The day came to a quiet close as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the academy. Students across the dormitories settled into bed, exhausted but content after passing the brutal entrance exam.
Laughter faded. Candles dimmed. Peace filled the halls of Moonvale Academy.
But not everyone was resting.
High above, in the headmaster's office, candlelight flickered across ancient books and scrolls. The Headmaster sat behind his desk, eyes scanning a sealed letter.
It was from the Head Priest.
His eyes narrowed as he read the final line:
"We've found him. The one bearing the Heavenly Dragon Core."
The Headmaster leaned back, exhaling slowly. "So the boy has it... how fortunate for the kingdom. That means"
"This school is our next target."
A voice interrupted from the corner of the room.
Stepping into view was a tall man clad in a sharp black suit, silver trimmings curling like vines around the fabric. His presence was eerie, too still too composed.
The Headmaster didn't even flinch. He rolled his eyes and resumed signing papers, clearly unimpressed.
"Oh, it's you, Drake. What does your master want now? It'll take more than a fancy lapdog like you to shake me."
Drake grinned, his pointed teeth glinting beneath the crystal chandelier overhead.
"I'm not here to intimidate," he said smoothly. "Just here to bring you to him."
The Headmaster clicked his tongue and tossed his pen aside. "I take it 'him' means your master?"
Drake nodded silently.
With a tired sigh, the Headmaster stood and adjusted his cloak. "Fine. Let's get this over with."
Drake reached into his inner coat pocket and withdrew a glowing scroll etched in ancient runes. As he opened it, the markings lit up in a brilliant cascade of magic.
A pulse of energy surged outward, engulfing them both in a whirlwind of light.
In a flash, they vanished teleported far away from the academy.
Their destination: a remote mountain range at the very edge of the kingdom.
The teleportation light faded as the Headmaster and Drake appeared at the edge of a jagged mountain range. Cold winds whipped through the stone crags, and dark clouds loomed overhead.
The Headmaster didn't waste a moment.
"Volcanus!" he bellowed, voice echoing across the cliffs. "Where are you, you spiny lizard?!"
Drake gritted his teeth, stepping forward in anger. "Watch your mouth, old man!"
He lunged to strike.
But the Headmaster didn't flinch. He whispered coldly:
"Spatial Magic: Void Break."
A low hum filled the air. In an instant, Drake's head twisted unnaturally then burst apart in a violent explosion of blood and mist. The body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
The Headmaster scoffed, brushing crimson splatters from his cloak with disgust.
Then the sky trembled.
A guttural roar echoed from the mountains, and the ground began to quake. Rocks tumbled. Trees bent. A shadow blanketed the peaks.
Descending from the clouds came a monstrous figure a colossal dragon, scales like molten obsidian and wings wide enough to smother the sky. He gripped the mountains with clawed hands, using them like armrests.
Volcanus, the Tyrant Flame.
"You dare kill one of my own before me?" his voice rumbled, shaking the heavens.
The Headmaster looked up unfazed. "Don't be dramatic. He was a halfbreed, wasn't he? You and your obsession with blood purity I did you a favor."
Smoke snorted from the dragon's nostrils. "Regardless of his blood, he had his uses."
The Headmaster waved dismissively. "Then what is this about? The boy? You're not getting him."
Volcanus's eyes narrowed. He raised one leg and slammed it into the mountain with a deafening boom. The entire range shook, tremors rolling across the land like a shockwave.
"The boy belongs to us!" Volcanus thundered. "His power is of dragonkind. You will hand him over or we will raze your kingdom to ash!"
But the Headmaster simply smiled, folding his arms. "You'd risk another war with the king? Have you forgotten last time? Two hundred dragons fell. Your tail and your right hind leg were torn off."
A vein pulsed in Volcanus's massive forehead. His jaw snapped open and with a roar of rage, he spewed a torrent of molten magma, a seething flood powerful enough to swallow a city.
But the Headmaster had already vanished.
Snap.
With a pulse of mana, he blinked out using spatial magic gone before the magma struck.
The molten river crashed into the cliffside, sending plumes of fire and steam into the sky.
Only silence remained.
With a shimmer of light and the faint crackle of mana, the Headmaster reappeared in his office.
He brushed off the lingering scent of sulfur from his cloak and smirked to himself.
"That idiot is always so easy to irritate."
Walking over to his desk, he slumped into his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"But if Volcanus knew about the boy… that means he's been using those halfbreeds as spies."
His expression darkened.
"Tch. I'll need to notify the King immediately… and that damn priest, too."
With a reluctant groan, he pulled out two scrolls, dipped his quill into ink, and began to write. His handwriting was swift but precise, each stroke filled with urgency and authority.
