The rumors reached their peak three days later.
Xuan Xi still saw the post on Elsa’s Communication Stone.
The title was extremely sensational—“What’s the Deal with That ‘Bloodline-Less’ Girl?” It was plastered with her enrollment registration info, the glaring “None” in the bloodline column highlighted in bold red.
Dozens of comments followed below, and the further she scrolled, the uglier they got.
“You don’t even have a bloodline. What makes you think you’re fit to be at our Dragonborn Academy?”
“I heard she doesn’t even have elemental affinity. She’s just a normal person.”
“Have you seen her Dragon Form? They say it has no wings. Can that even be called a dragon?”
“Someone on the same floor said she gets up before dawn every day. No idea what she’s messing around with.”
“Just pretending. Putting on a show of working hard.”
Xuan Xi expressionlessly returned the Communication Stone to Elsa.
“Are you not angry?”
Elsa’s eyes widened, her brown hair nearly standing on end.
“They’re saying all this about you!”
“Anger won’t solve any problems.” Xuan Xi lowered her head and took a sip of porridge.
“You can explain! Tell them you’re not some dragon of unknown origin—”
“I really am of unknown origin.” Xuan Xi looked up, her amber-gold eyes as calm as still water. “They’re not wrong at all.”
Elsa opened her mouth, momentarily at a loss for words.
Reggie, beside her, put down his bread and glanced at Xuan Xi, as if wanting to say something but holding back.
“Thank you both for your concern. I’m full, so I’ll be going now.”
She was already used to this sort of thing. It had been the same back in the Border Town.
Her foster father’s blacksmith shop stood at the edge of town; the children from across the street never played with her.
Even if they happened to run into her in the alley, they’d throw stones at her, shouting “half-breed” and “monster.”
Every time, Hellas would charge out and drive the kids away.
Then he’d come back, crouch down, look at her, and hold her face in his rough hands.
“You’re not a monster,” he’d say. “You’re my daughter.”
Later, she learned not to cry in front of others.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t sad—it was that she couldn’t let anyone see her sadness.
In the afternoon training class, Xuan Xi made a decision. She walked up to Instructor Wald and stood still.
The instructor was organizing the training records.
His bald head reflected the sunlight, and the scar running from his forehead to his jaw looked painful just to see.
He raised his eyes to glance at Xuan Xi, said nothing, and waited for her to speak.
“Instructor, I’d like to request solo training.”
Wald’s hand paused as he flipped through the records.
“Reason.”
“My fighting style is different from everyone else’s.”
Xuan Xi’s voice was quiet but steady.
“Sparring with them doesn’t teach me anything, and it doesn’t teach them anything either.”
Wald stared at her for a few seconds, his gray-white eyes expressionless.
“Is it because of that post?”
Xuan Xi was silent for a moment.
“Not entirely.” she said.
“It’s because of the Class Placement Examination in three weeks.”
He gave her one more look, then lowered his head and scribbled a line in the record book—the handwriting so messy only he could read it.
“Training Ground No.3.” He tossed a pass to her. “Every day from two to five PM. Don’t go over.”
“Thank you, Instructor.”
Xuan Xi picked up the pass and turned to leave.
Wald added from behind,
“Hellas.”
She stopped.
“You came to the academy to learn, not to make friends.” Wald’s voice carried no emotion.
“What other people think has nothing to do with you.”
Xuan Xi didn’t turn around, but her spine straightened a little more.
“…I know. Thank you, Instructor!”
When she came out of the training ground, the sunset was already beginning to sink.
Instead of heading straight back to the dormitory, Xuan Xi walked slowly along the academy’s stone paths.
The evening breeze blew in from the edge of the floating peaks, carrying the scent of the forest beneath the clouds—cool and damp.
When she passed the notice board, she saw that announcement again.
“The Freshman Entrance Examination will be held in three weeks. The exam includes three parts: a written theory test, a practical combat round, and a team collaboration exercise.”
Three weeks. In her current state, even passing the exam was a question, let alone getting good results.
Until she found a way to fill her weaknesses, no matter how hard she trained, she’d just be running in place.
She needed a new training method—one that truly suited her.
The next day at two PM, Xuan Xi arrived at Training Ground No.3 on time.
This training ground was on the westernmost side of the main campus, a fifteen-minute walk from the main training ground.
It was remote and small, with worn-out barrier pillars and a pale blue barrier noticeably thinner than the main field’s.
But for someone as harmless as her, this ground was enough.
She stood in the center of the field, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Today she was training reaction speed.
