Two months passed in the blink of an eye.

A lot had changed in this period. From the way the students carried themselves, to the difficulty they had to endure, and the trials they faced in the Academy.

The once quiet campus had turned into a furnace of training, fire, and sweat.

Even at dawn, the training fields blazed with light. Sparks, steam, and the sound of slain Dragons filled the air.

More and more Students got acquainted with the art of killing Dragons—even on their own.

The Dragon Hunting Festival was only a week away.

For the twenty-two students of the Dragon Hunter Academy, this wasn't just an event—it was a rite of passage.

Every student knew the rules: they would be sent to Dragon Island, a well-charted zone teeming with wild Dragons.

Each kill or capture would earn them points, fame, and rewards. The one with the most points would be crowned Prime Student—the best among them.

And this year, the stakes were higher.

The more Dragons a student hunted, the more essence cores they could claim. Not only would it boost their level, but the Academy had also promised financial compensation for every confirmed hunt.

Glory, strength, and wealth—all in one.

No one wanted to come back empty-handed.

********

The morning sun shone brightly over the training field.

Draco stood beneath it, sweat glistening against his brow, his hand gripping his sets of D-H tightly.

Around him, several water constructs shimmered—coiling serpents made of mist and light. They twisted, swirled, and burst into glittering droplets as he dispelled them.

Across from him, Lizbeth clapped lightly.

"You've gotten better with control," she said, smiling faintly. "Your water threads don't disperse as quickly now. You could probably restrain a Rank 2 Dragon for a few seconds."

Draco nodded, though he didn't smile back. "It's still not enough. I need to be faster."

"Still so serious," she sighed, brushing back her short hair. "You know, it's okay to admit when you've improved. It's not a crime."

He glanced at her.

Her tone was teasing, but her eyes weren't. There was a quiet tension between them that hadn't faded since the first day of school—since she'd proposed to him, and he'd turned her down without hesitation.

Now, after two months of relentless training, that awkwardness had dulled, but never vanished.

"So," she said, folding her arms. "You've heard the pairings?"

"Yeah," Draco said. "I saw the list this morning."

Lizbeth tilted her head slightly. "Then you already know we're partners."

"I know," he said quietly, exhaling.

Silence lingered between them, broken only by the sound of Dragons roaring in the distance.

"…I guess it can't be helped," Lizbeth said at last, shrugging. "We'll make it work. Just don't get distracted."

"I wasn't planning to," Draco replied.

"Good," she said, smiling faintly. "Because I don't plan on losing to you either."

Elsewhere on the training field, Jet was a storm of motion.

The ground around him was cracked and scorched, fragments of burned soil and frozen frost scattering underfoot. His aura burned wild, his expression blank but focused.

Every breath was calculated to its utmost as every movement was honed to perfection.

He summoned a Rank 3 D-H, the crystal floating above his palm, glowing with eerie blue light. The moment it activated, a shockwave rippled across the field.

A spectral Dragon—a hybrid of ice and flame—manifested behind him, its eyes blazing like twin suns.

"Ignis Drakon – Flame of the Frosted Sky."

The phantom Dragon roared, sending a spiral of blue fire into the air. The flames burned cold, the air trembling with energy distortion.

A few students watching from afar muttered among themselves.

"Did you see that? He can already control a Rank 3 D-H?"

"Impossible… only instructors are supposed to have that kind of power!"

Jet ignored them. He didn't hear their awe. He didn't care.

All that existed to him was the goal.

'Stronger. I have to get stronger.'

His mind flashed to the cloaked figure's words: 'Abandon childish things. Friendship. Fun. Power demands sacrifice.'

He didn't even notice the blood trickling from his nose as the D-H's energy ravaged his body. His body's veins screamed in protest, but he didn't stop.

"Jet!" a voice called from behind.

He turned. Lenard stood there, holding his spear, a look of disbelief on his face.

"You're going to kill yourself if you keep doing that!"

Jet's eyes flicked toward him, sharp and cold.

"Stay out of my way."

Lenard frowned. "You heard we're paired, right? For the Festival."

"I don't care."

"…What?"

