The academy didn't ask Lys to hide what he was.
That alone made it dangerous.
The training hall was wide and tiered, its floor segmented into shifting platforms designed to endure mistakes that shouldn't be survivable. Students gathered along the edges, some curious, some wary, some already measuring him.
Lys stepped onto the floor.
His claws extended without conscious thought—curved, dark, real. His tail moved behind him, slow and balanced, counterweight and weapon both. A few students stiffened.
Good, he thought. Don't underestimate me. Don't forget.
A voice echoed across the hall.
"Baseline assessment only. No lethal intent."
A student dropped down opposite him.
Humanoid. Mostly.
Crackling lines of energy traced along the student's arms, faint arcs snapping at the air. Lightning-adapted, Lys realized. Not unlike—
No. Different.
"You're the dragon one," the student said casually. "Thought you'd be bigger."
Lys bared his teeth in something that wasn't quite a smile.
The signal sounded.
The other student moved first—fast, lightning snapping underfoot. Lys pivoted, tail whipping around instinctively, forcing distance. The crack of impact rang out as the tail struck the platform instead of flesh.
Close.
The student laughed. "You hesitate."
Lys lunged.
Claws met reinforced plating, carving deep gouges. The floor shifted under them, platforms rising, angles changing. Lys adapted instantly—body low, tail anchoring, claws biting for traction.
The lightning user struck, palm glowing.
Lys took it to the shoulder.
Pain flared—but his body absorbed it, scales beneath skin dispersing the shock. He roared, short and sharp, and drove forward, teeth snapping inches from the other's throat before stopping dead.
Silence.
The student froze, breath caught, eyes wide.
Lys pulled back slowly.
"I don't hesitate," he said. "I choose."
The assessment ended there.
Murmurs rippled through the hall—not fear, not awe.
Reevaluation.
From the observation deck, instructors exchanged looks. One of them quietly updated a file.
Subject: Lys Arken
Physiology: Draconic hybrid
Behavior: Controlled, predatory
Risk: Escalates under pressure
Note: Do not force suppression training
Nyra watched from the sidelines, arms crossed. "They're staring too much."
Elda replied calmly, "They're learning."
Lys left the floor, heart steady, claws retracting. As he passed other students, some stepped aside.
One didn't.
A girl with temporal scars along her arms looked at him with open curiosity. "You don't belong in the lower tiers," she said quietly.
Lys met her gaze. "Neither do you."
Somewhere deep within the academy, mechanisms adjusted.
Not alarms.
Preparations.
Because Lys wasn't just another student.
He was a problem the academy had been built to face.
And for the first time since arriving—
Lys realized he wasn't alone in being unfinished.