Markus slammed his fists on the sturdy desk with a resounding thud that echoed through the meeting room. Bandages wrapped tightly around his torso, arms, and one side of his face, the white fabric already spotting with faint traces of red where the worst of the frost burns and crushing pressure had left their mark. His knuckles, raw and split from the battle, protested the impact, but he didn't care. The pain grounded him, reminded him he was still breathing.
"Less than one percent?" he growled, voice hoarse from the screams and the ice that had nearly frozen his lungs. "That thing we fought, that Frost Serpent that nearly turned us into popsicles, was just a shadow of its real power? A low-level version of the Dragon?"
Noboru sat slumped in the chair to Markus's right, his own bandages crisscrossing his chest and legs. Speed burns and deep bruises from slamming into scales had left him moving slower than usual, though his eyes still held that sharp, restless glint. On Markus's left, Amber fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve, a few simple plasters dotting her cheeks and one forearm. She looked almost untouched compared to the boys, which only seemed to make her shrink further into herself.
Opposite the desk, Photon leaned back in his high-backed chair, the principle's glowing eyes dimmed to a steady pulse under the fluorescent lights. His suit was pristine as always, a stark contrast to the battered students before him. At his side stood Killerblade, arms crossed, her signature dual swords sheathed at her hips. She wore a cocky smirk, though faint bruises shadowed her jaw from where the dragon's tail had sent her flying into that boulder.
Photon steepled his fingers. "That's what the pros are saying. The entity you encountered was a mere fragment, a projection or juvenile echo that didn't have time to grow. The true Dragon of the Frozen Hell is said to coil around entire ranges in the northern wastes, its full form capable of plunging kingdoms into eternal winter. What you faced was... unexpected. Sloppy. And yes, without proper prep, even a coordinated team can get caught flat-footed."
Killerblade snorted, shifting her weight. "Especially when half the squad doesn't have their gear tuned. My venom was running on emergency backups. If I'd had my full kit, I could've soloed that thing in under ten minutes. Slice the joints, pump the toxins, watch it crumble. Easy pickings for a low-level version."
Markus's fist tightened again, but he kept it on the desk this time. "We almost died out there. I got crushed. Me and Noboru had to carve through its heart while the rest were barely hanging on. And you're telling us it barely counts as a real fight?"
Photon's expression didn't change. "It counts as experience. Valuable experience. But it doesn't prove you're heroes. Not yet. The academy's rules are clear: field incidents, no matter how dramatic, don't exempt students from the tournament. You still need to compete. Show the pros, the public, and the board what you're made of under controlled conditions. No surprises from ancient eternals. Just skill, strategy, and growth."
Noboru leaned forward, wincing as bandages pulled at his ribs. "Come on, sir. We took down something straight out of legend. Doesn't that at least buy us a bye? Or extra training credits?"
Amber stayed silent, staring at the polished wood grain.
Killerblade chuckled. "Kid, if every scrape with a baby monster got you out of the real work, every cadet would be hunting dragons instead of drilling basics. Suck it up. Tourneys in two weeks. Use the beating you took as motivation."
Photon nodded. "Precisely. Protests noted and logged. Dismissed. Get to the infirmary if you need more patches, but don't slack on recovery drills. Dismissed."
The three students rose stiffly. Markus waved Noboru and Amber toward the door first. "You two head to the infirmary. I'll grab new badges from admin, mine got shattered when that claw came down. Meet you later."
Noboru gave a weak salute. "Don't push it, man. You took the worst of it."
Amber just nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thanks, Markus."
The hallways of the Hero Academy stretched long and echoing, lined with motivational posters of legendary pros and glass cases displaying retired hero relics. Noboru and Amber walked side by side in silence at first, their footsteps uneven from lingering aches. The air smelled of antiseptic and faint ozone from quirk-training rooms nearby. Students in uniforms hurried past, casting curious glances at the bandaged pair but saying nothing, rumours of the mountain incident had already spread like wildfire.
They pushed through a heavy side door and stepped out into the crisp afternoon air of the outdoor training fields. The vast grassy expanse gave way to obstacle courses, simulated urban ruins, and, in the distance, the dense Forest Scale, a towering wall of ancient trees that served as the academy's natural boundary and advanced survival training ground. Mist clung to the treetops, and the late sun filtered through in golden shafts.
They found a weathered wooden bench near the edge of the field and sat down heavily. Noboru stretched his legs out with a groan, then tilted his head back, letting the breeze ruffle his hair.
"Man... that meeting sucked," he muttered. "Feels like no matter what we do, it's never enough."
Amber hugged her knees to her chest, plasters pulling slightly at the motion. She didn't reply right away, just stared out at the forest.
Noboru glanced at her, then continued talking to fill the quiet. His voice took on a nostalgic tone, softer than the battle shouts from the mountain.
