Reborn as a Dragon:Rise of The Draconic King-Chapter 67 - 63: Quiet Days

The days after the dragon’s hunt passed slowly in Greenwood Village.

For the elves, it felt strange.

Life in the forest was normally calm, quiet, and predictable. Monsters were hunted when necessary, patrols were routine, and most days passed with little change.

But now there was a dragon living among them.

At first, the entire village had been tense.

Warriors watched him carefully.

Children stayed far away.

Even the elders observed him with caution.

But days passed.

And nothing bad happened.

In fact, the opposite happened.

John did not threaten anyone.

He didn’t demand tribute.

He didn’t treat the elves like lesser beings.

Most of the time, he simply rested in the village clearing, talked with the people around him, or occasionally disappeared into the forest to hunt monsters before returning later.

Slowly, the tension faded.

The fear disappeared.

And something unexpected began to grow.

Friendship.

---

It was late morning.

Sunlight filtered through the massive forest canopy, scattering warm beams across the wooden platforms of the village.

John was lying comfortably in the large clearing near the edge of Greenwood.

The elves had reinforced the platform several days earlier after realizing the dragon had decided to stay for a while.

Several huge trees had been connected with thick beams to support his weight.

Even then, the structure creaked occasionally under the enormous dragon.

John lazily rested his head on his claws.

His golden eyes watched a group of young elves training nearby.

They were practicing sword movements under the watchful eye of Commander Aerion.

One of the boys swung his blade awkwardly.

Aerion stopped him.

"Too stiff," the commander said calmly. "Relax your shoulders."

The boy tried again.

Still awkward.

John snorted.

Aerion glanced at him.

"You have something to say?"

John lifted his head slightly.

"That kid is trying too hard."

The boy froze.

Aerion crossed his arms.

"Oh?"

John nodded toward the child.

"Tell him to stop thinking about every step."

The boy blinked nervously.

John continued.

"Just swing."

The boy hesitated.

Aerion gestured.

"Try it."

The boy took a breath and swung again.

This time the motion was smoother.

Aerion nodded slowly.

"Better."

The boy stared at John in surprise.

John shrugged.

"I’ve fought a lot of things."

Aerion chuckled quietly.

"I believe that."

The training continued.

And surprisingly, the dragon remained there watching for a while, occasionally making small comments that actually helped.

Some of the young elves began glancing at him with curiosity rather than fear.

---

Elsewhere in the village—

Sylvara carefully mixed herbs inside the healer’s hall.

A few glass bottles and bowls were spread across the wooden table.

Behind her, the door creaked open.

John carefully lowered his head through the doorway.

The structure had been widened slightly to allow him to look inside.

Sylvara didn’t even turn around.

"You’re blocking the light again."

John blinked.

"Oh."

He moved slightly to the side.

Sylvara continued grinding herbs.

"What do you want?"

John rested his chin on the floor beside the entrance.

"Just looking."

Sylvara glanced at him.

"...You’re bored."

John didn’t deny it.

"Maybe."

Sylvara sighed but smiled faintly.

"For someone who flattened half the forest three days ago, you seem surprisingly relaxed."

John shrugged.

"That was just exercise."

Sylvara stared at him.

"Tier 8 monsters are exercise for you?"

John tilted his head.

"Should they not be?"

Sylvara shook her head slowly.

"Sometimes I forget how ridiculous you are."

John grinned.

"I hear that a lot."

For a moment, silence filled the room.

Then John spoke again.

"So what are you making?"

Sylvara held up a small jar.

"Medicine."

"For what?"

"A hunter sprained his leg yesterday."

John blinked.

"You have medicine for that?"

Sylvara gave him a look.

"Of course."

John thought about it.

"...Dragons usually just wait for bones to heal."

Sylvara chuckled softly.

"That sounds painful."

"It works."

She continued mixing herbs.

John watched quietly.

It was strangely peaceful.

---

Later that afternoon—

Lythriel walked through the village carrying a small basket of fruit.

She stopped when she saw a familiar massive shape resting across the training clearing.

John was lying on his back.

His wings stretched lazily across the wooden platform.

A few young elves were sitting nearby.

One of them was poking his tail carefully.

John flicked the tail slightly.

The child jumped back.

The other kids laughed.

Lythriel stared.

"...What am I looking at?"

John turned his head toward her.

"Oh. Hey."

She walked closer, still confused.

"Why are children playing with you?"

One of the kids answered proudly.

"His scales are warm!"

Another added.

"And he tells cool stories!"

Lythriel raised an eyebrow.

"Stories?"

John shrugged.

"They asked."

"What kind of stories?"

"One about a giant sea monster."

The children immediately spoke up.

"It was huge!"

"It swallowed ships!"

"And John bit its head off!"

Lythriel stared at him.

"...You’re making that up."

John grinned.

"Maybe."

The children protested loudly.

"It’s true!"

"He fought it!"

Lythriel laughed softly.

"Of course he did."

She sat down beside them.

John glanced at her.

"You’re not working today?"

"Break."

She tossed one of the fruits into the air before catching it.

"Even scouts need rest."

John nodded.

Then one of the children looked at Lythriel.

"Can you fight John?"

Lythriel nearly choked on her fruit.

"Absolutely not."

John chuckled.

"That would be unfair."

She glared at him.

"Unfair for who?"

John didn’t answer.

Which made her glare harder.

But after a moment, she laughed.

It felt... normal.

Something that would have been impossible only days ago.

---

That evening—

The village gathered around a large fire in the central clearing.

It was something they had begun doing since John arrived.

Not a celebration.

Just a calm gathering.

Food was shared.

Stories were told.

John rested nearby, his massive body curled comfortably around the edge of the clearing.

Commander Aerion sat across from him.

"You seem comfortable here," the commander said.

John nodded.

"It’s quiet."

Aerion chuckled.

"That’s the first time someone has described our village that way after you arrived."

John smirked.

"Fair."

Sylvara joined them, sitting beside the fire.

"You’re staying longer than we expected."

John shrugged.

"I like it here."

Lythriel added from nearby,

"And the monsters are probably terrified now."

Aerion nodded.

"That part is certainly true."

John stretched slightly.

"Good."

The elves around the fire watched him.

And something had changed.

They no longer looked at him like a disaster waiting to happen.

They looked at him like... a strange but welcome guest.

A powerful one.

But still a guest.

Sylvara looked up at the massive dragon.

"You know," she said softly.

"You’re not what we expected."

John tilted his head.

"What did you expect?"

She thought for a moment.

"...Something colder."

John stared at the fire quietly.

"Maybe I was."

Lythriel leaned back against a wooden post.

"Not anymore."

John didn’t answer.

But he didn’t deny it either.

The fire crackled softly.

Above them, the forest canopy swayed gently under the night wind.

And for the first time in many years—

Greenwood Village felt like it had gained something new.

Not a protector.

Not a ruler.

But a powerful friend.

A dragon who had chosen to stay.

And a bond that was slowly growing stronger with every passing day.

Far beyond simple caution.

Far beyond curiosity.

Something genuine.

Something real.

---

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