Four weeks after the dragon incident, there was still no one other than Zain and Izark who knew about the existence of Draig. All anyone else knew was that the food intake of their young master had inexplicably gone up fifty times, causing quite a stir among the palace staff who had to scramble to meet the sudden increase in demand.

  The palace was bustling with activities, each corner filled with the sounds of preparations and anticipation. Servants scurried about with trays of delicacies, decorators hung vibrant banners, and musicians rehearsed tirelessly. Everyone was busy with their work, excited about the young master's coming-of-age ceremony. It was the event of the year, and all were preparing for the big event with a palpable sense of excitement and urgency.

  In Izark's room, he was, as usual, sitting at his massive oak desk, its surface cluttered with maps, scrolls, and official documents. The sunlight streaming through the tall windows cast a golden glow on the room, highlighting the rich tapestries that adorned the walls. Two of his eleven followers, Raiser and Raina, were standing in front of him, their postures rigid and attentive. Morris, his trusted advisor, was by his side, a reassuring presence in the room.

  "My lord." Raiser began, his voice steady yet tinged with concern, "I don't think you have missed the presence of an unknown Apex Realm expert in the palace. I don't want to know anything about him; just tell me whether he is a friend or a foe."

  Izark leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking softly. "Don't worry about it, Raiser. He is not a foe. But I can't let you guys meet him for now. It's not safe."

  Raiser nodded, accepting the answer without further question. "No, I understand. You don't have to explain, my lord."

  Raina, ever observant, sensed the tension in the room and chose to remain silent, knowing that prying further would be futile. They knew that if Izark wasn't willing to divulge more information, there was no use in pressing him. Izark turned his attention to Morris, seeking updates on the current state of the Dukedom.

  "My lord, all is going well." Morris reported, his voice calm and confident. "We met with some financial problems, but they were resolved thanks to the young master's gift."

  Izark raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What gifts? He had also said something similar before."

  Morris smiled, appreciating the chance to explain. "My lord, you know that we produce seventy percent of the food in the northeastern territory of the Zinovia empire. So, there are many nobles and territories that depend on our Dukedom for their sustenance."

  Izark nodded, urging him to continue. "After they came to know about the new law we implemented, they sent many diplomats to us for negotiations to buy our food. They know that if we won’t provide them with supplies, the prices in their territories will skyrocket. That could deal a huge blow to them, potentially even inciting rebellion due to food shortages."

  "The diplomats are currently staying in the city, eager to negotiate the price they will be paying for food and grains. They came bearing many gifts, hoping to curry favor. Even the surrounding nobles who previously had strained relations with us have proposed alliances."

  "Congratulations, Duke Izark. You now hold absolute power in the northeastern empire. Even Duke Ronald has sent a diplomat." Morris concluded with a note of triumph in his voice.

  In the northeastern region of the Zinovia empire, there were only three Dukes: Izark, Martin, and Ronald. Their relationships were neither particularly friendly nor hostile; they were primarily transactional. Both Martin's and Ronald's Dukedoms depended heavily on Gremory Dukedom for food and supplies, which gave Izark significant leverage.

  "Tell me more." Izark prompted, leaning forward, his interest fully captured.

  Morris began to delve into the full details, outlining the diplomatic efforts, the negotiations, and the various strategic advantages they now held. The conversation was intricate and layered, touching upon the delicate balance of power, the economic implications, and the potential future alliances.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

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  Meanwhile, in Zain's room, he was immersed in his meditative state, sitting cross-legged on the ground. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from a few flickering candles placed around him, casting dancing shadows on the walls. In the vast ocean of his consciousness, he was surrounded by endless, roiling clouds of destructive and chaotic energy. They swirled and churned around his small soul, a tempest of raw power waiting to be harnessed.

  The training technique provided by his mother described in intricate detail how to use astral energy to condense the destruction and chaos energy into a purer form. After that, he needed to merge these energies with his soul. It was a very sensitive process; a single misstep could result in severe backlash, potentially fatal.

