The afternoon sunlight poured lazily through the open window of Klein's small room, scattering gold patterns across the wooden floor. A soft breeze wafted in from the garrison courtyard, carrying with it the faint clang of swords clashing in the distance — the familiar sound of the Azure Crest.
Lyra sat cross-legged on a stool behind him, scissors in hand, her expression a picture of reluctant duty. "Hold still," she muttered, running her fingers through the long strands of crimson hair that spilled down Klein's back. "By the Light, when did your hair turn into a horse's tail?"
Klein, seated on a low chair, grinned at her reflection in the mirror across the room. "Jealous, aren't you? Not everyone's blessed with hair this glorious."
Lyra clicked her tongue. "Glorious? You look like you fell headfirst into a pot of red dye." She snipped a long strand off and flicked it onto the floor with exaggerated annoyance. "Honestly, I still don't understand how it got this long and bright. It's unnatural."
Paros chuckled inside his mind. 'She's got you there, Klein.'
'Shut it, Paros,' Klein replied internally, forcing down a smirk.
Lyra leaned closer, inspecting the ends of his hair. "You sure you didn't eat something weird? Like one of those crimson moss fruits the kids collect near the eastern hill? They stain your tongue for days."
Klein chuckled. "Maybe. Or maybe I just radiate natural charm now. Happens when you train under a legend, you know."
Lyra sighed dramatically. "I'm cutting hair, not ego. Try to keep your head steady before I trim off an ear by accident."
Her scissors worked with sharp, rhythmic clicks — snip, snip, snip— each sound blending with the distant chorus of drills and marching boots outside. The smell of freshly cut hair filled the small room, oddly calming.
After a few minutes of silence, Lyra paused. "You really changed, you know," she said softly, surprising even herself. "Five years ago, you were this cocky little brat who thought swinging a sword made him special."
Klein smiled faintly. "And now?"
She brushed his hair off his shoulder, pretending not to meet his eyes in the mirror. "Now you're a taller, cocky brat who's slightly harder to hate."
Klein laughed. "That's progress, I guess."
"Barely." She hesitated for a moment, the corners of her lips tugging upward despite her tone. "Lucien's right. You've come far. Still stupid, though."
Klein wanted to joke back, but her words settled warm in his chest. He looked at her reflection — at the faint smudge of sweat on her temple, the determined look as she carefully evened his hair.
"Thanks," he said suddenly.
Lyra froze, her scissors hovering mid-air. "…What?"
"I said, thanks."
She blinked rapidly, as if trying to process what she just heard. "You— you're thanking me?"
"Yeah." Klein smirked. "Don't let it get to your head."
For a long moment, she just stared at him, wide-eyed, like he had grown another head. Then, recovering, she bonked him lightly on the head with the handle of her scissors. "Don't ever say weird things like that again, idiot. It ruins the balance of the world."
Klein rubbed the spot with a laugh. "I'll keep that in mind."
She huffed, trying to hide her smile, and went back to snipping the last few uneven strands. "This is why I like when you're annoying. It's easier to deal with."
"Aw, you admit you like me now?"
"Don't push it."
Minutes later, she stepped back to admire her work. His hair now reached just below his neck, smooth and faintly shimmering in the light. The red glow looked almost alive, like tiny flames weaving through the strands.
"There. Done," she said, brushing off her skirt. "You actually look half-decent for once. If Lucien sees this, he might cry."
Klein looked into the mirror, tilting his head slightly. "You think so?"
Lyra crossed her arms. "Don't get used to compliments."
He grinned. "Too late."
....
After she left, Klein stretched lazily, then summoned his System Interface with a thought. The familiar transparent blue screen blinked to life before his eyes.
---
[Omnipotent System]
[Host: Klein Adler]
[Level: 56]
[XP: 1889 / 570,000]
[Health: 32,500]
[Mana: None]
[Cultivation: None]
[Affinity: None]
[Core: Heart of the Iron Drake – 42%]
[Bloodline: Iron Drake]
[Abilities:]
* Passive Regeneration
* Fire Resistance
[Spatial Dimension:]
* Mantle of the Silent Tempest (Epic)
* Whisperfang (Legendary)
* Aegis of the Hollow Star (Mythical)
* Chalice of Endless Wakefulness (Uncommon)
* Verdant Veil (Uncommon)
* Emberheart Gauntlet (Legendary)
* Mirror of False Crowns (Rare)
[Omni Shop]
---
Klein frowned slightly. "Still none for Mana and Cultivation…"
Paros's voice came through, smooth and amused. 'Patience. Once the awakening happens, all that will fall into place.'
"I know, but it's strange," Klein said aloud, though quietly. "Even after all this time, I still feel human. I thought dragons were supposed to feel… I don't know, powerful?"
'You've been slicing goblins in half for years without breaking a sweat,' Paros replied dryly. 'You call that not powerful?'
"That's not the same. I want real power. Mana. Fire. The kind that makes people look and say, 'That's Klein Adler, the future king.'"
'Ah, the harem-king dream again,' Paros teased. 'Still chasing it, huh?'
"Always," Klein said with a smirk.
Paros chuckled. 'At least you're consistent.'
Klein dismissed the interface and stood up, adjusting his tunic. The room suddenly felt smaller — like he was outgrowing it. Maybe he was.
....
Outside, the sky was painted in soft oranges and violets as dusk settled over the Azure Crest. The sound of horses, distant chatter, and clanking armor filled the courtyard below. Klein descended the steps to find Lucien waiting beside a carriage, his ever-calm presence standing out even among armored knights bustling about.
Lucien turned as Klein approached, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "You're early. That's rare."
"Couldn't sleep," Klein admitted.
Lucien's eyes drifted briefly to his trimmed hair. "Ah, Lyra's work. Looks good."
"She's surprisingly talented," Klein said, earning a chuckle from Lucien.
The older man gestured to the carriage. "Come. The High Temple awaits."
Klein hesitated for a moment, looking back at the garrison — his home for five long years. The training yard, the sleeping quarters, the old vineyard at the edge of the walls. Every inch of it carried memories of sweat, bruises, laughter, and growth.
Then he stepped into the carriage beside Lucien.
The horses neighed, the wheels began to roll, and the garrison slowly disappeared behind them as they took the dirt road toward the distant horizon.
Lucien folded his arms, gazing out the window. "Nervous?"
Klein shook his head. "No."
"Good," Lucien said softly. "Remember — the star within you must be allowed to shine. Never let it fade."
Klein turned to look at him, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You sound like a priest."
Lucien chuckled. "Maybe I should've been one. Too late now."
The carriage continued down the winding path, the fading light glinting off Lucien's armor and Klein's newly crimson hair — one man nearing the twilight of his journey, the other just beginning his.