Gwendolyn slowly folded her hands in her lap, as if weighing where to begin. After a short pause, she lifted one slender finger and tapped his knee.
"What you just did is ’borrowing power’. Next we learn ’release and restraint’," she explained. "You have to control the rhythm when you summon the cold. If you pour every last bit out in one burst, the effect will be strong, yet you will collapse from exhaustion instantly."
"How do I practise release and restraint?"
"Use your fingers." Gwendolyn nodded toward his right hand. "Concentrate the frost at your fingertips, hold it for three seconds, then withdraw it. Gather it again, hold for four seconds, release. When you can hold it steady for ten seconds without your hand shaking, you will have passed the first stage."
Cecil stretched out his fingers and began his practice.
First attempt: frost gathered at his fingertips, held for three seconds, faded away. Smooth.
Second attempt: four seconds. His fingertips started to tingle, and his hand trembled slightly as he pulled the cold back.
Third attempt: five seconds — the frost scattered before it had fully formed.
"...It’s hard."
"Naturally. This power comes to dragons with ease. It is only normal for a human to struggle." Gwendolyn tilted her head. "Still, you reached the threshold faster than I expected."
Cecil glanced down at his fingers then back up at her.
"Was that... you praising me?"
"I am simply stating facts —"
"The last time you said that your tail twitched."
A faint pink flush crept up along her neck and onto her cheeks. She turned her face sharply to one side, avoiding his eyes.
"‑‑Mention my tail one more time and I will freeze your hand right off."
"But you just told me I need to learn restraint."
Gwendolyn opened her mouth, unable to come up with a quick retort. She sat frozen on the floor, her lips parted, her luminous blue eyes fixed on the ground, clearly scrambling for something to say.
A soft smile spread across Cecil’s face as he watched her profile.
"Gwendolyn."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"...Then why did you call my name?"
"I just wanted to say it."
Gwendolyn slammed one palm lightly against the wooden floor. "‑‑You are so annoying. Get back to practising your frost. Keep talking and I will freeze your robe stuck to the chair."
Cecil laughed and lowered his gaze once more, refocusing all his attention on his right hand. The cold flowed again from his chest down his arm, condensing into thin frost at his fingertips. Hold, three seconds, release.
Hold, four seconds, fingers tingling, withdraw.
Hold, five seconds, frost held firm. Six seconds, his hand began to shake. Seven — he shook his hand sharply, the cold dissipated, and his fingertips turned pale from the chill.
Gwendolyn knelt nearby, one hand resting loosely on her knee. She stole a sideways glance at him and mumbled under her breath.
"...Learns faster than your father did."
Her voice was so faint Cecil could not catch the words.
"What did you say?"
"I said you are slow. Focus on your training."
Cecil did not press her further and went back to channelling the cold in his hand.
Gather. Hold. Release.
Gather. Hold. Release.
One faint white frost mark after another stained the old wooden tabletop, like snow that refuses to melt, slowly accumulating bit by bit.
Dusk had faded into night.
He rubbed his stiff right wrist, weariness seeping deep into his bones after hours of repeated frost training.
A faint swirl of blue‑white frost flickered beside him. Gwendolyn shrank back into the tiny lizard form once more. She hopped up onto the edge of the bed beside him.
"Don’t think mastering this little trick of frost control is all you need," she said, her blue eyes glinting faintly under the moonlight. "If you intend to walk this path with a Spirit‑Beast, you have to understand what it truly means to be a Tamer."
Cecil raised an eyebrow, shifting to sit cross‑legged on the bed. "A Tamer? I thought anyone who signs a soul contract with a Spirit‑Beast automatically becomes one."
"That is the mistake most ordinary students make." Gwendolyn swung her tail slowly back and forth, her tone turning solemn, all trace of her usual teasing vanishing. "The soul bond is only the beginning. Tamers have existed for thousands of years, ever since the first gods gifted mortal men the power to resonate with Spirit‑Beasts. Long before the academy built its trial grounds, ancient tamers roamed these lands, forming pacts with all manners of magical creatures."
She lifted one claw and drew a faint invisible line in the air.
"The Tamer ranks are divided into seven tiers: Novice, Apprentice, Journeyman, Adept, Master, Grandmaster, and Arch‑Tamer. Right now you are nothing more than a Novice. You barely know the basics of resonance, and your soul can only sustain one primary bonded beast."
Cecil leaned forward, every word sinking in. "What changes with each rank?"
"Your soul capacity expands." Gwendolyn tapped her own chest. "Higher‑ranked tamers can maintain contracts with more Spirit‑Beasts. Not only that — their power of resonance grows stronger, so they can unlock deeper, hidden abilities within their partners. But here is the critical secret nobody inside this academy will tell you: different types of Spirit‑Beasts follow entirely different growth rules."
She paused, organizing her thoughts.
"Beast‑type creatures such as jackals, gryphons and wolves gain strength mainly through combat experience and absorbing magical essence from trial‑ground relics. Plant‑type Spirit‑Beasts like vine‑snakes need sunlight, special soil and rare nutrient herbs to evolve. Insect‑types such as copper beetles mostly advance by devouring mineral crystals. Dragon‑kind?"
Gwendolyn tilted her chin up slightly, a flicker of ancient pride crossing her small lizard‑like face.
"Dragons do not follow any of those rules. Our growth depends on unlocking sealed memories and recovering fragments of our original power. Killing random monsters will barely make us stronger at all. That is why most human textbooks are completely useless for someone bonded with a dragon."
Cecil fell quiet, digesting everything she had just explained. All the knowledge taught in the academy’s basic classes was built around ordinary beasts, plant‑beasts and insect‑beasts. No wonder there was never any mention of dragons within the course materials.
"So the way you level up is completely separate from the others?" he asked.
"Precisely." Gwendolyn nodded. "Your classmates in Group‑B will go into the trials, hunt wild spirit creatures, and watch their partners grow step‑by‑step. If you copy that method for me, you will waste years. My power lies in those lost shards we are slowly searching for — the dark‑red fragments you saw stirring beneath my scales."
Cecil’s gaze drifted down to her abdomen, where the faint bulge of the shard could still be seen under the blue‑white scales.
"Then what about the history?" he asked again. "Why did so many ancient tamers disappear?"
Gwendolyn’s expression darkened.