The next morning, the Academy awoke to its usual rhythm.
Students filed into lectures, the clang of sparring weapons echoed through the yards, and the low grumble of the dissatisfied students who felt they weren't meeting up to expectations.
But Draco… he wore a smile.
It wasn't visible to the rest of the students. On the surface, he looked as calm and unshaken as always—aloof even, with that quiet, unbothered confidence that made others glance at him with a mix of envy and unease.
Yet within, satisfaction burned like a well-kept flame.
The Crimson Basilisk's [Breath]—a Rank 2 power that most students wouldn't dare touch without weeks of study and preparation—was already his.
And it was fully mastered.
The night before, he had taken the D-H and returned to his room to start working on the Breath without wasting time at all.
