Dragon Dominion System

Rynkar was three, toddling around the small wooden house on shaky legs. Mara was outside, hanging clothes on a line, while Toren sat by the shed, sharpening his axe. Lila, six, kicked a ball nearby, giggling as it rolled toward Rynkar. He chased it, laughing, but tripped hard over a rock. His head slammed into the ground, splitting open a deep gash on his forehead. Blood poured down his face, and he screamed, clutching his head. Lila dropped the ball and yelled, "Mara! Ryn's hurt!" running to get her.

Mara rushed over, her face pale. "Ryn!" she gasped, dropping to her knees beside him. Blood soaked his shirt, and he cried, dizzy from the pain. Mara held him tight, her hands trembling. "Stay still," she said, her voice firming up. She muttered a few quiet words, and a warm, golden light glowed from her palms. It flowed over Rynkar's head, soft and bright, sealing the wound in moments. The blood stopped, leaving a thin scar. Rynkar sniffled, looking at her. "Magic?" he mumbled. Mara smiled weakly. "My light magic, yeah. You're okay now." She hugged him close, breathing hard.

Toren jogged up, axe in hand. "He good?" he asked, crouching down. Mara nodded. "Had to use it," she said. Toren grinned. "Still works, huh?" Lila bounced over, grinning. "I knew you could do that, Mama!" she said. Rynkar wiped his eyes—he wasn't shocked. Mara and Toren never hid it. They were adventurers once—low ranks, nothing big. Mara was a light healer, Toren swung an axe. They'd told him and Lila stories since they were tiny: small jobs, tough fights, then quitting for a quiet life. Rynkar knew this world had stronger people out there—mages who could shatter mountains with a spell, warriors who could split seas with one slash. His parents were just a small piece of that.

At five, Rynkar was sturdier, running around the yard with a stick like it was an axe. Mara watched from the doorway, smiling. "Don't swing it too hard," she said softly. Toren came home with a huge rabbit over his shoulder. "Got it at the forest edge," he said, dropping it by the fire. Rynkar ran over, eyes wide. "So big!" he said, poking it. Toren chuckled. "Forest's full of beasts like that. Took a good chop." Lila, eight, clapped. "You're the best, Dada!" Rynkar nodded—he knew Toren was tough, even if he wasn't one of those legendary warriors who could cut rivers in half. Mara's light magic was weak too, not like the mages who could burn cities with a word.

The village wasn't empty of skill. Old Gav down the road could make a small flame with his fingers—just enough to light a fire, nothing grand. A woman named Serna sharpened knives and fought off wolves with a spear when they got too close to her goats. Toren said they were like him and Mara—low ranks, basic stuff. "Out there, though," he'd say by the fire, "there's real power. Mages who break mountains, warriors who slice the sea. We're nothing next to them." Rynkar listened, wide-eyed. He'd never seen those legends, but he knew they were real—somewhere far off, beyond the village and the wild forest nearby.

By ten, Rynkar was taller, helping Toren haul wood and Mara with chores. Lila, thirteen, still chattered nonstop, following him around. Toren took him to the forest edge one day. "Check this out," he said, pointing at huge claw marks on a tree trunk. "Bear—way bigger than it should be." Rynkar ran his hand over the scratches, deep and wide. "Whoa," he said. Toren hefted his axe. "Caught one once, nearly broke my blade. Forest's wild—always has been." Rynkar looked into the trees. He'd heard about the animals—wolves bigger than horses, boars that could knock down houses. No dragons, though—those were just fairy tales here, never real.

Toren didn't hunt deep in the forest often—just the edges, where he could handle it. One day, he brought back a giant boar, its tusks as long as Rynkar's leg. "Took three chops," he said, wiping sweat off his forehead. Mara cooked it, filling the house with the smell of roasted meat. Rynkar ate until he couldn't move. "How'd you do it?" he asked. Toren tapped his axe. "Years of swinging, kid. Used to do this for coin." Mara added, "And I kept him from bleeding out. My light's not much, but it helped." Rynkar smiled—they weren't legends, but they were his legends.

The forest was alive with danger. At night, Rynkar heard howls—low and loud, not like normal wolves. One time, Toren let him tag along to hunt a massive rabbit. They hid behind a tree, watching it hop—bigger than Lila, with teeth like daggers. Toren took it down with two quick swings. "See that?" he said, hauling it back. "That's why I stay near the edge—deeper in, it's worse." Rynkar dragged a leg, helping out. This world wasn't his old one—no gray streets, no dull jobs. It was wild, full of beasts, and ruled by powers he could only imagine—mages and warriors who shaped the land itself.

At ten, Rynkar understood his place. Mara's light magic was real but small—not enough to move mountains. Toren's axe was strong but simple—no match for those who split seas. The village had a few like them—Gav with his tiny flames, Serna with her spear—but out there, the real ones lived: mages who could destroy with a thought, warriors who carved the world with a blade. Lila teased him sometimes. "Gonna be a big hero, Ryn?" she'd say, poking him. He'd shrug, but he wondered. This world was huge, wild, and waiting—and he wanted to see what he could do in it.