Draco, his morning repast concluded securing his dungeon equipment.
The chill of the early morning air kissed his face as he stepped outside.
Already, the familia was stirring.
Members returning from their night patrols offered tired greetings, their faces etched with the remnants of sleepless vigilance.
Michalis, Maryuu, Eleni, and others from the night watch acknowledged Draco with nods and brief words as he passed them by the entrance.
His destination was the front gate, where an unexpected presence awaited him.
It was Ais, clad in her battle attire, her demeanor radiating a quiet intensity.
Their eyes met across the distance, a silent exchange passing between them.
A few moments stretched into an unspoken understanding, a prelude to the inevitable.
"Sigh," Draco finally broke the silence, a hint of resignation in his tone.
"Let me guess, you want me to fight you, right?"
He had anticipated this.
Ais, her expression unreadable, simply nodded.
"Ugh, I knew it," Draco muttered, running a hand through his hair.
"By the way, are you alone?"
He glanced around, a subtle check for any accompanying members of the Loki familia, particularly their strongest mage, Riveria.
"Only me," Ais replied.
"So Riveria didn't come, huh?"
Draco's lips curved into a playful, yet sharp, smile.
"Then who is going to carry you home after I beat you to a pulp?"
The teasing was deliberate, designed to provoke, to gauge her reaction, and perhaps, to fuel the fire of her determination.
"I won't lose this time," Ais declared, her voice rising in declaration.
"I'm sure you meant to say that you won't lose in less than a second this time, right?" Draco countered, his tone laced with amusement.
"You can't seriously believe that you'll beat me just after a few days of practice, can you?"
His words were designed to needle, to push her to her emotional limit, knowing that anger was one of the few emotions Ais openly embraced.
"I won't lose!" Ais's voice cracked, her teeth grinding together.
Draco, understanding the volatile nature of her anger, saw it as a tool.
Bottling such intense rage would be a significant burden, especially for someone so young.
Allowing it to manifest, to fuel her attacks, would serve a dual purpose: it would make her more stronger, and it would help her release some of that built-up pressure.
"Ha, I guess you'll have to do, then," Draco conceded, a predatory glint in his eyes.
"I was about to head to the dungeon early with a friend, but since I skipped my morning workout, you'll suffice as a warm-up."
With that, he gestured towards the entrance of the residence, an invitation to step into the arena.
Without a moment's hesitation, Ais followed Draco to the training grounds adjacent to the garden.
This was the very spot where their last encounter had ended in a blur, her defeat swift and decisive.
As they took their positions, Ais immediately activated her magic, 'Aerial,' a faint shimmer surrounding her.
With a guttural cry, she lunged, her sword a silver streak in the morning light.
This time, however, she wielded a finely crafted short sword, adjusted to her frame, a clear indication that she had learned from their previous spar.
The great sword had been an unwieldy burden.
Draco yawned theatrically as Ais charged.
He saw no complex tricks, no elaborate preparations.
It was a direct, unadorned assault.
With a lazy flick of his wrist, he activated his partial-dragon transformation skill.
His left arm rippled and shifted, scales erupting across his skin, culminating in a wickedly sharp, obsidian claw.
The metallic sheen of the claw glinted under the morning sun.
Casually, he raised his transformed arm, intercepting Ais's furious lunge without much effort.
Ais had expected him to parry her attack; that much was a given, considering his vastly superior level.
What truly astonished her was that the fight didn't end then and there.
Draco's speed, compared to their last encounter, was drastically reduced.
It was slow enough for her to actually track his movements, to perceive the swift, yet deliberate, arc of his claw.
This deliberate restraint, this apparent lack of urgency, felt like a mockery of her weakness.
It was a sore spot for Ais, and the frustration evident in her expression was undeniable.
"Don't look so disappointed, kid," Draco's voice softened, yet a chilling undertone threaded through his words.
"It's not that I'm mocking you. It's just that you'll gain nothing if I knock you out in an instant. Isn't your goal to gain strength, or did you come here just to be beaten to a pulp?"
The question hung in the air, sharp and pointed, designed to probe the depths of her resolve.
Ais flinched, the pressure of his words nearly pushing her back a step.
But she quickly recovered, her chin lifting defiantly.
With a renewed surge of determination, she charged again.
"Good," Draco's lips curved into a genuine smile.
