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Revakulgr was, perhaps, the most feared dragon in the region. He had built quite the name for himself over the years, and his name had spread far beyond the forests and hills that he called his home. There were few as fearsome and even fewer who shared his reputation. The whispers among the people who resided in the villages and cities that surrounded him claimed that he swallowed his prey whole and allowed them to slowly perish and digest within him. They declared it the worst way to die, and any who dared to seek him out so they could end him were announced dead before they had even left the walls of their homes.

Even children feared his name, for they were told the great western dragon would come and swallow them while they slept if they did not behave. Enough knights and commoners had left and never returned in search of him for every child to believe it was true. In a twisted way, many parents were grateful for his presence as it provided an easy way to keep their children under control. When your name was feared and revered by adults and children alike, you knew you had made your mark as a dragon. For Revakulgr, this was no different, and he revelled in it each and every day.

In recent years, he had found that an increasing number of adventurers had come to test their luck and see if they might be the ones to finally slay him. Bold knights of noble heritage had journeyed from across the sea to lay their claim, and commoners from the surrounding settlements did their best to be brave and make an attempt. Regardless of training and background, each of them fell quickly to his claws - one fell swoop, and they were devoured, left wiggling in his belly as they slowly gave up and faded away. It had been wonderful for him, sating both his hunger and his deep-rooted desire to feel his prey slowly digest.

He had to wonder why there was such an influx of contenders, and while he wasn’t complaining about the buffet before him, Revakulgr did feel some concern. He wasn’t particularly bothered with pillaging cities and burning down villages, instead opting to spend his time lazing in the forest and waiting for dinner to find him. His distinct black scales and deep purple belly made him easy to identify when compared to other dragons, and everyone knew what he looked like - even if it was just from the description in the stories told in the tavern. He wondered if there was another dragon in the area, one who enjoyed the effort of destruction.

Stretching lazily, Revakulgr strolled through the woodland and away from his home in the hills. The autumn air was crisp, a cool yet refreshing breeze running through the trees and plucking leaves from the safety of the branches. He felt the crunch of their fallen brethren under his feet as he walked, listening to the birds and keeping an eye out for anything unusual. His territory was vast and stretched for miles, and while he wasn’t a fan of confrontation, there was no reality in which he would allow another dragon to lay claim to any part of his land. Just because he did not have the desire to pillage didn’t mean that he had any less right to the area.

As his journey continued and he pushed through the thick trees, causing the trunks to bend slightly when they were too close together, there was an unfamiliar sound. He knew it was a human, a man, but it was strange to hear a voice so openly in the forest. Everyone was aware that these trees were part of his home, and those who sought to strike him down often approached with far more caution - even if the element of surprise was pointless against him. He lowered his body, keeping close to the ground as he took advantage of the shadow from the trees, slinking through the woodland until he was close enough to see the source of the sound.

Revakulgr wasn’t far from the river where a knight sat by the water’s edge, his helmet on the ground beside him as he looked at his reflection. He was completely unaware of the dragon watching him from the undergrowth, instead heavily focused on the conversation he was having with himself. The western dragon had always found it amusing when they spoke to themselves.

“What are you doing out here?” The knight asked himself. “Like seriously, Frederick, what are you doing?” He sighed heavily, fiddling with the plume on his helmet. “You’ve only just been knighted, the youngest in the realm, and you chose to have a moment of fear? A temporary lapse in judgement.” He sneered at himself, and the dragon could hear it. “No one has ever been able to best you in battle; you’re the undefeated champion of the realm - kings have bowed to you, and no woman has ever resisted your charm… no man either.” The knight paused for a moment, lifting the helmet and placing it back on his head. “Today… today you’re going to slay the dragon, the most feared in the land, and you will become a god among men.”

