Rathmur's brows furrowed, confusion still twisting in his mind. "What… what exactly was that trial? And that heart you forced into me—what was it?" His voice carried both fear and curiosity, the need for answers burning through the haze of awe he felt.
Aemilia's crimson eyes gleamed, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "The trial was mine. A test to find someone worthy enough to inherit what few in existence ever could." She leaned closer, her tone dropping into a silky whisper. "That was no ordinary heart, boy. It was the heart of a dragon."
His breath caught, his chest tightening as his eyes widened. "A… a dragon's heart?!" The words left him in a trembling whisper. "Does that mean… am I a dragon now?"
Aemilia laughed—low, rich, and enchanting, the sound echoing off the dungeon walls like a cruel melody. "No, foolish boy. You're still human. But you now carry dragon power within you—strength, vitality, essence. Though don't be too proud…" Her eyes narrowed, a sharp glint cutting through her smile. "Compared to even a hatchling, you're less than an ant."
Rathmur swallowed hard, the taste of iron and ash thick in his mouth. His mind spun, torn between amazement and dread. Was this real? Had he truly inherited the power of a dragon? Or was this nothing but a cruel dream—a prank played by some evil angel dressed in heavenly beauty?
Rathmur's questions spilled out in a rush, his voice edged with both awe and suspicion. "Who are you exactly? And why do you look like a ghost—I can see right through you. Are you even real? Are you a dragon, or a human? Why are you waiting here? And how the hell is it even possible for someone else's heart to fuse with mine? And… whose dragon heart was it?"
Aemilia's lips curved, her expression calm, almost amused, as though he were a child tugging at answers too heavy to hold. "For now, all you need to know is that I am Aemilia. I do not intend to harm you. In fact, I will guide you—because your journey doesn't end with survival. You are to walk the path of becoming invincible, and when you do… you will be the support I need."
Her form flickered, translucent against the dungeon's dim glow. "As you can see, I exist only in soul form. My body was destroyed, my strength shattered, my peak reduced to a fraction of what it once was. To regain it, I need more than time. I need vengeance. And for that, I need you."
Her smile deepened, but there was a cruel edge to it. "Yes, I am human. And as for how the fusion worked—look at yourself. It already happened, and you are alive. That is proof enough." Her crimson eyes flashed, her tone soft yet laced with gravity. "The heart that beats within you once belonged to the second most powerful dragon in all existence. Its name is not for you to know—not yet. Speaking it would invite storms neither of us are ready to face."
Rathmur listened in bewilderment, torn between awe, surprise, and shock. Even as her words sank deep, he found himself still enchanted by her beauty, every movement of hers carrying an unshakable allure. Part of him wanted to press her further with more questions, but another part knew instinctively—she wasn't lying. And perhaps, for now, it was best to accept her words.
Still, one question rose above the others. "Then… how will you make me strong? Will I also become a Spirit Refiner, like the ones in my village?" His voice carried a fragile hope. But before she could answer, another thought struck him like a hammer, stealing his breath. His eyes widened, panic rushing through his veins.
Mother.
"All of this… it made me forget—my mother!" His chest tightened, panic spilling into his voice. "Wait—how much time has passed? Please—please, take me out of here! I need to get back to the village. My mother… she's in danger!" His words came out frantic, his heart racing faster than his mind could keep up.
Aemilia's crimson eyes studied him quietly, and for the first time, she let his storm of questions go unanswered. Her lips parted only for the final ones, her tone maddeningly casual, as though she had been waiting for this moment. "It has been four years," she said smoothly. "And yes—I can take you out."
Rathmur's eyes widened, his entire body freezing as though the ground had vanished beneath him. His soul trembled, and pain laced his voice. "W-What…? Four years? That long? How is that even possible?"
Aemilia watched his panic with quiet patience. At last, she sighed softly, as though unwilling to let him spiral further. Her tone was calm, steady—meant to ground him. "Calm yourself. It has been four years only for you. Your body has grown older, yes—but in reality, outside this cocoon, only four hours have passed."
Her crimson gaze lingered on him, sharp yet reassuring. "Time flows differently inside the cocoon. Fusion with a dragon's heart is not a moment's work—it can take years, even decades. Time accelerates within, moving faster than the outside world. Everything depends on how well the body adapts to the heart's power."
She smiled faintly, though her words carried weight. "In your case, it took only four years, which is rare—almost unheard of. Even with such a powerful heart, most would take much longer, or fail entirely. You were unconscious for much of it, which is why you felt nothing."
Though his mind still reeled from the revelation, the strange paradox of time gnawed at him. How could time itself twist and bend like that? He knew he couldn't grasp it, and perhaps he didn't want to. What mattered was the relief that his mother hadn't been left alone for years. That was enough.
He turned to Aemilia, urgency returning to his voice. "Then… can you take me out? Even if it was only four hours, I don't know what Patrick's father might do in that time. He's a Spirit Refiner, and for his son's revenge he'll stop at nothing." His words came out rushed, the thought of his mother's danger pulling tighter at his chest.
