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The air buzzed with the sound of countless small objects speeding through it. I focused intently, intercepting everything the Master flung across his domain, maintaining their trajectories, and sending them back.

The Master occasionally altered the structure of these objects, and missing the moment when their waveform shifted could lead to catastrophic inertia failure, sending the controlled items flying. I'd already broken several instruments because of this and gotten scolded—well, beaten—a few times. It left me feeling instinctively tense every time I practiced this exercise.

Still, today had gone smoothly so far. In fact, the Master Field had just introduced several dozen differently crystalline gems into the mix, bringing the total number of Dominance core to forty thousand.

I thought that was a sign of clear progress.

So even though I had to push myself almost to the point of exhaustion to maintain the stable trajectories of forty thousand objects—constantly shifting in size and shape—I was still happy to collapse onto the ground when the session ended, even allowing myself to stick out my tongue and pant.

But then I noticed the expression on the Master’s face wasn’t as positive as I had hoped. A vague unease settled over me, like a cloud blocking out the sun.

“Too slow,” the hulking dragon remarked simply before returning to his desk to pour a cup of coffee.

“Yes, Master.” I lowered my gaze and flattened my ears, forcing myself not to show disappointment—at least not too obviously. I wasn’t sure why, but was I hoping for some kind of acknowledgment?

“By your fourth year, I expect you to be able to control at least one hundred million cores.” The Master took a sip from his mug. I might have found some consolation in the fact that he wasn’t complaining about how I brewed his coffee, but… a hundred million cores? Seriously?

“Master, with all due respect,” I began, my emotions clearly running low today, possibly due to a buildup of various factors—Phantom’s words, Hemp’s remarks, who knows. “Your own limit is only a hundred thousand.”

“Yes, my limit is a mere hundred thousand. But I’m not the master of Empire's Heart, so my Dominance core count doesn’t matter.” The dragon’s calm reaction surprised me, but his explanation left me even more confused.

“The Empire’s Heart?” I tilted my head reflexively, sifting through memories of canine empire studies. “Isn’t the master of Empire's Heart the head of the German House?”

“That’s like saying the owner of the Mountain of Light is the England monarch,” the Master replied with a disdainful lilt, rolling his nictitating membrane-covered eyes for emphasis.

“What?” I lowered myself slightly to indicate I needed more explanation, though I wasn’t sure the dragon would interpret the body language correctly.

“What’s the purpose of building the ten imperial flagships?” The Master responded with another question. Overcoming the surreal sense that I was suddenly back in a lecture hall on Hadrian’s Wall, I wracked my brain for ancient memories.

“The Empire’s Gate maintains massive wormholes for extended periods, enabling fleets to reach battlefronts rapidly, critical for logistics and maneuverability. The Empire’s Claw and Fang are firepower-specialized flagships, one excelling in saturation fire, the other in long-range precision strikes. For ground suppression or battlefield sweeps, they serve as primary forces. The Empire’s Eye possesses advanced detection and stealth systems, relying on full-spectrum electromagnetic analysis to make its fleet a perfect scout. Empire’s Heart is the only flagship designed as a mothership, with unique adaptive armor that creates shields capable of handling various conditions, protecting the rest of the fleet—” I didn’t even remember memorizing this.

“Wrong!” the Master shouted, slamming the table beside him. “Completely wrong!”

“Master?” I lowered my ears, staring at the floor, worried my earlier disrespect might have sparked his outburst.

“Anything can be weaponized, but that’s not their purpose!” The Master gestured at the enormous hammer resting against the wall. “If you only see this layer, you’ll never gain the qualifications to wield the Empire’s Heart,” he declared, crossing his arms and glaring down at me with piercing eyes. “Never. You’ll never become the Heart’s master!”

“The Heart’s master?” I hated how I kept parroting his words, but my overloaded brain left me no other choice.

