Soon, the door to the room where John and Kael had been practicing opened, and Kira, Kael’s sister, stepped inside in her humanoid form. Kael glanced up and asked, “Kira, what are you doing here?”

  She smiled faintly and replied, “I received notice that I should fly down to the bottom of Golddeep, and I would find you there. Some strange flying metal device appeared on my balcony. I suppose the dwarf outside sent it, and the device spoke some recorded words.”

  For the first time, John learned the name of the city nestled deep within the crevasse—Golddeep. His mind wandered, recalling how the dragon-witch, the first time he had met her, had invited him to come here. He was now wondering how she had expected him to reach this hidden stronghold when he himself couldn’t fly nor had known directions. The question lingered unanswered as Kira and Kael exchanged brief farewells with the human boy, then turned and left the forge.

  Left alone, John returned to the anvil with relentless determination, the steady rhythm of his hammer striking the iron echoing through the quiet chamber.

  It was impossible for John to tell how much time had passed as he hammered relentlessly away at the anvil, his muscles burning and sweat beading on his brow. Yet, unbeknownst to him, Orwen had been silently observing from a shadowed corner of the forge.

  The dwarf muttered softly to himself, a grudging note of admiration in his voice. “He has been at it for almost 24 hours… what incredible determination.”

  Orwen’s gaze lingered on John, assessing the boy’s will and resilience—the kind of qualities that no magic or system could simply bestow but had to be earned through sheer grit.

  Orwen approached John firmly. “Stop,” he commanded. “You need to eat and rest.” John complied, following the dwarf through the winding halls.

  Orwen continued without looking back, “You don’t have family here, and though a large dragon offered to host you, dragon chambers aren’t suitable for someone like you. You may stay here.”

  John realized the dragon mentioned was likely Draco. He was led to a simple wooden table where, after he sat down, a mechanical arm—silent and efficient—poured a bowl of porridge and a wooden cup of water before him. The porridge was bland and hardly tasty, but hunger made it a necessary meal.

  Afterward, John was taken to a modest bath chamber to wash away the sweat and grime from hours of relentless work, beginning his first real rest in Golddeep.

  When John emerged from the bath, a set of simple clothes awaited him. They were clearly a blacksmith’s attire—sturdy and practical—but they did not fit him well. The length was not the problem but the broadness of the garments made it evident they were designed for a dwarf’s physique rather than a young human’s. The clothes fit him in length but hung loosely around his shoulders and chest.

  Just then, a small mechanical flying device appeared, humming softly as it hovered near him. Its metallic body emitted a series of cheerful sounds: “beep-beep, follow me, beep.” The device’s voice was clear and purposeful, “I will lead you to your bedroom.”

  With no better option, John nodded and followed the curious mechanical guide into the winding corridors of Golddeep’s deepest cave.

  John’s bedroom was modest and utilitarian. The walls were constructed from roughly hewn stone, unadorned except for a single small wooden shelf holding a few items and tools. A narrow window let in faint, almost imperceptible light from the cavern outside, casting long shadows across the floor. The air smelled faintly of soot and damp earth.

  The bed was simple—a wooden frame with a thin mattress and coarse blankets that lacked the softness and luxury of the noble chambers John had grown used to recently. Yet, despite the rough accommodations, John was too exhausted to dwell on any discomfort. He lay down and quickly slipped into a deep, initially untroubled sleep, the strain of the long day finally melting away.

  Later that night, if it was even night, because it was not clear to him anymore, John was tormented by a nightmare that dragged him back to the fierce battle in the arena of Celestor—the clash against Kael, the relentless black dragons circling overhead, and the malevolent gods whose dark will had bound the cruel collar around his neck. Shadows of despair and rage twisted through his dreams like a suffocating fog, exacerbated by the vision of the chained and encaged Eleonor.

  Just as the darkness threatened to consume him completely, a radiant light pierced the gloom. The bright goddess appeared, her presence a wave of warmth and hope that shattered the nightmarish visions. With a serene but powerful gesture, she banished the wicked gods, sending them evaporating into nothingness.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  John awoke with a start, his heart pounding, the echo of the goddess’s light lingering in his mind as a fragile beacon against the shadows that still whispered at the edges of his thoughts.

  The days that followed were marked by steady, unyielding effort. John spent countless hours striking the anvil, the heavy hammer rising and falling again and again, sometimes working alone in the quiet forge, other times accompanied by Kael whose presence offered both companionship and challenge.

  With each blow, John felt his body transforming. His muscles hardened and grew, shaping him into a stronger, more resilient version of himself. Day by day, the boy who once seemed small and fragile was becoming a muscular thirteen-year-old, forged by determination and sweat into a figure capable of facing the trials that lay ahead.