Aemilia's expression softened, but her crimson eyes glinted knowingly, as though she had already read the memories behind his fear. She sighed lightly, as if indulging him. "Alright, I'll take you out. But before I do, remember a few things."
Her voice grew firm, melodic yet commanding. "First—I am in my soul form. No one will be able to see me, except for you… and those I allow to see me. I will reside within your spirit core, and when you wish to speak, you may do so in your mind."
"Second—you are forbidden from speaking a single word of what happened here. To anyone. Not even to your mother. The burden of this secret is yours alone."
Her lips curved faintly as she stepped closer, her presence pressing against him. "And lastly… you don't need to fear those puny Spirit Refiners in the early warrior stages. Compared to you now, they are nothing. You already stand above them."
Rathmur's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. His mind barely registered her first two conditions—his thoughts were consumed by the last. Stronger than Spirit Refiners? His face twisted in disbelief. Fuck… is she lying? Or just teasing me again? …Though… I really do feel stronger now.
"Are… are you saying I'm already a Spirit Refiner? And stronger than the ones I've seen?" His voice wavered between hope and doubt, his questions spilling out in urgency. "And what was that about a spirit core?" He knew firsthand the difference between an ordinary man and a Spirit Refiner—he had seen their strength, their overwhelming presence with his own eyes. To accept that he now stood above them was almost impossible.
Aemilia's lips curved into a faint smile. "Of course you are," she replied smoothly. But as her smile shifted into a sly smirk, her tone sharpened. "Don't let it get to your head, boy. Compared to those early refiners, yes—you stand above. But when it comes to the true strong out there, you are nothing. Not even an ant beneath their feet."
Her gaze settled on his chest, her voice carrying the weight of a teacher unveiling a truth. "As for your spirit core—every Spirit Refiner forms one upon stepping into the path. Think of it as the storehouse of your power, the well of your essence. It rests in your chest, shaping and holding all that you cultivate. Yours, however…" Her crimson eyes flickered with intrigue. "Yours was forced open early, thanks to that dragon's heart."
Her soft, pink lips parted once more, her voice flowing like silk. "So then… let us first return to your village. Check on your mother. After that, I will give you a full and detailed knowledge of Spirit Refiners—and of how you will continue to grow stronger." She ended with a smile, dazzling and enchanting, a smile that seemed designed to ensnare his very will.
"Yes," Rathmur whispered, nodding almost unconsciously, captivated by the radiance of her expression. And then, in the blink of an eye, the gory dungeon vanished from around him. The mountain of corpses, the broken stones, the flickering torches—all dissolved like mist, and he reappeared at the edge of the hole in the depths of the Black Fog Forest.
He froze for a moment, realizing with a start that he had no idea where he truly was. He had run blindly into the forest before falling into the abyss, and now every direction looked the same—shadows, mist, and endless trees. His chest tightened as he glanced around uncertainly. "Which way? I don't even know where I was running when I came here."
"South," Aemilia replied simply, her voice smooth, as though the forest itself bent to her certainty.
Without hesitation, Rathmur began to run. He immediately noticed the difference—his body felt light, impossibly light, as though the weight of his steps no longer belonged to the earth. Each stride carried him faster than he had ever moved before. His presence pressed outward in waves, subtle yet undeniable, and the weaker creatures lurking in the shadows scattered before him. Spirit Beasts were sensitive to such things, and what they sensed now was faint but primal—a dragon's aura.
Branches snapped and parted around him as he cut through the forest like wind sharpened into a blade. His feet struck the ground with strength yet rose again without effort, every motion fluid, every breath burning with newfound vitality. Rathmur moved like a predator reborn, racing toward his village and the fate that awaited him there.
As he ran, dangerous thoughts clawed at his mind. Mother… she should be fine, right? He tried to reassure himself, but doubt gnawed at him with every step. It's only been four hours… but that's still enough time. Enough for something terrible to happen. Fear coiled in his chest, tightening with every stride.
Then, like silk drifting through the storm of his thoughts, a sweet voice whispered within him. Calm yourself. Stay positive. Aemilia's tone carried no urgency, only a steady reassurance. It eased him, if only slightly, though the knot of dread in his heart refused to fully unravel.
He veered from the main path, refusing to approach the village gates. He couldn't afford to waste time facing the guards or risk being delayed—his mother was all that mattered now. Through the winding paths of the forest, he pressed onward, his steps light as air and fast as wind.
In only thirty minutes, with his newfound speed, Rathmur reached the edge of his home. His breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding wildly. A thick dread washed over him as his gaze fell on the sight before him—his house standing in silence, its door hanging ajar, smoke curling faintly from the cracks. His eyes widened, his soul trembling with shock.
Thanks for reading! ❤️ I made the chapters longer — tell me in the comments if I should increase them more or keep this pace .
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