This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/arekban on 2025-11-04 23:17:40+00:00.
//
I am a dragon.
Toar Halfshade affirmed those words to himself so often that he almost believed them.
A half-leopard, half-tiger beastkin born under the bloodline of a deer… there was a lot in Toar’s composition that he couldn’t rightly make sense of.
His mother had married into a clan of tiger beastkin who predominantly bore dragon bloodlines. Toar had inherited the deer bloodline from his mother, a bloodline that had skipped multiple generations up until his birth, and a physical appearance that mainly resembled hers.
He’d grown up a leopard surrounded by tigers. A deer surrounded by dragons.
But here, down in the mines…
He was surely closer to a dragon than a deer.
“Hey, Toar… you got a sec?”
Toar brought a hammer down on the rock that’d been troubling his group until the stubborn stone split. The muscles across his slender frame rippled as he smashed apart the rubble.
He turned to them all, snarling.
“Mine all of it. You’ve got thirty minutes.”
With hurried, panicked looks about them, Toar’s group nodded and began to go at the recently opened deposit with their picks.
Thirty minutes was generous. If they weren’t done and out of here within an hour, Selsor’s group would show up and beat the piss out of his workers. This was their site.
Thankfully, he’d broken in his group already. They were more scared of Toar than they were of being caught.
Tasks delegated, Toar turned to regard his cousin, who’d been waiting patiently this entire time.
“What is it?” he asked the tiger.
“Walk with me.”
“I don’t have time to talk. We’re already cutting it close here.”
Toar’s cousin grabbed him by the shoulder. The larger man looked down at him, fangs glinting.
“Quickly. This will only take ten minutes.”
Toar sighed but did as instructed.
Toar’s cousin, Mansol, was a full-on tiger. They didn’t even look alike. Fifteen years his senior and working as this rift’s doctor, Mansol had gotten him this job, though Toar had carved out his own position as a group leader.
Granted, he’d had to kill a whole load of monsters, plus his previous group leader to do it, but he’d managed without too much help from his cousin. Even if the group he managed now was one of the smallest and weakest in the mines.
“What’s this about?” Toar asked as the two of them walked through the central cavern, back towards the medical tent.
The moment they entered, Mansol began to speak, closing the entrance flap as he did.
“The overseer just received a letter about an Unclassed that’s set to be joining us. He has an outrageous contract.”
“An Unclassed? Here?” Toar scoffed. “What’s the point? He’ll be dead in a week.”
“Not this one,” his cousin said, waving a finger. “Apparently, this guy’s special. The recruiter was dead impressed with him. Weak, but resourceful. And when I said his contract was outrageous, I meant outrageously good.”
As Mansol spoke, he pulled out a piece of paper and handed it over to Toar. Toar’s eyes scanned it, slowly widening.
“Seriously? Fifty-five percent?”
“Seriously,” Mansol nodded. “I’ve never seen a contract go that high.”
“And here I am on thirty.” Toar growled, the fur on his face growing sharp. “Still, he’s Unclassed. Whether he’s exceptional enough to be sent here or not, he’s a liability. He’ll make my group look even weaker than it is. We’re already forced to sneak and scavenge.”
“Normally, I’d agree with you. However…”
Mansol tapped on the piece of paper twice. “Read the whole contract.”
“A thousand gold signing bonus… paid to the contract holder… THREE superior health potions?”
“Keep your voice down,” Mansol hissed.
“No, but seriously, those things are worth…”
“Are you starting to see why you should recruit him?” Mansol asked, a gleam in his eye.
“Still, even with all of this gear, even with a good weapon, training an Unclassed is…”
Toar felt a mighty sting before the slap to the back of his head even registered.
He looked up at his cousin, dazed. The tiger began to snarl.
“No, you idiot. You don’t train him. You find out where he keeps his money and his equipment and you take them. Then you can do what you like with him.”
Toar shook away the wasps in his head as Mansol looked over him.
“Do you get it? Do I need to find simpler words?”
“But…”
“But?!” Mansol laughed. “What’s there to be confused about here? Explain.”
“You want me to steal this kid’s gear?” Toar asked, stating the absolute obvious. “You realise what that would end up meaning, don’t you?”
