Chapter 13: Gloom

Vilaniel Adrian sat on the edge of the bed, a thick copy of *Imperial History of Dragon Taming* spread across her thighs. Several other massive tomes she had borrowed from the library were piled messily on the table beside her.

As she flipped through the coarse paper pages, she used a quill to write rapidly on a parchment scroll. The scent of old paper and ink in the air was stronger than usual.

Ignis lay in his small nest, continuing to ponder that copy of *Basic Reading and Writing*.

He could understand the general meaning of every sentence Vilaniel spoke, but the difficulty lay in establishing a connection between those abstract symbols and their corresponding meanings.

“…So, the standard procedure usually starts with testing basic obedience…”

Vilaniel tapped the description in the book lightly with her quill, as if talking to herself or to Ignis.

“We’re already very skilled with commands like sit, lie down, and stand, but the problem lies in the pressure test…”

She flipped a page, the paper letting out a crisp snap.

“They will use sudden noises or harmless but fast-moving objects to test if you will react aggressively.” Vilaniel looked up toward the nest by the fireplace, her ice-blue eyes filled with obvious concern.

Ignis nodded to show he understood everything.

“The book says eighty percent of Black Dragon hybrid hatchlings will breathe dragon breath or try to bite at this point…” Vilaniel sounded worried. “Can you… restrain yourself?”

Ignis nodded his head like a chicken pecking at grain.

“That’s good. Let’s practice that today.” Vilaniel breathed a sigh of relief and reached for her staff leaning against the bed.

Following her low-voiced chant, the crystal at the tip of the staff quickly lit up with a faint blue light.

Ignis followed her gaze and saw a red towel hanging over the back of a chair. As if summoned, it slowly floated into the air.

A very simple yet practical low-level spell—Levitation.

Vilaniel waved her staff, and the towel flew toward her, hovering in the air not far from her face.

Although several days had passed since he transmigrated, it was only today that Ignis observed spellcasting up close for the first time. The sight of the towel levitating out of thin air felt particularly novel to him.

“I’m going to use this to simulate a fast-moving object. I’ll move it slowly; you just need to watch it and don’t move. Especially don’t breathe fire, understand?”

Vilaniel slowed her speech, pronouncing every word clearly.

Ignis nodded, his eyes showing he was ready.

‘I even restrained that killing impulse on the night I hatched. What’s a measly little test?’

The practice began.

Vilaniel was very careful, initially only letting the towel sway gently in the distance, and Ignis cooperatively showed an appropriate level of alertness.

It felt… a bit silly.

As the towel drew closer bit by bit and the swaying speed increased, Ignis noticed he was gradually becoming agitated.

It was the predatory desire to chase fast-moving objects at work.

However, overall, he was still able to remain calm.

When the towel was right in front of him, Vilaniel’s hand suddenly gave an uncontrollable jerk, and the staff swung slightly too wide.

In the next second, Ignis saw the red towel rapidly enlarge in his field of vision.

Almost instinctively, his muscles tensed, his head lunged forward, and the burning sensation deep in his throat stirred.

It wasn’t that he wanted to attack; it was this body driving him to act. To put it in human terms, he was about to hiss.

But unlike a kitten, a dragon’s hiss could be lethal.

At the critical moment, he used all his strength to suppress that impulse, forcing his slightly parted mouth shut. His entire body froze in place, and only the tip of his tail twitched like a spasm.

Vilaniel turned pale and immediately dropped her staff. She scrambled over to the dragon nest and reached out to gently stroke Ignis’s back to comfort him.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I—I didn’t control the force well…”

Ignis relaxed his body and rubbed his head against her arm, making a comforting gurgling sound in his throat.

‘I can’t hiss at her. She’s practically my mother.’

“You did it…” After the brief moment of terror, a wave of immense joy flooded Vilaniel’s heart. “The book says it’s almost impossible for a hatchling to achieve this level of restraint.”

