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In an ancient time, there was a kingdom plagued by a big black dragon.

Nobody knew why it came, for it never fed on the men it claimed. Nor was it possible to predict when it would come, for it could disappear for months and then assault their lives again few days after. And as it killed pious and wicked villagers equally, they knew it wasn’t a revenge from the gods either.

The only certain thing was it was a terrible, bloodthirsty creature; an angel of death, as they called it. The bells of the villages announced its descent on the wooden houses, and the only people who were safe enough were those who were lucky enough to be inside their homes or just next to their entrances. Its dark body obscured the sun, its talons opened up in a mortal embrace while the air was permeated with the screams of the innocent, and the victims of that day struggled in vain as the dragon flied away, desperately calling their loved ones for a last goodbye. Everyone in that land had at least one relative or friend who perished by that cruel being.

The king couldn’t tolerate it further. The dragon was depriving him of subjects to reign above, and taxes to be paid. So he sent a messenger to ask for help to a man whose name was legend.

He was Sigwulf, hero of the cold north, a champion of the gods, a man that through many monsters killed and other extraordinary achievements, had conquered a divinity aura among folks.

His come to the king’s castle was celebrated with fanfares and dances, and the king himself walked towards him, and the hero descended from his horse to receive the regal blessing.

“On my honor, I swear that I shall save your kingdom from the angel of death,” Sigwulf proudly proclaimed as the king posed his own sword on his shoulder. The celebrations continued until he finally left the court, towards the mountains where the dragon resided.

Sigwulf’s journey towards the dragon’s lair was long, rough and tiring, but the harsh mountain environment was no new challenge for him. Nobody else knew how to survive during a snowstorm, gallop through the rocks and find traces of enormous monsters. Eventually, the angel of death appeared in front of him, resting in the entrance of a large cave, majestic in its black deadliness.

He did not lose any time. The sword coming out of its sheath made a clanging noise, and one of the dragon’s eyes opened up.

“At last,” Sigwulf announced, “the time of your demise has come. No longer shall you spread evil among the land!”

The dragon opened the other eye too, and raised his head. Sigwulf expected it to stand up, open his jaws and begin the assault, like all the other monsters he had faced. Instead it snorted, giving him a look that almost looked like boredom. Then talked.

“Another one?”

The hero was puzzled. What did that dragon mean? He lowered his sword down, feeling that may be not the dragon he was looking for.

The creature spoke again.

“Your intention is to kill me, isn’t that, human?”

“I…” Never had a monster acted like that in Sigwulf’s memory. They were aggressive, ready to strike their fangs, evil to their core. This one seemed more prone to conversation than fight. Despite being more used to his sword than his mouth, the hero tried to fight the dragon’s words.

“If you are so intelligent to make conversation, then you are intelligent enough to know that your death is justified and necessary. The angel of death shall stop plaguing this kingdom. I swore it to the king.”

The dragon gave him an intense look.

“I beg you to listen to my words,” he said, his voice keeping being calm and profound despite his ferocious appearance, “my death wouldn’t bring the improvement you think. My actions are necessary.”

“I see that you prefer to fight with your tongue rather than your claws!” Sigwulf’s voice became louder. “You’re not only evil, you’re a coward! You dare drink the blood only from those who can’t defend themselves-”

With that, the dragon fully raised his body and leaped towards the man. His sword fled from his hand and rotated towards the sky before falling unceremoniously on the rocks. Sigwulf was now lying on the ground, trapped between the monster’s talons. Its expression, though, didn’t change at all, remaining absurdly calm.

“Please, do not interpret my last action wrongly. It’s important that I explain to you what I am. The father of the gods created me to keep the world of the living in balance. I am his champion.”

“What…” Sigwulf murmured. His hips moved to attempt to get rid of the dragon’s grip, to no avail. “So you’re evil, coward and liar! The father of the gods would never create something like you! Only humans can be champions of the gods, and only those whose heart is pure and good! I know it, for I am a champion!”

The monster snorted again.

“I have met countless humans who said words similar to yours, and still I cannot understand what you mean when talking about this ‘good’ and this ‘evil’. The champions of the gods are called to protect the balance. Tell me, why are you a champion?”

“Because I defeat great monsters that plague innocent people. I free them from their thirst for blood. And I’m going to do it again today!”

“Exactly. When a creature claims more lives than it should, you intervene, and the balance is restored. So do I.”

Sigwulf’s mouth didn’t open now.

“Your human settlements have already claimed so many lives from other creatures,” the dragon explained, “my task is to make sure you don’t claim more than the balance can afford. The consequences would be impossible to think. It would be chaos. It would be the end of the world as we know it. I am not spreading evil, I am not spreading good, or whatever you mean with those words. I am doing what I need to. And I know that you do the same. So exceptionally, I shall not fight you, because we are on the same side. Do you understand?”

The human was saying unintelligible words. The words of the dragon were a concept so alien that his mind could not elaborate it. How could its action be justified? How could they be on the same side? He knew what it was doing. It was all an elaborate lie. A trick to weaken him on his spirit before wounding him.

“I’ll let you go now,” the dragon announced, and its grip abandoned Sigwulf’s body, now free again to move. “Your sword is here.” It was grabbing it with its paw, and the man took it. Nothing happened.

“Dragon,” he said, “let me say something. A final comment about your words.”

“Yes?”

“You shall not trick me!”

And his sword penetrated into the chest of the monster, too taken by surprise to defend itself. The monster made a roar of pain, then pronounced its last words.

“Foolish...human…” he moaned. “You don’t know...what you...have caused.”

And its yellow eyes closed. Sigwulf took his corn, the one he played after triumphing, and played it with all the air he had in his lungs.

“This kingdom is free! Rejoice, people!”

***

“And that’s the story of how Sigwulf freed our kingdom from the dragon.”

“Ooooh, I want more, grandma!” The child exclaimed.

The old woman smiled. “Grandma is tired now. I will tell you another story tomorrow.”

“Can I go play outside then?”

“Aaah, little Joe, you know it’s too hot outside now. Next month it’ll stop being summer, and we can return to the surface again.”

“But I want to go outside!”

The woman held the child in a tight embrace. “I want that too, Joe, I want that too. We used to have wonderful summers when I was your age...then it got worse every year. I lost my mother in a summer heatwave and since then it’s not been the same.”

The grandma caressed the child’s hair until she fell asleep in the bunker dug in the belly of the earth, their summer refuge, below an ocean of concrete and glass that was an immense human settlement; the result of what the death of one champion of the gods had caused.