What do you mean I'll understand soon?" I snap, keeping pace with him through the underground halls. My footsteps echo too loud in the narrow passage. "Why can't you just tell me now?"
He doesn't slow down.
"Why are children these days so desperate to rush the truth?" he says calmly. "As if knowing it sooner will make it kinder."
I clench my jaw. "If you're not going to explain anything, then at least tell me your name."
He stops.
The silence hits harder than the walking ever did.
"My name," he says at last, "is Sensei Shu."
"Sensei of what?" I ask.
He turns his head just enough for me to see one sharp eye. "Of survival."
Then he faces forward again. "Now stop asking questions you're not ready to hear answers to."
We move on.
The tunnel opens into a wide chamber. Wooden floors stretch out beneath hanging banners, their symbols faded by time. Training mats line the room, worn thin by generations of footsteps. The air feels heavy. Old. Like the walls are watching.
A dojo.
"Sit," Sensei Shu says.
I lower myself onto the floor. He sits across from me with effortless control, folding his legs like this is the most natural place in the world for him to be.
For a moment, he just studies me.
"Now," he says, voice steady, "tell me your name."
"William."
He nods once. "William… you are a descendant of a Dragon Keeper."
My chest tightens.
"There are four Dragon Keepers," he continues. "Red, fire. Blue, lightning. Brown, earth. Light blue, water. Each element is bound to a dragon."
He meets my eyes.
"Not in legend. Not in metaphor. In flesh and blood."
A faint burn crawls along my arm, like it's listening.
"The mark on your arm," Sensei Shu says, "is not a curse. It is a key. A seal breaking open what was asleep in you."
I swallow. "Okay. But why me?"
He exhales slowly, and for the first time, his expression darkens.
"Between the years 1500 and 1600," he says, "the Dragon Keepers stood as guardians of balance. They fought threats humanity was never meant to face."
He pauses.
"Then came Lord Drakna."
The name lands heavy. The air feels colder.
"He desired our power," Sensei Shu continues. "And when it was denied to him, he chose annihilation instead. Worlds burned. Bloodlines vanished. In the end, the Dragon Keepers sealed him away in the Shadow World."
"So that's it?" I ask. "He's gone?"
Sensei Shu shakes his head.
"He is starving."
My stomach drops.
"For years, he has fed on souls," he says quietly. "Each one strengthens him. Each one brings him closer to breaking his prison."
"And only Dragon Keepers can stop him," I say.
"Yes."
I lean back, trying to breathe. "You said there were four. Where are the others?"
"They are awakening," he replies. "Just like you."
I hesitate. "And my element?"
Sensei Shu looks straight at me.
"Fire."
Heat flares along my arm, sharp and undeniable.
"But your lineage," he adds, "is unclear. Every cycle has a master. Knowledge survives. Blood fades. I do not know who came before you."
I laugh under my breath. "So I'm supposed to fight something like that… and I don't even know what I can do yet."
Sensei Shu stands.
"That," he says, "is what today is for."
We leave the dojo and enter another chamber.
"This," Sensei Shu says, "is the Room of Legacy."
At the center rest four weapons. A staff. Daggers. Kunai. And a sword.
"Your weapon," he says, "is the Sword of the Red Dragon."
The moment I look at it, my arm ignites with heat. The sword hums, low and deep, like it's breathing.
"What's it made of?" I whisper.
"Metal that remembers fire," Sensei Shu replies. "From a world that no longer exists."
The blade glows crimson, flawless and ancient. With every step closer, my arm burns hotter.
"Go," Sensei Shu says. "Touch it."
My fingers hover.
Then I grab the hilt.
Snap.
Fire.
Not wild. Not raging. Endless.
The heat presses in from all sides, suffocating and heavy, yet it does not burn me. The flames shift, parting as something massive moves within them.
A red dragon coils before me, scales glowing like molten steel, eyes burning gold. Its presence alone crushes the air from my lungs.
"This is where your blood remembers," the dragon's voice rumbles. "Where fire answers fire."
I force myself to speak. "You're the one bound to this sword."
The dragon lowers its head slightly. "I am the Red Dragon. And I have waited."
The flames pulse.
"You carry fear," it says. "Doubt. Anger. That is good. Fire fed by nothing burns out."
My grip tightens. "And if I fail?"
Its eyes blaze brighter.
"Then you burn," it says simply. "And the world burns with you."
Silence stretches.
I breathe in. The heat fills my chest.
"I won't run," I say. "I won't hide."
The dragon's mouth curves, almost amused.
"Good," it says. "Then stand."