He allowed the tip of a single claw to lightly deflect her blade, the clash of steel echoing in the quiet morning.
Ais, realizing the futility of direct frontal assaults against his superior defense, shifted her strategy.
She began to channel the ambient wind magic around her body, infusing her sword with its ephemeral power, hoping to increase its cutting force.
"Ho, giving up defense for offense, are we?" Draco observed, his tone laced with a hint of warning.
"But aren't you forgetting, the winds surrounding your body is what gave you a speed boost?"
As he spoke, he delivered a seemingly light punch to her side with his un-transformed arm.
"Gah!" Ais gasped, the air violently expelled from her lungs.
The blow, light by Draco's standards, was more than enough to send her spiraling across the training ground.
Her small frame tumbled across the packed dirt, eventually rolling to a stop near the gate.
'Oops' Draco thought, a flicker of mild concern crossing his face.
"Got a bit too excited. I should tone it down a bit."
The pungent scent of fresh earth and flowers mingled in the morning air as Draco stalked Ais, his obsidian claw still casually raised.
The girl's eyes, usually a placid gold, now shimmered with a volatile mix of frustration and renewed determination.
The earlier blow had sent her sprawling, a clear message of the power disparity, and for a fleeting instant, the raw, aching wound of her perceived weakness had flared.
But Ais Wallenstein was not one to back down.
She scrambled to her feet, her gaze fixed on him, chest heaving slightly.
The wind magic, Aerial, still crackled around her, a visible aura of her intent, though now it seemed less like a protective shroud and more like a desperate attempt to maintain her footing against the invisible currents of his presence.
Draco watched, an almost scholarly interest in his eyes.
He understood the wellspring of her rage, the deep-seated desire for strength that fueled every desperate lunge, every gritted tooth.
It was a fire he recognized, one that needed guidance, not extinguishment.
"Good," Draco murmured, his voice low, devoid of its previous taunting edge.
"You want strength, then learn to see where you lack it. Charging blindly, even with power, will only get you beaten faster."
Ais didn't reply verbally, but her actions spoke volumes.
She lunged again, sword held high, but this time with a subtle shift in her footwork, a fraction more balance than before.
It was a minor adjustment, almost imperceptible, but Draco noticed.
This was the point.
Not to completely crush her spirit, but to hone it.
He met her blade with the back of his transformed hand, the sharp, obsidian tips deflecting the steel with a faint ring.
The impact vibrated through Ais arm, but she held her ground better this time.
Draco, however, wasn't done.
As her blade skittered aside, he observed the momentary opening along her right flank, the slight overextension of her leading arm.
Without hesitation, his untransformed right hand, coated in wind magic to bypass her shield, shot out, a controlled jab directed not at her face, but at the soft tissue just above her hip.
Thump.
It wasn't a powerful blow, more a nudge, but it disrupted her stance, unbalancing her.
Ais stumbled, her Aerial magic flickering as her concentration wavered.
Before she could regain her footing, Draco was already moving.
He circled, his movements fluid despite the deliberate slowness.
Ais, recovering, spun to face him, her sword whipping around in a wide arc.
"Too wide," Draco stated, sidestepping the sweep.
"Your recovery is slow, and your guard is down while you rebuild momentum."
He demonstrated, his transformed hand moving in a quick blur to tap her exposed elbow.
"That's an opening for a disarm."
Ais flinched, the message sinking in.
Her golden eyes widened slightly, not in fear, but in sharp assessment.
She adjusted her guard, bringing her sword closer to her body, tightening her stance.
Draco pressed on, his attacks a rhythmic, relentless instruction.
He would feint a thrust with his left claw, forcing her to commit her defensive posture to one side, only to deliver a quick, precise kick to her left thigh with his right leg.
The blows weren't meant to incapacitate, but to sting, to teach her the consequences of leaving an opening.
A small bruise bloomed on her thigh, a stark light purple against her pale skin, yet she didn't cry out.
She simply gritted her teeth, her breathing becoming more ragged.
He began to introduce more variation.
His left claw would parry her blade, holding it just long enough for him to deliver a rapid succession of whips with his tail.
Each punch, though controlled, carried enough force to make her gasp, to force the air from her lungs in ragged bursts.
She began to anticipate, her magic flaring in short bursts to cushion the blows, but even then, the impacts rattled her.