With no opponent, she had to set her own challenges.
She drew several circles on the ground, designating them as “safe zones,” then moved quickly across the field, making sure each step landed precisely inside a circle.
The circles shrank in size, and her movement speed increased.
One round, two rounds, three rounds. Her breathing grew rapid, and fine beads of sweat appeared on her temples.
On the one hundred thirty-seventh step, her toes were slightly off.
‘Not fast enough. I’ll get hit by an attack like this.’
She stopped, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and redrew the circles on the ground, making them even smaller.
One hundred thirty-eighth step—off.
One hundred thirty-ninth—off again.
One hundred fortieth—she tripped, her whole body pitching forward, her knee hitting the stone floor hard.
It hurt.
She looked down.
The training pants over her knee had torn a hole, and blood was seeping out of the skin underneath.
She pulled out a bottle of healing potion, poured a bit over the wound. White mist rose, and the injury slowly began to heal.
She didn’t know how much time had passed, and she didn’t want to know.
Sweat slid down her cheeks, dripping onto the stone ground, evaporating quickly.
She no longer cared about those circles. She was just running, dodging, using every ounce of strength to avoid attacks that didn’t even exist.
“You’re just running, you know. This isn’t training at all.”
Xuan Xi stopped abruptly.
At the entrance to Training Ground No.3 stood a figure with long, silver-white hair.
Sigrdrífa was dressed in a dark casual outfit, her amethyst-colored eyes watching her quietly.
“What are you doing here?” Xuan Xi asked, panting.
Sigrdrífa was silent for a second.
“…Just passing by.”
If Xuan Xi remembered correctly, Training Ground No.3 was on the westernmost side of the main campus, a fifteen-minute walk from the main training ground, and the path wasn’t easy.
The word “passing by” coming from this person always carried a subtle wrongness.
But she didn’t call her out on it.
“Then keep passing by.” Xuan Xi turned around, ready to keep running.
“I counted forty-seven laps.”
Sigrdrífa’s voice came from behind.
“Same route, same speed. But those forty-seven laps had zero variation. Is this training, or are you punishing yourself?”
Xuan Xi’s steps stopped.
She turned and looked at Sigrdrífa.
She had already walked into the training ground and stopped about three yards in front of her, hands in her pockets, her posture so casual it didn’t seem like she was “passing by.”
“You counted?” Xuan Xi asked.
“Your footsteps are too loud.” Sigrdrífa’s tone was flat. “I could hear them from the dormitory building.”
The dormitory was at least eight hundred meters from Training Ground No.3. Even a bat’s ears couldn’t pick that up.
“You’re right.” Xuan Xi took a deep breath.
“I don’t know how to train. I have no elemental power, no Dragon Form—the school rules won’t let me use it anyway. All I can do is work on physical fitness and reflexes.”
“And what have you gained from it?”
“…Nothing.” Xuan Xi’s voice dropped.
She didn’t want to admit it, but it was true.
She’d trained all afternoon, sweat buckets, even scraped her knee, but she was still nowhere near “getting stronger.”
She didn’t even know what the “right direction” was supposed to look like.
Sigrdrífa looked at her. Then she did something Xuan Xi hadn’t expected.
She walked to the center of the field, turned around, and faced Xuan Xi.
“You don’t need a Dragon Form.”
She said it.
“Your body is your weapon. But you don’t know how to use it.”
“Then can you teach me?”
“I’m just passing by.” Sigrdrífa’s tone was still light.
“But I don’t mind saying a few useless words.”
Xuan Xi looked at her and suddenly felt a little moved.
“Alright. Then say a few useless words. I’m listening.”
“You were training reaction speed just now, but your method was wrong.” She raised her right hand, a silvery-white lightning glow flickering at her fingertips.
“Reactions aren’t trained—they’re beaten into you. Running a hundred laps alone in an empty field won’t do as much as three minutes of sparring with me.”
Xuan Xi was startled.
“You want to spar with me?”
“I’m just passing by.” Sigrdrífa emphasized again.
“But if I can stretch my limbs in the process, that’s not bad either.”
Xuan Xi looked at those amethyst-colored eyes and suddenly realized something.
Today, Sigrdrífa wasn’t wearing the academy uniform.
She was in casual clothes—a dark long-sleeved top and tapering trousers, both cuffs and pant legs tied tight with straps.
‘This isn’t just casual wear—it’s specially prepared for training.’
Xuan Xi lowered her eyes.
“Alright.” She set up her starting stance.
“Then I’ll join you for a bit of stretching.”
