The morning sun bathed the open training grounds in sheets of gold.
A broad field stretched out before the new students, enclosed by high stone walls and dotted with targets, sparring dummies, and reinforced steel pillars driven into the ground like skeletal towers.
Beyond the walls, the faint silhouettes of the Academy’s towering spires loomed, reminding everyone that even here, discipline ruled.
The air smelled faintly of steel, smoke, and the earthy tang of freshly churned dirt.
Students stood in lines across the field, their black-and-silver uniforms crisp, cloaks fluttering lightly in the wind. Murmurs drifted through the crowd as excitement mixed with nervous anticipation.
At the front of it all stood Frost Winister, hands clasped neatly behind his back.
A large case rested at his feet, locked with runic seals that pulsed faintly with blue light. He swept his eyes across the gathered students, his gaze sharp yet calm.
"You’ve been given lectures. You’ve been given stories," Frost began, his voice carrying easily across the grounds. "But today is the first day you will wield true power for yourselves. This will mark the first step toward becoming Dragon Hunters worthy of the name."
He crouched beside the sealed case and pressed his palm against the runes. They flared in recognition, dissolving in streaks of silver light. With a click, the case opened, revealing rows of crystalline hearts nestled in protective grooves.
Each heart was faintly glowing dull white, like embers trapped in crystal.
Gasps rose from the students. Draco’s eyes narrowed slightly, observing the faint pulses of light. They radiated heat, almost as though the hearts themselves were alive.
This was the typical appearance of Rank 1 Dragonhearts.
The runic glows within them were usually white, with the colors changing the higher the Rank.
Rank 2 had yellow runic symbols.
Rank 3 had blue.
Rank 4 had red.
Rank 5 had green
Rank 6 had orange
Rank 7 had purple... and so on.
"These," Frost said, lifting one heart so the sunlight caught it, "are Rank 1 Dragonhearts, harvested from the Amber Ignis—the Fire Dragons you will come to know very well."
The heart glowed brighter as he spoke, and faint wisps of heat drifted off its surface.
"As Rank 1 Dragon Hunters, this will be your first tool, your first weapon, and your first danger," Frost continued. He snapped his fingers, and an assistant brought forward a crate of small glass vials filled with shimmering golden yellow liquid. "And these are Essence Vials, refined energy that you will use to fuel your Dragonhearts."
The vials clinked as they were set beside the case.
Frost let the students drink in the sight for a moment before continuing. His expression grew serious.
"On your way back from the Cave of Trials, you were provided with a Dragonheart to fend off the Dragon Wave. I am sure many of you recall the exhilaration of that power."
Students nodded and murmured.
Draco remembered well—the strange, almost intoxicating rush of wielding a Breath not his own.
Frost’s tone hardened.
"But make no mistake: the Dragonheart you wielded then was deliberately chosen for its simplicity. Its Breath was rudimentary, almost foolproof, and even then, many of you struggled to maintain it for more than a short while."
A ripple of unease passed through the group.
Draco noticed one boy clench his fists. Another girl bit her lip, remembering.
Frost nodded grimly. "That is because the stronger or more sophisticated a Breath is, the more concentration and willpower it demands of its wielder. This is the first lesson you must learn: Dragonhearts are not toys. The more you climb in Rank, the higher the price of failure."
A hand shot up from the second row.
"Instructor," a boy asked nervously, "why is it dangerous?"
Frost inclined his head.
"Good question. Listen carefully." He held the glowing Dragonheart aloft once more.
"Every Dragonheart carries risk. When you channel its Breath, there is always the possibility of what we call Breath Failure. This occurs when your control falters, when your body or mind cannot withstand the strain of channeling Essence. The result is backlash."
His gaze swept the field, letting the weight of his words settle.
"At low Ranks, the risk is minimal. A Rank 1 Dragon Hunter using a Rank 1 Dragonheart might, at worst, suffer a headache, nausea, or muscle strain. But as the Rank rises, so does the danger."
He raised a finger, counting off. Read complete version only at nοvelfire.net
"A Rank 1 Hunter who attempts to wield a Rank 2 Dragonheart risks losing consciousness. A Rank 3 Dragonheart could cripple them permanently. Rank 4 or higher..." His eyes grew cold. "...and they would be fortunate if death claimed them quickly."
The students’ faces paled. The field fell utterly silent.
"Do you understand now," Frost said softly, "why we stress progression? Why no shortcut is ever worth the risk?"
