Hours after the event, Darian sat in the headmaster's office, feeling the weight of Sebastian Crownhaven's gaze. The room was stately, lined with bookshelves that brimmed with ancient texts, trophies, and relics from a life devoted to taming. The faint scent of leather and parchment filled the air.
Sebastian, a man in his late fifties, leaned back in his finely crafted chair. His graying hair and sharp features gave him an air of wisdom, but today his piercing gray eyes betrayed curiosity—and frustration. He had expected better from one of the academy's most promising talents.
"Tell me, Darian," Sebastian began, his voice calm yet probing. "Why would you refuse such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?"
Darian sat straight, his expression unreadable. He had braced himself for this conversation. After all, turning down a direct offer from a guild master wasn't something that happened often—or ever.
"I don't think I'm ready yet, sir," Darian replied, his tone measured.
Sebastian arched a brow, disbelief flashing across his face. "Not ready? Sera Velroth, one of the most esteemed guild masters in the realm, personally offered to mentor you. Do you realize what that means? Most tamers would give anything for such an opportunity."
Darian shrugged, though inwardly he was battling to keep his composure. "The academy suits me better. It gives me space to grow without... restraints. I don't think I'd thrive under constant supervision."
Sebastian studied him, his sharp gaze searching for a crack in the calm facade. "So, you would turn your back on an offer that could elevate you to greatness, just to stay in the academy? Either you're a fool, or you're hiding something."
Darian didn't flinch. He couldn't afford to. "I respect the offer, sir, but my decision is final."
Sebastian leaned back with a sigh, his expression shifting from disbelief to resignation. "I hope, for your sake, this decision doesn't come back to haunt you. Opportunities like this are rare, Darian. They don't come twice."
"I understand, sir," Darian said as he stood and bowed slightly. "Thank you for your guidance."
As the door closed behind him, Sebastian muttered under his breath, "Strange boy."
---
Darian let out a quiet sigh of relief as he stepped into the corridor. The conversation had been tense, but it was over. For now. He adjusted the strap of his satchel and headed toward his next class, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.
Halfway there, he bumped into a familiar figure.
"Oh, sorry, Aurora," Darian said, stepping back.
Aurora's emerald eyes flicked toward him, her expression cool and distant. Without a word, she brushed past him and continued on her way.
Darian frowned, watching her retreating figure. Aurora had been acting strange around him for weeks now. Gone were the friendly smiles and lighthearted banter. Instead, she treated him like a stranger—or worse, an annoyance.
He shook his head, dismissing the thought. Not my problem, he told himself, though the unease lingered.
As he turned a corner, the world around him abruptly shifted. The brightly lit hallway dissolved into nothingness, replaced by an endless expanse of black void.
"What the—" Darian froze, his voice echoing in the emptiness. The air here was heavy, oppressive, as if the void itself were alive.
Then, a voice boomed from the darkness, ancient and commanding.
"Mortal."
Darian turned, his eyes widening as a massive figure emerged from the void. A dragon, wreathed in flames, its eyes glowing like molten lava. It was the same creature he had seen during his awakening—an awe-inspiring being that radiated unimaginable power.
"Who are you?" Darian demanded, his voice steady despite the chaos within.
"I am the Keeper of Flames, the Herald of Trials," the dragon rumbled, each word resonating in Darian's chest. "Have you located the Descendants?"
"The Descendants?" Darian echoed, confused. The term rang a bell—a golden prompt from his awakening. But beyond that, he had no clue what it meant. "I don't know what you're talking about. What are the Descendants? And why do I need to find them?"
The dragon's eyes flared, its fiery body pulsing with intensity. "The Descendants are tied to your destiny. Without them, your power will remain incomplete. Complete your first summon before the Descendants find you, or all will be lost."
Before Darian could ask more, the void shattered, and he was thrust back into reality. The bustling sounds of the academy returned, jarring him as he stumbled forward, catching himself against the wall.
What just happened? His mind raced, replaying the dragon's words. The Descendants, his summon—what did it all mean?
---
A soft chime echoed in his mind.
Ding!
A system prompt hovered before his eyes.
[Host is yet to level up.]
[Quest: Raid a A-rank dungeon, kill a Dungeon King, and collect rewards.]
[Duration: Three days.]
[Rewards: ???]
[Failure: Minus 10 points from all stats. System will be locked for one year.]
[Would host like to accept?]
Darian's jaw tightened. A dungeon raid? Memories of his last raid surfaced, memories he'd tried to bury. The screams, the blood, the crushing weight of failure. But this wasn't the time to dwell on the past.
"Accept," he said inwardly.
But instead of confirmation, a new prompt appeared.
[Host is not allowed to complete any quests until the first summon is completed. Would host like to complete the first summon now?]
The dragon's warning replayed in his mind: Complete your first summon before the Descendants find you.
Darian frowned, his thoughts racing. A summon? Now? In the middle of the academy? It was reckless. The training grounds were far from here, and summoning a beast in the hallway would draw unwanted attention.
"No," he replied, his voice low.
The prompt disappeared, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
As he continued toward class, a strange mix of dread and excitement coursed through him. The dragon's warning had been clear, but he couldn't ignore the system's restrictions either. Something big was coming—something tied to the Descendants, his summon, and his destiny.
Darian clenched his fists. Whatever was happening, he would face it head-on. But not yet.
"This just keeps getting interesting" he muttered with a cocky grin.