Noa hadn't closed his eyes the entire night. Every time his lids grew heavy, the cold pierced down to his bones, making his whole body quake. It felt as if even his breath froze in his throat, threatening to choke him.
He searched desperately for something—anything—that could help. From the desk drawer he pulled out an old, worn cloth and draped it over his shoulders. He knew it offered no real warmth, but at the very least, it shielded him from the cruel bite of the draft.
Back on his bed, wrapped in the thin fabric, the trembling did not stop. His body ached—especially his forearms, where the strain was sharpest.
Inside, he whispered to himself:
"How much longer can I live like this? If I truly have no mana… how long can I endure here?"
His lips did not move, but his thoughts echoed restlessly. His eyes carried no sleep, only suffering.
When dawn finally broke, a rough cough ripped him awake. A bitter taste burned in his throat. Sickness had already begun to creep into his body.
Yet the thought of skipping training never even crossed his mind. Rising slowly, he sipped from the cup of water on his desk and stepped out. The draft of the corridor struck him like another blow.
As he walked, one thought circled over and over:
"If I cannot wield mana, then I will master my body. I will learn every secret of a dragon's form. Perhaps then… I can survive."
His footsteps echoed through the frozen corridor.
---
When dawn came again, Noa opened his eyes with new resolve. The cold still pressed into his bones, but now he endured it with a kind of grim familiarity. He was no longer the fragile boy who had once trembled in silence. Six months of relentless training had reshaped him entirely.
On the training grounds, he was met, as always, with jeers and insults. But this time, Noa accepted them differently.
"I won't run from these words anymore. They cannot break me," he muttered inwardly.
Through the months he had studied the dragon's body with obsession—its weak points, its strengths, how muscles grew, how blood surged faster with breath, even the subtle techniques of controlled respiration. Every ache was a lesson. Every fall, another step forward.
Commander Zobid strode to the front, his voice ringing out with authority.
— "Soldier Noa!" His tone was firm, but not unkind. "In these last six months, you have grown. I thought you'd be taken away, yet here you stand—mana-less, and still your body thrives. Remarkable… worthy, even, of praise."
Noa bowed his head, eyes blazing with determination.
— "Thank you, Commander. I will not surrender."
For a fleeting moment, something close to a smile tugged at the corner of Zobid's lips—a rare sight indeed.
— "Good. Then hear this. Today a new challenge awaits. Recruits from the Jogan tribe will be arriving. You are to treat them with respect."
— "Understood, sir!" the soldiers chorused as one.
Zobid continued:
— "There will be no training today. They will arrive in two hours. You will greet them, learn who they are… and then rest."
The announcement rippled through the ranks like a sudden wind of relief. Faces lit with excitement, voices rose in cheerful noise.
— "Thank you, Commander!"
But Noa's thoughts twisted inward:
"The Jogan recruits… New rivals, perhaps even new allies. How will they see me? Will they call me trash as well? No… this time, I won't allow it."
What do you think will happen next?
Will the Jogan tribe recruits treat Noa with cruelty, just like the others? Or will they see something different in him?
Will the newcomers surpass him quickly, or will Noa rise faster than anyone expects?
Leave your thoughts in the comments! ⭐
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Just as I promised, today you got 3 full chapters.
Stay tuned—Noa's journey has only just begun.