Chapter 7: The bearing of a Dragon.

Entering the waiting hall, I followed the attendant's lead toward the designated area for abilities inspection. "This is the waiting hall, please be patient until it's your turn," the attendant advised before leaving.

Within the hall, a diverse array of people occupied the space—different ages, genders, and ethnicities. The randomness of ability awakening resulted in this eclectic mix, a scene not unfamiliar within the walls of the association.

Choosing a solitary corner, I settled in, folding my arms and closing my eyes, almost as if in meditation. It wasn't the most sociable behavior, but my recent transformation had amplified my natural introverted tendencies.

'What can I say, Dragons prefer solitude.'

___

New awakenings were a daily occurrence, each hoping to meet the criteria to become a revered Dimensional Explorer. Today was no exception. The influx of new awakenings regularly visited the association, each harboring hopes that their abilities, no matter how seemingly useless, might hold some value to the association.

As the new batch of awakenings waited their turn for inspection, a peculiar occurrence disrupted the usual routine. The attendant, visibly anxious and sweating profusely, escorted a newcomer into the hall. What made this different wasn't just the newcomer's presence—it was his sheer aura of intimidation.

Upon his arrival, a sense of foreboding blanketed the room. Dark horns adorned his forehead, purple reptilian pupils flickered in his eyes, and dark-purple dragon scales cascaded down his neck, accentuating his extraordinary physique. Nonchalantly, he settled into the most secluded corner, adopting a meditative posture.

The attendant, sensing impending doom, hastily departed, leaving behind an atmosphere of silent apprehension among the onlookers.

Minutes stretched into hours. The room remained hushed, individuals entering the inspection room and leaving, all avoiding any disturbance to the enigmatic figure. The newcomer's presence alone radiated an unsettling aura, instilling a quiet respect among those gathered.

A name echoed through the room, breaking the tense silence: "Steven Notch."

In response to the call, the mysterious figure—dubbed 'the monster' by the anxious onlookers—rose calmly and proceeded toward the inspection room, his demeanor poised and composed.

Once he vanished into the room, a collective sigh of relief rippled through the hall, releasing the tension that had gripped them for hours. "He's finally gone," someone muttered, shattering the prolonged silence.

From Steven's perspective, the atmosphere was awkward, filled with an unspoken tension. The room had fallen silent the moment he had entered, and it was evident they were actively avoiding him—a puzzling situation considering he hadn't knowingly provoked anyone.

Nonchalantly brushing off the tension, he resumed his facade of meditation until his name was called.

"Steven Notch."

"Well, that's my cue," he mused, rising from his seat and sauntering toward the inspection room, projecting an air of nonchalance.

'What an odd bunch,' he thought as he entered the room, a mischievous glint lighting up his eyes. "This is going to be fun," he muttered, a smile playing on his lips.