After Mia finished eating, she placed the last apple slice down and sighed.
".. alright.. I ready.."
Across the room, Varkryth stood waiting with his usual expression .
Nythera stepped closer, gently fixing a strand of Mia's hair like she had been doing it her whole life.
For a moment, Mia froze.
She still wasn't used to this.
A mother's touch.
Warm. Careful. Real.
Nythera smiled softly.
"Good luck, little star."
Then she leaned forward and kissed Mia gently on the forehead.
"I believe you are strong."
Mia blinked.
For half a second, she forgot how to speak.
Because no one had ever said it like that before.
Not as expectation.
Not as pressure.
Just… belief.
Her throat tightened slightly.
"…That's unfair."
Nythera tilted her head.
"Hmm?"
Mia looked away, scratching her cheek.
"You can't just say stuff like that."
"It makes it hard to stay sarcastic."
Nythera laughed softly and pulled her into one more brief hug.
"Then perhaps I am winning."
From the doorway, Varkryth crossed his arms.
"If the emotional scene is complete…"
Mia immediately pulled back.
"See? Villain entrance. Every time."
Varkryth ignored her with professional experience.
"Come."
His voice lowered slightly.
"Training begins now."
Mia took one last look at Nythera.
At the room. At the eggs resting quietly nearby.
At this absurd new reality.
Then she exhaled.
She straightened her shoulders and followed him.
Because apparently—
being kidnapped by your possible dragon father
and forced into survival training
was just Tuesday now.
Mia followed Varkryth deeper into the Abyss.
The path twisted through massive stone corridors and open cliffs lit by glowing cracks of lava far below. The deeper they went, the more the air felt heavy with mana.
Finally, they arrived at a massive training ground.
It looked like an arena carved straight into the bones of the earth itself.
Broken pillars. Cracked stone. Deep claw marks across the walls.
Definitely not OSHA approved.
Varkryth stopped.
"Change to your dragon form."
Mia gave him a flat look.
Still, a shimmer of dark mana surrounded her.
Her human body shifted, expanded—
until once again, the young black dragon stood there, scales dark as midnight and eyes full of suspicion.
She followed his gaze forward.
And froze.
There were seven dragons in the arena.
All around her size.
Young dragons. Different colors. Red, green, gray, bronze.
And in the center—
a man.
Just a man.
Except…
he was currently fighting all seven dragons at once.
Mia watched in disbelief as one dragon lunged.
The man stepped aside effortlessly.
Another attacked from behind—
he grabbed its horn, twisted, and slammed it into the ground.
A third tried to tackle him—
he literally pushed it away.
Not magic.
Not transformation.
Just pure skill and terrifying confidence.
Mia stared.
"…What the hell."
The man moved like someone who had spent his entire life fighting things much bigger than himself.
No wasted motion. No panic. Just brutal efficiency.
Then he noticed Varkryth.
Immediately, he raised one hand.
"Enough."
The seven dragons stopped instantly and lined up.
The man calmly walked toward them.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Scars across both arms. Dark hair tied back. The kind of face that looked like smiling was illegal.
He stopped before Varkryth and bowed his head.
"My lord."
Varkryth nodded once.
"My daughter requires training."
He gestured toward Mia.
"Teach her everything she should know."
The man finally looked at her.
Really looked.
Mia suddenly felt like she was being inspected by a sword.
He raised one eyebrow.
"…Her?"
His gaze moved from her horns to her wings.
"She is small."
Mia's eye twitched.
"Wow. Great first impression."
The man ignored that.
"It will take time."
Varkryth folded his arms.
"We have time."
The man was silent for a moment.
Then he gave a slow nod.
"As you command."
He turned fully toward Mia.
For some reason, that felt scarier than Varkryth.
"My name is Kael."
His voice was calm. Too calm.
"I will be your instructor."
Mia stared back.
"…Do I get a choice?"
Kael looked at her.
"No."
"Fantastic."
From behind them, Varkryth gave what might have been the faintest hint of amusement.
Kael walked past her toward the center of the arena.
"Come."
He spoke without turning around.
