Mark sprang forward, rage contorting his face as a tempest nears its breaking point, but Drake managed to get in his path with a firm pat on the shoulder. His hand was light on the skin, but the determination within was as immovable as a mountain.
Drake stepped forward, his arms crossed behind him, calm yet commanding, like a general surveying a battlefield. "So interesting," he started off, the tone of his voice courteous, with a pinch of subtle derision, "and just two weeks in, we have you finding yourself an instant, faithful dog." A faint smile danced upon his lips, as keen as the edge of a blade.
Griffin was posturing to strike back, but Ronan raised a hand-an example of a silent command that got far more across than words could say. "Yeah, it's truly amazing how you acted up, hoodwinking everyone, including the academy authority, pretending to be a genius like some hero." Ronan's tone was poisonous; every syllable oozed with hatred.
He closed in, his face inches from Drake's as he locked eyes, staring into his face as if his glare could burn through granite. The air between them seemed to vibrate with unspoken threats, as if the tension alone had become a living thing.
The air around them exploded into hushed tones, a gentle rustling of leaves before a storm. Ronan looked around, his lips curving into a self-satisfied smile as he drew energy from the interest. Xena stood nearby, fists clenched and teeth grinding in preparation for an intervention, her fire barely contained.
Yet Mark, ever the anchor in the stormy waters, caught her arm firmly yet gently. "My lady," he whispered, his voice as steady as the eye of a hurricane, "you should consider Drake's intentions. Going in now might just get on his nerves, which is exactly what our foes wanted."
Xena's eyes wavered for a second as Mark's words really hit home. Her gaze danced between the two opponents, her feelings a whirlwind of allegiance and self-control. "It won't be too late for us to answer their evil when things really get out of hand," Mark concluded, his voice heavy with relentless reason.
Reluctantly, Xena exhaled, her shoulders easing as she stepped back to watch.
Drake's gaze then cut through the sea of students like the sun breaking through the mist, his sharp eyes glinting. He started to walk in a slow circle, each footfall measured and calculated. "Who of you has heard or can bear witness that I have bragged of strength? Let them show."
His voice was even and low and thunderous; quiet authority resonated in each word. The crowd was silenced, the whispers snuffed out of them as if the air had been stolen from their lungs. Drake turned back to Ronan, his expression unreadable.
"I don't know where you got your information from or what your goal is." His tone was like steel tempered in fire-unyielding and dangerously sharp. Suddenly, his fist shot forward, stopping mere inches from Ronan's face. The action was so swift it left an audible whoosh in its wake.
"If you've got problems with me, just come directly at me instead of dragging others into it or twisting things." He pivoted sharply, his movements fluid as a predator's. "Let's leave," he said to Mark and Xena, his voice dismissive. "Only an empty barrel makes the loudest noise."
As they walked away, Mark couldn't resist. He wheeled back toward Griffin, an index and middle finger pointed at his eyes, then at Griffin's-a silent promise of vigilance. Abandoned in the middle of the parting crowd, Ronan seethed. His face shadowed with purple veining, his fists shaking with constrained anger.
A smothering aura of bloodlust hung around him, palpable as a thundercloud on the verge of bursting its seams. The other students, with full sense of the danger, scattered like leaves before a gale.
As night fell, the dormitories were wrapped in a tranquil darkness; Drake's mind simply would not allow calmness to set in. Seated at the edge of his bed, he replayed the events of the day in his mind, each memory a thread laced into the fabric of his unease.
Across the room, Xena hummed softly as she readied herself for her bath, her movements unhurried-a stark opposite to the turmoil churning inside Drake.
"Xena," he called, his voice low but insistent, pulling her attention away from the basin. She turned, her eyes bright with curiosity.
"How do you dragons assimilate mana?" His question hung in the air, heavy with intent, his gaze locked onto her as if the answer held the key to his salvation.
"Hmmm," Xena mused, placing a finger thoughtfully on her chin. "We just sleep, move around, and have fun." Her nonchalant response was like a splash of cold water on his heated anticipation.
Drake's expression soured, his brow furrowing in disbelief. "Ha-ah," he sighed, his hand slapping against his forehead in exasperation. "Why did I expect something reasonable?"
Just as Xena turned to enter the bathroom, she stopped suddenly, a thought striking her like lightening. "Oh, I remember something!" she exclaimed, the excitement evident in her voice. Drake's head snapped to her, his eyes shining with hope once more. "What did you remember? Tell me," he pressed on, jumping to his feet.
"Big Sister Lena once told me this when I couldn't absorb the mana," Xena started, a hint of reverence now laced in her tone. "Hey Xena, I know you're an idiot, but you might later find this useful, so listen. Whenever you want to sleep, always make sure your heart is calm. Breathe deeply through your nose and release your breath slowly through your mouth." That's all she said.
Drake listened to her intently, the tidbits of wisdom piecing together within his mind. "Thank you," he said in simple words, but great and true gratitude. When Xena vanished into the bathroom, Drake sat cross-legged on the bed, closing his eyes and trying to emulate the breathing pattern she had described.
The method, however, was called 'The Twin Pulse Resonance,' which was more than just breathing-it was a symphony of the body and soul. It was a deep inhalation through the nose, dragging mana-rich air in like the tides pulled the water towards the dark depths. When exhaled, the release was slow and measured, placing light pressure upon both hearts.
These twin hearts served as dual mana pumps, synchronized to resonate upon each other and pull mana from the surroundings into their bodies. The longer and more regular the breathing, the deeper the absorption.
Drake struggled to mimic the technique. Each time he inhaled, it felt as though his own heart had stopped, as if the rhythm of life itself had momentarily paused. Frustrated but determined, he lay back on the bed, his mind drifting to his life before being summoned to this strange world.
Memories of Earth clouded his thoughts, their rationality clashing with the surreal reality of his new existence. A part of him still clung to the familiarity of his old life, a tether that held him back from embracing his new reality in full.
The bathroom door creaked open, pulling him from his reverie. Xena emerged, wrapped in his towel, her damp skin glistening like polished marble under the dim light.
Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, each droplet catching light like tiny stars. Drake's breath got caught in his throat, his heart hammering against his ribs while his face flushed a deep crimson as he struggled to tear his gaze away.
"Ahyoooo, is something wrong?" Xena asked innocently. Drake whipped around the other way in a flash, quite embarrassed. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "Xena," he started off in a tentative tone.
"Humm?" Xena replied, her ears perked with interest.
"What you always requested… does it still stand?" The words had finally tumbled out awkwardly, the weight of his question as thick as a fog.
"What do you mean?" Xena asked, confusion clearly etched on her face. Drake let out a heavy sigh, grumbling under his breath, "You idiot, don't I have to spell everything out?" He found the courage to finally say, "I mean the ritual."
Xena's eyes went wide, her face bursting into a broad grin. "Really? Yeah, that would be great!" she exclaimed joy uncontainable. Drake stood, his actions slow and deliberate, then moved toward her. "But to do that," he said, his voice lowering, "we both need to be… naked. I mean, there's going to be body contact between us."
The room seemed to hold its breath, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Xena's cheeks flushed crimson as her eyes locked with his, their emotions an unspoken whirlwind between them.