Chapter 64: A Variant Among Humans
"...."
The Land Dragon’s carcass lay sprawled across the cracked stone floor.
Its once-imposing frame was now nothing more than a broken heap of scales, fragments, and smoldering flesh. The air in the arena still smelled of scorched stone and ash, thick with the heat of dissipating flames.
The students collapsed in clusters, nursing wounds, their breath coming in sharp gasps. Jonathan leaned heavily on Lenard, his leg bleeding freely despite the torn bandages hastily tied around it. Marcos and two others lay unconscious but alive, carried by teammates toward the waiting medics stationed at the edge of the arena.
Above, the instructors and scholars stood, their gazes locked on the battered but victorious team.
"Enough!" boomed a voice, echoing across the massive chamber.
The barrier separating the two halves of the arena shimmered and vanished.
On the other side, Jet’s team stood, their faces etched with frustration and defeat. Draco’s team killed their Dragon first, and even though they eventually succeeded in subjugating theirs, the victory went to the first squad to win.
All eyes turned as one of the supervising instructors stepped forward.
A tall man clad in dark robes, his voice carried the authority of steel tempered in fire. His gaze swept over both teams before finally settling on the fallen dragon.
"Students. That was your first Subjugation Session." His voice reverberated across the walls. "And though you still have much to learn, you all lived. That, in itself, is an achievement worth noting."
Some of the students sighed in relief. Others bowed their heads in shame.
The man’s eyes narrowed. "But survival alone is not enough. You were not brought here merely to scrape by. You were brought here to excel."
He paused, letting the words sink in. His gaze shifted toward Draco’s team.
"And today, one team showed that resolve more than the other. Draco’s squad—" His voice rose. "You not only immobilized the Land Dragon, but you worked together, followed command, and ultimately struck the final blow. Your performance was exceptional. For this, you are awarded an additional fifty Student Points each, along with victory merits to your records."
"WOHOOOO!" A cheer erupted from Draco’s team.
Even the wounded grinned through bloodied lips. Jonathan punched the air with his good arm, shouting something incoherent but jubilant. Lenard allowed himself a rare smile, and several others clapped each other on the back, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten in their joy.
The instructor’s gaze then fell upon Jet’s group.
The silence that followed was heavy, almost suffocating.
"As for Jet’s squad..." His tone dipped, colder now. "You were disorganized. You lacked unity. In battle, hesitation and dissent are the greatest killers. Had it not been for the weakened state of the Dragon, you would be the ones dead instead. Learn from this failure, or be prepared to meet that fate in truth."
Jet clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. Lizbeth’s smirk had long since vanished, her face twisted in frustration. The rest of the team shifted uncomfortably, some glaring at Draco’s side, others refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.
The instructor raised his hand, cutting the tension.
"This concludes today’s session. Medics, tend to the injured. The rest of you are dismissed."
The dragon’s remains shimmered faintly as runes activated, pulling its corpse away into nothingness. The arena floor began to repair itself, stone fragments sliding back into place as though rewinding time.
One by one, the students filed out, chatter buzzing in the aftermath. Draco’s team was jubilant, their victory still fresh in their voices.
"We did it!" one boy exclaimed, throwing his arm around Jonathan’s shoulder.
"Draco’s plan was perfect!" another chimed in.
"Yeah, if it weren’t for him, we’d have been wiped out for sure..."
They laughed, congratulated each other, and basked in their hard-earned triumph.
Draco walked quietly in the midst of them, expression unreadable. His lips curved slightly, but not in the way the others expected.
He wasn’t moved by their joy.
He had known they would win.
From the very beginning, he hadn’t entertained the possibility of failure.
’Points, victories, praise... all expected. What matters is the progress made.’His eyes flicked briefly toward Jet’s retreating figure, shoulders stiff with anger.
’And the attention I wanted.’
Later, when the celebrations had dulled and classes had finally been dismissed, Draco left and began walking on the Academy grounds.
The cool night air greeted him, carrying the faint scent of rain.
Lanterns dotted the path ahead, their glow faint against the blanket of stars overhead.
He walked in silence, hands in his pockets, thoughts already turning toward his next step.
That was when a voice spoke behind him.
"You hid it well."
Draco stopped. His eyes narrowed as he slowly turned.
Frost Winister stood a few paces away, his posture casual, arms folded across his chest. The man’s silver hair glimmered faintly under the moonlight, his gaze sharp as the chill night air.
"You pretended to be overwhelmed when you stacked those D-H," Frost continued, his tone light, almost amused. "The others might have bought it... but not me."
Draco kept his expression carefully neutral, though his chest tightened for the briefest moment.
"...What of it?"
"Relax, boy. I’m not here to expose you. I’m here to talk." Frost’s smirk deepened.
The older man stepped closer, boots crunching softly against the gravel. His eyes gleamed with the same keen amusement he often showed during class, but beneath that lay something heavier, more deliberate.
"You know, dragons—true dragons—only have one Dragon Heart. One Breath. It’s the core of their being. That’s the law of their kind."
Draco tilted his head. "...And?"
"But," Frost went on, ignoring the flatness in Draco’s tone, "in my travels, I’ve encountered something different. Variants. Dragons born not with one heart, but two. Sometimes even three. Beasts capable of wielding more than a single Breath at once."
Draco’s heart gave a subtle jolt, though his face remained calm. "What does that have to do with me?"
Frost’s gaze lingered on him, studying every twitch, every breath. Draco forced himself not to fidget, though unease prickled down his spine.
’Damn him. Does he suspect my involvement with Dragons? What if he thinks I’m one? Could he have some clues that will lead him to uncover my Dragon Tamer Class?’
Finally, Frost chuckled.
"Because, boy... just as there are variant dragons, there can also be variant humans."
The words hung in the air like a blade at Draco’s throat.
"Perhaps it’s only natural that someone like you could stack multiple Dragon Hearts where others would be torn apart. Not a weakness... but an anomaly. A rare one." Frost’s grin widened, sharp and knowing. "A variant among humans."
Draco stared at him, his mind whirling. The temptation to probe deeper gnawed at him, but he knew better. Any slip, any careless word could expose truths he couldn’t afford to reveal.
"I see. So you’re saying I’m special?" Draco asked evenly.
"I’m saying that I look forward to seeing how far you’ll go. This little Academy of ours is about to get a lot more interesting."
He turned then, glancing past Draco’s shoulder. His smirk deepened.
"Ah. And I suspect you’ll be kept plenty busy."
Draco frowned, turning slightly.
There—standing a few paces behind him, half-hidden in the shadow of a lantern post—was Jet Ashborne.
The boy’s expression was grim, eyes hard with determination. He’d been there for some time, silently waiting, listening perhaps, though Draco couldn’t be sure how much he’d heard.
"Try not to disappoint me, Draco. And you too, Jet. I expect fireworks." Frost gave a lazy wave, already walking away down the lantern-lit path.
His laughter faded into the night, leaving the two boys alone.
For a long moment, neither spoke. The air between them felt heavy, almost charged.
Finally, Jet stepped forward, his footsteps deliberate. His eyes never left Draco’s.
"We need to talk," he said.
Draco’s lips twitched into the faintest of smirks.
"...Do we, now?"