"First lesson."
He pointed toward the seven dragons now watching curiously.
"Survive."
Varkryth turned and left without another word.
Of course he did.
Because apparently his parenting style was:
drop child into violence, disappear elegantly.
Mia watched him go.
"…Amazing. Truly inspiring fatherhood."
Before she could complain further—
Kael lifted one hand.
A massive force field erupted around the arena.
Dark barriers rose like walls of glass, sealing the entire battlefield shut.
Mia's stomach dropped.
The seven young dragons around her shifted.
Their eyes changed.
No longer curious.
Hungry.
Competitive.
Dangerous.
Kael stood outside the circle now, arms folded.
Calm.
Merciless.
"Now then."
His voice echoed across the arena.
"Fight."
Mia blinked.
"…Wait, WHAT—"
Too late.
A bronze dragon slammed into her from the side.
She barely turned before two others lunged—
CRUNCH.
Teeth sank into both wings.
"GRAAH—!"
Pain shot through her body.
She twisted violently, throwing one off, but another dragon clamped onto her neck scales.
A gray dragon clawed across her side.
Another came low and smashed into her legs.
No rhythm. No duel. No fairness.
Just chaos.
Mia barely had time to breathe.
She shook two dragons off and tried to create distance—
WHAM.
A red dragon's tail slammed straight into her head.
Her vision exploded white.
The world spun.
She hit the ground hard.
Dust rose around her.
Her ears rang.
Shapes blurred.
She tried to stand—
a heavy shadow loomed above her.
The red dragon.
Smirking.
Its claws lifted for the finishing blow—
"Enough."
Kael's voice cut through the arena like a blade.
Instantly, the dragon stopped.
Silence.
The red dragon clicked its tongue, clearly annoyed, then gave Mia a smug look before walking away.
Mia lay there breathing hard.
Her wings hurt. Her neck hurt. Her pride had been murdered.
She pushed against the stone floor, trying to rise.
Every muscle screamed.
Kael didn't move.
Didn't help.
Didn't even blink.
"Get up."
Mia glared weakly.
"…You know, in some cultures, teachers are supposed to be supportive."
Kael's expression did not change.
"There is no place for weaklings."
His voice was cold.
"Your enemies will not wait politely while you recover."
He stepped closer.
"They will crush your throat while you are still trying to breathe."
Mia's claws dug into the stone.
"Get."
He looked down at her.
"Up."
For a second—
she wanted to stay there.
She wanted to be angry. To refuse. To bite someone.
But then—
Leo's face.
Vinson.
The estate.the maids..
Ebruhan standing in front of Varkryth.
And the simple truth:
if she stayed weak…
someone else would bleed for it.
Mia growled low in her throat.
Slowly—
painfully—
she stood.
Shaking.
Breathing hard.
But standing.
Kael gave a single nod.
Better than praise.
"Good."
Then he pointed toward the arena again.
"Again."
And then—
it happened again.
And again.
And again.
The arena became a nightmare loop.
Fight. Fall. Bleed. Stand. Fight again.
Mia barely had time to think.
Every time she tried to cast mana—
someone was already on her.
A bronze dragon crashed into her shoulder.
A gray dragon slipped under her guard and clawed her legs.
The smaller gray one was somehow worse than all of them.
Fast. Annoyingly fast.
It moved like pure disrespect.
Every time Mia thought she had it cornered—
it was suddenly behind her.
Biting.
Tail-slamming.
Emotionally insulting.
At one point she was pretty sure she almost died.
Twice.
Maybe three times.
Time stopped meaning anything.
There was only pain. Dust. Roaring. Stone cracking.
And Kael's voice from outside the arena:
"Too slow."
"Predictable."
"Terrible footing."
"Are you fighting or writing a resignation letter?"
By the end, Mia was less dragon and more wounded disappointment.
She collapsed onto the ground again, chest heaving, blood staining the stone beneath her claws.
She didn't even care anymore.
If someone attacked now, she would simply become a historical lesson.
Then—
Kael raised a hand.
"That is enough for today."
The dragons stopped.