  John soon realized the importance of balanced strength and began alternating his hammer strikes between his right and left hands, determined to even out his training. He also incorporated other forms of physical exertion—pulling, pushing, and lifting with his own body weight—movements much like what an unawakened soldier or laborer in his world would undertake to build stamina and fortitude. These exercises extended beyond just his arms, working his legs, core, and back, molding his body into a more complete form of strength.

  He knew that with his system sealed for now, he could no longer rely on magical gifts or shortcuts. If he was to face the challenges ahead, he would need the full measure of his own physical power—earned through sweat, discipline, and iron will.

  One day, Draco descended to where John was training and beckoned him to follow. Without question, John wiped the sweat from his brow and went with the dragon. The flying Draco took him through the winding paths and caverns of Golddeep to a part of the city John had never seen before, which was not hard as he had not really seen much.

  There, nestled within a vast cavern, stood a structure unlike any other in the city—a towering spire that gleamed as if carved from pure, colorless, transparent crystal. The crystal tower caught every flicker of light, refracting it into dazzling rainbows that danced across the cave walls. It rose majestically, its smooth facets rising high into the cavern’s shadowed ceiling, a mysterious monument whispering of ancient power and forgotten secrets.

  Draco stood beside the shimmering crystal tower and explained in a low, steady voice, “This is the gate to another reality. It is where our younglings train in their early days. Only the mind is transported—your body remains here.”

  He turned to John, eyes steady and sincere. “It might give you access to the system again, at least while you remain in that parallel world. It is a bridge, a place where the limits of the physical can be transcended and your powers can potentially be exercised once more.”

  The idea stirred a mixture of hope and uncertainty within John, pushing him to consider the possibility of regaining what had been lost, if only for a time, within this mysterious realm that blurred the line between reality and dream.

  John's voice was tentative as he asked, "Did Kael try?"

  Draco shook his head. "No. Only beings below level 50 can enter. You are below that level, John, but Kael is not."

  The answer settled heavily in the air, a rule of the realm that underscored how much John still had to grow—and the unique opportunities and limitations each of them faced.

  Draco cast a keen glance at John and remarked, “Speaking about levels, last time we saw each other you had quite an interesting situation going on. You were at level 0… But I won’t pry into the details—we all have our secrets, and the system can be unusually flexible at times.”

  John managed an awkward smile, feeling both exposed and slightly relieved that Draco didn’t press the matter. There was a sense of understanding in Draco’s tone—a tacit acknowledgment of the strange paths fate and the system sometimes forced upon them. For now, John’s secrets would remain his own, safely veiled behind a shared respect for personal mysteries. Although John was aware that some people had read his mind and uncovered his secrets.

  John’s curiosity pressed forward. “You told me Kael couldn’t enter because he’s above level 50, but are we even at any level when blocked from the system?”

  Draco considered this before responding. “I’m not sure. Few have attempted to enter the alternate world while restricted by collars like yours. Orwen is the only one I know of. Mind you, I’ve been away for millennia, but your case and Kael's have been discussed among dragons,” he said thoughtfully.

  “Orwen wears a collar similar to yours, also of divine origin. When he tried to transmigrate to the other world, his shackles came undone—but upon returning, his collar remained on him. He’s our only empirical evidence. At the time, he was below level 50, and in that parallel world, he regained the level he had before being sealed as soon as he entered. If Kael regained his level, however, he would be kicked out immediately. The parallel world rejects all beings at or beyond level 50, even if they reach that level within the parallel world. The shock of being forcefully ejected is not healthy and we fear that the weakened Kael, restricted by the collar, back on the real world would suffer greatly from the aftermath.”

  The explanation underscored the complex rules governing their powers and restrictions, a web of limitations they had yet to fully unravel.

  Draco continued his explanations with a hint of pride. “Anyway, we got approval for you to use the crystal tower. You’ll owe my dear sister a thank you for that. It’s normally not granted to non-dragons. Even for Orwen, it was an exceptional privilege since he’s half-dragon.”

  John thought for a moment about the dragon-witch, Draco’s sister, then said, “Please tell her thank you for me. And if I may ask, what is her name?”

  Draco smiled subtly and answered, “Her name is Zephyra.”

  Draco continued with purpose, "We got approval, but we still need to inscribe you for the next introduction class. Follow me."

  They made their way through the winding halls until they reached a desk where an old humanoid dragon sat. His hair was white, like frost, and his eyes glowed a deep red. Draco approached him respectfully and said, "This is John, the human who was cleared for the training grounds."

  The old dragon studied John for a moment and then nodded thoughtfully. "Ah, yes, interesting. The next initiation is in three days. Should I inscribe you?"

  Draco gave a firm affirmative answer, and they soon left the desk, the task accomplished and the next phase of John's journey marked on the horizon.