  He had to focus on the subtle astral ripples occurring in his sea of consciousness, guiding astral energy to his soul and letting it disperse. This energy would collide with the destruction and chaos energy, causing them to condense. The process required immense concentration, as the energies needed to be purified continuously.

  This process was incredibly challenging. Absolute focus was required to manipulate the astral rays, and guiding them to his soul and the energies was even more demanding. Zain could only attempt this once per day; afterward, his mental and physical stamina would be utterly depleted, necessitating a day's rest to recover.

  Suddenly, the quiet Zain began to tremble, his body shivering uncontrollably. Sweat beads formed on his forehead, trickling down his face. His muscles tensed, and his breathing grew ragged. Finally, with a deep, shuddering breath, he opened his eyes.

  "I finally managed to get one astral ray to my soul form." he whispered to himself, a mix of relief and triumph in his voice.

  In his mind's eye, he saw the energy clouds around his soul forming a globe: an inner layer of destruction energy and an outer layer of chaos energy. But the distance between these layers and his soul was vast. He had to meditate more to close the gap, to transform these nebulous forms of energy into a solid, impenetrable wall.

  He had finally broken into Acolyte Realm Grade 1, a significant milestone on his path to power. His understanding of the training process had deepened after this first successful attempt. His destruction energy was his inner force, and the chaos energy formed his Mana Forge.

  This dual cultivation was rare and exceptional. If he continued to progress at this rate, he would be able to cultivate both inner force and magic, a feat almost impossible for most people. He had to focus and compress these energies further, making them more powerful and controllable.

  The entire process had four stages: Disperse stage, Compression stage, Builder stage, and lastly, the Mergence stage. The first stage, his current one, involved condensing the dispersed energy. Once he achieved this, he would reach the Mythic Realm. The second stage involved compressing the energy into a thick layer, moving him to the Builder stage.

  In the third stage, he would attain the Apex Realm, where the energy layer would form a structure around his soul, engraved with powerful runes. In its final state, this structure would fully merge with his soul, elevating him to the Realm of a Nova. This was his cultivation path, a journey fraught with peril and potential.

  Zain now had a clear understanding of his future. He once again thanked his mother silently for this invaluable gift. Rising from the floor, he realized he was drenched in sweat, his clothes sticking to his skin. His body was exhausted, his stomach growling with hunger.

  He looked over at Draig, who appeared to be a seemingly fifteen-year-old boy. The boy had almond skin and striking red eyes. If not for his normal ears, one could have mistaken him for a Dark Elven Prince. He had delicate features and muscles sculpted like they were carved by a knife, an image of ethereal beauty and strength. But nobody could guess that this innocent-looking boy was a GODDAMN DRAGON!!!

  "Zain, Draig needs food. Hungry! Hungry!" Draig said, his voice filled with an innocent, almost childlike plea.

  Zain couldn't help but laugh at his manner of speaking. Draig had shown exponential growth in just four weeks, but only physically. His mental growth was also fast but not quite quick enough to keep up with his body. There was a disarming naivety to him, a reminder of his true, young age despite his powerful form.

  "Alright, Draig. Let's get you something to eat." Zain said, smiling. He walked over to the door and called for a servant. Within minutes, a large tray of food was brought in, piled high with various meats, fruits, and bread. Draig's eyes lit up, and he immediately began to devour the food with gusto, the room filled with the sounds of his enthusiastic eating.

  As Draig ate, Zain pondered the challenges that lay ahead. The coming-of-age ceremony was just the beginning. There were many more trials and tribulations to face, battles both seen and unseen. But with Draig by his side, he felt a renewed sense of confidence and readiness to take on anything.

  After Draig finished eating, Zain sat down with him, his expression serious. "Draig, we need to keep your existence a secret for now. It's not safe for others to know about you."

  Draig nodded, understanding the gravity in Zain's voice. "I understand, Zain. I will be careful."

  "Good. Now, let's continue your training."