” He reaches out and ruffles her hair, earning a faint glare that softens into something almost like a smile.

  “So,” he adds, “how are you and Sally doing? She was pretty happy to talk with you again.”

  Kanna’s expression wavers, but she nods. “Yeah… it’s nice. Being with my sister again, even after everything that happened.”

  Markus points toward the construction site, its metal frame outlined against the orange wash of the evening sky. “That’s the building I’m putting together for you. It’s going to be your home. Each of you will have your own room.”

  Kanna’s eyes widen. “That’s… amazing.”

  Markus gives a small smile. “Sally would kill me if I didn’t offer you to stay with us. But… I think I already know your answer.”

  Kanna nods just as one of the boys calls out from the table, “Kanna! The soup’s amazing—come here!”

  She smirks faintly. “Be there in a second,” she calls back, then turns to Markus again, her voice softer. “I have some people who need me.”

  Markus’s gaze is steady, his tone warm. “You’re a good kid, Kanna. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

  Kanna breaks into a small run, joining the boys who are still laughing over their bowls of soup. Their chatter fills the air, lighter now that she’s with them.

  Markus watches for a moment, a faint smile tugging at his lips, before turning toward the nearby construction crew. He raises a hand, calling them over.

  “Come on,” he says. “There’s plenty. Get some soup before it gets cold.”

  The workers exchange glances, then make their way toward the table, the smell of broth and herbs pulling them in. For the first time that day, the half-built orphanage yard feels less like a worksite and more like a gathering place.

  Markus sits quietly, watching the children and workers share stories over steaming bowls of soup. Their laughter carries through the cool evening air, touching something deep inside him.

  “It’s nice,” Liddle murmurs beside him, her tail brushing against his leg. “Watching everyone get along. We never had anything like this back in Hehl.”

  Markus turns to her, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “It’s what we fight for, Liddle.”

  She tilts her head toward the firelight. “Do you want to join them?”

  Markus shakes his head and leans closer. “I’ve been letting work get in the way of us. So how about this—you, me, and a tent?”

  He pushes himself upright and makes his way slowly to the tent. As soon as he reaches the cot inside, he collapses onto it with a groan.

  “You okay there?” Liddle asks, slipping in after him. She climbs onto the cot and curls against his side.

  Markus tugs open the window zipper, letting the cool night air drift in. “This reminds me of the camping trips Alexia and I used to take with our parents.”

  A familiar voice drifts in from outside. “Oh, I knew I’d find you two lovebirds somewhere,” Alexia teases through the flap.

  Liddle chuckles, tightening her arms around Markus. “We can set up a tent for you and Sid if you want.”

  “As fun as that sounds, I’m starting to get a headache,” Alexia admits.

  Markus’s brow furrows. “Mana sickness? Alexia, are you alright?”

  “I’ll be fine,” she says. Her voice is quieter now, tinged with fatigue. “Just going to lay low for a bit. Those kids had some serious injuries… it’s a wonder they weren’t dead.”

  Markus’s expression softens. “Thank you for your work, Alexia. Rest up. We can handle the rest.”

  When the two of them are finally alone, Liddle curls into the comfort of her husband’s arms. The soft chirping of night birds mixes with the faint laughter of children drifting in from outside.

  “This is so peaceful,” she whispers, looking up at Markus—only to find he’s already slipped into sleep on the cot.

  “Rest up, sweetie,” she murmurs, guiding his hand gently to her horns as she settles her head against his chest. Her eyes close, her voice barely more than a breath.

  “Rest up.”