Preparations

Gradually, the flames went away and darkness fell. Still, Michael didn't move from his spot. He'd long since run out of tears and merely sat there, hunched over in silence. He knew his master hadn't left yet, but he made no attempts to comfort the boy. He just waited.

Michael didn't sleep that night. He spent the whole night in the same position, wishing he could turn back time. Of course, the stupid system had to go and say that was impossible, which didn't help.

When the sun finally rose above the treetops, Michael resigned himself to seeing what remained of his home. He rose slowly, training sword clutched in his hand. He moved mechanically, as though something else was moving him.

His room was destroyed. His clothes were gone, burnt to ashes like the house around them. His bed, toys and paintings were destroyed. Even his trusty axe was no more than a puddle of solid metal on a bed of ashes.

The kitchen and living room were much the same. All the furniture was gone, replaced with ash or slabs of ruined metal. Molten glass replaced the windows and the gorgeous pictures his mother had painted were all turned to cinders.

Finally, Michael reached the place he least wanted to go—his parents' room. It had always been sparsely decorated, but now it (or rather the remains of it) was barren. The only difference was a pile of charred bones. Somehow, they had survived the heat that nothing else could. They clung to each other in death as they did in life. His father, clearly sheltering his beloved wife. His mother, hugging him fiercely despite the flames. They were like statues, sculpted by love and flame.

Two glistening objects caught Michael's attention. The first was a ring on his father's finger. It was silver with the magical Omega symbol on it. Despite the horrid attack it had endured, the ring seemed to practically glow. The second object was his mother's favorite necklace. It was simply made, with a silver chain and a wolf-head for a pendant.

Taking both, Michael noticed something he never had before. The back of the pendant held the magical symbol for protection. If not for his parents' teachings, he might never have known its value. His mother's necklace hung from his neck, quickly refitting itself to his smaller form. His father's ring slipped on his right hand, quickly doing the same. Where before his eyes had been filled with grief, now they only held anger and determination. The system had said a dragon had created those flames, and he was going to kill it.

"Michael, wait! I know what you're thinking but there's no way you're ready to fight a dragon!" his master shouted. "I've taught you well, as have your parents, but even we couldn't defeat such a mighty creature. Come with me to Ilkhorn. There's an academy there. They'll make you strong—perhaps even strong enough to slay a dragon. They'll test you, but my word will get you in even should you fail. Don't be foolhardy. Come with me."

Master Robin's impassioned plea hurt like an axe to the chest. Not strong enough? Foolhardy? Fail? No, he wouldn't fail. Where before he had no direction, now he had a plan. Maybe a seven-year-old couldn't defeat a dragon, but maybe he could when he was twice the age. Afterall, he had the system.

"Al, how does the system work? Can it make me stronger?"

Boy, that's the core function of the system. It makes you stronger, smarter, better. Give it an inch and you'll gain a mile. It enhances your entire body, though it's main focus is on the brain. Your core talents will be reinforced and you can even gain new affinities. You do know about affinities, right?

Al had used several confusing words, but Michael got the general sense of what he was saying. He hadn't heard much about affinities, but he was pretty sure they had to do with magic. Most importantly, the "stronger, smarter, better" made a whole lot of sense to him. He was going to kill a dragon.

…

Mantrea, Year 308 – Late Summer

It took Master Robin a surprisingly long time to get ready. Where Michael had been prepared to leave immediately, his master took his time. During this time, Master Robin continued their lessons and began to teach him basic magic. They visited the local town of Woodsworth frequently for supplies, though Michael avoided talking to the locals when possible. His favorite store was the blacksmith's shop. Most of the smith's shop was occupied with simple tools—horse-shoes, hoes, plows and the like. But one corner of the shop was dedicated to weapons. A gold-gilded axe sat on the wall next to a pair of simple daggers and a fine short sword.

While his master was off running errands, Michael would sit and admire the craftsmanship. Once, at the blacksmith's request, he was permitted to watch him forge a new weapon. It was shorter than the others, but the smith spent no less time on it than he did on the gilded axe. A simple but deadly blade took shape, followed by an intricate handle. Michael couldn't see any exact details from where he was, but he knew it would be a wicked weapon.

After hours of work, the smith allowed him to view the finished product. The blade was finely made, but hefty enough to block the swing of a bigger blade. A fuller ran the course of the blade, enhancing its appearance and reducing its weight such that even a child could hold it with ease. The finest work was on the pommel and guard, though. The guard resembled a wolf's open mouth, as if about to swallow the attacker, and the pommel held a deep-blue stone that seemed to shine with power. It wasn't a magically-imbued weapon, but it certainly could become one.

"This is yours, boy. That old master of yours requested it, saying you'd need it for the academy. It's a fine weapon, even better than that axe you'd been eyeing. Take good care of it. My reputation depends on it!" With those gruff words said, the blacksmith sent the boy on his way.

As he left, Michael heard the old smith grumbling. "I swear, if he breaks that blade, I'm never making him another."

Finally, after nearly a month, the party of two was ready to travel.