"Well, well..." The man tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "What do we have here?"


    Ashborn glared, gripping his dagger tighter. "Who are you?"


    The man let out a chuckle. "Oh? You think you can fight me?" He spread his arms wide, as if inviting the challenge. "How adorable."


    "Answer me. Now."


    Something in Ashborn''s tone must have struck a nerve. The man''s smirk twitched, a vein appearing on his forehead.


    "I don''t like your attitude, brat."


    And then—


    He moved.


    Faster than Ashborn could track.


    WHOOSH!


    A blur of motion. A shift in the air.


    Then—pain.


    The force of impact sent Ashborn flying.


    A sharp, searing ache spread through Ashborn''s ribs as his body slammed into the cold, damp earth. The impact knocked the wind out of him, leaving him gasping for breath. Aelwyn screamed his name, but her voice felt distant, drowned out by the ringing in his ears.


    Through blurred vision, he saw the man approaching, slow and deliberate, like a predator savoring its wounded prey.


    "Tsk." The masked assassin clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "I barely touched you. What, did you think you could fight me?"


    Ashborn forced himself up onto his elbows, every breath sending a fresh wave of pain through his chest. His fingers dug into the dirt.


    The assassin sighed dramatically. "I honestly expected more from a kid with a dragon core. You should be tougher than this."


    His words were like venom, sinking deep into Ashborn''s mind.


    Why are you after us?" Ashborn demanded, tightening his grip on his weapon.


    The assassin scoffed. "Like I''d tell you."


    And then—he moved.


    Ashborn forced himself to stand up and slashed with his dagger, but the assassin dodged effortlessly, leaping onto a tree.


    Then, in a blur of motion, he propelled himself off the trunk, launching toward Ashborn with a charged mana blast.


    "Brother!!!"


    Aelwyn threw a desperate attack—a sphere of crackling energy. It struck the assassin mid-air, slowing him down, but he still managed to fire his own attack.


    A deafening explosion followed.


    Ashborn was sent flying, his body slamming into the ground. Dirt and debris scattered as a crater formed beneath him. His clothes were tattered, his skin covered in cuts, and his vision blurred from the impact.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    As he lifted his gaze, he saw something that sent a chill down his spine—


    The assassin had Aelwyn by the throat.


    Something inside Ashborn snapped.


    Until now, he had been holding back. Some part of him had feared losing control, feared hurting—killing.


    But now?


    Now, that hesitation was gone.


    His pupils vanished.


    The world around him seemed to darken. The air grew heavy, suffocating.


    A deep, primal force that had been waiting, lurking beneath his skin.


    And then—


    His blood boiled.


    A furious, overwhelming heat erupted from his core, flooding his veins like molten fire. His vision sharpened, the pain in his body melting away, replaced by something else.


    <b>Power</b>.


    Ashborn moved.


    Faster than thought. Faster than sight.


    CRACK!


    The assassin shuddered. "W-What the hell...?"


    Before he could react—


    Ashborn struck.


    A single punch to the face sent the assassin flying, crashing through trees.


    "You think you can take on a Third-Circle Mage?!" the assassin roared, preparing another spell.


    Boom!


    Ashborn''s fist met his gut before he could even finish his sentence.


    The man coughed up blood.


    Ashborn was behind him now, standing tall.


    His breath came slow, controlled. His muscles thrummed with new energy. The aching in his ribs had vanished, replaced by a deep, pulsing strength that surged through him like a raging storm.


    He tried to retreat, tried to call for backup, but Ashborn gave him no time.


    A barrage of attacks followed, each blow heavier than the last. Blood splattered against the trees, staining the leaves red.


    His fist, wrapped in golden energy, slammed into the assassin''s stomach with the force of a warhammer.


    BOOM!


    The impact sent shockwaves through the air, the sheer force launching the man backward. He crashed into a tree with a sickening CRUNCH, bark shattering from the force.


    Aelwyn gasped. "Brother..."


    Ashborn stared at his own hand, watching as golden sparks flickered across his skin. His body felt light. Unstoppable.


    This power...


    It was his.


    But there was no time to question it.


    The assassin coughed violently, blood trickling down his mask. His voice was weak, but laced with disbelief.


    "Y-You..." He groaned, forcing himself to stand. "You''ve awakened it already? The dragon''s—"


    Ashborn didn''t let him finish.


    He moved again.


    This time, he didn''t hold back.


    With terrifying speed, he closed the distance, his fist colliding with the assassin''s chest. A pulse of golden light erupted from the impact, sending the man flying once more, deeper into the forest.


    He didn''t get back up.


    Silence filled the clearing. The distant sounds of the night creatures slowly returned, as if the forest itself had been holding its breath.


    Ashborn exhaled, his golden aura flickering before fading. The power within him settled, like a storm retreating to the depths of the ocean.


    He turned to Aelwyn. "Are you hurt?"


    She shook her head, eyes still wide with shock. "You... what was that?"


    He hesitated. He didn''t know.


    But one thing was clear.


    He wasn''t the same as before.


    And neither were the enemies hunting him.


    They knew something about him—about the dragon core within him. And if they wanted it so badly...


    Then they were far from done.


    He clenched his fists.


    If they wanted a fight, he''d be ready.


    Ashborn stood still, his body humming with energy, yet his mind was in turmoil.


    This strength—this awakening—it felt so natural, yet terrifyingly foreign at the same time. His body remembered movements his mind had never learned. His instincts had sharpened, guiding him before he could even think.


    What the hell was happening to him?


    Aelwyn took a cautious step forward, her voice soft but urgent. "Brother... are you okay?"


    Ashborn turned toward her. Her small hands trembled, but her eyes held no fear—only concern. Concern for him.


    He forced a smirk. "Better than ever."


    But deep down, he wasn''t so sure.


    The weight of what had just happened pressed against him. He had won—but not through skill, not through experience. He had let something else take over.


    And for a moment, it felt like he hadn''t been in control at all.


    Before he could dwell on it further, a rustling sound snapped him back to reality.


    His head whipped toward the source.


    The assassin.


    He wasn''t dead.


    Coughing up blood, the man struggled to stand. His once-confident posture was gone, replaced by trembling limbs and shallow breaths. His mask had cracked, revealing a single bloodshot eye glaring at Ashborn with pure hatred.


    "This..." He wheezed, spitting blood onto the ground. "This wasn''t supposed to happen."


    Aelwyn grabbed Ashborn''s arm, her voice urgent. "We need to go. More of them could be nearby."


    Ashborn''s instincts screamed—MOVE!


    BUT...


    <b>TOO LATE....</b>


    <To be continued...>