Aetheric Chronicles: Reborn As An Extra

The dragon boy nodded slowly, murmuring, "I see… now it all makes sense."

His gaze turned distant, memories of a secret meeting surfacing in his mind. About a month ago, a figure—Trainee Kael, no, Adrian—had approached him in secrecy. The memory was vivid now: the calm voice, the steady gaze, and the outlandish promise.

"I'll free you," Adrian had said, his tone unwavering. "But you need to cooperate."

At first, the dragon boy had scoffed, distrust clouding his judgment.

He'd found it suspicious—too good to be true. But when Adrian mentioned his sister—Z'nya, the only family he had left—and promised that she could be freed from the Black Scourge's clutches, he couldn't resist.

The Black Scourge had been using her as leverage, breaking his will bit by bit, trying to force him to submit and accept the fabricated memories meant to erase his identity. Adrian's words had been his only hope, the sole ray of light in an otherwise endless void.

And so, he had reluctantly agreed.

He had pretended to give in, letting his memories be altered.

But Adrian had been true to his word, helping him recover his identity soon after. The plan had worked, freeing him from the Black Scourge's grip. However, things had taken an unexpected turn. Instead of finding solace, he had been manipulated once more—not by the Scourge, but by those they had thought of as allies.

"The Avengers…" he muttered under his breath, bitterness creeping into his tone. "They were the ones who—"

"That's right," Z'nya interrupted, her voice sharp and cold, as though reading his mind. Her golden eyes bore into him, filled with a mixture of disappointment and anger. "You let yourself be manipulated again."

The boy stiffened under her glare, guilt flooding his expression. "I-I'm sorry," he stuttered, his voice faltering. He rubbed the back of his neck, his draconic muscles twitching nervously.

Then, as if a thought suddenly struck him, he muttered, "But… why didn't he help me sooner, then?"

Z'nya scoffed, folding her arms. "He probably knew you'd spill the beans and ruin the plan. So, he let it be."

Her words cut deep, but they were laced with an undeniable truth. The boy lowered his head, nodding in silent agreement. "He really thought it through," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Z'nya's gaze softened slightly, and after a brief pause, she spoke his name, her tone solemn. "Ryzel."

He flinched at the sound, looking up at her. There was no anger in her eyes now—only a quiet, firm resolve.

"Don't ever put yourself in danger because of me again. Understood?" Her voice was steady but carried the weight of her emotions.

Ryzel opened his mouth to respond but found himself unable to speak. He understood what she meant, her words striking a chord deep within him.

She was likely referring to the events that had led them here—to this mess. It had all begun because of her impulsive decision, a mistake that had resulted in their capture by the Hunters.

He had risked his life to save her back then, throwing himself into danger without a second thought. It had been a reckless, foolish move—but even now, thinking back, he knew he would do it all over again.

Because she was his sister. His only family.

Z'nya's expression softened further, and her lips curved into a faint, almost bittersweet smile. She could tell exactly what her brother was thinking, his emotions written all over his face. Letting out a quiet sigh, she rested a hand gently on his shoulder.

"You're an idiot," she said, her voice tinged with both exasperation and affection. "But you're my idiot."

Ryzel blinked, his chest tightening at her words. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence filled only by the faint hum of the enchanted lanterns.

Z'nya's hand lingered for a moment longer before she pulled away, turning toward the door. "Get some rest," she said over her shoulder. "We'll need our strength for what's coming."

Ryzel nodded silently, watching as she left the room. Once she was gone, he sank onto the mattress, his mind swirling with thoughts.

Despite everything, he felt a faint glimmer of hope.

They had survived this far, and perhaps—just perhaps—they could make it out of this alive.

And become Thaldrakoses themselves.

With that thought in mind, he drifted into sleep.

______ __ _

The next day in the morning.

As Z'nya opened her eyes, she blinked a few times, her mind still sluggish from sleep. The faint light streaming through the cracks in the curtains told her it was early morning—or perhaps late afternoon; she wasn't sure. What woke her wasn't the light but the sweet and delicious aroma that filled her nostrils.

She inhaled deeply, her dragonborn senses, or perhaps her heightened sensitivity to smells, picking up the layers of flavors in the air.

Whatever it was, it had to be delicious. She was that sure.

Stretching lazily, she got up and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror by the corner of the room. Her hair was slightly messy, and she scowled at her reflection, running her fingers through her locks in a vain attempt to fix them. Giving up, she sighed and made her way out of her temporary room, curiosity guiding her toward the smell.