"You heard me," Jet said flatly, deactivating the D-H. The Dragon spirit vanished, leaving only scorched ground. "When we get there, we go our separate ways. You hunt your Dragons, I'll hunt mine."

Lenard's jaw tightened. "You think you can do it alone?"

"I don't think," Jet said, brushing past him. "I know."

By noon, the Academy courtyard buzzed with anticipation.

Students lined up in their expedition gear—suits reinforced with gloowing plating, compact essence packs strapped to their backs, D-Hs glowing faintly at their belts.

Instructors stood by, overseeing the preparations. Even Headmaster Dagon was present, his usual sharp smile plastered across his face as he watched his students gather.

"Today," he began, his voice booming across the plaza, "you stand on the threshold of greatness."

The students straightened.

"A few months ago, you were nothing but recruits. Today, you are hunters. In one week, the Dragon Hunting Festival begins. For seven days, you will live, fight, and survive on Dragon Island. The one who returns with the highest score will be our new Prime Student—and will carry the Academy's pride into the world beyond."

He paused, his eyes narrowing. "This is not a test. This is a battlefield. The Dragons there will not hold back. If you hesitate, you die. If you falter, you fall. But if you triumph…" He smiled faintly. "You will rise above all others."

Whispers rippled through the ranks.

Lizbeth stood tall beside Draco, her hands tightening on her D-H.

Jet stood at the back, silent, his eyes fixed ahead.

As the sun began to set, the students were led toward the port where the ship awaited—a colossal vessel built of reinforced silversteel, enchanted runes glowing along its hull. The flags of the Academy fluttered above it.

Crowds had gathered to send them off. Families, merchants, and city dwellers filled the docks, cheering and waving banners. Some threw petals into the air; others shouted blessings and encouragements.

It was a spectacle.

The Dragon Hunter Academy always drew attention—its students were the pride of the city, and the Dragon Hunting Festival had become a public event celebrated by all.

Draco walked among the others, feeling the eyes of hundreds watching.

He wasn't used to it.

Lizbeth glanced at him. "Nervous?"

"No," he said. "Just… focused."

She smiled faintly. "That's what you always say."

Jet walked a few rows behind them, arms folded, gaze distant. He ignored the crowd, the cheers, the laughter. None of it mattered to him anymore.

When the bell rang, the students began boarding.

The ship's deck was wide, the mana engines humming softly beneath their feet. The instructors followed last, giving final orders and reminders.

The sails unfurled, glowing faintly with wind enchantments.

The anchor lifted.

The crowd roared.

And slowly, the ship began to move—cutting through the silver waves, heading toward the horizon.

As night fell, the stars shimmered above the sea. The students gathered below deck, reviewing their maps and plans. Each pair discussed their potential hunting strategies, estimated the territories of Dragons, and reviewed their survival supplies.

Draco traced his finger over the map.

"Dragon Island has been divided into six regions. Each one contains different species of Dragons. The inner zones are also the most dangerous."

Lizbeth nodded.

"So we'll start on the outer rim, hunt some Rank 1s, and then move inward when we're ready."

"Exactly."

Jet, sitting alone on the far side of the cabin, overheard them.

He smirked faintly but said nothing.

'You're wasting time planning. Only power matters.'

He reached into his jacket pocket, touching the faintly glowing D-H the hooded figure had given him. Its pulse echoed against his heart like a second heartbeat.

'I'll master this… and when I do, no one—not Draco, not anyone—will stand above me.'

Unknown to Net, or Draco, or anything of the other students on that ship… things weren't exactly going to go as they planned.

There was a certain surprise waiting for them.

One even the Academh was unaware of!

*******

Far away, beyond the horizon, lay Dragon Island.

Its forests burned with brilliant light, its mountains breathed smoke. Rivers of clear water flowed through its land like veins. And deep beneath its surface, in the endless dark of the underworld caverns, something stirred.

The ground trembled.

A vast heartbeat echoed through stone and fire.

In the darkness, five horns glowed faintly—each the size of a tower, sharp as blades. Scales shimmered with molten gold, eyes still closed but burning faintly beneath the lids.

The Dragon shifted.

And when it exhaled, the world itself seemed to pause.

A Rank 5 Dragon had awakened.

The Festival hadn't even begun… and already, the island trembled.

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