The moment the researchers saw Arata was standing at the balcny, the room changed.

  Not dramatically.

  But subtly.

  Several of them leaned closer.

  One adjusted a scanner with sudden interest.

  Another opened a recording panel.

  A third whispered something about resonance amplitude variance.

  Arata noticed the shift.

  He also noticed that no one was pretending anymore.

  Farworth sighed.

  “Alright,” he said, stepping forward.

  The room froze.

  Not because he shouted.

  Because they knew that tone.

  “We are not dissecting the cadet on his first morning.”

  A few researchers reluctantly stepped back.

  One woman still stared at Arata’s glowing hand like she was watching a rare comet.

  “Baseline readings—” she began.

  “Later,” Farworth said.

  He turned toward Arata.

  “You should meet the other residents first.”

  Lyra raised an eyebrow.

  “Residents?”

  Farworth adjusted his coat.

  “Yes. You thought you were the only one for your kind here.”

  He gestured toward the corridor.

  “Come.”

  The corridor beneath the atrium was different.

  The clean steel and glass gave way to thicker walls.

  Reinforced doors.

  Observation panels.

  Scorch marks that had clearly not been cosmetic.

  Lyra noticed the change immediately.

  “This looks less like a laboratory,” she said.

  Farworth nodded.

  “It’s the part the Academy doesn’t show in recruitment brochures.”

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  They stopped in front of a large door.

  Farworth pressed his palm against a scanner.

  The door slid open.

  Inside was a wide training chamber.

  Bare concrete.

  Impact craters in the walls.

  Sections of the floor reinforced with thick metal plating.

  Three people stood in the middle of the room.

  None of them wore lab coats.

  All of them wore combat uniforms.

  Old ones.

  The kind that had clearly seen use.

  The air felt different around them.

  Heavy.

  Not mystical.

  Just dense.

  Farworth stepped inside.

  “Good morning.”

  One of the figures turned.

  Tall with Broad shoulders and Short hair, the haircut of Army.

  A long scar across his jaw.

  “Morning,” he said.

  Farworth gestured toward Arata.

  “This is Arata.”

  The man looked him up and down once.

  “Ruin kid?”

  Arata blinked.

  “…Yes.”

  “Thought so.”

  Farworth nodded toward the others.

  “Arata, meet the senior Wyrmbounds assigned to the southern laboratory.”

  He pointed.

  “Hoyt.”

  Hoyt raised a hand lazily.

  “Marra.”

  A woman with sharp eyes nodded once.

  “And Kellan.”

  The third man leaned against the wall like gravity was optional.

  “Hi.”

  Farworth folded his hands behind his back.

  “They’ve been active longer than most cadets at the Academy have been alive.”

  Arata straightened slightly.

  Finally.

  People who might actually understand.

  Hoyt studied him for a moment.

  “You look disappointed,” Hoyt said.

  “I’m not.”

  “You are.”

  “I’m just thinking.”

  Hoyt shrugged.

  “Don’t do that too much.”

  Arata frowned.

  “…Why?”

  “You will come to know why, sooner that later.”

  Lyra quietly looked at the ceiling.

  Arata ignored her.

  “I wanted to ask something,” he said.

  Hoyt nodded.

  “Okay.”

  “How do you control your dragon blood?”

  Hoyt thought about it for two seconds.

  “Practice.”

  Arata blinked.

  “…That’s it?”

  “Mostly.”

  Arata waited.

  Hoyt waited.

  “That’s not very detailed,” Arata said.

  Hoyt leaned against a training console.

  “You asked how.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s how.”

  Arata tried again.

  “When the blood resonates—”

  Hoyt raised a finger.

  “Let it.”

  “What?”

  “Let it.”

  “That’s not advice.”

  “It is.”

  Lyra’s shoulders began shaking slightly.

  Arata refused to look at her.

  “What about conceptual alignment?” he pressed. “The principles behind your bloodline?”

  Hoyt shrugged.

  “Eventually.”

  “That’s not helpful.”

  “Usually isn’t.”

  Arata exhaled slowly.

  “How did you learn to fight with it?”

  Hoyt pointed toward a large crater in the wall.

  “Trial.”

  Then toward a collapsed section of floor.

  “Error.”

  Marra added casually,

  “Mostly error.”

  Kellan nodded.

  “So much error.”

  Arata rubbed his temple. “This is ridiculous.”

  Hoyt tilted his head. “You expected philosophy.”

  “…Yes.”

  Hoyt shrugged.

  “Wrong job.”

  Lyra turned away, laughing quietly.

  Arata glared.

  “This isn’t funny.”

  “It really is.”

  He turned back to Hoyt.

  “What makes someone a good Wyrmbound?”

  Hoyt didn’t even hesitate.

  “Still alive.”

  Arata opened his mouth.

  Closed it again.

  Hoyt clapped him once on the shoulder.

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  “That’s not reassuring.”

  “It’s not supposed to be.”

  Farworth cleared his throat.

  “Hoyt.”

  Hoyt looked over.

  “Yes?”

  “Try to be slightly more educational.”

  Hoyt thought about it.

  Then looked back at Arata.

  “Don’t panic.”

  Arata stared at him.

  “That’s the advice?”

  “That’s the advice.”

  Lyra leaned toward Farworth.

  “Are they always like this?”

  Farworth smiled faintly.

  “They’ve been Wyrmbounds for a very long time.”

  Kellan pushed off the wall.

  “So,” he said. “You’re the one born from Ruins.”

  Arata nodded cautiously.

  Kellan grinned.

  “Cool.”

  Arata blinked.

  “That’s your reaction?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  Kellan shrugged.

  “Means your blood probably does weird things.”

  Arata looked at Hoyt.

  “Does it?”

  Hoyt shrugged. “Probably.”

  [What weird things has my blood done to you]

  Arata sighed.

  For the first time since arriving at the southern laboratory—

  He was completely unsure whether these people were the best mentors he could have found.

  Or the worst.

  Behind him, Lyra was clearly enjoying this far too much.

  Farworth looked thoughtful.

  And Hoyt watched Arata with mild curiosity.

  Not analyzing.

  Not judging.

  Just observing.

  Like a veteran watching a new recruit try to understand something that could only really be learned the hard way.