The Rank 3 Dragon's roar echoed through the courtyard, so loud it rattled the teeth in Draco's mouth. Yet, in that deafening sound, he felt something missing.

No whispers. No words. No sense of a mind behind the beast.

That was wrong.

Every Dragon he had met, even the lesser ones, carried a flicker of something deeper—intelligence.

And, Rank 3 Dragons could communicate fluidly with him.

His Class gave him that privilege. The ability to bridge the gap between human and Dragon. To listen, even when no one else could.

But this one?

Nothing.

No matter how hard he focused, how desperately he stretched his senses, he found only emptiness.

'Why can't I hear it?' Draco's breath came uneven, his gaze narrowing on the Dragon's glowing eyes. 'Why does it feel like I'm talking to a wall?'

The creature whipped its tail again, scattering sparks of stone and dirt as students dodged. They yelled, regrouped, and struck at the beast just as Draco instructed. Their fear was real, their bravery undeniable—but he could not shake the unease gnawing inside him.

'And there's something else…' He wiped the sweat from his brow, eyes darting across the scene. 'Where did it even come from? It just appeared out of thin air? No… something is off.'

The thought planted itself firmly in his chest.

Could it have been conjured? Summoned?

His eyes flicked upward. The dorms were alight with activity now, yet the Academy itself—the staff in particular—remained silent.

Not a single lecturer had come running. Not one adult presence had intervened.

That was impossible.

The Rank 3 Dragon's roars had been shaking the ground for minutes now. The commotion alone should have drawn attention from every corner of the Academy. And yet… nothing.

Draco's heart pounded.

'This is too much. Could it really be… a test?'

The word left a sour taste in his mouth.

The Academy was known for harsh trials, yes, but this? Throwing a Rank 3 Dragon at first-years barely scraping by with Rank 1 D-H?

It felt like insanity!

The kind of test meant to break more than it built.

'But then again… we've survived this long. Barely, but still.' His gaze hardened as he watched his classmates obey his orders with precision. Their lines held, their attacks coordinated, their fear tempered by unity.

'If it is a test, then someone is watching. Someone wants to see how far we'll go.'

He ground his teeth, the weight of the truth pressing down on him. Whether this was real or fake didn't matter. Jet was seconds away from being crushed, and his classmates were bleeding, bruised, and still fighting.

He didn't have the luxury to hesitate.

The Dragon shifted its grip, Jet's body slumping further as his cries grew weaker.

"Hold it steady!" Draco shouted, his voice hoarse. His vines strained, the defenders braced, the elemental types hurled everything they had left. Fire streaked across the night sky. Lightning cracked. Water hissed against molten scales.

For a moment, they slowed the beast.

For a moment, it worked.

But Draco's mind still spun. 'If it's a test, then what's the goal? To see if we can work together? To see who cracks first? To see who dies?'

The thought twisted in his stomach. If it was a test, then someone had already failed—the agility type crushed underfoot, the others who now lay sprawled and bleeding. Were those losses acceptable to the Academy?

His fists trembled.

'I need to know. I need—'

The Dragon suddenly lunged forward, snapping its jaws toward the nearest group of artillery students. Screams ripped through the courtyard as they scattered, barely dodging the teeth that could have sheared them in half.

Draco sprinted forward, reinforcing the vines, straining with every ounce of borrowed strength.

"Focus! Don't let it scatter us! Stay tight!"

He didn't realize his teeth were bared, that his eyes burned with a fire that matched the beast's.

Then—

A sudden chill swept through the courtyard.

A deep, unnatural cold that silenced even the Dragon's roar.

Draco froze, his instincts screaming. The air itself seemed to crystallize, tiny white motes drifting into existence. His breath fogged instantly, and a shiver ran down his spine.

Every student looked up.

There—standing at the edge of the courtyard, his cloak rippling with frost, was Frost Winister.

His mere presence seemed to halt time.

Frost raised a single hand.

The Dragon turned, releasing Jet from its claw in surprise as its instincts finally recognized true danger. Jet's limp body fell, only to be caught midair by a student's desperate lunge.

Then came the Ice Breath.

A torrent of pale-blue frost, condensed into a beam sharper than steel, erupted from Frost's mouth. It struck the Rank 3 Dragon dead center, engulfing it in a blizzard of impossible cold.

The Dragon thrashed once.

Twice. Its roar broke into a strangled shriek as ice spread across its scales, crawling over its wings, locking its limbs.

In seconds, the great beast was frozen solid.

A moment later, it shattered.

Pieces of icy flesh and glittering shards scattered across the courtyard, clattering against stone, fading into mist. The night went silent.

The students stood in stunned silence, their weapons lowered, their D-H dimming as exhaustion set in.

Jet was unconscious, but alive. His chest still rose and fell, faint but steady.

Draco stood frozen, sweat freezing against his skin, his thoughts a blur. Relief battled suspicion inside him.

Frost Winister lowered his hand, his cold gaze sweeping across the group.

"You held," he said simply. His voice was rough, sharp, but with an undertone of approval. "You didn't break. You didn't scatter."

He stepped closer, boots crunching on frost-laced stone. His eyes flicked to Draco for a moment, sharp and unreadable, before moving to the rest of the group.

"You all did well."

The students exhaled collectively, the tension breaking into cries of disbelief and shaky laughter. Some collapsed outright, clutching at wounds and bruises.

Frost's words cut through the noise.

"You passed."

A ripple of confusion spread among the students.

"Passed?" one of them echoed weakly.

Frost's expression didn't change. "This was your trial. To see if you could stand against the impossible. To see if you could work as one. You have proven yourselves worthy to move on to the next stage of training."

Gasps and murmurs spread. Some students looked horrified, others vindicated. A few broke into nervous laughter, unable to process the insanity of it all.

Draco's fists clenched.

'So it was a test…'

The anger in him burned hot. All the fear, all the desperation, Jet's near-death—it had all been orchestrated. A game, played by the Academy at their expense.

But something felt strange about this whole thing. He couldn't help but doubt the words that Frost just uttered.

'Was it truly a test? Or something else…?'

Still, as he looked around at his classmates—at their exhausted faces, their shaky but proud expressions—he realized something else.

They had done it.

They had stood together.

And for better or worse, they were stronger now than they had been an hour ago.

Frost turned once more, his gaze cold but not unkind.

"Rest. Heal. Prepare yourselves. From this point on, your training will only grow harsher. If you can't endure, leave now."

No one moved.

Draco exhaled slowly, his mind still buzzing with questions, but his heart steadying.

Whatever this Academy had planned, he would endure it.

He had no choice.

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