Ronan the Dragon was the legend of Awakeners around the world.
He was called Ronan the Dragon not because he breathed fire, nor because there was anything remotely dragonlike about him in the literal sense.
He did not fly.
He did not roar.
He did not possess scales or wings.
People called him a dragon because he was as legendary as one.
Because his name carried the same weight as the old stories — something spoken in awe, fear, and reluctant admiration.
"Ronan the Dragon?" The Lord Duke lifted a brow at the name. "Yes, of course I've heard of him."
Frank scratched his chin. "So this is Ronan the Dragon. He is as impressive as I've heard."
Then he remembered who he was talking to and hurriedly added, "Or it might have been Ronald McDonald. My memory hasn't been what it used to be."
Jennifer snorted.
"We've met once," Adrian said proudly. "While returning as alumni to the academy, I was introduced to him when he was still a cadet."
Nobody asked whether the meeting had been memorable.
Adrian did not elaborate.
Inside the building, the Alive Boys were absolutely hyped. They had watched the entire fight from the window.
(They had also probably livestreamed their reaction videos.)
According to the boy band, everyone knew Ronan the Dragon. He was the top ranker in the Pandora Online livestreams.
(Was no one noticing that Pandora Online was supposed to be a virtual game?)
"Watch this one," Liam said, offering his phone. "It's my favorite."
"He watches this every night before he goes to sleep!" EJ announced.
"I do not!" Liam protested. "Not every night."
"If I don't make it as an idol," one of the boys sighed dreamily, "I want to be an Awakener."
The video title read:
TOP 10 LEGENDARY RONAN THE DRAGON MOMENTS
It was very violent.
Jennifer watched in mild horror as the video showed multiple opponents rushing toward the lone man from every direction.
Some were armored.
Some were not even fully biological.
Some were things that should not have been standing upright in any reasonable universe.
But the moment Ronan moved, everything changed.
He disarmed one enemy by catching the blade between two fingers, twisted the arm at a precise angle, and sent the attacker spinning backward without unnecessary force.
Another came from behind.
Ronan did not even turn fully.
His elbow struck once.
Not violently.
Just exactly where the human body was weakest against that kind of pressure.
The man collapsed as if someone had unplugged him from existence.
Then there was the air battle.
Ronan flipped through the air like gravity was merely a suggestion he occasionally decided to obey.
A knife spun lazily in his right hand.
Gunfire stitched across the sky where he had been half a second ago.
He landed, rolled, and came up shooting without looking.
Every shot found something that was trying to kill him.
"Urm…" Jennifer tried to push the screen back toward Liam. "I think I get the idea."
"Just watch the Siege of Kaelthar!" one boy begged. "That one was his most legendary battle!"
Which Jennifer would have interpreted as his most violent battle.
But Adrian had already stepped forward and taken over the narration.
That battle was the one people spoke of in whispers.
The canyon was narrow.
The enemy was not.
Hostile entities poured through the portal fracture like water breaking through cracked stone.
The local Awakener garrison had been wiped out within the first six hours.
Command had ordered evacuation, but there was a small town only twenty minutes away from the portal breach.
They needed more time.
Reinforcements would arrive in three days.
Ronan arrived alone.
He did not make a speech.
He checked the terrain first.
The canyon mouth was the only viable choke point.
So he stood there.
Just one man.
Against an army that should have swallowed him whole.
The first wave came at dusk.
Creatures with segmented limbs and too many joints.
Ronan moved forward instead of backward.
People later said he fought like someone who understood that retreat was not a physical action, but a mathematical one.
He killed slowly.
Not wastefully.
The corpses were stacked in a controlled formation that blocked the canyon entrance.
When his ammunition ran low, he switched to knives.
When the knives dulled, he broke fragments from enemy armor and used them as throwing weapons.
He fought through the night.
And the second night.
And when the third dawn rose over the canyon ridge, reinforcements finally arrived.
They found Ronan standing at the canyon mouth.
Covered in dust.
Covered in blood that was not entirely his.
His breathing was slow.
Almost sleeping.
But still standing.
Around him were layers upon layers of fallen enemies, forming a wall so complete that no living hostile entity could have crossed it without climbing over the dead.
Someone later calculated the number.
The estimate was classified.
Public rumor said it was an entire battalion.
Military archives suggested it was closer to a siege force.
Street gossip insisted it was an army.
The truth was that nobody wanted to publish the exact figure, because the number made younger Awakeners afraid to fight.
The only casualty Ronan ever admitted to was a cracked fingernail from the seventh hour of combat.
"That can't be possible." Frank shook his head.
"The fingernail?" the Duke asked.
"No, the army."
Bastien scoffed. "You mean to say a single man can take out an entire alien army?"
Adrian shrugged. "Depends who you ask."
And because Adrian was clearly enjoying himself, he continued the story.
After every battle, Ronan the Dragon always disappeared.
As if he had never existed at all.
Soldiers who fought beside him would sometimes turn around after victory was secured and find that the Dragon was already gone.
Adrian had friends in the Awakener Corps.
He had heard stories.
Ronan the Dragon was always there for duty, for official ceremonies, and for battle…
But no one seemed to know anything about the man's private life.
It was strangely mysterious.
The moment Ronan the Dragon went off duty, it was as if he simply vanished from the world.
A polite knock sounded at the front door, turning their heads.
The werewolf doorman opened it.
"Thank you." It was Ronan the Dragon.
He stood in the lobby.
He looked slightly lost, but when he saw Jennifer, he smiled.
His shoulders were broad, and Jennifer found herself abruptly and irrationally fixated on the way he walked over.
Now that he was in front of her, Jennifer could see his shirt clinging with heroic determination to muscles that seemed intent on escaping polite containment. The buttons had clearly surrendered in the earlier battle outside, leaving little to the imagination.
In one large hand, he held a crumpled bunch of flowers.
In the other, a slightly dented cardboard cake box.
Ronan the Dragon had very large, very manly hands.
"Hi, Jenny," he said, smiling.
Jennifer's mouth fell open.
She would have been comforted to know that everyone else's mouths were also hanging open, but at the moment, she forgot anyone else existed.
"I am very sure I didn't write you," she said.