SPELLCRAFT: Reincarnation Of A Magic Scholar

The sprawling expanse of the Cadet Camp was unlike anything Neron had ever seen.

Nestled within a wide, rocky valley flanked by jagged mountains, the camp was alive with activity. Dragons in their humanoid forms moved about, their draconic features—horns, tails, and sharp, angular eyes—making them seem creepy.

Tents and training arenas were scattered around the area, with some cadets sparring in the open and others tending to weapons that glowed faintly with magical energy.

Neron walked between the towering figures, his mind racing.

'What am I doing here?' He still didn't fully grasp the details of Lilith's plan.

The transport spell had dumped him straight into unfamiliar territory, and now, surrounded by beings that could end him if they saw through his disguise, he felt completely out of his depth.

"This is insane…" he muttered under his breath.

His escorts—a pair of dragons in their humanoid forms—led him to a central tent. Both had scales peeking through their skin, their golden eyes scrutinizing him every so often.

"You're awfully quiet," one of them remarked, his tone sharp. "Most recruits would be groveling by now, hoping to make a good first impression."

Neron forced a chuckle, his nerves hidden behind a facade of calm. "Guess I'm just not like most recruits."

The dragons exchanged glances but said nothing more.

Inside the tent, the Cadet Camp's overseer, a broad-shouldered dragon with silver horns, eyed Neron with suspicion. "You say you're one of the new cadets?"

"Yes," Neron replied confidently, meeting the overseer's gaze.

"Hmph." The overseer's eyes narrowed as if trying to see through him. "You've got the power, I'll give you that. But you're scrawny for a dragon, and your scent… it's different."

Neron tensed but masked his unease. "I've been training in isolation. My master preferred it that way."

The overseer grunted, seemingly satisfied. "We'll see if you're worth anything. Join the others and don't embarrass yourself—or me."

Neron nodded and was dismissed to the general training grounds, where he was thrown headfirst into the chaotic world of cadet dynamics.

***********

The camp's hierarchy became clear within hours.

The younger cadets, eager and brimming with potential, kept to themselves, practicing drills and techniques with fervor. The mid-tier cadets were more relaxed, exuding confidence as they sparred in small groups.

But it was the seniors who ruled the camp.

They walked with an air of dominance, their powerful auras palpable even from a distance.

Neron's arrival didn't go unnoticed. Whispers followed him everywhere, and curious glances were cast his way.

"Who's the new guy?"

"Never seen him before. Think he's any good?"

"He better be, or the seniors will tear him apart."

By the end of his first day, Neron had already made enemies. A senior cadet—a towering figure with crimson scales and a jagged tail—cornered him near the mess area.

"You've been walking around like you own the place," the senior sneered, his voice dripping with menace. "Think you're special?"

Neron glanced around. A small crowd had gathered, eager to see how the newcomer would handle the confrontation.

"I'm just here to train," Neron replied evenly, keeping his tone neutral.

The senior didn't like that. He stepped closer, his claws scraping against the ground. "Training doesn't mean disrespecting your betters. Kneel and apologize."

The crowd murmured, their excitement palpable. This was the kind of drama they lived for.

Neron's jaw tightened. He had no intention of kneeling to anyone. "I don't kneel," he said firmly, his eyes meeting the senior's without flinching.

The atmosphere shifted. The senior growled, his body radiating heat. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But you're about to regret it."

***********

"WOOOOOHOOOOO!!!"

The sparring arena was packed. Word had spread quickly, and now cadets of all ranks had gathered to watch the fight.

Neron stood at one end, his fists clenched and his heart pounding. Across from him, the crimson-scaled senior flexed his claws, his grin wicked.

'How did things get to this point…?' He thought to himself with a sigh. 'This is annoying!'

"Ready to be humiliated?" the senior taunted.

Neron said nothing, focusing instead on steadying his breathing.

'I can't lose here.'

The fight began with a deafening roar from the senior, who charged forward with blinding speed. Neron barely dodged the initial strike, the claws slicing through the air where his head had been moments before.

He retaliated with a quick punch, but the senior blocked it effortlessly, countering with a swipe that grazed Neron's arm.

The crowd cheered, their excitement building with every exchange.

The fight escalated quickly. The senior unleashed a barrage of attacks, each one faster and more powerful than the last. Neron ducked, dodged, and blocked as best he could, but it was clear he was outmatched in raw strength.

But strength wasn't everything.

As the senior lunged again, Neron sidestepped and delivered a powerful kick to his ribs. The impact sent the senior stumbling, and the crowd gasped.

"Not bad," the senior admitted, wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth. "But you'll have to do better than that."

He transformed partially, his arms elongating and becoming covered in thick scales. His claws grew sharper, and his eyes glowed with a fiery intensity.

Neron knew he couldn't hold back—at least not too much.

Drawing on a bit of the power imbued in him, he summoned a surge of energy and charged forward, meeting the senior head-on. Their clash was explosive, sending shockwaves through the arena and silencing the crowd.

~BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!~

The fight became a blur of motion—punches, kicks, and magic colliding in a display of raw power and skill. Despite his smaller frame, Neron's speed and strategy allowed him to keep up, exploiting the senior's overconfidence and heavier movements.

Finally, Neron saw his opening.

~WHOOOSH!~

As the senior prepared for a devastating attack, Neron ducked low, swept his legs out from under him, and delivered a crushing blow to his chest.

The senior collapsed, gasping for air, and the arena fell silent.

*********

"Alright, you all…"

The overseer stepped forward, his expression unreadable.

"That's enough!" He declared, his voice cutting through the tension.

He glanced at Neron, then at the fallen senior. "You've proven yourself. From this day forward, you're the leader of the cadets."

The announcement sent ripples through the crowd. Some cheered, others murmured in disbelief, but no one dared challenge the decision.

As the cadets dispersed, Neron stood in the center of the arena, his body aching but his spirit soaring.

"I can do this…" he whispered to himself, clenching his fists. A determined smile crossed his face.

"I can complete this mission!"

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