Snowy stood at the edge of the training grounds, his eyes scanning the empty arena. It was still early; the sun barely peeked over the horizon, casting long shadows that stretched like claws across the floor. He had skipped his morning classes, haunted by the unsettling dreams from the previous night. He needed this—the raw focus, the rhythm of combat, anything to take his mind off the shadow dragon and the dark omens that now plagued his sleep.
Emily arrived moments later, her sword already drawn, a determined glint in her eyes. She wore a tight black training suit, her long hair tied back in a simple braid. "You know, skipping class isn't exactly how you're supposed to deal with bad dreams," she called out, resting her sword on her shoulder. "But I guess you're not much for rules, are you?"
Snowy glanced at her, his expression a mix of irritation and relief. "I've got better things to do than sit through boring lectures. Besides, when's the last time a history lesson had something interesting?"
Emily smirked. "Fair point. But you look like you haven't slept a wink. You sure you're up for this?"
Snowy rolled his shoulders, the faint cracking of bones echoing in the quiet arena. "More than up for it. I need this."
Without another word, the two fell into their usual stances—Emily with her sword raised, Snowy in a low crouch, fists clenched and ready. Snowy's fighting style, Ten Fangs, was brutal and precise, focusing on rapid strikes and critical points. Emily, on the other hand, wielded her blade with finesse, each movement sharp and calculated, her footwork fluid like water.
They circled each other, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Snowy made the first move, lunging forward with a spinning back fist, his body twisting like a coiled spring. Emily parried with her sword, deflecting his blow just inches from her face. Snowy's momentum carried him through, and he followed up with a low sweep kick, aiming for her legs.
Emily jumped back, her sword slicing through the air as she aimed for his shoulder. Snowy ducked, dodging the blade by a hair's breadth, and countered with a palm strike aimed at her chest. Emily stumbled back, barely keeping her balance.
"You're getting faster," Emily grinned, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. "But you're still predictable."
"Predictable? You call that predictable?" Snowy shot back, his tone playful. "Maybe if you spent less time playing with that oversized toothpick, you'd actually keep up."
Emily's eyes narrowed. "Toothpick, huh? Let's see you dodge this."
She charged, her sword a blur of silver, each strike faster and more aggressive than the last. Snowy blocked and dodged, his body moving like a phantom, each step perfectly timed. But Emily was relentless. She swung low, then high, trying to catch him off guard.
Snowy's mind was racing, his instincts on overdrive. He shifted into one of his more advanced stances, the Iron Wyrm—a defensive form that focused on counter-attacking from unexpected angles. As Emily's sword came down, Snowy caught the blade with his forearm, redirecting its path and slipping under her guard. He unleashed a flurry of strikes—palm, elbow, knee—each one precise and devastating.
Emily was forced back, but she twisted mid-step, her sword catching Snowy's arm with a light slash. It wasn't deep, but enough to draw blood. Snowy hissed, more annoyed than hurt.
"Gotcha," Emily teased, her smirk infuriatingly smug.
Snowy glanced at the shallow cut on his arm. "You talk too much."
Before Emily could respond, Snowy rushed in, his fists a blur as he unleashed Ten Fangs in its entirety—a combination of rapid strikes meant to overwhelm opponents with sheer speed. Emily blocked most of them, but a few punches slipped through, knocking her back. She stumbled, catching herself on her sword.
They both stood, panting and sweating, neither willing to back down.
Emily sheathed her sword, giving Snowy an appraising look. "Not bad. But you're still need improvement."
Snowy smirked, wiping the sweat from his brow. "yeah and also you are too confident."
Emily laughed softly, leaning on her sword for support. "okay I'll take that advice from an wise old man."
They continued sparring until the sun was high in the sky. Exhausted but satisfied, they finally called it a day. Snowy's muscles burned, his knuckles were bruised, and his clothes were drenched in sweat. Emily looked equally worn out, though she still managed a cocky smile.
"I'll see you tomorrow, then?" she asked, leaning on the fence that bordered the training grounds.
Snowy nodded, too tired to reply with his usual snark. Instead, he waved her off and dragged himself back to his room. He didn't bother to clean up. The training had drained him, and all he could think about was sleep. He collapsed onto his bed, not even bothering to change, and within moments, he was out cold.
But sleep didn't bring peace.
Snowy found himself standing on a floating island, surrounded by a sea of clouds. The sky above was painted in hues of fiery red and deep purple, like the remnants of a sunset that refused to fade. He cautiously approached the edge, looking down at the endless expanse of clouds below. It was a breathtaking sight, almost serene—until the air around him rippled with heat.
A dragon emerged from the clouds, its scales a deep crimson, eyes burning like molten lava. Snowy instinctively stepped back,It soared high, releasing a blast of fire that scorched the air, turning the sky into a blazing inferno. Snowy watched in awe, realizing this was no ordinary dragon—this was Pyrothraxis, the ancient fire dragon of legend from the book he read but didn't think they were real, but he reminded himself that it's just a dream.
The scene shifted suddenly, almost violently, and Snowy found himself standing on the other side of the island. Here, a fierce battle was taking place—a brutal, chaotic clash of dragons. Fire dragons, like Pyrothraxis, clashed with one another, their roars echoing like thunder. But they weren't fighting just any opponent. In the midst of the carnage, a single dragon stood taller, its presence casting a dark shadow over everything.
It was the shadow dragon, the same one from Snowy's previous dream. Its scales were an abyssal black, absorbing the light around it, making the other dragons seem dull in comparison. It moved with terrifying grace, easily overpowering its opponents. Snowy watched in horror as it absorbed the their three life structures of the fallen dragons, feeding on their structures.
The battle raged on, but the outcome was inevitable. One by one, the fire dragons fell, their flames extinguished. And then, in the aftermath of the slaughter, a red orb materialized before the shadow dragon. Snowy's heart raced as he realized what it was—the essence of fire, a concentrated core of all the power that had been stripped from the fallen Pyrothraxis.
The shadow dragon wasted no time. It devoured the orb in one swift motion, and as it did, its body began to glow with a sinister red hue. The fire dragons, once feared and revered, were now nothing but husks. Only one survived—a young Pyrothraxis, its scales dim and lifeless, no longer burning with the fierce fire of its ancestors. The young dragon fled, glancing back only once, its eyes meeting Snowy's. But just beyond it, the shadow dragon's gaze locked onto Snowy as well, eyes filled with a malevolent intelligence.
Before the shadow dragon could strike, the sky tore open with a violent vortex, swallowing the young Pyrothraxis whole. The last thing Snowy saw was the shadow dragon spreading its wings, preparing to chase after it, but the vortex closed, leaving Snowy alone on the desolate island.
Snowy jolted awake, his heart hammering against his chest. His body was drenched in sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He sat up, staring blankly at the ceiling as the dream lingered in his mind.
"That dragon…" he whispered to himself, the image of the shadow dragon burned into his memory. "It's not just a freaking dream. It's coming."
Snowy looked out of the window, where the first stars were just beginning to appear. The weight of his visions pressed heavily on him, and for the first time, he felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold night air.
Something was coming. And Snowy knew it was only a matter of time before the shadow dragon's gaze would fall upon his world as well.