She hugged Ignis carefully.

Ignis let her hold him. He could taste the emotions radiating from the girl: lingering fear, relief, joy, and a certain soft dependence. After absorbing these emotions, the restlessness in his body gradually calmed down.

Just then, a knock came from the foyer downstairs.

Vilaniel started. She immediately released Ignis, stood up, and straightened her somewhat messy robes, a hint of suspicion flashing in her eyes.

It was morning. She remembered the butler had just left a short while ago; he shouldn’t be back so soon, right?

“Wait for me here. I’ll go see what’s happening.”

Vilaniel walked quickly down the stairs. After some thought, Ignis decided to follow quietly to see what was going on.

The door opened.

Standing at the entrance was not the old butler, but a young man wearing the grey robes of a low-level teaching assistant provided by the academy. His face was ordinary, but his eyes held a fervent curiosity.

“Miss Vilaniel Adrian?” His tone was polite as he held a small wooden box. “Professor Hiram sent me. She said the research materials inside might be of reference value for your… er, research.”

Vilaniel was a bit surprised but took the box anyway. “Thank you. Sorry for the trouble.”

“No trouble at all, no trouble at all.” The assistant smiled, his gaze darting past Vilaniel into the house, trying to see something. “The professor also said that if you need a more professional research environment, you could consider asking her for help at the Greenhouse. Of course, that’s when she isn’t busy.”

Vilaniel automatically visualized the scene she had seen yesterday: the pale stone table, the dazzling array of precision instruments, and the struggling Screeching Bird on the table…

Yeah… maybe not.

“That Black Dragon hatchling of yours… does it usually stay here?” The assistant leaned forward slightly, the curiosity in his tone growing stronger.

Vilaniel stared at him, silently taking a step back and placing her hand on the door.

This feeling of being pried into made her feel particularly displeased.

“Thank you for Professor Hiram’s concern.” Her voice returned to its usual coldness and detachment. “I will give it serious thought. If there is nothing else…”

Her meaning was already obvious.

The assistant smiled sheepishly. “Right, right. I’ll take my leave then. I wish you… success with your research.”

He stole another glance behind the door.

Vilaniel suddenly gave a faint smile, putting on an innocent expression. “Would you like me to gouge out your eyeballs so you can throw them inside and see your fill?”

The assistant’s face instantly changed.

Before he could say anything, the door slammed shut with a fierce bang, kicking up a gust of wind.

At the corner of the stairs, Ignis watched everything from the shadows and couldn’t help but criticize in his mind.

‘Idiot. His intentions are practically written on his face. He’s just like those desperate guys chatting with girls online; one second they’re complaining about their tragic childhoods, and the next they’re asking for photos.’

Seeing the door slam shut with such force, Ignis quietly returned to the room and lay back down in his nest.

“Why would Professor Hiram suddenly send something over?” Vilaniel murmured as she walked upstairs holding the wooden box, her brow furrowed.

Once in the bedroom, she placed the box on the table. Instead of opening it immediately, she walked quickly to the window and pulled back the curtain.

The assistant below had already departed, disappearing into the path shaded by green trees… No, something was wrong.

A question she had briefly ignored suddenly pierced her mind—

How could the Imperial Palace allow a low-level assistant to come and go as he pleased?

Cold sweat broke out on Vilaniel’s forehead.

She had seen it clearly just now. Aside from that wooden box, the assistant didn’t have any badges or anything else to prove his identity.

From the foot of the mountain to the palace at the summit, the road was lined with Imperial Guard checkpoints, and Gryphon patrolled the skies. How could they possibly let a mere assistant in?

Moreover, the current Emperor was exceptionally concerned about palace security and had repeatedly increased the number of guards on duty.

No matter how remote the Twilight Tower was, it was still a part of the Imperial Palace.

There was only one reason for such an illogical situation: someone had done it on purpose.

Someone was trying to test her.