"Back in the East Kingdoms, things were different. The castle where my family served, it's this massive stone fortress in the centre. From the time I was a kid, maybe four or five, they had me training with the royal guards and quirk tutors. Speed was always my thing. While my brothers struggled to hit targets without tripping over their own feet, I was blurring across the training yards, dodging arrows, snatching coins from instructors' hands before they could blink."
He smiled faintly at the memory, eyes distant. "My father, he would watch from the battlements and just nod. No big cheers, but that nod meant everything. Teachers praised me nonstop. 'Noboru's in tune with his power like no one else,' they'd say. 'Born for it.' Brothers got jealous sometimes, but we'd spar anyway, and I'd let them land a hit or two so they wouldn't feel too bad. Evenings, we'd sit on the walls eating rice balls, watching the sun set over the water, talking about random royal stuff. I thought it was all set, you know? Path laid out."
He paused, rubbing a bandage on his arm absentmindedly. The wind rustled the grass around them. A group of second-years practiced combos far off on the field, their laughter carrying faintly.
Noboru turned to Amber with a lopsided grin, the kind that usually sparked energy in the group. "What about you? Tell me about your family. Bet it's got some wild stories too."
Amber tensed visibly. Her shoulders drew up, fingers digging into the fabric of her pants. She breathed out slowly, deliberately, as if steadying herself against an invisible weight. The forest beyond seemed to blur a little in her vision.
"I... never met my brother," she said quietly, words coming slow and measured, like each one cost effort. "Or my mother. Dad was the only one there from the start. He raised me alone in this tiny apartment on the edge of the city slums. Worked double shifts at the docks, his power was simple, so he was overlooked a lot, but he never complained. He'd come home smelling of salt and engine grease, scoop me up, and tell me stories about heroes who saved the day with nothing but heart."
She swallowed hard. "Until I was about five. He got drunk to much. Real bad. The kind of drunk that is a crave when poor or rich, he couldn't stop. One night he just... didn't wake up. They took me to the orphanage after that. Cold place. Lots of kids, not enough beds. That's where I met Markus. He was nicer, already tough from the streets. He protected me from the bullies, shared his food when mine got stolen, taught me how to read the manuals they gave us. Helped me study for the entrance exams later. Even filled out the college apps and hero course paperwork when I was too scared to try."
Her voice cracked just a fraction. "If it wasn't for him, I'd probably be dead. Or worse, lost somewhere, no knowledge, no future. He applied with me. Said we were a team."
Amber turned her head to look at Noboru. A single tear traced down her cheek, catching the light. Her lips quivered as the words poured out faster now, a downward spiral she couldn't seem to stop.
"I hate myself for it. For not being more help on the mountain. Every time I try to use my threads, nothing happens. Or it's useless, a rock slips, a gust of wind, nothing that matters. Markus almost died because of me. He shoved me out of the way and took that claw instead. The pros called it a 'low-level version of the Dragon,' and even that nearly ended us. Because I froze. Because I'm useless. I feel like a burden on the one person who helped me the most. Wanting to join the hero course... it was a mistake. Thinking I could ever stand beside you guys... that was the biggest mistake. I'm just dragging everyone down. Markus deserves better teammates. You all do."
She buried her face in her arms, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The bench creaked under the weight of her confession. In the distance, a bird called from the Forest Scale, oblivious to the human drama unfolding below.
Noboru watched her for a long moment, the grin fading from his face into something more thoughtful. Then he let out a sharp, genuine laugh, not mocking, but bright and sudden enough to make Amber lift her head in surprise. He glanced up at the sky, where scattered clouds drifted lazily, the sun warming the bandages on his skin.
"No way," he said, still chuckling softly. "No way Markus sees you as a burden. Not one bit. Neither do I, and I know the others don't either. You messed up out there, yeah, we all did in spots. That dragon caught us flat-footed, gear or no gear. But at the end of the day, we're all still living, right? Breathing this fresh air, sitting here with the forest looking all peaceful after nearly getting buried in snow and scales."
He shifted on the bench to face her more directly, his expression shifting to one of confidence and quiet pride. The same assured tone he used when talking to her in the main hall, crept into his voice.
"Look, Amber. I was born lucky. Powers came easy, tuned in from the cradle like the instructors said. Markus? Guy's got ice running through his veins like it's natural as breathing, born for that too, in a way. Not everyone gets that head start. You didn't. Doesn't mean you're broken or useless. It just means you've got a steeper hill, and that's okay. Don't ever compare yourself to anyone but yourself. Yesterday's Amber froze? Fine. Today's Amber learns from it. Tomorrow's Amber threads probability like it's second nature. That's how it works."