“Yes, the Heart’s master.” The hulking dragon sighed, his posture softening slightly. “The Empire’s Heart can only be wielded by a psychically gifted individual of extraordinary talent. It’s driven by miracles of craftsmanship and forged from countless hopes and ideals. Ultimately, the Heart will unite us all.”

“Unite… us all?” What did that even mean?

“To carry the thoughts of everyone, connecting every soul in the sol in true understanding,” the Master said with another sigh, shaking his head gently.

“Me?” I could barely make myself understood by others as it was. Expanding that to the entire sol seemed absurd.

“It must be you,” the dragon muttered, sounding almost unsure. “To wield the Heart, one must master Dominance to a near-divine level. In the foreseeable future, no one else will surpass you.”

“But why…” My brain was about to shut down, though a part of me—the part Gray had honed—kept fighting.

“Your lineage.” The deep brown dragon turned his head, narrowing his spindly pupils. “Didn’t the Senate explain that you’re the combination of two prototype strain's bloodlines?”

This time, I couldn’t form any words, let alone move to offer a meaningful reaction.

“Sunflare mentioned political complications, but I didn’t expect this. Dawn can explain it better than I can—go ask her.” The Master tapped his claws rhythmically against his scales. “But back to the original point: you’re too slow.”

“Yes, Master…” I lowered my muzzle, dejectedly staring at my shoes. But when I noticed the dragon approaching, I lifted my head to meet his gaze.

“You always force the world to bend to your will with sheer power, but you lack the finesse for delicate control. That’s why you can’t grasp the essence of Dominance,” he lectured, though today’s atmosphere felt slightly different. He concealed it well, but I’d spent enough time with the notoriously strange dragon to decipher it: urgency. “Hold out your hands.”

“Master?” My ears perked up in confusion at the sudden command.

“You must master the art of Dominance entirely. This is the fastest way,” the dragon insisted in an uncompromising tone. “Only by removing unnecessary interference can you truly touch the core of Dominance.”

“I…” I didn’t know what he intended but instinctively sensed danger, my fur prickling involuntarily.

“Don’t you want to control your power?” His emerald-green eyes bore into mine as he spoke. “If you lack even that much determination, what do you think you can achieve?” His sharp teeth gleamed as he spoke, mocking my immaturity. “What can you build on such a weak foundation, propped up by nothing but fantasies?”

Clenching my teeth, I forced myself to ignore the burning heat in my ears and the shame coursing through me. My mouth was dry, but I swallowed hard, forcing down my pride along with the saliva.

I stretched my hands forward, palms up, trying not to let them tremble too much.

“Keep your consciousness circle reined in. If I misjudge the force, the cuts won’t be clean,” the Master muttered, rolling up my sleeves as he felt along my forearms.

“Yes, Master,” I mumbled, immediately closing my mouth. I didn’t want to bite my tongue—or scream in humiliation. That was the last line I wouldn’t cross.

The ripples in the space around me gave some warning, though not much help.

Two sharp cracks signaled that the bones in my arms had been cleanly broken. The horrifying pain shot through my forearms, and my legs gave out instantly, dropping me to my knees. The only solace was that I hadn’t screamed, though tears blurred my vision.

“Find Latent Heat to treat you, or Dawn will do.” Through the haze, I heard the dragon’s voice. “And don’t use a medical pod, or I’ll have to break them again.”

I refused to let him see me cry, so I sniffed sharply and bowed before taking my leave.

Once the sliding door closed behind me, I slumped against the metal structure and slowly slid to the floor. For a long while, pain was all I could feel. My mind was a void, too overwhelmed to think of anything, not even lowering my nerve sensitivity.

When I finally reconnected with reality, I found myself staring at the emptiness of the corridor.

I blinked and tried to stand, intending to find Dawn, but to my surprise, tears continued to fall uncontrollably, splattering against the cold basalt floor.

I didn’t want anyone to see me like this, but I lacked the strength to move. So I curled into a ball, pressing my muzzle against my knees.

And then, as if it would make any difference, I began to sob.