Life as a Rune Knight Colonel had carved deep grooves into the once-wild path of Tōga's existence. Where his days once overflowed with spontaneous adventures and thrilling discoveries, they now marched to the structured rhythm of diplomatic missions and civil duties. His role as a guardian of peace across the continent demanded a different kind of heroism - one built on patience, protocol, and careful negotiation rather than the raw excitement of exploration. True excitement still sparkled through occasionally, like precious gems hidden in common stone. These rare moments of unbridled freedom felt all the more precious for their scarcity. Tōga had accepted this trade-off when he donned the mantle of Colonel, understanding that securing a safer world might temporarily cage his adventurous spirit. The promise of future freedom kept him focused - each diplomatic success brought him closer to the day when he could chase his own horizons again.

But Hargeon... Hargeon felt different. Here, the weight of his rank seemed to dissolve like morning mist, revealing the young adventurer still burning bright beneath the official facade. His companion Drakkon had proved to be a master key, unlocking doors to pure, uncomplicated joy. From the wild abandon of the boat party to the carefree hours by the pool, laughter had flowed more freely in these precious hours than it had in weeks. Everything breathed with beautiful simplicity.

Fresh from a shower and dressed in casual attire that felt like freedom against his skin, Tōga made his way to one of Hargeon's most unique attractions. "Divine Ice and Demonic Crystal" stood as a monument to magical craftsmanship - a skating rink born from the ice magic of their mutual friend, Lumikki. Even in her absence, the demoness of ice and darkness had left her mark, her influence spreading like frost across a winter window.

"Oooooi, Drakkon-san!" Tōga's voice rang out as he emerged from the shadows of a nearby corner, his pink hair catching the crystalline light as he approached Drakkon and Hai at the registration desk. When the conversation drifted toward his potential membership in Drakkon's new guild, the Supernova dragon slayer's response carried the lightness of a snowflake.

"We can talk about that later! It's time to skate," he declared, his signature grin spreading across his face as he signed the registration form and claimed his locker key. The weight of such a life-altering decision could wait - for now, the ice called, promising an evening of pure, uncomplicated joy. The rink before them gleamed like a frozen slice of starlight, its surface holding countless possibilities for both adventurous glides and amusing tumbles. In this moment, rank and responsibility melted away, leaving only the promise of shared laughter and new memories waiting to outlined on the ice. Maybe the dragon slayer could learn a trick or two in the process.

---

wc: 494

An unspoken understanding hung in the air between Tōga and Drakkon, as tangible as the crystalline mist rising from the magical ice before them. The topic of guild recruitment had grown stale, like a song played once too often. Drakkon's enthusiasm for building his ranks was admirable, yet even the most earnest invitation could wear thin with repetition. Similarly, Tōga had grown weary of deflecting these well-meaning attempts to recruit him during what should be carefree moments of fun. Both men's hearts were in the right place, but sometimes fate needed to unfold at its own pace, like a flower refusing to bloom before its time.

The mundane task of storing his belongings quickly transformed into an impromptu comedy as Tōga confronted the logistical challenge of his equipment. Standard lockers, it seemed, were not designed with dragon slayers and their oversized weaponry in mind. His massive cleaver sword, Zangetsu, posed a particular problem - the blade nearly matched its wielder in height, making it about as cooperative as a cat being forced into a bath. Tōga's initial confusion gave way to determination as he surveyed the locker with the intense concentration of someone trying to solve a complex puzzle. After several failed attempts at geometric reasoning, he resorted to the time-honored tradition of brute force. With a grunt and a push that would have impressed a giant, he managed to convince Zangetsu to fit inside the metal confines - though the locker door's newly acquired bend suggested it might never close quite right again.

"Hmmmm," he muttered, his voice carrying a mix of guilt and forced nonchalance as he examined his handiwork. The bent metal screamed for attention, but Tōga chose the path of selective awareness. "They won't mind, right?" The question, directed to no one in particular, floated in the air as he made his strategic retreat, each step carefully casual, like a child trying to sneak away from a broken vase.

The transition from sure-footed dragon slayer to wobbly novice occurred the moment he strapped on his skates. His usual grace abandoned him as he navigated the short distance to the rink's edge, his movements resembling a newborn fawn taking its first steps. The real challenge, however, awaited at the threshold between solid ground and gleaming ice. Time seemed to slow as Tōga made his inaugural step onto the frozen surface. For a brief, glorious moment, he stood triumphant - then physics remembered its job. His feet shot out from under him with dramatic flair, sending him crashing onto the ice with all the grace of a falling tree.

"Ouch!" The exclamation echoed across the rink as he rubbed his bruised posterior, his dignity taking a harder hit than his body. Yet, in true Tōga fashion, his infectious optimism refused to be dampened by something as trivial as gravity. When Drakkon inquired about his skating experience, a bright grin split his face, transforming what could have been embarrassment into shared amusement.

"Nope, first time doing this!" he declared with undiminished enthusiasm, as if falling was all part of the grand adventure. His cheerful admission carried no trace of shame - after all, what was a little tumble to someone who had faced down powerful mages and mystic creatures? The ice beneath him might be unforgiving, but it was no match for his willingness to enjoy this new challenge, one wobbling step at a time.

