Beginings

Speed gasped as the temple around him dissolved into swirling light. The warmth of the dragon's presence still lingered in his chest, but now it had ignited into something far greater—a torrent of energy coursing through his veins, filling him with a power he could barely comprehend.

He fell to his knees, clutching at his chest as his body began to change. His muscles tightened and surged, the lean frame that had carried him this far reshaping itself into something stronger, sharper, and more defined. Every fiber of his being burned, not with pain, but with raw vitality—an overwhelming sense of power that both terrified and exhilarated him.

His blood felt as though it had turned to fire, surging through him with a rhythm that matched the pulse of the dragon's aura. He could feel it—the ancient essence of the dragon intertwining with his own, changing him on a level deeper than flesh and bone. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, each thrum carrying with it a surge of knowledge, memories, and understanding.

Speed's vision blurred, then sharpened, and suddenly he saw the world in a way he never had before. The air around him shimmered faintly, revealing currents of magic that danced like threads of light. He could feel the weight of the ancient temple, the runes carved into its walls humming with dormant power. Even his own Spirit magic, once distant and elusive, now surged within him, vibrant and alive.

As he rose to his feet, he felt reborn. His mind, once filled with doubts and questions, now brimmed with clarity. He *knew*. He knew the essence of the dragon's power that now flowed through him. He knew the path ahead would be perilous, but that he was no longer the same boy who had stumbled into this journey uncertain of his place. He was something more now—stronger, wiser, and bound to a power older than the stars themselves.

From the void where the dragon had stood, the voice echoed one final time, resonating not in his ears, but in his very soul. *"Rise, Dragon Mage. The world awaits you."*

As the light faded and the temple dissolved, Speed stood tall, his breathing steady. He felt alive—more alive than he ever had. The transformation wasn't just physical—it was a complete awakening. And as he clenched his fists, feeling the power of the dragon surging within him, he knew one thing with absolute certainty.

This was only the beginning.

Speed's eyes fluttered open, his body still aching from the transformation, his mind racing to piece together the fragments of what had just happened. The warmth of the dragon's essence that had coursed through him was now replaced by an unsettling cold. He sat up slowly, his breaths coming in shallow gasps as he took in his surroundings.

The darkness around him was absolute, the air thick and stale. The faint metallic scent of damp stone filled his nostrils, and the faint sound of dripping water echoed somewhere in the distance. His fingers brushed against the cold, rough surface of the ground—uneven stone laced with cracks. He was alone, or so it seemed.

Before he could fully gather his thoughts, a voice boomed from the void, deep and resonant, vibrating through the very marrow of his bones. It carried an edge of authority and menace, a presence that commanded attention.

*"You may be awoken, but you are weak."*

Speed froze, his heart pounding in his chest. The voice seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere, filling the space around him with an oppressive weight. 

*"The dragon chose you,"* it continued, its tone unyielding, *"but power without survival is meaningless. Prove your worth. Survive the dungeon, or perish as all unworthy before you have."*

Before Speed could respond, the ground beneath him trembled violently, and a faint crimson glow illuminated the darkness. He blinked against the sudden light, his vision adjusting as he realized he was no longer alone. The glow revealed jagged walls stretching endlessly into shadow, creating a labyrinth of ominous corridors. The carved stones bore faint runes, pulsating faintly like the heartbeat of the dungeon itself.

And then he saw them—shapes moving in the darkness, their glowing eyes piercing the shadows. Low growls echoed through the chamber as grotesque figures emerged: monstrous forms with sharp claws, twisted limbs, and eyes filled with hunger. They moved with unnerving speed, their bodies rippling with malice as they prowled the stone floor, their focus locked onto Speed.

*"This is your first test,"* the voice growled, its tone almost taunting now. *"Survive, and take your first step toward power. Fail, and become one with the dungeon's darkness."*

The runes on the walls flared brighter, casting a sickly crimson hue over the chamber as the monsters circled closer. Speed's mind raced, his instincts screaming at him to move, to fight, to do *something*. His Spirit magic stirred faintly, a flicker of light in the overwhelming shadows, but it felt different—wilder, untamed, like a fire he had yet to master.

This was no simple trial. The dungeon wasn't just a place—it was alive, an unrelenting force meant to test the limits of his body, mind, and magic. And it wasn't going to wait for him to catch his breath.

Speed took a deep, steadying breath, his fists clenching as he rose to his feet. The monsters were closing in, their growls growing louder, their movements swift and predatory. His heart thundered in his chest, but the spark of determination within him burned brighter.

"Bring it on," he muttered under his breath, his eyes locking onto the nearest creature. The dungeon wasn't going to give him a choice—he had to survive, no matter what.