Frederick rose, his form tall and muscular when he was standing straight. From his voice, Revakulgr could tell he was still young, likely no older than twenty, and he had yet to learn that arrogance and being overly confident had consequences. The dragon licked his lips hungrily, knowing he would be the one to give this young man the education he needed. He watched a little longer, eyes fixed on the knight as he unsheathed his sword to examine it before sliding it back and allowing it to hang loosely from his hip. He had no bow, no daggers, just a sword, and the dragon hadn’t seen anyone as unprepared as Frederick in decades.

It was almost going to be too easy, and he chuckled softly to himself as the thought entered his mind. The soft laughter was enough to startle the knight, causing him to turn around quickly and scan the area warily.

“Who’s there?” He asked sternly.

“Why, it’s only me.” Revakulgr purred as he stepped out of the shade, his gargantuan form towering over the young man.

“You.” He snarled any fear he felt expertly concealed.

“Why do you hunt me down? Have you not learned from those who came before?”

“They say the one who defeats you will have fame, glory, and all the riches they could dream of. Some even say you’ll be crowned king.”

“You seek such trivial rewards?”

“No. I desire only to be the most renowned and feared knight in the realm.” As Frederick spoke, Revakulgr couldn’t help but feel just a little impressed by his resolve. Here was a man standing before a dragon without even a little visible fear as he firmly declared he would take his place as being the most feared. It was a quality he very rarely came across.

“You have courage and resolve, knight.” Revakulgr smiled. “But I am afraid this is where your journey ends. You will not slay me, and I will not allow you to.” Frederick drew his sword, but before he could even move, the dragon pinned him down with a clawed hand and watched as he dropped the blade. The knight struggled a little, demanding to be let go, and Revakulgr decided to have a little fun with his new arrival. With his free hand, he pushed the sword away, flicking it effortlessly and watching as it was cast into the river, the plopping sound of metal hitting the water echoing as the knight’s face paled.

Slowly, he popped off the steel breastplate, allowing it to fall to the ground and land at the young man’s feet. He was well built underneath it, muscular and fit from a lifetime spent training for the battlefield. The vambrace was next, uncovering his arms and leaving him in a plain tunic as the sound of metal hitting metal crashed around them. The greaves and codpiece came next, the armour falling away as though it had never been secured in the first place, and Revakulgr knew the ease of every action left the man terrified. He was left in nothing but cloth, his pants fairly loose as the rope that secured them was starting to come undone.

Stripped of everything that made him a knight, the dragon lifted Frederick high into the air. Ashamed and degraded, the young man made no sound as he hung over the dragon, and Revakulgr raised his head and began to open his mighty jaws. He dropped the knight down the dark chasm, enjoying the sensation of him sliding down his throat and slipping into his belly. It was a warm sensation, and he could feel the way Frederick struggled instinctively as his innate will to live was activated. It tickled slightly, and the dragon made a teasing comment about it that he knew his prey was able to hear as he dropped further.

He could feel the knight settle in his stomach, plummeting down and splashing into the acid that lined his gut. Revakulgr reclined, lazing on the riverbank as he felt the knight begin to run around frantically inside him - racing from wall to wall of his stomach and beating on them as he screamed and begged to be released. The dragon loved the way it felt, the sensation of footsteps along his stomach lining and the way his punches made his belly bulge a little more as it became swollen from the presence of his dinner. There was nothing quite like it, and Revakulgr made a note to continue teasing and tormenting him as his running became more frantic.

Casually, he rolled onto his back, his stomach acid sloshing around and coating the knight as he continued his attempts to escape, and Revakulgr hummed delightedly as he felt Frederick start to choke and cough as he ingested some of the stomach acid. He burped loudly when the knight tried to climb back up from his gut, and he felt him come back up his throat slightly before being forced back down again. He tried to remind him that it was futile, but it only made him fight more. Eventually, he began to tire - digestion was starting, and the young knight no longer had the strength to try and fight. Revakulgr closed his eyes, savouring the last sensations of live prey in his belly as he settled down for a comfortable nap.