The Dragonborn of Raymonds High

A Man’s Dream

“Old fox.”

Jones exhaled a long, heavy breath as the Cadillac disappeared into the night.

He had seen through Raun’s act—every carefully chosen word, every measured sigh.

Yet he hadn’t exposed it.

Because beneath that politician’s performance, Jones had glimpsed something genuine—Raun’s love for this city.

Perhaps that love was small, dwarfed by his ambition.

But for Jones, it was enough.

He needed an ally—someone who could support him through the next stages of his dragonblood awakening.

His mindset had changed.

Once, all he wanted was a quiet life—study at Raymonds High, travel the world with the woman he loved, and watch the sunrise in foreign lands.

But trouble seemed magnetically drawn to him, arriving one wave after another.

Maybe… peace was never something he was meant to have.

Jones’s thoughts drifted to his gray, hungry childhood.

He was always underfed, his clothes were all hand-me-downs from his younger brother—threadbare, patched, unwanted.

Even those, he couldn’t wear whenever he wished.

He had known hunger. He had known cold.

His foster parents were harsh, and at Raymonds High, the bullying never stopped.

But now, all that was behind him.

Tonight, for the first time, Jones had bared his fangs at the world.

The neon lights painted his face in a shifting pattern of light and shadow.

In that flickering glow, he looked almost divine—

a god among men, holding the power to decide life and death.

**********

The sea breeze was sharp and cool as Jones walked alone back to the hospital.

Richard was already waiting by the door, bowing low the moment Jones appeared.

“My lord,” Richard said respectfully, “Bob has been settled. Everything’s taken care of. We should return to the family now. They’ve already frozen my bank accounts—the situation is dire. And since you’ve completed your Dragonblood Awakening, you must return soon to claim the patriarch’s seat.”

Jones shook his head. “Not yet. There are still things to be dealt with. Don’t worry, Richard. I’ll finish it quickly. Once Bob’s recovered—next week—we’ll go back.”

Of course, Jones hadn’t forgotten Henry and Katherine.

They were the reason he and Bob had suffered such humiliation—and he had a debt to settle with both of them.

He continued down the corridor and soon entered Bob’s ward.

Standing beside the bed, Jones looked down at his unconscious friend, his expression softening.

He was never an ambitious man by nature.

His truest wish had always been simple—reunite with his parents, grow old beside his love, share laughter with friends.

But the years had carved something else into his heart—a quiet, burning vow:

To become strong.

To become wealthy.

To destroy anyone who dared harm the people he cared about.

And to protect his loved ones, no matter the cost.

“J… Jones…”

The weak, hoarse voice pulled him from his thoughts.

Jones’s eyes widened. “You’re awake! Bob, how are you feeling?”

“A bit rough… cough…” Bob managed a faint smile before his face turned anxious. “Jones, how did you get me here? Those bastards—did they hurt you?”

Jones rested a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about that. It’s over. Just focus on recovering.”

Bob still looked uneasy. His gaze wandered around the private room—the sleek medical equipment, the soft, golden glow of the crystal chandelier above.

“This place must cost a fortune,” he said, half in awe, half in worry. “Jones, how are you paying for this? You know my family can’t afford a place like this—I grew up in the slums…”

“Relax,” Jones said with a faint smile. “You were hurt because of me. Money isn’t a problem.”

He hadn’t forgotten—when the whole world turned against him, this man had stood by his side.

Bob chuckled weakly, then sighed. “Guess I’m lucky to have you… It’s just—my injury’s bad. I probably won’t make the school team tryouts. You know how much that means to me. Playing in the NBA has always been my dream.”

His tone dimmed.

The tryouts were just around the corner. With his body in this condition, there was no chance of playing basketball, which meant no chance of entering the state league.

For young men chasing professional glory, every year mattered—and for Bob, this injury could end everything.

Jones looked at Bob with solemn sincerity and promised,

“Bob, trust me. You’ll recover soon—and I’ll help you get into the school team. Besides, I remember you’ve always had a pretty cool idea.”

Bob’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Wait… don’t tell me you mean—?”

“That’s right!” Jones flashed a brilliant smile.

……

Whoosh!

A Ferrari sliced through the night like a bolt of lightning.

Its roaring engine set the blood ablaze, the blinding headlights merging with the glow of streetlamps, reflecting off Bob’s exhilarated face.

“Damn, this is insane!” Bob shouted, wind whipping through his hair. “Jones, this car is incredible!”

Jones smiled, his hands steady on the wheel.

“Don’t worry. You’ll have a better one soon.”

“Yeah, you’re right!” Bob laughed, pounding his chest. “I’m destined to be an NBA star!”

The two of them tore through the night, laughter echoing beneath the city lights.

For a few precious hours, Bob forgot his pain—and Jones, his burdens.

By the time they returned to the hospital, the sky was fading toward dawn.

Jones watched Bob disappear into the ward, then turned his gaze toward Raymonds High in the distance.

His expression hardened.

Bob’s injuries… Henry was responsible.

And as for Katherine—his ex-girlfriend, who had betrayed him—Jones hadn’t forgotten her, either.

Now, he possessed strength, money, and influence—the black metal card from the mayor, and the mayor’s quiet backing.

It was time for a complete reckoning.

A clean, decisive victory.