Deeper into dragon land, Rein found a wounded creature. The dragon was old, its wings torn and ragged, its scales dulled with age. This beast limped through a forest, clearly in pain, struggling to stay alive. When it saw Rein, it registered recognition and then fear in its golden eyes. "Please," it rasped, "I was once a protector. I have no part in the war between your kind and ours. Let me live."
Rein hesitated. This dragon wasn't like others. It was near death, incapable of giving Rein revenge for the attack that destroyed his village. But the Spirit's voice was loud, demanding an end. "The weak will die as the strong do. No exceptions," the Spirit said.
The dragon's plea for mercy was lost on him. Rein raised his hand, and his magic flowed through him. Fire came bursting out, burning through the chest of the dragon. It let out one last, heart-wrenching cry and fell to the ground. Rein remained standing above the carcass, the warmth of the flames lingering in the air, while his own heart was as cold as the stone beneath.
There was no feeling of remorse as the dragon's blood pooled on the ground, but the complete lack of emotion left Rein troubled. The dragon had begged for mercy. But Rein couldn't stop himself. The hunt had begun and nothing would stand in his way.