Pocket Dimension SSS-Rank Dragon Tamer

The next morning, the city bells tolled softly. It was a sign of mourning.

Marek stood with the others in the central courtyard.

Captain Dragomir's body had been recovered, or what was left of it.

His mind kept drifting.

Dragomir didn't have to die. He could've lived if I had my power earlier...

Velkaroth's voice broke through.

"Stop. You did what you could. Don't carry every corpse on your back or you'll snap in half before you grow."

Still, Marek stood silently, watching as the priest finished the rites. Then, as the crowd began to break apart, a voice called out behind him.

"Draganov."

He turned.

It was Mayor Gerhart Immelmann.

"Come with me."

Marek followed without a word.

They walked through the marble halls of the administrative tower, eventually reaching a private meeting room overlooking the northern wall.

"I read your file," the mayor said as he poured a glass of water and set it down without offering one to Marek. "Fifteen years old, one-star knight, son of Dorin Draganov, and the younger brother of Lucas Draganov."

He sat. "But you're not a one-star anymore, are you?"

Marek hesitated. "No, sir."

"I figured. You came back alive with barely a scratch. Dragomir, a two-star, died right next to you."

Marek tensed slightly, but said nothing.

"You're promoted," the mayor continued. "Effective immediately, you're now ranked a two-star knight under provisional review."

Marek blinked. "That's... fast."

"I don't like wasting time. But there's a condition."

The mayor leaned forward and slid a sealed envelope across the table.

"You'll complete a mission under private command. You're to retrieve five monster hearts from known F-rank beasts outside the southern gate. In three days with five other knights."

Marek slowly picked up the envelope. "And if I don't?"

"If the hearts don't come from monsters—if we suspect you're faking anything, or using illegal methods—you'll be arrested for fraud and impersonation of rank."

Velkaroth muttered in his head, "Ah, bureaucracy."

Marek nodded slowly. "Understood."

The mayor stood. "We need this for supply reasons. Monster hearts are alchemical materials—used in healing salves, mana potions, and warding oils. Our stock is low after the last wave, and hiring full squads costs too much. If you really are what I think you are, this'll be easy for you."

As he left the office, the streets of Valdren felt just a little heavier.

Kill five monsters, pretend like I'm just strong enough to do it—not too strong, don't make it look suspicious, and don't pull a flaming sword out of my chest or teleport across the forest.

He exhaled. "How am I supposed to act normal with a dragon god in my brain?"

Velkaroth replied, "Step one: Stop asking your furniture questions out loud."

Marek smirked despite himself.

---

It had been a full week since Velkaroth made himself at home in Marek's soul, and if Marek had to sum up the experience in one word, it would've been loud.

Velkaroth never shut up.

Whether Marek was brushing his teeth, eating dinner, or trying to sleep, the ancient dragon always had something to say—usually judgmental, often sarcastic, and occasionally helpful. But mostly judgmental.

It was exhausting. But at least this week, the walls had been calm. Just long shifts, routine patrols, and the occasional boring talk with the other knights. Marek could live with that.

He stood by the outer post that overlooked the western farms.

Emil sat beside him, helmet off, messy blond hair pushed back with sweat.

"So," Emil muttered, sipping from his canteen, "they finally buried Dragomir near the west chapel. His wife came back from Eisenfeld for the funeral."

Marek nodded quietly. "He deserved better."

"Yeah," Emil said. "He was a bastard sometimes, but he took hits for people."

Another knight leaned against the wall next to them.

He was older than Marek by a few years, wore a silver-edged two-star insignia. His name was Tomasz Varga.

"Dragomir always said, 'We die for the wall so the city doesn't have to,'" Tomasz said. "I guess he meant it."

Then footsteps echoed on the stairwell behind them.

Two more knights arrived at the post. One of them was a tall, square-jawed man with a chipped axe strapped to his back. Janek Roussel.

The other was a woman, dark-skinned with braided hair tucked into her helmet and a permanent scowl on her face. Iveta Grunwald.

"Shift change already?" Janek asked, stretching his arms out. "I was hoping to at least see a wild monster or something. This place's been dead all week."

"We were just talking about Dragomir," Emil said.

Iveta let out a dry grunt. "He's not the first, and he won't be the last. That's one thing about the wall."

Marek stayed quiet.

Inside him, Velkaroth stirred. "Huh. I like her. You should be more like that instead of crying every time someone says 'captain.'"

Can you not right now? Marek thought back. I'm trying to look normal.

"You're doing a great job at that. Absolutely nothing about you screams 'ancient dragon soul carrier.'"

Janek squinted at Marek. "Hey, Draganov. You doing alright? You've been quiet."

Marek quickly nodded. "Yeah. Just thinking about the next patrol route."

Iveta raised an eyebrow but didn't push it.

Emil glanced toward the woods in the distance. "You think we'll get another wave soon?"

Tomasz shrugged. "We always do. It's just a question of when."

---

After a while of small talk and staring into the distance like he was deep and mysterious—when really, he was just tired of hearing Velkaroth whisper random critiques in his head—Marek excused himself and walked toward the southern tower entrance.

He nodded to the guards posted at the stairwell and entered through the thick iron door that led into the fortress section of the wall.

These walls had stood for over three centuries now. Every kingdom across the continent had them, even the smaller city-states.

All of it started three hundred years ago, when the Wildlands began to "spill"—as the historians put it.

Monsters that had once stayed far on the edge of the continent started appearing inland.

At first it was just animals. Then creatures with fangs. Then the kind of beasts that entire battalions couldn't even scratch.