Toar didn’t treat his group nicely. He acted as he did in order to keep his position secure. When he’d killed his asshole leader, and his whole group had been there to witness, he’d leaned into that fear. Played the part he was always meant to.
But this wasn’t self-preservation. This was malicious. Taking from someone so weak was…
“You said it yourself,” Mansol said, scratching the side of his face as he spoke. “He’ll be dead in a week regardless. He’s some Unclassed that doesn’t belong here, and equipment like that is wasted on him.
“Get him to give you his gear in exchange for protection if it makes you feel better. It doesn’t matter. Just make sure you get your hands on it. If you want to challenge the other group leaders, if you want to do anything of significance with your remaining time here, you need those healing potions. You’re running out of time.”
“I already out-earn a majority of the other miners,” Toar reminded his cousin. “I have been for a while. It’s not like I’ve been doing nothing since I got here.”
His cousin scoffed. “You’ve done nothing worthy of your clanname, or your rare class. It was my suggestion to bring you down here. Three years and you’re managing the most useless group in this place. Wonderful. Let’s throw a parade in your honour.”
“I’m trying my hardest to be worthy of this family…”
“No, you’re not,” Mansol growled, jabbing a finger into Toar’s chest. “You’re soft and you’re stupid. If I hadn’t warned you that Fallos was planning to off you last year, you’d be dead already.”
Mansol grabbed Toar by his shirt, staring him in the eye. “If you want to be a dragon, if you want to truly be one of us, stop worrying about your stupid feelings and start making some money. You’re not going to get another opportunity like this. Don’t waste it.”
With that, Mansol released Toar. Toar stumbled back, trying to control his breath.
“Go find your group, little leopard. If you’re gone too long, they might realise they don’t need you.”
Despite his fear, Toar wanted to throttle his cousin in that moment.
He swallowed the feeling and left.
Toar marched back towards his group, thoughts swirling and weighing down his head. He took a scenic route; it did little to clear his mind.
As small as Mansol made him feel at times, Toar knew his words were true—he wasn’t doing anything impressive down here, certainly nothing worth his father’s approval. He was a waste of space, not worthy of the Halfshade name.
What would happen if his family rejected him? Would he survive in exile?
“Something the matter, boss?” Finn, one of his workers, asked him.
Maybe Toar was a deer. Maybe even someone like Finn, human, a year younger than him, could see that much just by looking at him.
Maybe he could see the conflict. The fear in his eyes.
Maybe he pitied him.
“Toar?”
Toar grabbed Finn by the shirt. He clenched his fist. Knuckles ground against ribs.
“Did I ask you to speak?”
“N-no. I just noticed you were gone a long time and I—”
Toar clenched his fist harder. Finn gasped, raising to his tiptoes as Toar threatened to lift the smaller boy into the air.
“You’re still speaking.”
“I… I’m so—”
Toar slapped him.
“Still speaking?”
Toar waited for an answer. None came. He raised his hand again. Finn flinched.
Toar smirked. He dropped the boy to the floor and whistled to get his group’s attention.
“Pack this shit up. We’re leaving.”
Toar’s heart pumped with adrenaline as he watched his group hurriedly collect the silvery rocks they’d harvested and shove them onto a commandeered cart.
They moved as he told them to. Did as he instructed. Each of them feared his wrath.
He was a dragon. He refused to believe otherwise.
He would do everything in his power to make those words true.
“You.”
My head jerked at the address. Me and the other newbies had been shuffled off into groups for the past half-hour. Group leaders made loud claims as to which workers they wanted, often predicated upon the class that person had. Sometimes, they squabbled over which group got who.
Naturally, I, being Unclassed, had been passed over by everyone. And considering the non-subtle whispers I’d overheard, people seemed aware of my ridiculously good contract numbers. Thankfully, most seemed to be under the assumption that I’d been given those numbers as a joke.
I’d been passed over until now. The last person standing here—even the boy still crying after witnessing the fight with the wolf monster was chosen before me.
But someone had finally approached me. He’d waited until all of the other groups had left.
I was almost in disbelief.
“Get on your feet.”
I did as the older boy said and raised myself up. Getting a better look at him under the torchlight, I realised the boy was a beastkin, a fair size bigger than me and looking something like a… cheetah?
I wasn’t good at discerning feli...
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