Chapter 3: The Dragon’s Seed

The ritual chamber was darker than the training hall.
Torches burned along the circular walls, their flames trembling as if afraid of what they illuminated. At the center of the room was an empty space marked by symbols carved deep into the stone floor.
One by one, candidates stepped forward.
Some whispered the contract aloud.
Some shouted it boldly.
Some trembled so badly their words broke apart.
The air would shift.The temperature would drop.And something unseen would answer.
A few screamed.
A few collapsed.
One did not rise again.
When it was Mustak’s turn, Siddiq stepped forward suddenly.
“Wait,” Siddiq said, looking at Samim. “Mustak can’t even use his natural power properly. Will he survive the contract?”
The room grew quiet.
Samim studied Mustak carefully.
“Yes,” she replied calmly. “He can. And I will assist in stabilizing his seed.”
Siddiq hesitated, then stepped back.
Mustak walked to the center.
Samim’s voice became formal.
“To form the contract, you must declare your acceptance of a shortened life and the Dragon’s terms.”
Most candidates spoke the sacred words aloud.
Mustak did not.
He closed his eyes.
In his mind, the words echoed clearly:
I accept a short life. I accept all conditions. Dragon—grant me your power.
Darkness swallowed him instantly.
The chamber vanished.
The torches disappeared.
There was no ground beneath his feet.
Only endless black.
Then—
A presence.
It was massive. Ancient. Watching.
Mustak could not see it clearly, but he felt it. Something vast coiled within the darkness.
When it moved, the void itself seemed to breathe.
A faint green glow emerged.
Not bright.
Not violent.
But alive.
A Dragon.
Its body shimmered in deep green light—the color of life itself. Its shape shifted like mist, never fully solid, yet undeniably real.
Unlike the others, Mustak felt no pressure crushing his mind.
No suffocating fear.
The Dragon observed him silently.
Then—
Without demand.
Without negotiation.
It released a fragment of itself.
A seed of power.
The seed entered Mustak’s body directly through his spine.
Back in the ritual chamber, his body did not scream.
It did not convulse.
It stood perfectly still.
Samim’s eyes widened slightly.
The green energy pulsed once… twice… then disappeared into his spinal column.
The ritual circle stopped glowing.
Whispers spread among the instructors.
“That was too smooth…”
“Why didn’t the Dragon test him?”
“Why no resistance?”
Hanif, standing at the back of the chamber, narrowed his eyes.
“He won’t last more than three years anyway,” someone muttered.
Hanif spoke quietly, but firmly. “No action. Leave him.”
Meanwhile, inside Mustak—
The seed reached his spinal core.
There, it encountered something unexpected.
A force.
Dormant. Vast. Ancient.
The Dragon’s seed did not dominate it.
It merged with it.
The fusion was silent—but violent in depth.
For a brief moment, Mustak felt something he had never felt before.
Pain.
Not physical.
Not emotional.
Existential.
As if two ancient beings were measuring each other within his body.
Then everything stabilized.
The darkness faded.
Mustak opened his eyes.
The chamber returned.
He stood exactly where he had begun.
Samim stepped closer, studying him.
“Contract complete,” she said slowly.
Around him, other candidates continued forming contracts. Some collapsed from strain. Some glowed with unstable energy. Siddiq eventually bonded with a Fourth–Rank Dragon. Muskan formed a contract with a Fifth–Rank Dragon.
Rank determined potential.
Potential determined lifespan.
Mustak had not been assigned a visible rank.
That alone disturbed the instructors.
Samim raised her voice.
“Now begins the true process. The seed will grow. It will spread through every bone in your body. When it fully integrates, your ability will awaken.”
She paused.
“And not all awakenings are kind.”
The candidates were led to a separate training chamber.
Samim stood before them with a sword in hand.
“Extend one arm.”
They obeyed.
Without warning, she slashed toward the first candidate.
The blade stopped inches from his skin—but the pressure alone made him collapse.
Gasps filled the room.
“This sword,” Samim said calmly, “is forged from Setam bone. Its strike cannot be blocked by ordinary means.”
She moved down the line.
When she reached Mustak—
She swung.
Fast.
Precise.
Lethal.
The blade should have cut through him.
Instead—
Mustak moved.
Not backward.
Not sideways.
The blade simply… failed to touch him.
It was not speed.
It was not distance.
It was as if the sword had refused.
Samim froze.
The room went silent.
She lowered the blade slowly.
“Impossible,” someone whispered.
Samim stepped closer, eyes sharp.
“This sword cannot be stopped,” she said. “Tell me truthfully… how did you avoid it?”
For sixteen years, Mustak had spoken to only two people.
This time—
He spoke to a third.
“I cannot be touched by any weapon in this world.”
Silence consumed the chamber.
Samim did not argue.
She did not laugh.
She simply turned away.
“Then we will awaken your power… differently.”
And for the first time since the world lost its balance—
Something far more dangerous than Setam had just been born.