"Return to your places."
"We begin again tomorrow."
One by one, the others flew off.
Even the smug red dragon gave her one last superior glance before leaving.
Mia considered dying out of spite.
Instead, she just lay there.
Breathing.
Existing poorly.
Kael walked closer, looking down at her like a disappointed mountain.
"Pathetic."
He clicked his tongue.
"Get up."
Mia's voice came from the floor.
"No."
"Even hatchlings fight better than you."
"…I am choosing peace."
"Get up."
"I am becoming one with the ground."
Kael looked genuinely unimpressed.
Then—
a familiar presence entered the arena.
Heavy. Ancient. Terrifyingly calm.
Varkryth.
He stepped inside, his gaze sweeping across the battlefield.
Broken stone. Blood. Claw marks.
His daughter dramatically face-down in the dirt.
He looked at Kael.
"How is she doing?"
Kael folded his arms.
"She still has much to learn."
A diplomatic way of saying: your child fights like a falling bookshelf.
Varkryth stepped closer.
His shadow fell over her.
He studied her injuries.
Then, after a long silence—
"Is she stood back up."
Kael nodded once.
"Repeatedly. My lord"
Another silence.
Then Varkryth gave the smallest nod. Then casting healing spell on her
"…Good."
Varkryth stepped closer, dark mana still lingering around his hands from the healing spell.
Mia stayed still, exhausted enough that even arguing felt like cardio.
His eyes moved across her wings.
Then stopped.
There, burned faintly into the scales near the base of her left wing—
the royal mark.
The kingdom's crest.
The title she had accepted.
Battle Dragon of the Kingdom.
Lady dark flame
Varkryth stared at it in silence.
And somehow…
that silence felt dangerous.
Mia noticed immediately.
"…Don't."
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
"Humans stain everything they touch."
Mia narrowed her eyes.
"That stain is my choice."
Varkryth looked at her.
"No."
His voice lowered.
"It is a claim."
Before she could react—
his hand touched the mark.
Dark mana spread across the scales.
Mia flinched.
"Hey—!"
The royal crest glowed.
Then—
it vanished.
Erased.
Like it had never been there.
For half a second, Mia just stared.
Then a new symbol slowly formed in its place.
Black.
Ancient.
A dragon crest unlike anything she had seen before.
Sharp lines like wings folded over darkness itself.
A mark that felt older than kingdoms.
Mia's eyes widened.
"…What did you do?"
Varkryth stepped back.
"Corrected an insult."
She turned sharply.
"You don't get to decide that!"
His expression did not change.
"I already did."
Mia bared her teeth.
"That mark was mine!"
"And now," he replied calmly,
"this one is as well."
The air between them felt sharp enough to cut.
Kael, wisely deciding he valued his continued existence, stepped in before the argument became a small civil war.
"Come back tomorrow."
Both of them ignored him.
Kael, louder this time:
"Tomorrow."
"We begin duels."
He pointed directly at Mia.
"No more group fights."
"One opponent."
"Real combat."
He folded his arms.
"Go rest, weakling."
Mia was still glaring at Varkryth.
"…I have so many complaints."
Kael nodded once.
"Excellent."
"Bring them tomorrow. You'll need something to scream while losing. But gotta respect you less every hour."
"That means progress."
Varkryth gave one final glance at the new black crest on her wing.
Not pride.
Not satisfaction.
Something older.
Recognition.
Then he turned away.
"Rest well, Mia."
His voice echoed behind him.
"Tomorrow, you begin learning how to win."
Mia looked down at the mark.
At the black symbol now carved into her scales.
Human kingdom erased.
Abyss blood branded.
As they returned
Nythera immediately walked over, her expression full of concern.
"My little star, how was training?"
Mia opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
Then opened it again.
"…I discovered pain in places I did not know could feel pain."
Nythera's face fell.
"Oh —"
Before she could continue, Varkryth answered for her.
"She is very weak."
Silence.
Mia slowly turned.
Varkryth stood there with complete calm, like he had just commented on the weather.
He continued.
"Human influence has made her pathetically soft."
