"Hm!?"
Ddraig, dwelling within Rayne's body, was the first to sense the anomaly.
A familiar energy seeped into Rayne's being—subtle, yet unmistakable. Under its influence, his flesh and soul underwent minute reinforcement. The change was slight, almost imperceptible. Had she not been bound to him, even she might've missed it.
But the fact remained: Rayne was growing stronger.
"So… this is the power of 'Dragon'?"
After a moment's focus, Ddraig understood. The energy carried the essence of a true dragon—something she, as one herself, recognized instantly.
"This brat's magic… its potential is absurd."
She'd known Rayne's Dragon Origin Magic was formidable, but this? This was unforeseen. A quiet smirk curled in the depths of his soul.
"Perhaps I underestimated him."
Unaware of Ddraig's revelation, Rayne was preoccupied—specifically, with stuffing Konane's face with sweets.
His entire month's wages had evaporated by sundown, yet he showed no regret. Only a faint smile as they headed back to the guild, Konane hopping between sidewalk tiles like a child (a habit she'd picked up from a passing kid).
"Konane, we're here."
At the guild's entrance, Rayne called out to the dragon-girl, who'd been engrossed in her game. With a final skip, she trotted to his side, noticeably more attached than when they'd left.
"Rayne. Over here."
Makarov's voice cut through the guild's chatter. Seated at the bar, the old man eyed the pair with a knowing grin.
"You two get along well."
"Well enough," Rayne said, pulling out a chair for Konane before fixing Makarov with a wary look. "What's up?"
The guild master's smirk deepened. "Two things."
Rayne's guard shot up. He leaned back, eyes narrowing. That tone never meant good news.
Makarov coughed. "First—you'll need to move out of the dorms."
"…Hah?"
Rayne's blink rate tripled. One outing, and I'm homeless?
"We told everyone Konane's taken a liking to you," Makarov explained, lowering his voice. "So you'll be her caretaker. But that means separate living quarters—and* a place where her… comings and goings won't raise eyebrows."*
Rayne frowned. Konane's human form dRayned minimal magic, but she couldn't stay indefinitely. Nights would be spent in her own world, conserving energy—a fact easier to hide in a private home.
"I don't mind, but—" He gestured to his empty wallet.
"Already handled," Makarov interjected. "Found a place while you were out. Just pack your things."
"I'll pay you back," Rayne stated flatly.
The old man opened his mouth to refuse, but the steel in Rayne's gaze made him nod.
A tiny tug at his sleeve. Konane, bored by the talk, had begun dozing off against his arm, her round cheeks squished against him.
"Second," Makarov said briskly, "your basics are mastered. Tomorrow, we switch to combat training."
A spark flashed in his eyes. "It'll hurt. A lot."
Rayne's muscles twitched—not in dread, but anticipation. A feral grin threatened his lips.
"…I see."
He hadn't realized it before, but… he liked fighting.
That night, after tucking Konane into her dragon-form slumber (her true body curled up in a cavern back home), Rayne collapsed onto his bed.
Tomorrow would be hell.
He couldn't wait.
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