The first letter was addressed to the King of Moonvale, warning him of Volcanus's reawakening and his claim on the boy.
The second was for Priest August, urging him to reinforce temple barriers and keep a closer eye on any movement from the dragon territories.
With a flick of his wrist, the Headmaster sealed both scrolls and summoned two messenger crows. The birds landed silently on the windowsill, eyes glowing faintly with enchanted mana.
"Take these. One to the capital. The other to the Temple."
With a soft caw, the birds took flight, vanishing into the night sky.
Finally alone, the Headmaster let out a long sigh and sank back into his chair.
"I really hate dealing with dragons."
He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling as moonlight filtered through his window.
"Why couldn't the boy just awaken with something normal… like lightning but... I guess that wouldn't be as useful would it ?"
BZZZZZT!
A piercing voice echoed from the glowing audio crystal mounted above the dorm room door.
"Combat class begins in ten minutes. Please make your way to the training grounds."
The room went still for half a second then chaos.
"ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!"
Zara roared as he grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it with deadly intent at the crystal. It hit squarely, bounced off harmlessly, and plopped to the floor without a scratch on the crystal. Still, it eased a fraction of his fury.
"What kind of psychopath schedules combat class before the sun even rises?!"
He groaned, dragging himself upright in bed only to see Mark already dressed and neatly fixing his robe in front of the mirror.
Zara blinked in disbelief. "Seriously?"
Mark turned his head, raising an eyebrow at him. "What? You've never been up earlier than this for training?"
Zara nearly fell out of bed from the sheer blasphemy.
"HELL NO! Do commoners do this on a regular basis?!"
Mark chuckled as he tightened his belt. "Not at all. Honestly, I thought nobles did this."
Zara's jaw dropped. "Why the hell would you think that?!"
Mark shrugged. "The Head Priest made me do it."
Zara's scream echoed through the entire dormitory.
"THE HEAD PRIEST MUST BE AN ABUSIVE MADMAN!!"
Mark chuckled at Zara's dramatic outburst, then motioned toward the closet.
"Come on, get dressed before we're actually late."
Zara groaned but obeyed. He threw on his school uniform in a hurry, nearly forgetting his shoes until Mark pointed toward them with a smirk.
"Feet, Zara. Use them."
"Right, right!"
The two bolted out of their dorm, sprinting down the hallway. They skidded to a stop in front of a crystal encrusted billboard embedded into the wall. Mark pressed his palm to the glowing center, and Zara followed suit. Both of their mana crests shimmered to life on the backs of their hands.
"Map," they said in unison.
A three dimensional projection of the academy grounds appeared before them, floating in the air with marked pathways and glowing indicators.
"There," Mark said, pointing toward the eastern courtyard labeled Combat Grounds Alpha.
They took off again, boots pounding against the polished floors, ignoring the early morning chill still clinging to the stone hallways. After weaving through several corridors and a couple of turns, they finally arrived at the training field.
Empty.
The wide open arena was deserted, a vast stretch of dirt and sand surrounded by stone bleachers and mana-sensor pillars. The early morning mist still lingered faintly around the outer hedges.
Mark blinked. "Are we… too early?"
Zara huffed, checking the sky. "No way. Based on what that cursed crystal said, we're at least two minutes late."
A deep, commanding voice echoed across the field.
"You're right. Two minutes late."
Both boys spun around as a towering woman approached. Her dark skin gleamed slightly with sweat, her snow white hair pulled back in a thick braid. Her frame was broad-shouldered and rippling with muscle. She wore a black sleeveless training robe and carried a massive wooden staff across her shoulders like it was a twig.
"But," she added with a smirk, "you're earlier than all the other pampered nobles still drooling on their silk pillows. You'll still be punished for being late… but they will suffer far worse."
Zara's blood drained from his face.
"Oh no."
Mark turned toward him, raising an eyebrow. "You know her?"
Zara's eyes widened in pure fear as he took a hesitant step back. "That's... she's"
Too late.
In a blink, the woman grabbed Zara by the collar and effortlessly hoisted him off the ground. Her grip was vice-like, dangling him with ease as he flailed helplessly.
"Where do you think you're going, nephew?" she said, grinning.
Mark's eyes widened as the connection finally clicked.
Oh… now that she said it, I do see the resemblance.
Zara struggled in her grip like a cat held by the scruff.
"Auntie Rina?! WHY ARE YOU HERE?!"
She dropped him onto the ground like a sack of potatoes.
"To break you. Again. I am your new combat teacher after all "
Zara groaned in defeat. "combat teacher? Great. I should've stayed in bed."