Marek had grown up inside walls, and so had everyone else his age. He didn't know what an open world looked like.

He reached the room—an old supply chamber they now used for briefings—and pushed open the door.

Six people were inside, including himself.

The other five were already waiting.

A man leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

He was tall, slightly tan, with short-cut black hair and eyes that didn't look at anyone directly.

He glanced at Marek but didn't say anything.

"I'm Marek Draganov," Marek offered with a polite nod. "Two-star knight. I was assigned to this task two days ago."

The man nodded lazily. "Ignaz."

Another knight stepped forward.

He was shorter than Marek but stockier, with a broad grin, a scar running down one side of his chin, and gauntlets far too large for his frame.

"Kazimir! Two-star as well. I've fought outside the walls a couple of times already, so I'm guessing they want me for backup. Let's do our best, yeah?"

Marek shook his hand firmly. "Glad to have you."

Then the third knight stepped forward—a woman with clean white armor, no visible weapon, and a long braid wrapped tightly behind her head.

She had the kind of posture that screamed noble education.

"Adelheid. Two-star," she said simply. Her voice was calm, clear. "I specialize in healing magic and support spells. I'll be positioned center formation."

Marek nodded. "Good to know."

The fourth was sitting on the table with one leg up. She had red hair tied into a short ponytail, red eyes that flickered like she was already bored, and a long spear across her back. She didn't get up right away.

"Iskra," she said, tossing a small knife in her hands. "I'm three-star. If something big shows up, I'll take the front. I'm not here to babysit though, so don't expect a rescue if you act stupid."

Marek blinked. "Noted."

She smirked. "You're the quiet one, huh?"

Then the last knight raised a hand. He had a sharp face, clean armor, and an energy that somehow felt a bit too serious.

"Otakar. Two-star swordsman. I've trained under Commander Velik's line."

"Oh wow, someone who still thinks rank equals personality," Velkaroth said in Marek's head. "He's going to be such a joy."

Don't start, Marek thought.

Otakar nodded toward Marek. "You were in the east charge, right? The one with Dragomir?"

Marek paused, then nodded. "Yeah."

"My condolences. He was a good man."

"Thanks."

They all exchanged brief glances.

Then, after the short introductions, Kazimir clapped his hands together.

"So. Five monster hearts. A patrol beyond the walls. Let's survive and not die a pointless death, yeah?"

"Agreed," Adelheid said softly.

"Sure," Iskra added, hopping off the table.

Ignaz just shrugged.

Otakar checked his sword and said nothing.

Marek exhaled.

They gathered around the old mission board mounted against the wall.

"Target: Five verified monster hearts. Region: Sector 12-C, outside the southern walls. Estimated threat level: E+."

Kazimir whistled. "E+ already? I thought we were getting warm-up runs."

Iskra scoffed. "E+ isn't a warm-up. You've got to stay focused. One wrong step and it'll be your lungs decorating a tree branch."

Ignaz yawned and muttered, "Well, at least it's not D-Rank."

Otakar, standing with perfect form as always, added, "This will still be difficult. E+ includes fast-types and pack-hunters. It's not a solo job. We'll need proper coordination."

"So when do we head out?" Marek asked.

"Next week," Adelheid said. "It gives us five days to prepare. We'll meet again in two days for joint drills. The goal is to practice synergy magic and response tactics, and no one skips."

"Magic, huh?" Kazimir grinned. "Time to see who's all talk."

Iskra snapped her fingers, and a small flame danced across her palm. "Not me."

They broke up shortly after. Some headed to the training grounds, others back to the barracks.

Marek stayed behind a moment, staring at the job parchment one last time.

Velkaroth's voice cut in. "E+? Please. I've seen scarier things in soup."

It's not about the monsters, Marek replied, walking down the hallway alone. It's about not screwing this up.

Velkaroth stayed quiet for a beat.

"You're nervous because of the magic thing, aren't you?"

Marek didn't answer, but he didn't have to.

Everyone assumed Marek was just a sword-type knight. In truth, he wasn't supposed to be one at all.

He had grown up in a family where magic flowed like blood. His mother could manipulate water. His father controlled metal heat in their forge with pure mana shaping. And Lucas, his older brother...

Lucas was a prodigy. He got accepted into the Royal Academy by age ten.

By twelve, he was a two-star mage. By sixteen, a full Court Mage. Now, Lucas was somewhere far away, completing a quest so dangerous, even high-ranking officers called it suicidal.

But Marek… Marek had failed his mana aptitude test.

Over and over.

He tried for years. He memorized formulas. He practiced for hours under the old instructor in Valdren. But no matter how hard he tried, his mana pool never expanded enough to cast anything beyond a spark. Not even a light spell.

So, when everyone else went off to academies, Marek picked up a sword. He chose the knight path.

Because it was the only one still open.

He reached the stone corridor that led to the outer barracks and pushed open the door, letting the afternoon sun hit his face. His armor clinked quietly with every step.

Velkaroth's voice returned, quieter now.

"I know what you're thinking. That you're weak. That you missed your chance. That your brother would've never ended up here."

Marek's jaw tightened.

"But I picked you for a reason. You couldn't use magic before. That was before me. Before the pocket realm. You're not the same kid anymore."

"I know," Marek muttered under his breath.

"Then act like it. Because next week, if something goes wrong, you're not going to be the one waiting for someone to save you. You're going to be the one saving them."

Marek nodded once, then stepped off toward the field.

Time to start training for real.