Like that, a month slipped by in the monotonous rhythm of life at the outer training forest.
Every morning began the same under Instructor Ghostface's eerie guidance, we studied herbs and magical fruits.
"Carefully memorize the scent of each medicinal plant," his hollow voice echoed, the mist of his ghostly form drifting through the trees.
By noon, my focus often drifted toward the towering figure of Instructor Roseblaze crimson fire dancing between her jaws while she speaking
"Faster! Lift the boulders! Whip your tails two hundred times! Strike the Ironbark tree until your claws burn!" she roared, her voice cracking through the air like thunder.
From dusk till the light dimmed, we hunted furry rats for food and gathered chili mushrooms to temper our strength. Each night's hunt was harsher than the last twice the danger, twice the exhaustion.
The worst part of that month wasn't the endless training, though.
It was Pallet.
She had become completely consumed by her training, like a genius obsessed with perfection. Once a week, she'd emerge from her cave just to chat briefly before disappearing again. Her sudden change in nature bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
Still, I couldn't really blame her. From her point of view, we weren't mere "wyrmlings" anymore. Her seriousness came from her will to grow strong to break free from the rules of her clan.
"Yawn… Why can't I become as serious as her?" I muttered, rolling on the grass.
Then I added, half-heartedly, "No… I will change my lazy self… tomorrow."
My brain and body followed different paths and sleep won the argument.
Evaluation Day
A month had passed. The forest clearing buzzed with excitement as young wyrmlings displayed their newfound strength.
Even the weakest among us had reached three-star whirling. My brothers and their friends had advanced to five-star, proudly demonstrating their second milestone skills.
"Rider Rex two-star whirling," the examiner announced.
Sigh.
A whole month of hunting those little furry monsters and earning credit points just to buy chili mushrooms… yet my strength barely nudged toward three-star.
My motivation faded. The only thing keeping me steady was my hidden dragon blood a quiet assurance whispering you are different.
Otherwise, I might've buried my face in shame, especially before Pallet already a seven-star whirling.
"Something wrong, Rider?" she asked gently. "You've seemed distracted lately. Want to talk about it?"
I forced a smile. "Nah, just bored of the same old lessons. Anyway, I'm sleepy."
Not wanting her to see my weak side, I left for my hillside cave.
That night, I stared at the cave's rough ceiling, frustration twisting inside me.
"Hey, Ragnarok… something's wrong with me, right?" I muttered, collapsing onto my leaf bed.
Silence.
"I'm not trying to compare myself… but if I keep growing this slowly, what's the point of being a dragon? The others will soon surpass me."
Only the distant laughter of celebrating students echoed through the forest, stabbing at my pride.
Finally, I snapped. "Why are you quiet, old flame? All you do is eat and sleep inside me like a parasite! Say something, damn it!"
At that, warmth surged in my chest deep, ancient, alive.
"Parasite flame? You dare insult this god of fire?"
Ragnarok's voice rumbled through my mind, each word heavy with divine pride.
"Foolish child," he said. "You walk the path of dinosaurs what else did you expect?"
I froze. "You mean the training methods?"
"Exactly. This forest's regimen was made for dinosaurs, not dragons. Even at your age, your energy needs are hundreds of times greater. Trying to evolve through their methods is like expecting a fish to learn to fly."
Realization hit me. "So… I'm not weak. I'm just on the wrong path."
"Correct," he said. "Your bloodline demands a harsher, truer road. Dragons evolve through hellish environments — worlds where every breath tests the limit of survival."
"Hellish environment training…" I whispered, a chill creeping down my spine. "What kind of place are we talking about?"
"Places where life and death coexist," Ragnarok explained. "Ghost dragons cast their hatchlings into the Zombielands. Space dragons are thrown into cosmic storms. Only those who endure earn the right to ascend."
"That's insane… I can't just jump into a volcano," I muttered.
Silence, then a sigh from within.
"The greater issue we don't yet know your dragon physique. The wrong environment could destroy you before you evolve."
"Then what should I do?"
"There's another path," Ragnarok said finally. "Hunt other beasts. Eat their hearts."
"What?" I blinked. "Eat their hearts?"
"Every creature's heart is its core of evolution the essence of all energy it gathered through life. Feed on it, and that essence will flow into you."
"That sounds insane."
"It's the ancient dragon way," Ragnarok replied. "But deadly for dinosaurs — their bodies can't digest the violent energy inside a heart core. It would poison them."
I hesitated. "And dragons can?"
He chuckled, proud and fiery.
"That's why every dragon bonds with a Flame Spirit. Our sacred fire neutralizes even the strongest poisons, allowing your body to absorb the essence safely."
Realization struck. "So… I can grow stronger by hunting and consuming energy cores — something no other creature can do?"
"Exactly. Even a weak beast's core contains more energy than ten chili mushrooms combined."
My pulse quickened. "But we're forbidden to enter the deeper forest…"
Ragnarok said. "If you desire strength, take the risk boy . Hunt in secret. That is the dragon's path. "
For a long moment, I sat in silence the fire in my chest flaring with resolve. Secret hunts, forbidden territory, danger at every corner…
"My whole month wasted on routine," I muttered. "No more."