The morning after the shockwave, Riverbend was louder than usual. But the noise wasn't from livestock or the hammering of smiths. It was whispers.
"He split the ground open."
"No… I saw. He was laughing while the sky cracked."
"Gods save us, the boy's cursed."
"Cursed? He's blessed! He's a warrior sent to protect us!"
Everywhere Orin walked, whispers followed. An old woman scattered salt on the ground as he passed. A farmer bowed stiffly, as though unsure whether to treat him as a child or a warlord. Children stared wide-eyed but clung to their mothers' skirts.
Orin, of course, thought they were cheering.
"Haha! See? They respect the Beast Stance!" He flexed his bruised arm, showing it off to a bewildered chicken that flapped out of his way.
Yira followed, basket of laundry in her arms, jaw tight. She caught the look of a man who crossed himself and turned away when Orin laughed. Her chest clenched.
They're afraid, she thought. Not of monsters. Of him.
Orin turned back to her, grinning. "They're finally recognizing my greatness!"
Yira smacked the back of his head with a folded cloth. "They think you're insane, idiot."
"Same thing!"
She bit her lip and kept walking, but the unease stayed lodged in her chest.
---
By midday, Code led Orin away from the village. The villagers' eyes tracked them until they vanished into the forest, like people watching a wolf escorted on a leash.
The clearing by the river was wide, the sun reflecting bright across the surface. Code stopped, staff in hand, gaze solemn.
"What you unleashed yesterday was only a leak. Raw power with no shape. You want to call yourself strong? Then learn to shape it."
Orin bounced on his heels, fists raised. "Shape it into what? Bigger fist?"
"No." Code set his staff down and inhaled deeply. His hands came together slowly, palms facing each other. "Into a dragon."
Light shimmered between his hands. A spark became a glow, a glow became a sphere. The golden ki thickened, whirling in tight spirals like storm clouds trapped in a ball. Orin's eyes grew round as coins.
The sphere stretched, lengthened, sprouted horns. Semi-transparent scales rippled into form, each one pulsing with light. Within seconds, a dragon of pure ki coiled between Code's hands, its body long and sinuous, eyes burning like molten gold.
The air trembled as the dragon roared soundlessly, mouth wide.
"Dragon Vein Wave!"
Code thrust both palms forward.
The dragon launched, uncoiling with a shattering crack. The ground split where it passed, the river erupted in twin walls of water as though cleaved apart by an invisible blade. The beast struck a massive boulder at the far bank—stone that had sat unmoved for generations—and the entire thing dissolved into dust, scattered like sand in the wind.
The wave of energy rolled further, shoving trees sideways, before dissipating into sparks that rained down like falling stars.
Silence fell. Only the rush of water filling back into the river could be heard.
Orin's jaw dropped. His whole body trembled with excitement. "THAT'S IT! THAT'S THE MOVE! That's my move! Teach me! Teach me now!"
Code exhaled slowly, shoulders dropping. The dragon's afterglow faded from his hands. "This is the result of decades of discipline. If you rush—"
"Rush?!" Orin cut in, already crouching into his ridiculous stance. "No rushing, this is destiny! Beast Dragon Stance, first attempt, GO!"
---
He inhaled sharply, mimicking Code. Sparks already crackled along his arms. He smashed his palms together and grinned through clenched teeth.
At first, nothing. Then a faint black haze, like smoke leaking between his fingers. Sparks of blue crawled around the edges, snapping sharp.
He squeezed harder. The haze grew darker, compressing until it writhed like a caged beast. A hum filled the air, unstable, high-pitched, making the leaves shake on the trees.
"Almost there!" Orin shouted.
"Stop!" Code barked. His eyes narrowed. "Your body can't handle—"
"Shut up, old man, my body loves this!"
The haze condensed violently, suddenly glowing with streaks of blue. For a terrifying moment, the shape of something serpentine slithered out—a dragon, yes, but crude, warped. Its eyes flickered not gold but blood-red, its scales jagged smoke and lightning.
The ground beneath Orin's feet cracked in spiderwebs. Blood trickled from his nose. His teeth were clenched so hard the sound of grinding echoed. Bones creaked under the pressure of the ki he was forcing into existence.
"Beast—Dragon—" he roared. "WAVE!!"
The malformed aura-dragon shot forward with a guttural shriek, half-formed, unstable. It surged across the clearing, then detonated midair with a concussive blast. Dirt exploded skyward, water splashed high enough to rain back down, and the shockwave hurled Orin off his feet, sending him tumbling into the mud.
He lay there, coughing, soaked, face streaked with dirt and blood.
Then he sat up and laughed hysterically. "DID YOU SEE?! It was a dragon! A real dragon! Mine was better! It had red eyes!"
"Idiot!" Code rushed over, grabbing his collar. "That wasn't a dragon. That was death wearing a dragon's skin. You nearly tore your own body apart."
Orin's grin didn't falter. "But it worked. You saw. It worked."
---
What neither of them noticed were the villagers hidden at the tree line. They had followed quietly, curious, terrified.
And what they saw was not a golden dragon of the heavens. They saw a boy with smoke and lightning crawling over his arms, bleeding, roaring, and hurling a demon-dragon into the sky.
They didn't wait to see him laugh. They ran.
By dusk, Riverbend was thick with rumors.
"He conjured a dragon from Hell itself."
"I saw its eyes. Red. Evil red."
"Gods forgive us, we've sheltered a devil child."
"No. He's power incarnate. Don't you see? We're protected by the strongest weapon alive!"
"Or cursed by it."
Lines were drawn sharper now. Some people bowed their heads when Orin passed, calling him savior. Others shut their doors tight, whispering prayers. Children were yanked inside. A meeting was whispered about—the kind of meeting where fear turned into torches and pitchforks.
---
Yira sat on the doorstep, knees hugged to her chest, listening to neighbors argue in the square.
"He's dangerous!" one man hissed.
"He's our hero!" another shot back.
"Heroes don't bleed red eyes into the sky!"
"He's a child! He saved your daughters!"
Her hands tightened around her knees. She wanted to scream at all of them. But the image of Orin laughing, blood running from his nose, dragon-shape tearing itself from his hands—it haunted her.
When Orin came bounding back that night, drenched and grinning, she forced herself to smile.
"Yira!" he shouted. "I almost did it! My dragon was scarier than his!"
She saw his hands—skin torn, knuckles raw, faint burns where the aura had clung. She saw his eyes shining unnaturally bright in the firelight, reflecting sparks she wasn't sure belonged to any human.
Her smile faltered.
"Orin…" she whispered, barely audible. "What are you turning into?"
But he just laughed, collapsing onto the floor, already babbling about naming his dragon.
---
By the river, Code sat alone, staff planted in the dirt. His face was hard, more serious than ever.
He had seen it clearly. Orin hadn't just imitated the Dragon Vein Wave. He had pulled something else into it—something darker, older, that twisted the shape into a mockery.
If he kept pushing…
"If he keeps pushing," Code muttered to the night, "Hell won't need to come claim him. The world itself will send executioners."
Thunder rolled faint across the horizon. The river whispered on. And in the Capillet house, Orin dreamed of dragons with red eyes, laughing in his sleep as if nothing could ever stop him.