Around the palace and throughout the square, including the large stone tatami, there seemed to be no other people. Theoretically, without a temporary gatekeeper, anyone could have entered that sacred place, violating the rules that Ryutaro had enforced for decades.

A strong melancholy feeling pervaded the young tamer's chest. Although he had not known his faceless master for a long time, he had formed a strong bond with him. So strong that it led Ryutaro to violate the very rules to which he himself was subjected.

​​

Yoichi climbed the steps leading to the entrance, looking up and letting the moonlight touch every part of his face as if it had magical regenerative power.

His right cheekbone, his chin, and one of his two eyebrows had been scratched from recent fights. Yoichi felt no pain, but he realized, once again, that Kenji's draconic power did not make him invincible.

His physique was untrained, and a single day on horseback could fatigue him inexorably. If his muscles had increased their tone and mass, it would probably have been much easier to handle the power of the draconic flame.

Steeling himself, he decided to enter the second holiest place in the city, after the Cathedral. The young tamer had never visited that district, but that huge building was visible from a great distance, second in height only to the Imperial Palace.

When he entered the first square room of the Dojo, the rigor and cleanliness of that sacred place had an immediate invigorating effect. Without overthinking, he untied his boots still stained with dirt and mud and left them by the door.

Ryutaro would not be pleased to know that the clean floors of the Dojo were being soiled with dirt from the outside. I'll act like he's here watching me, if not better, he thought, starting to walk barefoot towards the stairs.

One floor after another, Yoichi climbed to the top of the Dojo. That magical place was imbued with strong spirit power, so strong that it seemed to press against the resistant walls.

It was as if the egos of all those who used to meditate there remained in the floors and walls, making an impenetrable fortress out of even such a geographically exposed place.

The fatigue continued to weigh on the tendons and muscles of the young tamer, whose head was so full of thoughts that he didn't know which of them to prioritize. Enatsu, his training, Ryutaro, the Princess.

Rest was the only thing that would ease Yoichi's soul.

Once he had made his way down all the stairs and through the narrow corridors that branched off like the streets of a maze to Ryutaro's private room, Yoichi stopped at his door.

He looked down and took a long breath. At the same time, he pulled out the green key from his small leather pouch, thinking back to how precious his master's latest gift was.

*click*click* - the key in the lock made metallic sounds and the internal gears began to slide on each other, unlocking the opening mechanism.

A high-pitched squeak accompanied the door leaf, which opened into the room, welcoming the weary traveler. The decor before Yoichi's eyes was exactly as he remembered it.

Although he had only been there once before, his memories were vivid and the minimal feng-shui with which Ryutaro had arranged every piece of furniture and object had made that place unforgettable, imprinting it forever in his mind.

The katana and the armor were still in their place, respectively on the wall and in the corner of the room. The books that would become his daily bread were right next to the door, at the bottom, in front of a straw mat still open on the floor.

Next to the mat where the gatekeeper used to meditate, a small earthenware contained the remains of some incense, now completely consumed.

After framing each object in the room individually, his gaze was drawn towards the center, as if a magnetic and irresistible force compelled him to look in that direction.

The moonlight coming from the window perfectly cut out the contours of the stone washbasin, which stood overwhelmingly in the geometric center of the floor. Inside of it, Yoichi's fate lay in the form of liquid. Its surface was motionless due to the absence of air currents.

Yoichi took a step forward and then another, after a moment's hesitation. His eyes gradually lowered to frame the inside of the washbasin, whose stone was carefully inlaid and represented important scenes from Lumya's history.

The young warrior's face peeped out from the edges of that container and his image was reflected in the Tear of Therion, the last Dragon King.

He took a deep breath and, in the meantime, sharp pain in his back suddenly reappeared, reminding him that his physical condition was still improving.

Tomorrow I will begin with the cultivation of my powers, he thought. First, though, I think a good read might help me find the sleep I seek.

Moving his hands away from the cold stone surface, Yoichi opened the window of the room, allowing the fresh night air to enter. Everything in that place smelled of Ryutaro as if it had absorbed his essence.

His feet dragged across the smooth wooden floor, so polished that it seemed no one had ever walked on it. Yoichi lowered himself to the small bookcase beside the door, kneeling on the mat.

In addition to the tome on which Ryutaro had shown him the image of Therion, dozens of other dusty books were stacked on the part closest to the wall.

Blowing and using his fingers to remove the excess dust, Yoichi read their titles: "Dragon Demons of Lumya, Ancient Demonology, Ancient and Contemporary History of Tentochu, and Fundamentals of Demon Taming.

The last title especially piqued his attention, leading his hands to grasp that book.

"Fundamentals of Demon Taming. Hmm... this seems like a decidedly lighter read than the others," Yoichi thought out loud. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that the titles imprinted on the covers of the other books contained words and letters from an ancient and incomprehensible alphabet.