Noboru reached out and gently nudged her shoulder with his fist, a light tap. "No one blames you. Not Markus, not me, not Sarah, Domanic or anyone else. We're in training, remember? Messing up is part of the deal. You trip during drills; you get back up and run it again. You freeze in a real fight; you analyse it later and train harder so next time your threads actually snag fate by the throat. Markus pushed you out of the way because that's what he does, he protects the team. He'd do it again in a heartbeat, and he'd tell you the same thing I'm saying: you're not a burden. You're one of us. The fact you care this much? That you hate feeling useless? That's what makes you hero material. Real heroes aren't perfect from day one. They're the ones who keep showing up anyway."
Amber wiped at her eyes, the tear tracks glistening. "But... what if I keep failing? What if next time someone really gets hurt because my power doesn't kick in?"
"Then we adapt," Noboru replied firmly, no hesitation. "We train together. I'll help you with speed drills, maybe dodging while focusing on threads. Markus can set up ice scenarios to practice under pressure. Domanic's sand could simulate chaos. Sarah's fire for distractions. Jamie's sound to mess with focus. Even Killerblade, bet she'd love testing your luck against her poisons in safe sims. We're not solo acts here. That's the point of this place. One weak link today becomes the anchor tomorrow."
He leaned back again, stretching his arms overhead despite the pull of bandages. "Remember how that dragon called us insignificant worms? Humanity's plague? We proved it wrong by surviving. By working together even when it hurt. You were there, contributing what you could, dodging, trying. That's not nothing. The tournament's coming up. Use these weeks to turn that frustration into fuel. Visualize those threads grabbing the outcomes you want. Small wins first. Make a coin land heads ten times in a row. Then make an opponent's footing slip in sparring. Build it."
A small smile tugged at Amber's lips, fragile but real. "You make it sound so straightforward."
"It is, and it isn't," Noboru admitted with a shrug. "Before I came here, I tried to save a family, I was alongside my hero, the number one in my kingdom, The Monarch, and I failed so bad, if I was faster, maybe I could've saved them all, it genuinely messed with my head, and yet, The Monarch looked at me, and dragged me all the way here, not because I failed and felt like throwing in the towel, but because the me before was slower, carefree, stupid beyond belief, but now I'm here to learn, so let's learn together. You're already tougher than the girl who first walked into that orphanage, right? Markus saw potential in her. I see it now."
They sat in silence for a while after that, watching the shadows lengthen across the training fields as the sun dipped lower. Second-years finished their session and headed inside, calling jokes to each other. The Forest Scale loomed steady and green, a promise of future challenges, survival hikes, beast encounters, terrain mastery.
Noboru broke the quiet eventually. "Hey, want to grab some food from the cafeteria before heading back? Infirmary can wait a bit. I could use something warm after all that ice."
Amber nodded, uncurling a little. "Yeah... okay. But only if you promise not to race me there at full speed. My legs are still jelly."
He laughed again, standing up carefully and offering her a hand. "Deal. Slow and steady. Like building probability one thread at a time."
As they walked back toward the main building, their steps a bit lighter, Amber glanced sideways at him. "Thanks, Noboru. For listening. For... not making me feel stupid."
"Always," he said simply. "That's what teammates do. Now, let's plot how we're gonna crush that tournament."
Inside the halls once more, the buzz of student life surrounded them, discussions of upcoming matches, theory lectures echoing from open doors, the clatter of training gear being stowed. Noboru and Amber navigated toward the cafeteria wing, stopping briefly at a vending machine for drinks. Amber chose a warm tea; Noboru grabbed an energy pouch.
They found a corner table away from the main crowd. The conversation shifted gradually from heavy topics to lighter ones, speculating on tournament brackets, joking about how Domanic would probably turn half the arena into a sandpit, wondering if Sarah could finally land a solid flame punch on Markus in a match.
But underneath, the reassurance lingered. Amber's shoulders had relaxed, her eyes less haunted. Noboru kept the energy up with small stories from his castle days, pranks on brothers using super speed, late-night rooftop runs under the stars.
"You know," he said between bites of a rice bowl, "my instructors used to make me practise running away, always run away if you can, the best thing you can do is clear the field and get to safety, you could do that for angles, get to safety then focus, use your threads and help, don't try to rush in near anyone to make it easier and less lengthy, take your time.."
Amber stirred her tea, watching the steam rise. "I get it. Logically. It's just... hard not to spiral when the what-ifs hit. Like, what if my power never improves? What if I'm always the one who needs saving?"
"Then we save each other," Noboru replied around a mouthful. "That's the gig. No one's invincible. Even that dragon had a weak spot, well I guess Markus made one but still. We found it together. You'll find your stride. Maybe start small tonight: sit in your dorm and practice threading on everyday stuff. Make your pen roll left instead of right. Build the muscle."
