During the next three days, Drake enveloped himself with Xena's warmth, his training slowly going to the back of his mind as he spent time learning a couple of simple phrases in ancient dragon tongue.
Stolen moments between whispered conversations and fleeting touches, the carefree escapes from the academy were few, but they filled Drake's heart with a sense of adventure he had never known. But as the days slipped by like grains of sand, their time together eventually came to an end, leaving only longing in its wake.
Outside the academy gates, Drake and Xena stood facing one another, the space between them charged with unspoken emotion. With the large gates looming behind him, Drake's serious gaze locked onto Xena's.
"Xena, don't go around causing trouble. Promise me you're heading home." His voice held a quiet authority that betrayed his deep concern. "Hummm," she murmured, nodding, her eyes softened with affection. "I promised," she whispered, the words carrying an air of finality.
Drake stepped closer, his heart thudding in his chest, and before either of them could utter another word, their lips met in a deep and tender kiss, holding in its fold all the emotions they could not utter. When they pulled away, Drake reached into his pocket and handed her a small, carefully wrapped box.
"What's this?" she asked curiosity dancing in her eyes.
"A strawberry cake," he replied, his lips curling into a warm smile.
Xena's expression softened, her heart swelling with joy. She hugged the box to her chest, her cheeks flushed. "Alright, I'm off," she said, her voice a mix of determination and sweetness. Without another word, she leapt into the air, her dragon form emerging in a burst of radiant energy.
She let out a strong roar, her voice reverberating to the sky, one final declaration before she took to the skies. Drake watched her disappear into the distance, feeling the weight of their parting heavy in his heart, but he waved, firm in resolution.
A week passed since Xena left and life in the academy was again up to its normal pace. In the training hall, Mark's voice pierced through the silent intent of their sparring. "Come on, buddy," he called, his body wrapped in an aura of shimmering power.
"No problem," Drake replied, determination etched across his face. Charging at each other, Drake's Starmap scepter swung downwards with force, while Mark stood his ground, meeting the strike head-on with nothing but his fists. The impact of their clash shook the earth beneath them, and both were thrown back, yet neither showed any sign of holding back from immediately springing forward to continue.
Mark's raw strength sent his fist flying into the ground, cracking the concrete beneath him and sending debris in every direction. His left fist, covered with his aura, came not a second later, creating another shockwave that hurled the scattered rocks and rubble at Drake.
Instinct then took over, and in one swift, smooth motion, Drake began to swing his scepter. Gusts of wind blew the debris aside, but as the storm of rocks grew, he knew the threat was far from over. His grip on the scepter turned strong as he summoned the strength to counter the projectiles with one sure sweep.
Mark, never one to let an opportunity slip, flung himself into the air and placed himself right behind Drake's back. Just as he came down, aimed at Drake's head, Drake's draconic sense came alive. Instinctively, he raised his scepter in defence, and the force of Mark's punch was enough to send him sliding sideways.
"Let's stop for today. It seems you're starting to get the hang of it," Mark said, wiping sweat from his brow.
"But still far from perfect," Drake replied, though a small smile tugged at his lips as they both sank to the floor, catching their breath.
"You've come a long way since we started," Mark said, offering a genuine compliment. "You used to fall from my strikes every time."
Drake's gaze wandered to the ceiling as thoughts swirled in his head. "I've been working on creating my own techniques, but there's no progress," he conceded, frustration seeping into his tone.
Mark's brow arched. "What kind of technique do you mean?"
"I don't have any techniques of my own, what you guys refer to as family techniques," Drake rejoined, and in that moment, the weight of his words seemed suspended between them.
Mark nodded, his mind flashing back to their previous talks. "Oh, that's right; you are a mage and wish to become a battle mage."
Drake nodded slightly. "If you can share some of your family's history, I'm all ears," he said, his tone anxious for anything that could help him.
Mark shifted closer, his eyes shining bright with the excitement of sharing something pivotal. "The ancestor that created our family technique-he was said to have all of his past life memories intact when he was born, back in the early days of Avalon. That's the great world I mentioned."
Drake listened intently to the story in rapt attention. "The technique he created is a single fist technique, but it spans nine stages, equivalent to the nine circles. The first four circles enhance the blood and muscles for impact. The fifth and sixth strengthen the organs, the seventh and eighth fortify the bones, and finally, the ninth circle… That's when we unleash the full potential of the technique by combining all of these elements."
"A single move with nine steps," Drake murmured, a spark of realization lighting up his eyes. His mind was racing, and the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. "Yes, that's it," he exclaimed, his right fist slapping into his left palm as if the idea had struck him like a bolt of lightning.
Mark was about to ask more questions when he fell silent, watching in awe as Drake picked up his scepter, filling it with his mana. A sense of astonishment enveloped the atmosphere as Drake connected his two rings of mana, one blue and one red, around his heart.
He lowered the temperature of the scepter with the sky-blue ring, sending waves of cold energy. Then, with a surge of heat, he infused the scepter with the power of the red ring, causing the weapon to glow with fiery intensity.
Mark stood frozen, speechless. "You're something else," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "You came up with that in just a few moments of thinking. I'm in awe of your talent."
Drake smiled, chuckling softly, but soon tired, and the two leaned against the wall, exhausted yet content. As they sat, Drake turned to Mark, his face growing more serious.
"Mark, there's something on my mind. I'm not sure if you'll believe it, but I need to tell you," he said, staring up at the ceiling.
Mark shifted slightly, intrigued. "What is it?" he asked, his eyes never leaving Drake.
"If I were to tell you that I'm not from this world, would you believe me?" Drake said in a low tone, but his voice firm and serious. "That I came from a world called Earth?"
Mark's gaze softened into an awed gaze. He clasped Drake's hand, belief dancing in his eyes. "Really?" he asked with wonder in his voice.
Drake blinked back in surprise. "Did you actually believe what I just said?"
"Of course," Mark nodded with great eagerness. "Do you still remember my ancestor-the founder of our family technique? It was also said that he came from that world."
Drake's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and Mark continued, "Apparently, he was a delivery man before an accident sent him to our family, but no one believed it. They thought it was just a story to glorify his legacy. Now, thanks to you, it all makes sense."
Drake swung his scepter playfully, a grin tugging at his lips as Mark added, "Right, you've got another surprise waiting for Ronan."
The incident at the big tree during the academy's market program flashed before Drake's eyes as he turned to Mark. "Mark," he said, his tone suddenly somber.
Mark's attention flickered to him, ready to listen.
"There's something I need you to do. Tell all the other geniuses in our class about this," Drake said firmly. "They may not believe it because of the rivalry between us and Ronan's team, but it's important that they know."
Mark nodded, understanding the gravity of the request. "And make sure this doesn't leak, so Ronan doesn't catch wind of it," Drake added, his voice urgent.
"Don't worry, leave everything to me," Mark said reassuringly as they both got up and walked out of the training room together.