The Dragon’s Weakest Rider

7

‘Flames—

Dead bodies scattered around—

The feel of the blood-soaked soil under my feet as I walked along the field.

The smell of death all round me—

In the middle of it all stood a black, majestic-looking dragon staring deep into my soul, reading my deepest thoughts and secrets.

If felt oddly familiar.

“Mine—!”

A deep, dark voice echoed through the blood-red sky as the ground shook.

Then suddenly, the atmosphere began to darken, and the heat of flames turned into a biting cold that made my skin crawl.’

…

Eryx bolted upright, his breath caught up in his throat as beads of sweat streamed down his face. The majestic dragon in his dream was gone, and the unmistakable smell of blood was replaced by the stench of mold and stagnant water.

He looked around, his brows furrowing. He wasn’t in the courtyard of the Academy; he was on a thin, rotting straw mat in a room made of stone and a metal bar caging him in.

What’s going on?

Where was he?

“Finally awake,” a voice sounded from the outside.

Eryx tried to move, but a sharp pain hit him as he clutched his chest, right where the bond had locked into his core. His eyes widened. So it was real?

He had actually managed to bond to a dragon! He looked into his tattered shirt; thin black veins pulsed faintly near his heart, spreading like a spider web as they covered half his chest region and his right hand.

In front of the metal bars, a guard stood there with a plate of stale bread and water. He pushed it in through the small compartment.

“Eat.”

“Where… where is it?” Eryx’s voice cracked as he spoke, his voice barely a rasp.

“The defect?” The guard raised a disgusted brow. “In the cave of the dragons, probably being eaten alive by them as we speak.”

Eryx’s eyes widened. They wanted to harm his creature; even if it wasn’t quite the size of a normal dragon it was still something. He closed his eyes; he could still feel it—the almost familiar dark sensation in his soul.

It’s alive.

A strange sense of relief washed over him, but he wondered how long he had been held up here and for what reason.

Suddenly, the metal door at the end of the hall slammed open with a thud. Slow footsteps echoed against the hard concrete floor as two figures approached the cell. Eryx opened his eyes, recognising them at once.

One was the Elder who had announced him as Unchosen. Beside him was a middle-aged man in his late 40’s staring at Eryx with pinched brows; on his robe was the badge of a high instructor.

“He looks like he won’t last a month here,” the instructor commented, his face twisting into a frown as he saw Eryx’s frail body. “You’re sure this is the one the Abyssal egg chose?”

“The bond is complete,” the Elder replied, his voice tight. “We cannot undo what the heavens have allowed; we can only control the outcome.”

The Elder’s gaze shifted from the instructor to Eryx. “Eryx Varyn, by all the laws of the spire, you and that… thing should be… executed. A bond with a creature that was sealed for many centuries is a curse that Aetherion doesn’t need.”

“Then… why am I still breathing?” His eyes darted between the two men, fear evident in his voice.

“Because…” the instructor responded this time. “We would like to study your creature. No one has ever bonded to it.”

A cruel smile played at the corner of his lips.

“But that would only happen if you can survive the Grand trial. On that note, we are releasing you till further notice.”

Eryx blinked, completely stunned.

“You will be admitted to the lowest tier,” the Elder continued. “You will be given no resources, no special training, and no mercy. You and your defect will be allowed to participate in the duels. When you are inevitably crushed by the true heirs of Aetherion, the bond will break naturally upon your death. The Academy’s hands will be clean, and the creature will be gone.”

Eryx was utterly confused by this. On the other end, they wanted to study his dragon, and now they were still debating on his death?

The guard stepped forward and unlocked the cell door.

“Get up,” the instructor ordered. “Go find your lizard in the pits. You have one hour to report to the servant’s dormitories, as there is no more room for you. Try not to die in your first duel, boy. The nobles are already betting on that.”

Eryx stood up; his legs trembled with each step he took. His heart was beating frantically in his chest; they were letting go of him because they saw him as a joke. He walked past the men, his gaze fixed forward.

As he stepped out onto the hallway, a voice growled in his head.

‘GROW…’

…

The smell of rotting meat and damp soil drifted into Eryx’s nose, a nauseous feeling washing over him as he approached the pit where his dragon lay.

It turned out that the guard earlier was mistaken. His dragon wasn’t in the cave of dragons with the others, and besides, there was no way he would be able to approach the cave without being scorched.

His dragon too had been isolated just like him.

The pit was dark as Eryx peered inside, holding the cold walls for support. As if sensing him, his dragon growled softly.

“Come out,” Eryx muttered, beckoning on it.

The creature slowly came out of the cave, looking worse than when it first came out of its shell. It now looked like a dying bird; its skin was now translucent, and its breath was coming out in ragged, wet wheezes.

Eryx’s face fell in disappointment. The heavens were mocking him for sure!

There was no way he would survive duels with the nobles if his dragon was looking like this. He was very certain it also held no power with how weak it looked.

As he contemplated this, the dragon seemed to sense its master’s displeasure, and a small puff of steam came out from its nose, and the black veins on Eryx’s hand stung him badly.

Eryx soon realized that his dragon was offended, and he sighed. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t know how we would survive if we both look like prey.”

‘Grow…’