She managed a genuine laugh this time. "Sounds dumb, but... yeah. Better than staring at the ceiling replaying the claw coming down."
"Exactly." Noboru raised his pouch in a mock toast. "To not being burdens, and to kicking tournament butt."
Amber clinked her cup against it lightly. "To learning. And... thanks again."
The afternoon wore on. After eating, they finally made their way to the infirmary as instructed. The nurse clucked over their bandages, reapplied fresh ones on Noboru's deeper bruises, and gave Amber a mild power stabilizer to help with focus during recovery. Markus joined them there eventually.
He looked tired but steady, dropping into a chair beside them. "Admin gave me grief about the damaged gear report. Had to recount the whole fight. You two good?"
Noboru nodded. "Yeah. Talked some sense into Amber here. She's not quitting on us."
Markus shot her a warm, if pained, smile. "Good. Because I didn't shove you clear just to watch you give up. We're in this. All of us. Dragon fragment or full hellbeast next time, doesn't matter. We train, we improve, we win the tourney."
Amber met his eyes, the tear from earlier long dried. "I won't let you down again."
"You didn't let anyone down," Markus said firmly. "You were there. That's what counts today."
The three spent the next hour in the infirmary lounge area, reviewing the fight in low voices, breaking down what worked what failed. They sketched rough diagrams on scrap paper: positioning ideas for tournament battles, ways to combine powers more fluidly.
Noboru demonstrated a quick speed drill in the limited space, blurring to grab a water bottle from across the room without knocking anything over. "See? Control under fatigue. That's key for the arena."
Markus tested a small ice construct on the table, shaping it into a miniature claw before melting it away. "hmm, if I size it right I could do a strike down like that dragon did on me."
Amber tried her threads once, focusing on a loose thread on Markus's bandage. It twitched, then shifted, retying itself neatly. Small, but visible. Her eyes widened. "It... worked."
"See?" Noboru grinned. "One thread at a time."
As evening approached, they headed to dorms with promises to meet for early training the next day. The lights flickered on, casting long shadows across the paths. In the distance, the Forest Scale stood sentinel, whispering with wind through leaves.
Alone in her room later, Amber sat on her bed, replaying Noboru's words. The spiral threatened again, but she pushed it back. "Not comparing. Just improving," she murmured. She practiced on a deck of cards, willing probabilities: ace of spades on top. It took seven tries, but it landed. Progress.
Across the hall, Noboru crashed early, dreams mixing castle rooftops with dragon scales and teammates fighting beside him.
Markus, in his own space, stared at the new badges before sleeping. The dragon's final words echoed faintly, "Wielder of ice... be born as one of my kin." He clenched his fist, ice frosting his knuckles harmlessly. Protection wasn't just power. It was trust. And he trusted Amber and even Noboru.
***
The next morning dawned clear. The group reconvened at the training fields, joined by Domanic, Sarah, Jamie, for a light session. Drills focused on coordination: sand-and-ice barriers, speed-assisted flame throws, sound-disrupted probability nudges. Laughter mixed with grunts of effort. Mistakes happened, Amber's thread missed once, sending a practice dummy tumbling in front of Noboru causing him to somersault into Sarah and Domanic. Corrections came quick, encouragement steady.
By midday, sweat soaked their gear, but spirits lifted. Noboru blurred through an obstacle course, calling tips to Amber as she focused threads to alter wind resistance on her path. She made it farther than yesterday propelling herself forward, but she was beyond tired with even this little.
The chapter of recovery stretched through the week, infirmary visits tapering, strategy meetings in the lounge, evening walks where Noboru shared more East Kingdom tales: festivals with firework fireworks lighting the sky, family spars under cherry blossoms, the weight of expectation that came with early praise. Amber opened up in pieces: orphanage pranks she and Markus pulled, dreams of heroics that kept her going after her father's death, fears of fading into the background.
Each conversation layered reassurance. Noboru's confident pride never wavered. "We're training heroes, not finished ones. Mess up, adapt, repeat. You've got this."
By the time tournament prep intensified, official brackets posted, crowds expected, the group moved as a tighter unit. Amber's small successes compounded: a training spar where her probability made Noboru's punch glance off an invisible nudge, earning cheers. She still doubted in quiet moments, but the spiral lost its grip.
The mountain battle lingered as a scar and a lesson. The Dragon of the Frozen Hell's fragment had tested them, but the real trial, the tournament, would forge them further. Together, not as burdens or prodigies alone, but as a team learning the long, hard path to heroism.
One evening, back on that same bench overlooking the Forest Scale, Noboru and Amber sat again. This time, no tears. Just quiet reflection.
"Feeling any better about it all?" he asked.
Amber smiled faintly at the trees. "A little. One thread at a time, right?"
"Right," he said, grinning up at the sky. "And when the real dragon shows up someday? We'll be ready. All of us."