The Six-Winged Dragonhawk—affectionately dubbed 'Eagle Junior' by Leon—descended silently behind a grove of trees at the rear of St. Heath's Academy. Leon dropped from its back, landing softly on the grass. He instructed the loyal beast to wait and remain hidden, then turned toward the academy's formidable walls.
With practiced ease, Leon slipped past the shimmering, multi-layered defensive barriers as if they were mere cobwebs. He moved like a ghost through the grounds, a faint smile on his lips.
St. Heath's Academy, a premier hub for dragons of all kinds, had its defenses meticulously documented by Leon during his dragon-slaying heyday. Back then, he'd often studied the blueprints, thinking:
'One day, when I finally escape that dragoness's lair, I'll call for reinforcements and lead a glorious raid on this very academy.'
Of course, as history would have it, Leon's fate took a wildly different turn. Instead of raiding the school, he ended up proving his dragon-taming prowess in an entirely different manner—with noble horns, tails, scales, and ultimately, a queen's heart—only to be thoroughly domesticated by a certain shameless silver dragon and turned into a so-called "tragic" stay-at-home dad (though he wouldn't have it any other way).
Shaking off the nostalgic thought, Leon crept through a network of hidden paths and overgrown hedges toward the training hall where his eldest daughter, Noah, was located. The academy had supposedly done a thorough background check on her teacher, Mevis, and deemed her clean. However, Leon's instincts, honed by a lifetime of survival, told him something was subtly off about the woman. A surface-level investigation was never enough.
Skills like "stealth infiltration" were part of the basic curriculum for any elite dragon slayer, and despite years of peaceful retirement, Leon hadn't let those skills dull. He made his way to the back of the large, domed training hall and spotted a sturdy drainage pipe running from the roof gutters down to the ground.
He gave the pipe a firm tug to test its sturdiness. "Not bad, it's solid," he muttered to himself. Without further hesitation, he began scaling it, his feet braced firmly against the stone wall as he ascended hand over hand.
After a few minutes of quiet effort, Leon hauled himself onto the sun-warmed rooftop tiles. A cool breeze ruffled his hair, and he paused for a moment to appreciate the panoramic view of the academy grounds. He glanced back at the complex maze of buildings and courtyards below and couldn't help but pat himself on the back mentally.
'In such a heavily guarded and populated academy,' he mused with pride, 'I managed to sneak in completely unnoticed. Truly, the old blade hasn't dulled.'
Just as he was relishing this small victory, a familiar, cheerful voice called out from behind him, "Dad, what are you doing up here?"
Leon froze. His triumphant smile instantly stiffened on his face, and he turned robotically toward the voice.
There, standing bathed in sunlight and looking utterly unconcerned, was his third daughter, Aurora. She held a half-eaten ice cream cone, casually licking the melting dessert.
"Aurora!" Leon exclaimed, running his fingers through his hair in a mix of surprise and exasperation.
"How did you even get up here?"
Aurora nonchalantly took another bite of her ice cream and gestured with her free thumb toward a small, enclosed structure at the center of the roof. "I took the stairs."
Leon's eye twitched. "The stairs...?"
So why, he wondered with immense internal frustration, had he just exhausted himself climbing a grimy drainage pipe?
Aurora tilted her head, her pink hair swaying. "What are you doing at the academy, Dad? Shouldn't you be at home... killing another cactus?"
"Oh, I... I just came to... uh... look around. Yeah, just looking around," Leon stammered, realizing how weak it sounded. He noted, with some chagrin, that years of marriage to Rossweise had apparently rubbed off on him, including her telltale habit of repeating words when concocting a flimsy lie.
Aurora didn't press him further, but a knowing glint appeared in her eyes. If her dad had suddenly dropped into the academy on an ordinary day without any announcement, it clearly meant he was up to something. And in her experience, if she dug a little, she'd almost definitely find something entertaining.
