The ceremony hall burned bright with thousands of glowing spirit crystals. Each child stood beneath one, waiting for the moment that would decide their fate.
"Step forward, Long Tian of the Long Clan."
My name echoed across the marble hall. Every whisper went silent.
I felt hundreds of eyes stabbing into my back — some curious, some jealous, some mocking.
My hands were trembling. The mark of the Long Clan—a coiling dragon—glowed faintly on my sleeve. Today was supposed to be my moment of glory. Every generation of my clan produced a Dragon Spirit. Every single one.
Except maybe me.
I walked to the center, my heart thundering louder than the elders' chants.
The crystal sphere above me pulsed with light, drawing threads of soul energy from my chest.
Coldness spread through my veins. Then, the light exploded.
For a moment, I saw a shadow — a dragon's silhouette curling in the air.
Then it shattered.
The light vanished. The hall fell silent.
A faint wisp hovered above my palm, gray and trembling. It looked like smoke shaped into the vague form of a dragon — thin, sickly, lifeless.
Someone laughed. "Is that… a dragon or a dying worm?"
The elders' faces froze.
Even my father, Long Wu, stared as if he couldn't breathe.
"Spirit detected: Fragmented Dragon Soul."
The old examiner's voice cracked like glass.
"Spirit grade… Unranked."
Unranked.
The word slammed into me harder than any blade.
"Impossible," Father muttered. "No one of the Long Clan has ever awakened below bronze grade."
But the crystal's light had already dimmed. My Spirit wavered weakly, then dissolved into smoke.
I could hear them whispering — cousins, rivals, people I had trained beside since childhood.
"Long Tian, the shame of the clan."
"He's no Dragon Child, just a cripple."
"Guess even dragons can give birth to worms."
Their laughter dug into my skin like needles.
I wanted to scream, but the words wouldn't come. I clenched my fists until my nails drew blood.
Then, I heard my father's voice — cold, sharp, final.
"From this day forth, Long Tian is no longer of the Long Clan."
The world tilted.
I fell to my knees, watching as he turned away.
The elders said nothing.
The gates of the clan closed behind me, and the sky above seemed darker than ever.
That night, I sat alone at the edge of Dragonspire City, the wind carrying the scent of rain and ash. The stars blurred behind clouds.
"So this is it," I whispered to no one. "The end."
I looked at my palm — empty, cold.
But then, a flicker of gray light stirred.
The faint shadow of my Spirit — the Fragmented Dragon Soul — appeared again, quivering like it was afraid of the wind.
"You're all I have left, huh?" I murmured.
No answer. Just the faint pulse of life.
I closed my eyes. Somewhere deep inside, I could feel it — a heartbeat that wasn't mine. Weak, uneven, but real.
Why are you still fighting, little one? I thought. Even I've given up.
Suddenly, something stirred.
A whisper crawled through my mind, ancient and heavy, like a dragon's breath through the ages.
"I... devour... to survive."
My eyes shot open.
The Spirit shimmered — and then, for the briefest second, its form solidified. Scales of shadow rippled across its body before fading again.
"What was that?" I gasped.
Then I felt it — a pull, a hunger. The dying Spirit was absorbing something… from the ground? From the air? From me?
Before I could react, the pain hit.
Flames of agony tore through my body as if every nerve was burning. I collapsed to the ground, biting back a scream.
And then… silence.
When I opened my eyes, I wasn't alone.
A small figure stood before me — translucent, made of swirling black light. Its eyes glowed silver.
It was a dragon — miniature, fragile, but unmistakably proud.
"You…" My voice trembled. "You're… my Spirit?"
The creature tilted its head. Its voice echoed inside my mind.
"We are one. You feed me, I feed you."
I could feel it — a thread binding our souls together, burning bright and hot.
"Feed you?" I repeated.
"Spirits… energy… souls. The broken shall be devoured. The strong shall rise."
The words didn't make sense, yet something deep inside me understood. My Spirit wasn't dead. It was hungry.
I looked at the distant lights of Dragonspire City — the place that had thrown me away.
Laughter still echoed in my ears.
The face of my father, cold and disappointed.
The sneers of my cousins.
The pity of the crowd.
And something inside me — something that had been crushed — began to move again.
I clenched my fists.
If my Spirit needed to devour broken things to grow… then so be it.
If the world had cast me out, I would make the world remember my name.
I stood, rain soaking my robes, thunder rolling across the mountains. The Fragmented Dragon Soul hovered over my shoulder, its silver eyes glowing faintly.
"I was born a dragon," I whispered, voice trembling but fierce.
"No one decides what kind of dragon I become."
The Spirit pulsed — once, twice — and the ground beneath my feet cracked.
Lightning flashed across the sky, painting the clouds in silver and gold.
Far away, in the depths of the Spirit Realm, something ancient stirred — a ripple spreading across the void, as if awakening from a long slumber.
That night, the heavens roared.
And somewhere deep in the darkness, a useless Spirit took its first breath as a legend.
To be continued...