"Master, I appreciate your teachings and will respect your decision, but I am unconvinced that… Young Draek will be a suitable mate for me in the future." Cyril let his frustrations out as gently as he could. He hated questioning his Master's decision. He would prefer to just ignore the present issue, but his Master seemed determined to have this discussion now and its not like it would be avoidable forever.
Cyril did not think Varce truly threatened his physical safety, even if he was violent. What Cyril worried about how Varce threatened his freedom. Cyril would never be able to do anything with the possessive dragon guarding him like a treasure. He would destroy anything he felt would come between him and Cyril. No matter how much pain he caused Cyril in the process. Cyril was absolutely certain of this. Varce may not be able to bring himself to harm a hair on Cyril's pretty head, but he would ruthlessly destroy Cyril's heart and freedom. One way or another, Varce Draek would chain him to his side. That shook Cyril to his core. That is what terrified Cyril the most about Varce Draek.
Though Cyril still kept many of his thoughts and fears to himself, Arvel clearly sensed Cyril's quiet discontent. Cyril was a mature, quiet boy that never caused trouble and kept to himself. He was never disrespectful and he listened closely to his mentor. Arvel had to admit, he loved to brag about his talented and filial disciple to those old fogeys in the sect that continuously struggled with their own youthful disciples. He knew the cheeky brat wasn't as demure as he appeared to others, but the boy was ridiculously non-confrontational. He wondered how much Cyril wasn't telling him.
Once again, Arvel wondered if this self-restraining habit of Cyril's was really a good thing. The boy was obedient, respectful, and responsible. Perhaps even too much. Arvel wondered what would happen if Cyril was pushed too far.
In a way, Cyril was a treasure. He held a powerful bloodline of legendary rarity, matched with a unique blood mutation. There were people that would fight to the death to possess this child. Varce Draek promised to protect Cyril when Arvel no longer could. Arvel was entrusting his disciple, his heir, his legacy… the child he raised to Varce. But if Cyril was this unhappy, would he stay to be protected at Varce's side? The boy was willful in his own way. Arvel was not certain Cyril would stay with Varce if he was pushed past his limit. That scared the old man more than anything. Marriage might seem like a cage to the young dragon now, but it was better than a literal cage somewhere else.
"This… union is many years away. Both of you will grow in that time. Young Draek is struggling to balance his new responsibilities and both of you have yet to reach maturity. There will be plenty of time to think about this later." Arvel's voice was gruff as he dismissed Cyril from his lessons for the day.
Cyril gathered his things and left after quietly giving proper respect to his Master. Arvel was left to ponder the problem of reconciling the two young dragons. Varce, despite being sect master, was also under Arvel's care in a way. He was much too young to have taken on his father's mantle. His father's untimely death had left Varce more volatile than he was before. Arvel wanted to tear his scales out in frustration, but there was little he could do for the headstrong Draek heir who hardly listened to anyone. Fortunately, the young dragon listened where it really counted and had a natural talent for administration and leadership. The sect was functioning well even with its young sect master still learning the elaborate politics involved with running a sect. Thinking of his old friend Audric and the problems their boys were having, Arvel sighed. He moved deeper into the lab, intending to lose himself in experiments for a while.
Cyril walked out of the building as unsatisfied with the conversation as his Master, if not more. Despite the frustration he felt, his face remained aloof as always. The cold beauty walked slowly through the main thoroughfare as disciples hurried past him attending their business. They made sure to gave the famous Young Master of the Alchemy Hall a wide berth as they rushed by. He ignored them as he made his way through the sect.
Tall, tangled trees shaded the cool pathways that wound through the grounds. Gardens filled with herbs and other plants branched off from the main paths. Occasionally, one of these gardens would move as some of them held carnivorous floral inhabitants that chanced upon an unlucky bird or rodent. A few unlucky disciples had also disappeared over the years when they weren't careful enough in their gardening duties. "Always wear gloves and NEVER forget your shears," was what the wizened herbologists of the sect told students over and over.
Cyril walked till he reached an unassuming garden tucked in one of the obscure corners of the main sect. It was flourishing with different medicinal herbs. None of them were rare species, but they were all healthy and brimming with energy. Cyril had taken over this garden soon after he found it. Being the "Young Master of the Alchemy Hall" did have its perks. He had requested to take charge of it a year ago and the garden was his within hours. Cyril wasn't sure how it was approved so quickly with the ridiculous bureaucracy that usually followed such requests, but he appreciated it. The garden thrived secluded away from the rest of the world. A small, untouched sanctuary amidst the bustle of the busy sect.
Cyril sat cross-legged on a raised stone platform in the garden. He breathed deeply and began cultivating. Cultivating was harnessing the Spiritual Energy of the World and refining it into one's power. Cyril felt the Energy in the air slowly being drawn into his body. He guided the Spiritual Energy through the long path of his bloodstream, using a cultivation technique that had been tailored for Cyril's unique constitution by his Master. Cyril's dragon heritage had given him two hearts and the energy snaked through his veins towards his dual hearts where his dan resided. It entered his dan and pooled there, collecting and building his cultivation.
The dan was the foundation of a cultivator. Located directly beneath the heart of any race, it resembled a glowing sphere with strange script like grooves that moved fluidly across the surface. As a cultivator progressed, the sphere would mature in size and color, while the markings would etch deeper into the dan and become more profound. The dan had two main functions as a foundation and a reserve. Spiritual Energy channeled into the foundation helped the cultivator climb into a new level and for dan to grow. Energy could not be taken back from the foundation without severe consequences, possibly even permanent damage to the dan. However, Spiritual Energy directed to the reserve could be freely used by the cultivator to perform powerful techniques. The higher the level of the dan was, the larger the reserve available to the cultivator was. Although there were racial and individual differences to be considered, this was the general rule of understanding.
Cyril's cultivation was at the mid-level of the Core Building Realm, having passed through the Qi Refining Realm and Core Condensation Realm with ease. Cyril allowed himself to feel slightly smug because Varce Draek, the sect's arrogant prodigal genius, was only at the early level of the Core Building Realm at the same age. It was a petty thought, but the difference between levels wasn't small. The average cultivator would hardly dare to challenge someone who was even a single level above their own. Cyril and Varce were both rare geniuses capable of standing their ground against opponents multiple levels above them, but Cyril had a very good chance of whooping Varce's ass at the same age. Pity he had a few years head start.
Cyril shook himself of thoughts about the sect master as he continued to cultivate. He felt peaceful again as he cultivated in the confines of the lush garden.
Cyril had cultivated for some time before his eyes fluttered open and he extended his senses throughout the area. Cyril's eyes widened as he realized another person had snuck into the garden while he was focused on cultivating.
'Sh*t! How could I be so careless?! Dammit!' Cyril wasn't only angry at himself for allowing someone to sneak past him so dangerously. He was also angry at the sneaky person who was now leaning against a wall, observing him.
The unexpected visitor watched Cyril recognize his presence while smiling to himself. "Hello, Little Cyril."