"Your magic is a tool, not a crutch!" Draco barked, his voice sharp but not angry.
"Don't rely on it to cover fundamental flaws. Redirect that wind, think about how it can complement your movements, not just absorb punishment."
He shifted his weight, and for a moment, a subtle ripple ran down his back, as if unseen muscles were tightening and contracting.
Then, with a speed that defied her wind-enhanced reflexes, his tail shot out.
The blow connected with Ais's side, just below her ribs, sending her tumbling for the second time.
She landed hard, sliding across the packed dirt, coughing.
Her sword clattered away a few feet from her.
The air in her lungs felt like fire, her muscles screamed, but still, she pushed herself up, albeit slower this time.
Her eyes, filled with tears of pain and frustration, locked onto Draco.
He saw the tremble in her hands, the way her body visibly shook with the effort, but also the unyielding defiance in her gaze.
"Good," he repeated, a genuine smile touching his lips.
"You keep getting up. That's the first lesson. Now, pick up your sword. And this time, try to predict where I'm going to hit you. Think offensively, even on defense."
Fifteen minutes stretched into an eternity for Ais.
Draco's speed, initially slow and deliberate, had begun to pick up.
He moved faster, his feints became more cunning, his attacks more varied.
He still avoided her face, but his punches and kicks landed with increasing frequency and force, leaving a constellation of light purpling bruises across her arms, legs, and torso.
He used his claw to disarm her repeatedly, forcing her to scramble for her fallen sword, wasting precious seconds.
He would force her towards the edge of the training ground, cutting off her escape routes, then suddenly reverse direction, leaving her exposed as she tried to adjust.
He'd demonstrate a counter, then immediately exploit a new opening she created while trying to mimic it.
There was no reprieve, no moment to catch her breath.
The only mercy he offered was the continued verbal instruction, the breakdown of her errors.
Ais fought back with every ounce of her dwindling stamina.
She lunged, she parried, she even managed to land a glancing blow on his arm once, a light scratch that barely registered through his hardened skin and scales.
It was a fleeting moment of triumph, quickly extinguished by a powerful body blow that doubled her over.
Her lungs burned, her limbs felt like lead, and her vision was starting to tunnel.
Yet, beneath the pain, a strange sense of clarity began to emerge.
She was seeing openings, not in Draco, but in herself.
She was learning to anticipate his feints, even if she couldn't always react fast enough.
The frustration was still there, but it was now laced with a new understanding.
Finally, after what felt like an endless barrage, Draco stopped.
His transformed arm then reverted to its normal form.
He stood perfectly still, his breathing calm and even, not a bead of sweat on his brow.
Ais, however, was a wreck.
Her sword, once again, lay several feet away.
Her body gave out.
With a choked gasp, she collapsed to the dirt, her limbs splayed, utterly spent.
She lay there, chest heaving, her eyes squeezed shut as she desperately tried to drag air into her burning lungs.
She hadn't been allowed to last more than a second last time.
This time he had permitted her fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes of brutal, relentless education.
It was a defeat, yes, but one that felt different.
She was beaten, but not broken.
Draco watched her for a moment, a faint, almost imperceptible smile of approval on his face.
He then turned his gaze upwards, towards the roof of the house where a familiar figure was perched, observing the entire spectacle with an unnerving stillness.
"Chloe!" he called out, his voice cutting through the morning silence.
A lithe figure detached herself from the shadows of the roof in front of him.
She glanced at the prostrate Ais, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips.
"Looks like someone had a rough morning."
"Please help out little guest get cleaned up and treated," Draco requested, gesturing towards the defeated girl.
"If you can, draw her a bath, get her something to eat, and then send her back to the Loki familia compound. Please make sure she gets home safely, or Riveria might just pay us a visit."
"As you command captain," Chloe replied, much to Draco's surprise.
It was the first time that Chloe had ever acknowledged him by that title.
She approached Ais, who was still too exhausted to move, and gently knelt beside her.
Draco gave one last look at Ais, a silent message of encouragement passing between them, before turning away.
He had done what he could for the morning.
Now, it was time for his own agenda.
He walked past the quiet training ground, through the main gate of his familia residence, and into the bustling streets of Orario.
A/N: So what do you guys think of Draco settling into the role as Ais wall, and sometimes a sensei. I think it would be an interesting dynamic when the main canon events start.