First round. Xuan Xi moved first.
She charged at Sigrdrífa, the speed enough to leave an afterimage behind her.
Twenty yards were closed in two seconds. She reached out to grab the other’s shoulder, planning to use the leverage to flip.
Her fingers hadn’t even touched the fabric when a flash appeared before her eyes—silvery-white lightning.
The next instant, her entire body was blasted backward, her back hitting the training ground and sliding several yards before stopping.
“It’s not that your speed is fast.”
Sigrdrífa’s voice came from above, still unhurried.
“It’s that my lightning is fast. You didn’t even know what move I was using, and you rushed in. That’s not attacking—that’s suicide.”
Xuan Xi got up from the ground, her back burning.
“Again.”
Second round. She’d learned her lesson.
She didn’t charge.
Instead, she slowly circled Sigrdrífa, observing her center of gravity and breathing.
Thunder Dragon Clan attacks were extremely fast, but there had to be a micro-movement before releasing—a dip of the shoulder, or a curl of the fingers.
She was waiting for that micro-movement.
Sigrdrífa’s right shoulder dipped slightly. Xuan Xi dodged left.
A bolt of lightning whizzed past her ear, the air filling with the smell of ozone.
She didn’t stop.
She twisted in midair and kicked toward Sigrdrífa’s side.
This time, her foot hit something—but not Sigrdrífa. It was a silvery-white Defensive Barrier.
She was sent flying again.
“You saw my starting move.” Sigrdrífa stood still, not moving an inch.
“But you only saw the first one. The Thunder Dragon Clan has three types of starting moves. You guessed the first one right. What about the second?”
Xuan Xi sat up from the ground and noticed her right leg was trembling slightly.
“I don’t know.” she admitted honestly.
“Then I’ll tell you.” Sigrdrífa raised her right hand, a ball of silvery-white lightning glowing in her palm.
“Thunder type, first starting move: shoulder drop, attack direction follows the shoulder’s line.”
The lightning exploded in her palm, turning into an arc that flew into the distance.
“Second type: wrist twist, attack direction opposite to the twist.”
She twisted her wrist, and an arc flew from her palm in the complete opposite direction.
“Third type.”
She didn’t do anything. No shoulder drop, no wrist twist.
She simply looked at Xuan Xi.
A thread-thin lightning bolt shot from her eyes and exploded a small crater at Xuan Xi’s feet.
“Direct release. No warning signs.” Sigrdrífa retracted the lightning.
“You couldn’t even dodge the first two. If you run into a real lightning-type opponent, you won’t last three seconds.”
Xuan Xi looked at the still-smoking crater at her feet and was silent for a long time.
Then she slowly smiled.
“You’re even willing to teach me this?”
“I told you, I’m just passing by.” Sigrdrífa averted her gaze and looked toward the distant sky.
“Just saying a few useless words on the side.”
“Then can I ask for some advice?” Xuan Xi stood up and brushed the dust off herself.
“The third starting move—is there any way to predict it?”
Sigrdrífa was silent for a few seconds.
“No.”
“Then what do I do?”
“Tank it.” Sigrdrífa looked at her.
“Thunder-type attacks are fast but have low single-hit damage. If you tank it once, you’ll know its attack frequency and interval. Then counter before the next attack lands.”
“And if I can’t tank it?”
“You won’t fail to tank it.”
Sigrdrífa’s voice suddenly changed.
No longer that cold, detached calm—it was a very soft affirmation, almost impossible to read emotionally.
“Your body is tougher than you think.” she said.
“You are an Eastern Dragon. And the physical resistance of an Eastern Dragon ranks among the highest of all dragon clans.”
Xuan Xi was stunned. Because when Sigrdrífa said “you are an Eastern Dragon,” her voice carried no doubt, no uncertainty.
She wasn’t guessing. She was certain.
“How do you know I’m an Eastern Dragon?” Xuan Xi asked.
Sigrdrífa didn’t answer. She looked down at her waist—there hung a small cloth pouch.
On the dark gray fabric was embroidered a silver dragon crest badge, the emblem of the Edelstein Family.
She reached down, untied the pouch’s cord, and pulled something out.
It was a neatly folded handkerchief, but it was clear at a glance that it wasn’t an ordinary one. The fabric was old, the edges a bit frayed, but it had been washed very clean.
Its color was a moon-white rarely seen in the Western Dragon Domain.
On one corner of the handkerchief was embroidered a flower—Xuan Xi didn’t recognize what kind, but the stitching technique was very similar to the patterns on the snack stand owner’s apron.