---

wc: 590 [ 1,084]

A new challenge emerged before Tōga, one that defied his years of martial expertise - the deceptively simple art of ice skating. For a warrior accustomed to dancing with steel in the heat of battle, these thin blades affixed to leather boots presented an entirely different kind of combat. His usual domain involved the precise manipulation of katanas, where each movement flowed with practiced grace, every step calculated in a deadly ballet of strikes and parries. There, balance came as naturally as breathing, each variable within his control, leading inevitably to victory.

But perhaps, he mused, there was wisdom to be found in drawing parallels between these seemingly disparate skills. After all, wasn't adaptation the cornerstone of growth? With this thought sparking inspiration, Tōga began to reimagine the challenge before him. Instead of seeing ice skates as foreign implements of winter recreation, he visualized them as twin miniature katanas strapped beneath his feet. His legs would become extensions of his arms, channeling the same fluid control that made him formidable with a blade.

This unorthodox approach to mastery had served him well in the past. Whether learning new spells or perfecting combat techniques, viewing challenges through an unexpected lens often unveiled hidden paths to success. His mind painted the image clearly - each glide across the ice would mirror the smooth arc of a well-executed sword stroke, every turn echoing the precise footwork of blade combat.

"Okay, okay. I got this," Tōga declared, his voice carrying the same determination that had helped him face down dragons. He brushed away the crystalline evidence of his previous encounters with the ice, his dignity remarkably intact despite the growing collection of damp spots on his clothing. With methodical focus, he gripped the rink's barrier, using it as an anchor while he tested this new approach.

The initial moments seemed promising. His body responded to the mental reframing, finding a tentative harmony with the ice beneath him. Confidence building, Tōga made the fateful decision to release his safety net and venture into the open expanse of the rink.


"Ouch!" The exclamation bounced off the crystalline walls as Tōga's brief moment of triumph transformed into an impromptu physics demonstration. His body, betraying any semblance of martial grace, skidded across the ice with an almost artistic fluidity - though not quite the kind he'd been aiming for. The irony wasn't lost on him; his falls were becoming more graceful than his attempts at actual skating. Looking up at Drakkon and Hai from his now-familiar position on the ice, Tōga's face split into an unabashed grin. Their advice about bending knees and maintaining proper posture sounded perfectly logical, yet somehow transformed into pure theory the moment blade met ice.

"That sounds a lot easier until you go BAM! And fall," he chuckled, his laughter carrying the genuine mirth of someone who found joy even in failure. Each attempt to regain his footing became its own adventure, his body swaying like a ship in stormy seas as he fought for equilibrium. As he stabilized himself once more, Tōga realized this wouldn't be a quick conquest like mastering a new sword technique. This would be a lengthy campaign of trial and error, of falls and recoveries, of laughter and determination. But that was perfectly fine with him - after all, the best adventures were often the ones that challenged you most.

---

wc: 597 [1,684]

Tōga watched with a warm grin as Drakkon interacted with his dragon companion, Hai. There was something endearing about the way the typically stoic dragon slayer treated the young hatchling with such patience and care. Hai, still new to the world and full of unsteady energy, struggled to make sense of the icy surface beneath his claws. Tōga found himself both amused and empathetic—after all, ice skating wasn’t exactly a skill dragons were born with. And if he was honest, it wasn’t one Tōga had mastered either. Despite his own worldliness, Tōga was no expert on the ice. He had traveled far, fought countless battles, and acquired wisdom in the strangest places, but here, in this rink, he was just as much a beginner as Hai. Every slide and stumble felt like part of a shared struggle—a reminder that mastery wasn’t handed out freely but earned through effort and persistence. The rink wasn’t just a slippery challenge; it was a teacher, and falling was simply the first step toward learning how to glide.

Tōga chuckled to himself as he wobbled on the blades strapped to his boots. His balance faltered again, and down he went with a dull thud against the cold surface. For a moment, he just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, a grin spreading across his face despite the sting in his elbows. "Well, that makes the seventh time," he muttered with a laugh, brushing ice shavings off his pants. Falling didn’t bother him—he welcomed it. In his mind, every slip was a reminder of his motto: fall today, soar tomorrow. Life had taught him the value of perseverance, and it was a lesson he carried into everything he did. Getting up was just as important as falling down, and Tōga made sure to do both with a smile.

Pushing himself upright, Tōga skated a little farther, knees wobbling as he tried to mimic the graceful strides of the more seasoned skaters gliding effortlessly past. Every kick of his legs was clumsy, his movements exaggerated and awkward, but he didn’t care. He was having fun—and that was the whole point.

“We’ll get it one day, Hai-san!” Tōga called out, his voice filled with encouragement as he steadied himself once more. “You’re already showing so much progress! Just a little more practice, and the ice won’t stand a chance.” Tōga’s grin widened as Hai gave a determined little growl, clearly intent on trying again. It was the same kind of spirit Tōga admired—persistence, no matter how slippery the path.

He skated—well, stumbled—alongside the others, losing his balance here and there but always pushing forward. Every fall was greeted with a laugh, every stumble with a lighthearted grin. “The trick is to make it look like you meant to fall,” he joked to Drakkon as he righted himself again, his arms flailing slightly to keep his balance. After a few more laps—if they could even be called that—Tōga’s stomach growled, the hunger catching up to him with every shaky stride. “So… what’s next, Drakkon-san?” he asked, flashing a lopsided grin as he shuffled toward the rink’s edge, his legs aching from the effort.

“I could eat a mountain right about now.”

---

wc: 572v [2,000+]
- exit