Flames explode outward.
The sword ignites. Armor forms around me, piece by piece, alive with heat and power.
The fire does not reject me.
It accepts me.
I open my eyes.
My arms are no longer human.
Dragon scales coat them completely, deep red edged in black, layered so smoothly they almost look grown rather than formed. They don't feel heavy. They don't feel foreign. When I flex my fingers, the scales shift naturally, responding like muscle beneath skin. Power rolls through my arms, dense and alive, waiting to be used.
I clench my fist.
The air around it tightens.
I turn slowly.
Sensei Shu stands a few steps away, arms folded behind his back, watching me with an expression I can't read. Not shock. Not pride. Just calm certainty.
"Good," he says at last.
Then, quieter.
"Very good."
He begins to circle me, footsteps soft against the stone, eyes scanning every detail like he's inspecting a weapon fresh from the forge.
"There's a lot of potential in you, William," he says. "Very few form a bond this quickly."
He stops in front of me.
"But potential," he adds, voice sharpening, "is worthless without understanding."
He raises one finger.
"Your power exists in three parts. Remember this. Forget it, and you die."
The weight of his words presses down on my chest.
"First," he says, tapping my scaled arm lightly, "your emblem. The mark is not decoration. It is your heritage made physical. It gives you strength, resolve, and access to the blood of the Dragon Keepers."
Heat pulses beneath the scales, slow and steady, like a heartbeat.
"Second," he continues, eyes flicking to the sword at my side, "your weapon. It is the bridge. Without it, you cannot properly channel your dragon."
He raises a third finger.
"And third," he says, voice low, "your dragon. The source. The fury. The power itself."
He steps closer, stopping directly in front of me.
"If any one of these is taken from you," he says, "destroyed, stolen, or severed, your power ceases to exist."
My throat tightens.
"And hear me clearly," Sensei Shu continues, his tone dropping even further. "If Lord Drakna ever gets his hands on you… or your sword…"
He raises his hand.
The air ripples violently.
An image tears open in front of me.
The world burns.
Skies bleed red. Cities crumble into ash. Screams echo through streets swallowed by fire. The ground is soaked dark with blood.
Then I see them.
My parents.
Still. Silent. Gone.
My breath catches hard in my chest.
"This," Sensei Shu says quietly, "is what you are protecting."
The vision shatters.
"To be a Dragon Keeper," he continues, "you must understand the cost of failure."
He straightens, the weight in the room easing only slightly.
"Your suit," he says, gesturing to the armor, "your drikna, is built for balance. Stealth and force. Dragon Keepers do not charge blindly. We move unseen. We strike once. We end fights before they begin."
"Ninjas," I mutter under my breath.
A faint smirk touches his lips. "Exactly."
His gaze returns to the sword.
"Your senses spiraled out of control because your power awakened without guidance," he says. "Sight. Smell. Hearing. All amplified."
He meets my eyes.
"The sword grounds you."
Then his voice hardens.
"If that sword breaks," he says, "you don't just lose power."
He holds my stare.
"You lose control."
I swallow. "I understand."
"Good," he says. "Training begins tomorrow. You will meet the other three Dragon Keepers then."
Lightning.
Water.
Earth.
"Be here," he adds. "Never reveal our existence. Never reveal your identity. This place is called the Keepers of the Dragons. Some call it the Dragon Palace."
"The first one sounds cooler," I say quietly.
A rare smile crosses his face. "I knew I liked you."
He lifts his hand.
"Go home. Quickly. Drakna's followers are always watching."
He snaps his fingers.
My vision collapses inward.
Suddenly I'm standing in my bedroom.
"What the hell…"
I spin around, heart racing. My bed. My desk. My walls. Everything exactly where it should be.
I'm home.
A voice echoes in my mind, deep and calm.
With the sword, they cannot sense you. They cannot smell you. They cannot find you. Keep it with you. Always.
The presence fades.
I shower, trying to clear my head, but the steam fills the room too fast. My skin radiates heat. The water hisses when it touches me, evaporating almost instantly.
I shut it off, breathing hard.
"This isn't control," I mutter.
I grab the sword.
A low hum answers me. Ancient. Steady.
Control comes with training. My power is vast. The sword can guide it. But you must learn.
I let out a shaky laugh. "I can't believe I'm talking to a dragon and a sword right now."
Silence.
Then a trace of amusement.
I collapse onto my bed, staring at the ceiling.
Dragon Keepers.
Lightning. Water. Earth.
Training tomorrow.
Yeah.
Right.
I close my eyes.