Punishment was slow to arrive, but it was no sooner swift. Cracked pavement might not be much in the grand scheme of things, but it was enough for the rune on Mary’s arm to glow. All too quickly, an entire task force of their strongest was called to the scene, the same scene where Elegard was still standing by and watching the sky.

“Eh?” Glancing around, his weapon swung out of its holster and into his hand before the runic symbol of defence glimmered on their chests. A flick of his fingers holstered the weapon once more as a police vehicle hovered down to land. Two people stepped out of the slim vehicle and onto the beginnings of grass already growing through the cracks.

“You, you’re one of the soldiers right? The blood pact reacted. What damage did the dragon do?” Their eyes looked around warily as they saw nothing. A soft smile fell on his face.

“You mean the cracked pavement from when he jumped into the air?” A swift point of Elegard’s finger drew their attention downward, and all tension deflated like a water balloon gently placed down instead of thrown.

“What use is this blasted thing if he can damage things and then fly away?” she growled with annoyance as she glared at the tattoo. It was supposed to stop him from damaging things, not ring like a pathetic bell every time he broke the rules.

“I mean, the punishment is equal to the break. Considering it’s just land, aka not a ‘building,’ it would really depend on how you worded the spell.” Moving to idly flick a finger into his nose, Elegard dug for treasure as he waited for the lady to calm her britches, staring as her face turned the colour of beetroot and strands of hair poked upward in a fit of anger.

“When he comes back I am going to-tch. You!” She pointed, and he lazily moved to stand at attention.

“When he returns, track him down and inform him he’s paying for the damage he caused.” As if to reinforce her point, Mary turned her rage toward the cops until she was kindly transported back to her office. Silence filled the area, and a soft laugh left Elegard as he walked away, having no intention of following her orders.

‘As if I’d just wander around the city looking for him. I’ll just pretend to look for an hour and then go home.’ He moved to step onto a walkway and ascended up a path, away from the busy streets below. A favorite of children, the translucent path was opulent and reacted to each step. Briefly, his mind turned nostalgic as he watched the footsteps of those around him.

Thirty years ago, if his memory served him right, the war had been in full swing as they moved to prepare for operation Red Clover. Each one of them prepared for death, including a red-haired guy with a daughter. Elegard hadn’t had any loved ones as that guy did. All he’d had was his own life on his mind when he’d taken the deal.

Moving to descend the upper bridge, he stepped into a bar and slid into a seat. Popular and crowded as it was, he was fortunate to get a seat at all. He ordered a drink, sipping it as he sorrowfully mourned his own poison resistance. No alcohol could ever get him drunk since the operation, so each argument and shouting match with his ex had been full of clarity.

Still, the taste was bitter and sharp, serving to wake him up from the dream that was the world in here. Without the war, every day had become one of inaction and peace. While not against peace by any means, he was a soldier. What did a soldier do when the war was won? He drowned the rest of his drink and ordered them to just leave the bottle.

Each sip was like a memory of a simpler time. A sip to the wyvern he’d sliced clean through the neck of. A sip to that giant boar that had impaled the toilet. A soft chuckle left him at that as he moved to take another sip, this time to the very sight of an angry dragon landing right near him, and moving to blaze a path of flame that missed him by so little, he’d required reconstructive surgery.

A sip to the demon of the south. The very dragon he’d just casually offered information to and owed a favour. Once more he drowned his drink, but paused. Instead, he grabbed the bottle and began to drink it down in a desperate desire to forget. But he could not forget. Instead, he had just spent money he could not easily make back.

Tapping his card to pay, Elegard moved to head out and start the journey home, not even paying for a bus as he simply walked the whole distance without even breaking a sweat. He stepped up the flights of stairs one by one as he passed an elevator with a sign that said ‘out of order,’ finding letters marked ‘overdue’ piled out the front of his door as he simply swung it open without a key.

The apartment was a single bedroom, with a small bathroom and a microwave tossed on the ground in one corner. The bed didn’t even have a frame, and he swung the door closed before sitting down on the couch and flicking the TV on. Watching whatever random nonsensical drama could be found, his eyes glazed over as he moved to let it lull him off to sleep.

“Man, I should have died in the war. All this peace is making me soft,” he grumbled, not even bothering to unclip his belts. Perhaps it was time to head out to another city, move away to a place where his skills would have use. The idea brought to mind the cheers and heroics he’d be welcomed with. A warm smile spread across his face, filling him with nostalgia as he entertained the thought.

Still, just like every other time he thought of it, he instead did nothing. Loyalty to forces long dead. Loyalty to a deal made with a man who’d met death smiling. To the city, to his daughter. To a woman who barely knew Elegard existed, let alone that he’d known her father. He wondered about that sometimes, to have a father or family. Still, in the end, he remained where he was: stranded on a couch.