Ashklon wanted his name in every mouth on the planet. He wanted contracts, gold, and legend. So when the alarm bells rang inside the armored fortress where he lived, he grabbed the sword off his back and grinned. This was his chance to become famous. He ran through the fortress halls, past the glowing seams in the sleek metal walls. Guards fled the other way. One shouted that a fire breathing dragon had broken through the eastern gate and was going to kill the Queen. Ashklon did not slow down. A dragon meant a story. A story meant work. He found it in the throne hall. A black dragon crouched over the floor, wings scraping both walls. Fire leaked from its jaws and lit the whole room orange. Beneath its claw, pressed against the base of the throne, lay the ruler of this place. She was small, dressed in purple and black leather, she screamed for help. Ashklon drew the hammer from his hip. The dragon turned. Fire washed across the floor where he had stood a breath before. He rolled, came up, and swung the hammer into its skull. Bone cracked. The dragon roared and fell down dead. He stood over the body of the fallen beast, breathing hard, hammer in his hand. He had done it. He had killed a dragon and saved a ruler. By tomorrow, every merchant and warlord would know his name. The small ruler stepped out from the pillar. She smoothed her leather sleeves and looked at him with cold blue eyes. She did not thank him. "Thank you!” she said. Ashklon lowered his weapon. "It was nothing.” He said with a nod. Guards filled the doorway behind her, blades out. Ashklon simply watched.

Ashklon stood over the dead dragon and did the math in his head. A kill like this was worth a fortune. But no merchant would pay him without proof. The beast was too big to carry out. He needed a token, a piece he could show the world. He stood over the dragon and a bright burst of power erupted from his hands and preserved the beast and then stored it away in a multi dimensional containment field so he could show the proof of his kill. This would be his coin. This would begin his legend. Boots clicked on the metal floor behind him. The Queen crossed the throne hall, small and calm in her purple and black leather. Her guards spread out along the sleek walls. She stopped and looked at the dragon. "You mean to sell it," she said. It was not a question. "A man has to build his reputation.” Ashklon said. "And I killed this dragon." "That thing was never mine." She stepped closer. Her blue eyes moved to the dragon's chest, where scales met a jagged glow. Inside the ribcage sat a stone the size of a skull. It pulsed with orange light. Cracks of fire ran across its dark surface. "You want proof of your deed.” The dragon would earn him gold. Names. Contracts. Fear. The Queen did not stop him. She watched him take it. "You think that solves your problem." "It's proof no merchant can doubt," Ashklon said. "And it's worth more than gold." "It is worth your death." She folded her arms. "The dragon guardians will want it back. They will send worse than a dragon. And now they will know your face." Ashklon weighed the situation. He had wanted his name in every mouth on the planet. Now it would be, but not entirely in the way he had dreamed. "Let them come," he said. The Queen almost smiled. She turned to a guard and spoke low. Then she looked back at Ashklon. "You saved my life, so I will pay you once. Take the gold and go. Do not bring its protectors to my gate." Ashklon put the gold into his pouch and the war hammer at his side. He had his proof. He had walked out of one fight and into a larger one.

Ashklon walked away from the Queen's gates with gold in his pouch and a dead dragon locked inside his containment field. The gold would eventually run out. The dragon was proof of a legend no one knew anything about yet. He was a swift and powerful mercenary. But he did not know a single person who handed out mercenary contracts. He followed a trade road to the only place that might hold answers. The infrastructure rose out of the plain like a mountain of metal. Its armored walls caught the sun. Glowing seams ran up its towers in blue and purple lines. Guns jutted from every ledge. This was where royalty, government officials, and the wealthy came to find able soldiers, warriors, agents, and mercenaries for hire. If anyone brokered contracts, he’d find them here. At the great door, two guards blocked him. One raised a hand. "No weapons past the gate. And we don’t cater to beggars." "I'm no beggar," Ashklon said. "I saved a Queen and killed a dragon." The guard laughed. "Everyone says that they have killed a dragon. Prove it or take a walk." Ashklon stepped back and opened his hands. Power burst out of them. The containment field split the air. The dragon unfolded onto the stone, whole and still, its scales frozen, its jaws wide. The guards stumbled back and drew weapons. People on the walls stopped and stared. A woman came through the gate before anyone spoke. She was small, barely past Ashklon's chest, dressed in deep purple and black leather that shone like a beetle's shell. She walked straight to the dragon and pressed her palm to its scales. Her blue eyes moved over the beast without fear. The guards lowered their blades the moment she arrived. "You brought this through my door," she said. Her voice was flat and sure. "You want work." "I’m seeking lucrative contracts," Ashklon said. "Real ones. Good paying ones.” She circled the body once. She stopped at the ribs, where the stone had been cut away. Her mouth tightened. "You took something from inside it." "I took proof. Yes.” "You put a mark on your back." She looked up at him. "The guardians of these beasts don't forget those that kill the magnificent creatures or a thief. Still. A man who can drop a dragon with one blow is a man I can sell." She named a substantial figure. It was far more than the Queen had paid. Ashklon's chest went tight. This was the thing he had chased since the throne hall. "There's work in the east," she said. "A client who pays in pure gold, not promises. But he wants the job done in six days, and the target isn't a dragon. It's the thing that hunts them." Ashklon understood. She was offering him a contract against a dragon Reaper. Fearful Alien hunters that coveted both dragons and the stone that he carried. "I'll take it," he said. She pressed a special silver token into his hand and smiled without warmth. "Then you work for me now. Put your proof away. Or they’ll find you faster than you'd like."

Ashklon traveled east at light speed with six days on the clock. The silver token sat heavy in his pocket. He had the contract and the pay. He did not have the one thing he needed most. The east stretched for a thousand miles of broken rock and dead plains. No one had told him where the Reapers dwell. He could search for a month and most likely never find it. The deadline would pass, and the broker's gold would stay in her vault. He came upon a hidden tavern at the side of a mountain and headed inside the place was filled with shady looking individuals that looked like trouble but possibly knowledgeable troublemakers. A woman named Patsy approached him wearing dark leather with a red bandanna around her neck and silver gray eyes that didn’t miss much. “You’re looking for something. Stranger.”She said with an appraising look. Ashklon nodded in agreement. “I’m looking for the Dragon Reapers.” He said plainly. Waiting to see what she might offer him. She led him into a private room that had a door that led to a secret dwelling beneath the structure. At the center of the stone room stood a dark vessel painted with stars and a green moon. She lifted the lid. Inside glowed a jagged shard of stone, laced with cracks of fire and purple lightning. The light threw shadows across her face. "A piece of fallen sky," she said. "The Reapers feed on it. They crave this above all else." She pressed the shard into a lead-lined box and handed it to him. "Carry this with you. The Reapers will smell it. They will be drawn to you. Ashklon weighed the box. The stone hummed against his palm, even through the lead. "You will become the hunter who doesn't have to search," she said. "Open the box when you reach the dead man plains. Not before." Her mouth tightened. "And know this. They also hunt for the stone you cut from the dragon. Now you will be carrying a second beacon.” He closed his hand over the box. He knew how to bring the Reapers to him. That certainty cost him something. He had traded a search he might have survived for a fight he could not avoid. Ashklon handed the woman several gold coins and nodded in her direction. “Thanks! I may stop back by to see you if I survive.” He said then turned and departed. Ashklon climbed the ramp into daylight and continued on his way with Five days left. He traveled east with two stones pulling every predator in the region toward his back. Somewhere ahead, the Reapers were already lifting their heads as they caught the scent.