The days at Trinity Academy passed in a mix of noise, classes, and endless assignments. By the time Saturday arrived, it marked Connor's first true weekend of freedom since entering the academy. Unlike the past, where weekends as a mercenary meant maintaining gear, running errands, or being pulled into odd jobs by a commander, here there was a rare chance to explore personal choices.
The academy permitted students to leave the grounds on weekends, provided they returned before nightfall. The city outside promised discovery and opportunity, filled with countless people and treasures from all across the world. Yet, time felt limited, and obligations tugged from every direction. Letters still needed to be written to comrades left behind, assignments from professors awaited completion, and the looming promotion test demanded preparation. Even the memory of an upcoming duel weighed heavily.
In the middle of this restless planning, Connor's attention drifted toward Kyle, who sat in deep meditation. This strange behavior seemed uncharacteristic, almost unsettling, as though it hinted at dangers yet unseen. Curious but skeptical, Connor briefly imitated the pose, only to find the act more difficult and frustrating than expected.
The peace of the morning did not last. A knock came at the dormitory door, unusual for a weekend visit. Kyle, usually calm, suddenly reacted with visible tension and retreated into Connor's body in a surge of blue light. Outside stood a figure whose presence alone carried weight—Kur, the maid of Myael Astaroth. Yet Kur was no ordinary servant, but the feared dragon of the Hercules Empire, a being tied to death itself.
Without warning, darkness closed in. A black cloth smothered vision and breath, ropes bound wrists and ankles, and in a moment of humiliation, Connor was lifted and carried away like luggage. The abduction occurred boldly within the dormitory halls, indifferent to the whispers of passing students. Even pleas for reason were dismissed with cold indifference.
Soon, the rattling of wheels and the crack of a whip revealed that he had been taken into a carriage. Kur sat beside him in silence, her intent unreadable, her methods severe. At first, fear hinted at malice, but reflection uncovered a different answer. Myael's words from class resurfaced, her promise to speak again over the weekend. It was not random cruelty but likely an invitation delivered with the force of a dragon's will.
The carriage slowed, and Kur carried her captive into a secluded estate. Instructions and warnings nearly followed, yet they were silenced by another voice. Myael herself appeared, dressed not in her uniform but in a flowing blue dress, her presence strikingly different. Though composed, a faint trace of embarrassment showed in her expression.
The harsh abduction had not been her idea. Confronting her dragon maid, Myael revealed that Connor was neither an intruder nor an outsider, but her group's leader and a trusted companion. At her command, the ropes were removed, and the cloth lifted, allowing light to return after suffocating darkness.
What awaited was not hostility but an invitation—though delivered with rough, unforgettable force.