"You have to move those legs of yours, kid!" the bracelet snapped inside his mind.
"This is the best I can do!" Jason gasped.
The beast was closing fast—its heavy footfalls hammering the earth only a dozen strides behind him. In pure desperation Jason shoved a hand into the small pouch at his belt, yanked out the last lump of dried raw meat he had kept against hunger, and flung it backward without looking. The meat tumbled through the air and landed in the leaf litter.
The pursuing beast skidded, claws tearing furrows in the dirt. It lowered its head, sniffed once, then again, torn for a critical heartbeat between the fleeing prey and the sudden scent of easy food. That single hesitation was all Jason needed.
*Nice throw,* the bracelet said. *Now run like your life actually matters.*
Jason did. He poured every remaining scrap of strength into his legs and burst across the invisible boundary line. The protective formation of the Fox territory activated with a low, resonant thrum he felt more than heard. Behind him the beast, too locked on its quarry to notice or care, charged straight through the same line—
—and vanished in a violent, white-hot explosion of light and force. The blast rolled outward in a concussive wave that made the nearest trees sway. When the glare faded, nothing remained of the creature but a blackened scorch mark on the earth.
Jason kept running for another fifty paces before his legs finally gave out. He staggered to a stop, bent over with hands on his knees, lungs burning, heart trying to hammer its way out of his chest. A shaky, half-disbelieving laugh escaped him.
"Guess… I made it back alive."
*That was far too close,* the bracelet replied. *Let's not make a habit of it.*
"It'll depend on the situation," Jason answered, still breathless. He forced himself upright and began a steady jog deeper into the safer woods, angling toward the secluded clearing he had used for training these past days. The jar of precious blood and the crystal core bumped against his hip with every step, constant reminders of what he carried.
By the time he reached the familiar scarred tree and the open ground around it, the sun had begun its slow descent. Jason dropped heavily to the earth, closed his eyes, and spent several long minutes simply breathing until the wild hammering of his pulse settled into something closer to normal.
Only then did he draw out the clay jar.
"All right," he said aloud. "We have the blood. What's the next step?"
*Listen carefully,* the bracelet answered, its tone more serious than usual. *The beast you took this from was not weak, and it carried a thin dragon bloodline. Refining that blood into your body will be extremely painful—far beyond anything you felt tempering your legs against a tree. If you cannot endure it, the process will cripple or kill you. If you can… the gains will be substantial. Do you still want to proceed?*
Jason stared at the dark liquid sealed inside the jar. In his mind's eye he saw the tournament grounds, Andrew Fox's sneering face, his mother's pale exhaustion, Hannah's worried eyes. He had no powerful background, no stockpile of pills, no second chance waiting if he failed here.
"Of course I'm continuing," he said quietly. "If I walk into that tournament as I am now, I already know how it ends. I have nothing left to lose."
*Then strip.*
Jason blinked. "Why do I need to take my clothes off? Are you playing some kind of joke?"
*Do I sound like I have time for jokes?* the bracelet snapped. *The blood has to contact every possible surface of skin. Fabric will only waste it and reduce the effect. If you want this, do as I say.*
Grumbling under his breath, Jason removed his shirt, trousers, and boots until he stood bare in the late-afternoon light. The air felt cool against his skin. He unsealed the jar. The scent that rose from it was thick, metallic, and faintly sharp—like hot iron mixed with something older and wilder.
*Rub it over every part of your body. It will burn. You will want to stop. Don't.*
Jason dipped his fingers into the viscous blood and began. The moment it touched his skin a fierce, stinging heat flared to life, as though he were painting himself with liquid fire. He hissed through clenched teeth but kept going—arms, chest, shoulders, back, legs, even the soles of his feet and the back of his neck—until the entire contents of the jar had been spread in a thin, glistening layer. By the end his hands were shaking and his breath came in short, pained pulls.
"Now what?" he managed, voice rough.
*Sit. Cross-legged. Close your eyes. Guide the energy inward through your pores. Do not force it—invite it. The blood will do most of the work if you stay open.*
Jason lowered himself to the ground, settled into the familiar meditation posture, and shut his eyes. For a few heartbeats there was only the ordinary discomfort of the drying blood. Then the real pain arrived.
It began as a deep, spreading ache and rapidly climbed into something far worse—thousands of red-hot needles driving simultaneously into every pore. His muscles locked. Sweat poured down his face. He bit down hard enough that the taste of copper filled his mouth, fighting the overwhelming urge to leap up and scrape the blood from his skin. Time lost meaning. There was only the fire moving inward, millimeter by millimeter, and the stubborn, repeated thought: *Endure. For Mother. For Hannah. For the chance to stand on my own feet.*
Slowly—agonizingly—the worst of the searing began to recede. In its place came a strange, rushing sensation, as though his blood itself had begun to move faster and stronger. When Jason finally opened his eyes he saw that the dark coating on his skin had thinned dramatically; the pores were drinking it in like dry earth after rain.
A soft *buzz* rolled through his body. He felt lighter, denser, more awake. Instinctively he started to rise, already imagining the power of a few experimental punches—
*Stay down.*
The bracelet's command was sharp.
"There's more?" Jason asked, startled.
*That was only the first wave. Dragon-line blood does not surrender its strength so easily. The remainder is still working its way deeper. Interrupt the process now and you waste everything we risked our lives for.*
Jason settled back into position at once. He had barely closed his eyes again when the second wave hit.
This pain was different—deeper, heavier, as though something vast were trying to force its way through channels far too narrow. His pores felt like they were being forcibly expanded. Pressure built inside his limbs and torso until he was certain his body would simply rupture. Panic flared. He could feel himself swelling, skin stretching tight, the terrifying sense that he might burst apart from the inside.
Then, abruptly, the expansion stopped.
A new sensation replaced it: a rapid, controlled contraction, as though his entire body were being compressed and reforged in the same instant. Another low *buzz* resonated through marrow and muscle. The crushing pressure vanished. In its place came a clean, powerful current of energy circulating with a strength he had never felt before.
Jason's eyes snapped open.
He looked down at his arms, his chest, the skin that now felt subtly tougher beneath his fingertips. Power hummed just beneath the surface, waiting.
"I… I broke through again," he whispered, almost afraid to believe it.
The third layer of the tempered body.
And for the first time since the night everything was taken from him, the gap between what he was and what he needed to become felt just a little narrower.