The courtyard was silent. Ashes swirled through the wind as if the sky itself was trying to erase what had happened. Those who had witnessed Jade's transformation his friends, classmates, even teachers had long fled, too shocked to process what they'd seen. None of them had ever witnessed such raw, terrifying power.
Jade stood alone in the ruins, his breathing heavy. His fists trembled. The adrenaline was fading, and what followed was far worse than exhaustion—clarity.
His surroundings were destroyed. Stone walls torn open. Bodies—injured, some maybe worse—scattered in the distance. The earth itself had cracked under the force of his outburst.
He had lost control.
A cold pit formed in his stomach. He had thought his rage was righteous. He thought vengeance would bring peace. But now, all he felt was guilt. The death of his mother had torn something loose in him, and when it broke, he didn't just strike down his enemies—he almost destroyed everything.
Jade stumbled backward, hands over his face. "What have I done…"
Then, the sensation returned. That strange, invisible pull. It was like the air had shifted. Something… was calling him. Not a voice—something deeper, more primal. Like instinct being dragged through space.
And just like that, he vanished.
No flash. No sound. One second he was standing in the rubble, the next, he was gone. The courtyard was empty.
Rumors spread fast. Some said the boy had become a monster and vanished into the mountains. Others claimed he'd been taken by the jade dragon spirit itself, pulled into the spirit realm. A few believed he died—consumed by the power he couldn't control.
None of them were right.
---
Jade opened his eyes.
The world around him was gray—dead and dry, like a landscape stripped of all life. Cracked earth stretched endlessly in every direction. No color. No sun. No stars. Just silence.
He stood, legs shaky, heart thudding. There was no wind, no sound, not even the echo of his own breath. Wherever he was, it wasn't the real world. It wasn't even a dream. It felt older than anything he'd ever known.
"Where… am I?"
He wandered for what felt like hours. Maybe more. Time didn't pass here like it did back home. Eventually, whispers began to stir at the edge of his hearing—faint, unintelligible, and everywhere at once. The emptiness twisted. Shapes formed at the edge of his vision, always out of reach. Symbols floated in the air like fireflies, only to disappear when touched.
Then came a glow.
A soft green light shimmered through the gray, slowly forming into a towering figure—a dragon, scales gleaming like polished jade, its eyes steady and calm. It didn't speak right away. It didn't need to.
Jade felt it in his chest—a calmness that spread through his bones. Then, at last, the dragon spoke.
"You finally stopped running."
The voice wasn't booming or dramatic. It was steady, like a teacher speaking to a student—not for show, but for understanding.
"I brought you here," the dragon continued. "This realm… is where the lost parts of yourself live. You were spiraling. You weren't ready for the power you unleashed. But it's not too late."
Jade stepped forward. "You're the jade dragon."
"I am the part of you that remembers who you are. And I am here to make sure you learn what that really means."
And so, the training began.
No dramatic rituals. No glowing magic circles. Just work. Every day, the dragon put him through harsh routines: body, mind, spirit. He meditated under pressure, trained blindfolded in shifting terrain, learned to listen to the rhythm of the world rather than force his power into it.
His first lesson: Crashing Cascade—a technique that combined water and earth, overwhelming enemies like a flood smashing through stone. The dragon demonstrated with a graceful slash of its claw, summoning a surge of elemental force that obliterated a stone pillar in the distance.
When it was Jade's turn, it took him three full days to stop either flooding the entire training field or creating useless tremors. On the fourth day, he pulled it off: a roaring tidal force of water and stone that slammed through a practice target, controlled and clean.
His second lesson: Wave Mastery. The ability to send ripples of energy—force waves—to stagger enemies, break defenses, and redirect incoming attacks. Jade learned how to shift his weight, direct his aura, and release a controlled burst of force at the perfect time. Precision over power.
The final skill was harder than anything so far: Tricky Power. It wasn't about brute force or even elemental mastery. It was about manipulation—controlling light, shadow, and perception itself. Jade had to learn how to split focus, create illusions, and read reactions in real time. It was a game of misdirection. One wrong move and the illusion failed.
Eventually, after endless trial and error, Jade managed to create a version of himself that could dodge attacks while his real body stayed hidden. It wasn't perfect—but it was real progress.
Each skill sharpened not just his abilities, but his control.
And as the training continued, something shifted inside him.
He no longer fought with emotion at the front. His mind was clear. His movements had purpose. His breath no longer shook with grief or anger it was steady.
He still missed his mother. That would never change.
But now, she lived in the strength he was building.
---
One night, after another successful training session, the jade dragon lay beside him on the edge of a canyon in the quiet realm.
"You're close," the dragon said. "But not yet. When you're ready, you'll return. Not to reclaim what was lost but to protect what still remains."
Jade nodded. His fists were no longer clenched. His eyes were steady.
"I'm not ready to go back," he admitted. "Not yet."
And the dragon smiled.
"Good. Then stay. Train. Learn. Become what the world needs not what it fears."