Wielder Of The Dragon Flame

Chapter 8

Asta stood up slowly, still feeling like the floor was swaying under him.  

“I… I really appreciate you telling me all of that, even if it feels like someone just dropped a mountain on my head.”

He said, his voice low. 

Old Man Kael was already at the door, wrestling with an ancient iron key that looked older than the academy itself.  

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine.” 

He grumbled, jiggling the key left, right, up, down, then left again. 

“I just need to lock this damn door before the rats throw a party in my scrolls.”

The key refused to turn, Kael muttered curses under his breath, shook the handle like he was trying to choke it, then kicked the bottom of the door so hard the whole frame rattled.  

“Come on, you rusty piece of…”

Asta pressed his lips together so hard they hurt. A tiny laugh was trying to escape and he was losing the fight.

Kael whipped around, one white eyebrow raised so high it nearly touched his hairline.  

“What’s so funny, boy?”

“Nothing, sir!”

 Asta squeaked, his eyes wide and innocent.

Kael narrowed his eyes, turned back and gave the door another furious jiggle.  

“Stupid thing’s been broken since the third Empress, I swear…”

Asta bit the inside of his cheek.

 “Uh… sir? Let me try.”

“I got it.” 

Kael snapped.

“I insist. Please.”

Kael froze, key halfway twisted. He stared at the door like it had personally insulted his mother. Then he let out a long, dramatic sigh and stepped aside with a grand sweep of his arm.

“Fine. Be my guest. There’s no way you can even make it shift an inch. This door is forged from star-forged obsidian iron, tempered in the breath of a volcano wyrm, and enchanted by the Fourth Flame Emperor himself. It weighs more than three warhorses and laughs at normal human strength.”

Asta stepped forward, rolled his shoulder once, grabbed the handle, and slammed the door shut.

CLANG.

It closed perfectly. The lock clicked like it was happy to finally behave.

Silence.

Kael’s mouth actually fell open. His cloudy eyes went round as coins.

Asta turned, looked at his own palm, then back at the door.  

“That… didn’t seem like something to struggle over.”

Kael blinked. Once. Twice.

  

“How in the nine hells…”

“I just pulled.”

 Asta said as he shrugged.

 “And pushed. That’s it.”

Kael scratched his scarred cheek and muttered.

“That door has humiliated generals, archmages, even a prince once. He cried.”

Asta gave a tiny, sheepish grin.

 “So… am I strong now?”

Kael barked a laugh that echoed down the tunnel.  

“Strong? Boy, you’re still as weak as a wet kitten. That wasn’t your muscle. That was the dragon strength leaking out and mixing with your blood. A single drop of its power is worth more than a thousand normal men.”

Asta’s grin faded. 

“Leaking?”

“Exactly. And if we don’t teach you how to control the leak, one day the whole dam breaks and the empire drowns.” 

Kael started walking.

 “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

They walked deeper than Asta had ever gone. The torches grew farther apart, the air colder, the stone older. A rusty iron sign hung crooked from the ceiling:

HIGHER SENIORS ONLY—DEATH TO TRESPASSERS.

Asta swallowed hard.

 “We’re allowed down here?”

Kael didn’t answer. He just lifted one gnarled hand. A small, steady flame bloomed in his palm,pure golden-white, clean and bright like a sunrise on snow.

Asta stopped walking. 

“Wait. You can make fire?”

Kael rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out.  

“What, you thought I was just a retired janitor? Didn’t you listen to a single word of my story upstairs?”

Asta rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I… might have zoned out a little when you got to the part about slaying the lava titan. Sorry.”

Kael snorted. 

“This is Dawn Lotus Flame, pride of the ancient Kael clan from the Eastern Isles. One of the purest healing-support flames in the world. Also excellent for lighting dark hallways when rude boys don’t pay attention.”

He waved the flame ahead like a lantern. The golden light danced on wet stone walls and made the shadows retreat.

Asta jogged to keep up.

 “So… what’s my flame called? Dragon something?”

Kael’s flame flickered. He stopped walking and turned, giving Asta the most sarcastic look imaginable.

“Boy, do you ever stop asking questions?”

Asta took one dramatic step back, hands raised. 

“Sorry! Sorry!”

Kael shook his head, but there was a tiny smile hidden in his beard.  

“I don’t know yet. First I have to figure out exactly which dragon is sealed inside you. There were nine Legendary Dragons in the old myths, each with its own flame, personality, and favourite way to destroy continents. Until we know which one chose you as its jail-slash-partner, we can’t name the fire.”

Asta opened his mouth,then closed it fast when Kael’s eyebrow threatened to launch into orbit again.

They kept walking. The tunnel sloped down, down, down, until the air felt thick and humming with old power. Finally they reached a pair of enormous double doors,black wood bound with crimson steel, carved with phoenixes and dragons locked in eternal battle.

Kael placed his palm on the door. The Dawn Lotus flame flared bright, traced a complicated symbol in the air, and the doors swung inward without a sound.

Asta’s breath caught.

The space beyond was impossible.

A cavern so huge he couldn’t see the ceiling,just endless darkness lit by floating rivers of pure fire that flowed like upside-down waterfalls. Bookshelves taller than palace towers rose in perfect rings, connected by bridges of living flame. Students,real students, seniors in different crimson-and-gold robes,were flying.

Some had wings made of fire sprouting from their backs, beating slowly and gracefully. Others wore boots that left trails of sparks as they skate through the air. A girl shot upward like a rocket, laughing, trailing a tail of blue-white flame, and snatched a book from a shelf a hundred metres up.

The smell of old paper, smoke and magic was so strong Asta could taste it.

He stood frozen in the doorway with hi

s mouth open.

Kael stepped beside him, arms folded, looking proud and a little smug.

“Welcome.” 

He said, his voice low with something like reverence.

“To the Grand Crimson Library.”

The doors boomed shut behind them…