The sight that greeted her as she stepped into the main room made her pause.

In the kitchen area, the intriguing human—Adrian—stood by the stove, focused intently on the task at hand. He was cooking, flipping something in a pan with practiced ease. The sweet aroma wafted toward her once again, and her stomach growled in response.

At the table, her brother, Ryzel, sat eagerly, his eyes locked on Adrian's movements. His lips twitched with anticipation, and he was drooling—quite literally—over the smell.

Z'nya shook her head, exhaling softly at the sight. "Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath.

Just as she was about to sit down at the table, Adrian turned around, noticing her presence. His expression brightened with a warm smile. "Oh, you're awake! Did you have a good sleep?"

Z'nya nodded subtly, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Good," Adrian replied, turning back to the stove briefly to check on the food. "Then wash your hands and sit down. I've cooked something for us to eat."

She blinked, momentarily forgetting she hadn't washed her hands—or her face, for that matter. Her gaze flickered toward Ryzel, who was watching her with an almost smug expression.

"You haven't washed yet and you're sitting at the table?" he teased, folding his arms in mock disapproval. "Sister, have you forgotten basic table manners? Look, even I did it."

Z'nya pursed her lips in irritation, narrowing her eyes at him.

But Adrian, ever the observant one, chimed in with a knowing grin. "You did it after I told you to, you know."

Ryzel's face turned red in embarrassment, his smugness evaporating in an instant. Z'nya couldn't help herself—she giggled in amusement, the sound light and genuine.

Ryzel blinked, stunned to see her laughing like this. It wasn't a common sight these days. But he quickly shook off his surprise, doubling down on the matter. "Still! You should—"

Before he could finish, Z'nya flicked her fingers, a small smirk playing on her lips.

In an instant, a portal opened before her, leading directly to the bathroom. The portal framed an elegant Elvin faucet device—a flower-shaped spout that gushed water into a basin.

Z'nya stepped through casually, washing her hands and face with practiced efficiency.

Then, with another flick of her fingers, she closed the portal and opened another, this one leading to a neatly folded towel hanging nearby. She dried her hands and face before stepping back into the main room as if nothing had happened.

Ryzel stared, utterly speechless. His jaw slackened as he tried—and failed—to find the right words. Finally, he muttered under his breath, "Abusing your powers… what a showoff."

Adrian, having witnessed the entire scene, chuckled softly. "She's definitely true to her ways."

Z'nya, unfazed by their comments, sat down at the table, folding her hands neatly in her lap.
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"It's not abuse," she said calmly. "It's efficiency."

Ryzel groaned, burying his face in his hands. Adrian set a plate of steaming food in front of him, patting him on the shoulder lightly before placing another plate in front of Z'nya.

"Let's just eat before it gets cold," Adrian said, his tone lighthearted.

Z'nya picked up her fork, letting out a small hum of appreciation as the aroma filled her senses once more.

"It smells good," she remarked, casting a sidelong glance at Adrian.

He smiled, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "Thanks. I hope it tastes just as good."

As they dug into the meal, the tension from earlier melted away, replaced by a warm, comfortable atmosphere. For a brief moment, it felt like they weren't fugitives or pawns in a dangerous game.

They were just three companions sharing a meal.

But Z'nya couldn't shake the thought lingering in the back of her mind.

The path ahead was uncertain, and danger loomed on the horizon. Yet, as she glanced at Ryzel—her brother, her only family—and then at Adrian, who had risked so much to help them, she felt a flicker of hope.

They might not be Thaldrakoses yet.

But together, perhaps they could achieve something even greater.

______

[ New Story Alert! ]

If you love high-stakes battles, chaotic teamwork, and a world-ending crisis that refuses to make sense, check out my WSA 2025 Entry:

🔥 The Last Stand: The Fool and the Regressor 🔥

The apocalypse has arrived, and for once, The Fool isn't slacking off. After a lifetime of daydreaming about epic adventures, his fantasies have finally come to life—and he's thriving in the chaos.

His partner? The Regressor, a battle-hardened survivor… with amnesia. He's lived through countless apocalypses but can't remember a single useful thing. Great.

With death lurking around every corner and reality itself breaking apart, these two are humanity's last hope.

Victory? Unlikely.

Survival? Questionable.

One hell of a ride? Guaranteed.

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