Leon, hoping to divert her attention, asked, "Why aren't you in class right now?"
Aurora shrugged. "It's a weekly test period. The teacher said we could leave once we handed in our papers. I was the first to finish."
"Did you at least double-check your answers?" Leon asked, slipping into a parental tone.
"Of course. Twice. But the questions were way too easy, so I got bored and left," she replied with a casual wave of her now-empty hand.
"And your second sister? Where's Muen?"
Aurora grinned. "She's still sleeping in the dorm. She'll wake up with about half an hour left, sprint to the exam hall, and still ace the test with a perfect score. You know how she is."
Leon sighed. Life seemed so effortlessly carefree for his three brilliant daughters. Meanwhile, back home, their poor father was constantly being mentally and physically wrung dry by their mother.
Adjusting his mood, Leon said, "Alright, Aurora, I've actually got things to do. Why don't you go wait for your sister?"
Aurora's bright eyes sparkled with determination. "Dad, you know you can't shake me off that easily, so don't waste your energy trying."
Leon let out another, deeper sigh. She wasn't wrong. This daughter of his had inherited her mother's sharp intellect and stubborn will in equal measure.
"Well, fine. But you have to promise not to cause any trouble, or I won't bring you along."
"Dad, I'll say it again: even if I don't promise, you still can't get rid of me."
Leon: "..." He had no rebuttal.
Aurora finished the last of her ice cream cone and clapped her hands together, brushing off the crumbs. "So, where are we going, Dad?"
Leon gritted his teeth. There was no point in setting conditions; she'd just shoot them down anyway. "We're going to watch your eldest sister train."
The father-daughter duo moved with surprising synchronicity across the rooftop and down the very stairs Aurora had mentioned. They soon arrived at the upper bleachers of the training hall. Noah was usually in Hall 1 at this time, practicing her routine exercises.
As they peeked through the back entrance, Leon and Aurora crouched behind the highest rows of seats, their eyes peering over the backs like two curious puppies observing a fascinating scene.
Aurora whispered, "Big Sis is just warming up for the afternoon session. Everything looks completely normal."
Leon nodded but added in a low voice, "Sometimes, Aurora, when everything looks the most normal, that's exactly when you need to stay the most alert."
Aurora blinked, then nodded seriously, storing away the piece of advice. "Got it, Dad. So, what's the legendary story or brutal experience behind that particular wisdom?"
Leon took a deep breath, his face adopting a dramatically grave expression. He paused for effect, then said, "There isn't one."
"..."
"I just thought it sounded cool and wise," Leon admitted with a sheepish grin.
Aurora groaned and buried her face in her hands. "I can't believe this. I should have known."
Leon's attention, however, had already shifted. His gaze zeroed in on Mevis, who was reclining on a bench near the training floor with her arms crossed and her eyes closed.
"Is she sleeping?" Leon murmured, his voice barely audible.
"No," Aurora replied, following his gaze. "Mevis does that a lot when she's not actively instructing. She's not asleep, though. If you talk to her, she'll respond immediately. It's like she's just resting her eyes, but she's still aware of everything."
Leon frowned. Something about the woman's posture, the calm efficiency of her presence, still felt off. "And you and your sisters get along well with her? She's never given you any reason to doubt her?"
"Yeah, Mevis is great to me and my sisters. She's strict but fair with Noah during training, and she's always kind to Muen and me. Why?" Aurora asked, picking up on her father's suspicion.
"No reason," Leon replied a little too quickly.
Try as he might, Leon couldn't pinpoint anything overtly suspicious about Mevis's behavior. Yet there was an unsettlingly familiar aura about her—a certain stillness, a precision in her movements—that he couldn't quite place, like a half-remembered scent from a long-forgotten battle.
His eyes narrowed, his focus intensifying. 'I'll figure out who you really are, Mevis,' he muttered silently, the promise a quiet vow in the back of his mind. 'No one gets this close to my daughters without me knowing every secret they hold.'