TALENT AWAKENING: DRACONIC OVERLORD OF THE APOCALYPSE

“Order affects more than just appearance. It dictates magical aptitude, physical capabilities, and even mental resilience. A Second Order dragon has a stronger core, allowing for rudimentary magic manipulation. But spellless casting? That requires at least Fourth Order proficiency, where mana control becomes instinctive rather than learned.”

Alzuring nodded slightly, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

“So, we’ll have to start with the basics—enhancing their cores, strengthening their bodies, and gradually introducing magical principles.”

“Exactly,” Terra replied. “As for magic type and aptitude, we’ll need to assess them individually. Some may lean toward elemental affinities, while others might excel in draconic arts tied to their lineage.”

Draven finally spoke. “The plan is sound. There is little merit in lingering over details when action will yield clearer answers. I shall begin selecting those I will be tutoring.”

He pushed back his chair, the legs scraping softly against the polished stone floor, rising to his full height. Without another word, he began to make his way out.

Alzuring leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow, his sharp blue eyes following Draven’s figure. “And where, pray tell, are you off to?”

Draven didn’t pause, his footsteps echoing as he approached the large doors. “To pick those worthy of my guidance. The sooner they are chosen, the sooner they shall be forged into warriors.”

Alzuring scoffed lightly, a faint smirk on his face. “Ever the embodiment of haste, I see.”

Draven didn’t respond, simply raising one hand in a casual wave as he disappeared through the doors, leaving the room.

Terra adjusted her glasses, her expression unbothered. “Let him be. He’s driven. His methods may lack patience, but his results never disappoint.”

Alzuring sighed, his fingers drumming thoughtfully against the smooth surface of the quartz table. “Driven or reckless—at times, the line blurs with him.”

Silvyr remained silent, his gaze lingering on the door before shifting back to Terra. “Do we let him choose freely? What if he picks only the strong ones?”

Terra’s eyes gleamed behind her glasses. “It seems you have a lot to learn about him, little tree. Draven is more old-fashioned; he’ll prefer molding those with little to no talent so he can receive praise from our lord. He is that simple-minded.”

Silvyr frowned slightly, his eyes thoughtful. “That seems… counterintuitive. Why not focus on those with greater potential?”

Terra tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “Potential is a fickle thing, young one. Strength alone does not breed loyalty, nor does talent ensure resilience. Those who struggle, who claw their way up from the depths, often prove to be the most steadfast. Draven understands this, though he would never say it aloud.”

Alzuring let out a quiet chuckle. “A sentimental beast in the guise of a warlord. How amusing.” He leaned back in his chair, resting his chin on one hand. “Well, if he’s off choosing his disciples, what of the rest? Shall we divide them ourselves, or shall we allow fate to play its hand?”

Terra adjusted her glasses, the light reflecting briefly off the polished lenses. “There is no need for randomness. We shall divide them according to our strengths. I will handle those with a talent for strategy and leadership. Alzuring, you will take those with an affinity for aerial combat and high-speed engagements. As for Silvyr…” She turned to him. “You shall teach those who possess an aptitude for draconic energy refinement.”

Silvyr’s brows lifted slightly. “Me? That is not exactly my expertise.”

“You are young, but your control over draconic energy is exceptional. This will not only refine their abilities but also sharpen your own.”

Alzuring grinned. “A trial by fire, then. Fitting, wouldn’t you say?”

Silvyr exhaled through his nose, but he did not argue further. Instead, he nodded, accepting the responsibility placed upon him.

Terra gave a satisfied nod. “Good. Then we begin at once.”

Alzuring leaned back slightly. “But first, there is the matter of personal maids and attendants.”

Terra’s eyes narrowed, a small glint of suspicion flashing behind the reflective sheen of her glasses. “Are you suggesting that I train them?” Her voice was calm, but the sharp edge beneath it was unmistakable.

Alzuring chuckled softly. “Your mind is as sharp as ever, as expected of an Archi-Void,” he replied, inclining his head slightly.

“Those who tend to the castle and the chambers should be handpicked. Not many dragons, let alone lesser beings, can endure prolonged exposure to the presence of Seventh Order dragons. Our draconic aura alone could unravel the weak-minded.”

Terra’s fingers tapped thoughtfully against the polished surface of the table before she adjusted her glasses. “Then perhaps next time, I shall request that our Lord summon more lower-ranking dragons,” she replied calmly. “After all, if we are to be burdened with such trivialities, we may as well have proper stock to choose from.”

“I’ll even need members from my clan to help me sort my library.”

Alzuring’s grin widened slightly, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Ah, but where would the fun be in that? Watching you navigate the delicate task of training fragile attendants is a sight I would be most interested in seeing.”

Terra’s lips curled into a faint smirk, the sharpness in her eyes matching the sarcasm in her voice. “If entertainment is what you seek, Alzuring, I suggest you find a bard. My time is far too valuable to squander on amusing you.”

Alzuring chuckled. “You have a point…”

“Well then, I ought to step out as well,” he continued, his grin fading into a more serious expression. “I can’t let Draven leave me that far behind in the dust.” He turned and made his way to the door.

Just before crossing the threshold, he glanced back over his shoulder, his smirk returning briefly. “Try not to drown in those old books, Terra. And Silvyr—I expect great things from you.”

“Thank you, Alzuring,” Silvyr said.

Alzuring paused briefly, offering a final nod. Then, without another word, he stepped through the grand doors, his footsteps echoing softly as they faded into the distance.

Silvyr remained seated for a moment, shifting uncomfortably under Terra’s piercing gaze. He cleared his throat, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve.

“I—I believe I should be on my way as well,” he stammered, rising quickly from his chair, almost knocking it over in his haste as he left.

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