Pure Vanilla

It was a normal day in a Viking village. It all started out as usual: there weren't many teenagers in the village, but they were already being trained as recruits to fight dragons. These were men with horns, tails, and wings, and they had been mercilessly attacking the village for seven generations.

Pure Vanilla was returning from the arena. He'd never been interested in slaughter. He couldn't kill dragons, it wasn't for him. But his father wanted his son to become a great Viking. A true dragon slayer. As the blond walked along the road, he glanced toward the forest, where he could hear a very painful roar. Maybe it wasn't a dragon, but some other Viking, and it needed help? He couldn't think for long and ran toward the forest, wanting to help whoever was there. The young man came to a large ravine in the forest, at the bottom of which was a large lake and a tree. But at first, he didn't understand what was there or how. The blond slowly descended into the ravine. He looked around, not noticing anything. But at that very moment, he heard a quiet growl from behind. The blond turned around and froze in horror. A dragon sat there.

A young man with a tail, wings, and small fins on his head looked at the Viking with interest. It was Shadow Milk.