The room was filled with a peaceful stillness, bathed in the soft afternoon light that filtered through the velvet curtains. Nero sat comfortably on a long, crimson velvet couch, his posture elegant yet relaxed as he turned the pages of an ancient book. The golden accents of his white suit glimmered slightly with every movement, and his dark blue eyes were lost in the words, exuding an air of tranquility.

Beside him, resting on his chest, the hunter was peacefully asleep. His body, now completely relaxed, sprawled out without a hint of the tension that once ruled him. The soft sound of his gentle snoring escaped his lips, as if he had no worries, no longer the hunter who had once obliterated so many of Nero’s kind. Gone was the rigid, militaristic posture he had adopted as a dragon slayer, replaced by a disheveled, carefree figure. His hair was tousled, and his breathing was slow and serene.

Nero did nothing to move him, savoring the strange but comforting weight of the human on him. There was something deeply ironic in the scene. The hunter, once feared throughout Anakt, was now nothing more than a relaxed creature, vulnerable in his sleep. Nero reflected on how this man who had destroyed so many lives, someone capable of defeating a thousand dragons in seconds, now snored softly, unaware of the chaos he had once caused.

Nero smiled to himself, a small glimmer of satisfaction in his gaze. The world had a way of turning in unexpected directions, and perhaps this strange relationship between them was the most profound irony fate could have woven. Still, Nero liked it, feeling a certain contentment seeing his once fiercest enemy now so vulnerable and human. He, who had always maintained perfect control over his elegant exterior and calm demeanor, now watched as the chaotic dragon hunter crumbled completely in his presence.