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"How did you find out?" Caelan asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper.
Theron's crimson gaze remained steady, piercing. "I suspected it during your duel with Velian's daughter. Your movements, your elemental fusion… especially how you recovered from those wounds."
He leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. "Those feats are far beyond what a level twenty-two hybrid should be capable of. Not unless…" He paused, the weight of his words dragging in the air. "Not unless you had awakened the dragonblood sealed within our veins."
Caelan met his gaze without flinching, though a storm churned beneath his calm surface.
Theron tilted his head slightly, tone sharpening. "So… how did it happen?"
A breath caught in Caelan's throat. He had already planned this moment. Not the truth—no, not entirely—but a version of it, carefully woven between honesty and silence.
"It was the day I was betrayed," he began, voice steady despite the memory burning behind his words. "The fall didn't kill me. But I was barely alive. Every part of me felt broken."
He paused, his eyes darkening.
"I dragged myself through that forest for what felt like hours, maybe days. Starving. Barely breathing. Then… I found the body of a beast. A strange one—its aura wasn't like anything I'd felt before."
Caelan's tone remained calm, but distant. He made sure not to sound too rehearsed, yet not so emotional as to draw suspicion.
"I was desperate," he said with a slow exhale. "So I did something I never thought I would. I ate its flesh—raw."
Theron's brow lifted slightly, but he said nothing.
"As soon as I did… the Evolution System activated. It said I had devoured a divine bloodline. And then…"
Caelan's golden eyes glinted faintly.
"It said a dormant draconic bloodline had been detected… and that fusion had begun."
He let the lie settle. It was close enough to the truth. Just scrubbed of any trace of the Everblood. The last thing he wanted was to give away everything.
"That's what caused the surge in power," he concluded. "That's why my eyes changed. Why I could suddenly wield elements I hadn't trained in. It was the fusion of those two bloodlines."
Theron said nothing for a long while. His gaze drifted to the polished floor, then to his own hand, fingers curling and uncurling.
> "He's thinking... weighing the risks. Searching for cracks in my story," Caelan thought, heart thudding slowly. "Don't doubt me now."
At last, Theron nodded. "That explains it."
Caelan blinked.
Theron looked up. "You've changed, Caelan. Not just in power… but in spirit."
Caelan didn't know whether to take that as a compliment or a warning.
A silence stretched between them until Caelan, trying to keep his voice level, asked the question that had been haunting him.
"If I may ask, Father… why do we possess a dormant dragon blood in our veins at all?"
Theron's expression shifted. For a brief moment, the swordmaster looked… tired. Older. As though the weight of years—of memory—had surfaced in his mind like a ripple.
"There's an old tale," Theron began, voice quiet now, softer than Caelan had ever heard it. "It's not written in any record. Not even in the clan vaults."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"It began centuries ago… with the first Virelith."
Caelan listened, breath held.
"He was a warrior—nameless now to all but our blood. On one of his expeditions beyond the mortal realm, he stumbled across a dragon. Dying. Hunted. Wings torn. Scales shattered."
Caelan swallowed. "A dragon?"
"Not just any," Theron said. "A true ancient. A being older than most kingdoms. And the Virelith heir, instead of running or fighting… chose to save it."
Caelan's brow creased. "He saved it?"
Theron nodded. "He protected it for days. Nursed it. Hid it from the hunters."
He looked directly into Caelan's eyes.
"In return, the dragon made a pact. It shared a portion of its bloodline with him—enough to strengthen him, and his descendants. But there was a cost."
"What kind of cost?" Caelan asked, leaning forward slightly.
Theron's tone dropped.
"With every generation… the blood would fade."
Caelan stiffened.
"The power would grow weaker," Theron continued. "Unless forcibly reawakened. The pact was never meant to create a dynasty of dragons… just to grant a gift. A thank-you."
Caelan's thoughts began to race.
> "So that's why most of the clan never awakened it... why it was dormant."
"Many in our line have tried to revive it," Theron said. "Some through ancient rituals. Others… through battle. But it always came down to one thing: the will of the bearer."
Caelan's fingers tightened slightly against his knee.
> "And I… I reawakened it completely."
But this revelation left more questions than answers. Was his reawakening simply fate? Or had the Everblood stirred something deeper—something unnatural?
Theron's eyes softened slightly, though they still burned with their usual fire. "You've done what few ever have, Caelan. You've reignited a flame that's nearly gone out."
Caelan lowered his gaze, unsure whether he felt pride or pressure.
"I see…"
And after a pause, he lifted his head and asked the one question that still lingered like smoke.
"So.. what was the name of the Virelith ancestor who saved the dragon?"
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