A girl in the back raised her hand timidly.
"Instructor... D-H sound... terrifying. Almost as scary as the Dragons themselves."
For a moment, Frost simply stared at her.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. The sound was sharp and cold, like cracking ice.
"You are not wrong," he admitted. "Dragonhearts are dangerous, and so they should be. Do not forget what they are. These are the hearts of vile creatures—spawn of chaos and destruction. Their power is not ours by right. We steal it. We refine it. We bend it to our will. But it is never truly safe."
He set the Dragonheart back into the case and straightened.
"Centuries ago, when our ancestors first harvested these hearts, they knew nothing of purification. They wielded raw Dragonhearts—tainted, filthy, dripping with the corruption of the beasts they came from. And they paid the price."
A hush fell.
"Corruption," Frost said, his voice dropping lower. "The slow poison that seeps from an unpurified heart. It twists the body. Warps the mind. Some went mad. Others became monstrosities themselves, more beast than human. For many, death would have been kinder."
A boy whispered hoarsely, "Mutation..."
Frost nodded.
"A fate worse than death. That is the true cost of wielding power you do not understand. But humanity did not perish. Our ancestors bled, sacrificed, and experimented until at last they discovered purification techniques—methods that stripped away the impurities and allowed Dragonhearts to be safely wielded."
He gestured to the glowing hearts before them. "These Rank 1 Dragonhearts have been completely purified. There is no risk of corruption. None. Even Breath Failure at this level will only leave you dizzy or sore for a few hours."
Relief washed through the group.
"But remember this lesson," Frost continued, his tone sharp. "At higher Ranks, purification is not perfect. Impurities remain, and corruption becomes a risk once more. That is why high-ranked Dragon Hunters do not wield their most powerful Dragonhearts carelessly. Even they must ration their use, lest the corruption slowly consume them."
The most protection that High-Rank Dragon Hunters had was tolerance to the corruption.
But tolerance was not the same as immunity.
"Pay deep attention to the words I tell you. Remember them well."
Draco’s eyes narrowed, absorbing every word.
His thoughts flickered briefly to Lumina, still healing within his Soul. A Variant’s heart... what would that be like?
How much corruption could even purification handle?
’I should be glad that I have the Dragon Tamer Class. I don’t have to take the risk of Breath Failure or Corruption.’ A small smile coursed through his face. ’That advantage is too unreal.’
Another student raised their hand.
"Instructor, then why would high-ranked Hunters even risk it? Why not just stick safer D-H?"
"Because..." His expression went grim for a moment as his eyes flickered with remembrance, almost as though he was recalling an especially dark memory.
"... There are some of those Dragons that cannot be beaten without D-H of the highest level."
For a moment, there was hush.
Dread filled the otherwise brave students, with some even gulping at his words.
Frost noticed this and his smile returned—thin, but proud.
"Besides... isn’t that what it means to be human in the face of Dragons? We wield fire stolen from monsters. We carry poison in our veins willingly. And through it, we fight. Do you think Dragons fear us because of our numbers? No. They fear us because we took their greatest strength—and made it ours."
The field stirred, murmurs swelling. For the first time, some students’ fear seemed to harden into determination.
Frost raised his hand, silencing them.
"But for today, you will not concern yourselves with corruption or high-rank backlash. Today, you will simply take your first steps. Each of you will be issued one purified Rank 1 Dragonheart of Amber Ignis, and one Essence Vial to fuel it."
Assistants began moving through the lines, distributing the crystalline hearts and the vials of shimmering liquid.
The students accepted them with trembling hands, their eyes fixed on the faintly glowing cores.
When one was placed into Draco’s palm, he felt a surge of warmth, almost like a heartbeat pulsing against his skin. It was not alive—but it remembered life. The Essence within it flickered faintly, waiting to be drawn out.
Frost folded his arms and let the assistants finish.
When every student held their heart and vial, he stepped forward once more.
"Now, you will practice the most basic, most essential skill of your training: activation. You will draw Essence into the heart, awaken its Breath, and release it under control. This will be your first bond with a Dragonheart."
The students tensed.
Some gripped their hearts tightly, others hesitated, eyes flickering with nervousness.
Draco remained still, his gaze fixed on the crystal in his hand.
He could feel the faint hum of Essence within it.
Compared to the living Dragons in his Soul, it felt incomplete—hollow, even.
But it was still power.
Frost’s eyes gleamed. "Begin when ready. Activate the Dragonheart in your hands."