Mia stared in offended disbelief.
"…Excuse me?"
Nythera snapped instantly.
"Vark!"
Even the walls probably flinched.
She marched toward him with the terrifying energy of a wife who had reached her limit.
"She just survived her first Abyss combat trial!"
"She is injured!"
"She is exhausted!"
"And your response is to insult her like an emotionally constipated mountain?!"
Varkryth blinked once.
"…That was supportive."
Mia nearly choked.
"No it was not!"
Nythera pointed at him.
"You."
Then pointed toward the door.
"Sit there and think about your personality."
Varkryth, ancient sovereign of the Abyss, conqueror of dragons, destroyer of armies—
actually looked mildly inconvenienced.
"…My personality is efficient."
"Out."
He sighed like a man facing injustice and stepped aside.
Mia watched this with absolute fascination.
(So that's how you defeat him.)
Nythera sighed and sat beside her.
"You did well."
Her voice was warm.
"The first day is always the worst."
Mia gave a tired laugh.
"That's somehow the least comforting sentence I've heard today."
From across the room, Varkryth—currently in emotional timeout—spoke calmly:
"She will train more tomorrow."
Nythera turned her head slowly.
He added:
"…with proper supervision."
Mia muttered,
"Translation: more violence."
Later that night, the atmosphere was… strangely normal.
Which was deeply suspicious.
Mia sat at the large dining table with Nythera, eating while trying to process the fact that her life now included:
dragon mother, abyss father, dragon siblings that don't hatched yet and involuntary combat internships.
Nythera was gently placing more food on her plate like Mia had been underfed for nine years.
"Eat more, little star."
"I just did."
"More."
"Yes, ma'am."
Then—
Varkryth entered.
He sat across from them with the same aura as a natural disaster attending dinner.
Mia narrowed her eyes.
"…Why do I feel like this is a meeting?"
"Because it is," he said.
"Fantastic."
He folded his hands.
"Your fighting is inefficient."
"Ah yes. Family bonding."
Nythera gave him a look.
"Constructive criticism, dear."
Varkryth nodded once.
"Fine."
He pointed at Mia.
"You rely too much on reacting."
"You wait for attacks."
"You think like prey."
Mia frowned.
"Because seven dragons were trying to murder me."
"And you let them decide the pace."
His voice remained calm.
"A dragon does not wait."
"We dominate."
"We force movement."
"We create fear."
Nythera added softly from beside her,
"He means control the battlefield."
She reached over and adjusted Mia's hand position on the table like she was correcting sword posture from memory.
"When you panic, your body narrows."
"Your focus becomes the attack in front of you."
"But real combat is wider."
"Breathing. Positioning. Escape routes. Terrain."
Mia blinked.
"…You fight too?"
Nythera smiled faintly.
"My little star…"
She tilted her head.
"I am your mother."
"Of course I fight."
Varkryth added, completely serious:
"She is more frightening than I am."
Nythera smiled sweetly.
"And yet you continue testing that theory."
Varkryth chose silence. A wise survival instinct.
Mia stared between them.
"…You two are terrifying."
"Yes," they said together.
That somehow made it worse.
Varkryth continued.
"Mana is not only for attacks."
He raised one finger.
"It is your muscles."
"Your wings."
"Your balance."
"Your senses."
"Most young dragons waste mana by treating it like a weapon."
He tapped the table.
"Wrong."
"It is your body."
"Strengthen it first."
"Attack second."
Mia thought about that.
So less: fireball wizard
and more: flying biological war machine
Honestly… that tracked.
Nythera nodded.
"And stop fighting with anger."
Mia looked at her.
"…That feels targeted."
"It is."
She smiled warmly.
"Anger gives strength for a moment."
"Discipline keeps you alive after that moment passes."
Varkryth gave a small nod.
"She is correct."
Mia sighed.
"I hate when both of you are wise."
Nythera patted her hand.
"You will survive."
Varkryth took a sip of tea like a man discussing weather instead of battle trauma.
"Tomorrow, you duel the red one."
Mia froze.
"The smug one?"
"Yes."