As the morning sun began to poke into the cave, jewels and ores sparkling in the early light, the dragon within opened its eyes. Slowly, it rose from its nest of gems and metal and walked out of its cave, stretching from head to wingtip to tailtip, its emerald scales glittering even more brilliantly than its hoard.

Finishing its stretch, the dragon, which measured more than fifty yards from its head to the tip of its tail, let out a bellow that shook the air, caused leaves to fall from the trees in the forest around its mountain on the island and birds to take flight from their roosts.

Satisfied, the dragon gave a small nod. He was old, he was powerful, and he was second only to the dragon princes and their father, the dragon king himself. Lesser beings should fear him.

Stretching his wings out to their full length, the elder dragon prepared to take flight. Unlike lesser creatures, there was no need for it to flap its wings. A dragon flew on magic alone, though they did use their wings to assist in the flight when they wanted to maneuver more than simple turns. However, it also need its wings stretched out to fly, for keeping them tucked in prevented the flight magics from working.

Ready for its morning hunt, the elder dragon activated its flight magics and began to rise into the sky… only to slam into the ground as its flight magics failed. The impossible occurrence baffled the dragon. There was no reason for its magics to fail, yet it did.

Once more, it began to take flight, only to find the same thing happening again. And again. And again. No matter how many times the dragon attempted to fly, its flight magics failed after a few seconds and the great beast fell back to the ground.

Letting out a bellow of frustration, the dragon began to walk into the forest. There were no other dragons nearby. None powerful enough to interfere with his magics, at any rate. As far as he knew, it wasn't even possible for someone to mess with its magics like that. If anyone could, it would be the dragon king, who was on a different floating island, one on the other side of the world.

Before reaching the forest, however, the dragon found itself walking into a barrier it hadn't seen. An invisible field which prevented passage. Already annoyed by the failure of its flight magics, the elder dragon let out a bellow of rage, not wanting to put up with the prank.

Had it thought on it further, it would have wondered why its eyes, which could see magic, failed to allow it to see the barrier. But full of pride as any dragon was, it instead decided to charge through the barrier.

Only for that to fail, the elder dragon crashing into the invisible field. Unable to stop its momentum, the dragon's rear continued forward, causing its entire body to smash against the barrier. As durable as the dragon was, its only injury was to its pride, raising its anger further.

Taking a few steps back, the dragon looked around, attempting to find the source of the barrier, Seeing none, it turned back to the field, then opened its mouth to let loose a torrent of flames to burn through the magic.

What happened instead was its entire body crashed into the ground, pinned by a force of gravity many times greater than possible for it to stand under. Aware that it had come under attack, the elder dragon attempted to retaliate, only for its magics to neutralize the moment they formed, the gravity beyond its ability to take command over.

Another impossible event, for no dragon around was more powerful than it, and thus able to cast spells which it couldn't override. The only other creature anywhere on the planet which could was a phoenix, which usually kept out of matters.

The phoenix… the elder dragon realized the source of the pranks.

"Var-Var!" He bellowed with his mind, unable to open his mouth. "Release me! This prank has gone far enough!"

"Close, but so, so far," the voice of a human child spoke.

Before the dragon's eyes, a boy descended from the sky, landing outside of the crater forming under the pressure of increased gravity. If the dragon estimated the human's age correctly, it was only around twelve or thirteen.

The dragon wasn't even sure if it was a boy. The younger humans were more difficult to tell apart, especially with their voices being similar. However, he'd heard the child before him was a boy. There was only one living 'human' with the appearance of the boy.

The boy's hair was a platinum-blond, his eyes a deep, rich blue with rings of gold around the outside of irises and spikes of violet around his pupils. He wore tan cargo shorts, black combat boots, and a tight, light green sleeveless. Hanging from a blue orichalcum chain around his neck was a silver and gold band ring set with an amethyst with a ruby to either side of it, a ring which appealed to the dragon's greed and drive for treasure and shiny things.

While many boys had that hair color, only one had those eyes, and only one could use magic, and only one had that ring.

The mutt.

"I was visiting an abandoned floating island yesterday," the boy took a step forward.

The force of gravity on the elder dragon increased doubled, the dragon feeling its body finally start to take damage, its innate enhancements unable to protect it against the force exerted upon it.

"To go for a swim," the boy said. "See, it's got this really nice lake that's full of mystical properties due to the water dragon that used to live there, then died in it and eventually decayed into it, infusing it with its power. It feels amazing to swim in, and it's perfect for training in water magics, too. But then-"

The boy took another step forward, and the force of gravity increased once more, the dragon groaning in pain in response. It couldn't understand how the child could hold so much power, especially as a mutt with so many weaker things in its blood.

"-while I was busy swimming under the water," the boy continued. "Someone came by and pooped on my towel. Now, if you were a person, you'd just get into trouble. But you're a dragon, so that's a bit of a different thing. Dragons have pride. A lot of it. They look down on anything they see as lesser, and a simple punishment isn't enough."

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He took another step forward, and the force of gravity increased further. It took all the dragon could manage to not lose consciousness under the weight and pain, and it once more wondered how the mutt could hold so much power. Even its father couldn't wield that level of power.

"Oh, trust me," the boy crouched in front of the dragon, only a few feet from its maw. "My father was easily ten times as powerful as me. The problem was, he couldn't use that full power because of issues with his genetics. Issues I don't suffer from because of the interference of a certain phoenix."

The boy glared at the dragon.

"But that's neither here nor there," he said. "Because I'm here because you pooped on my towel. I know you knew it was mine, too, because I know you saw me. Did you think I wouldn't track you down? Did you think I wouldn't be able to do anything about it?

"See," he said. "That is why I have to do more than simply get you in trouble. You're a dragon, your pride is nigh-endless. I would know, since I am part-dragon, after all. And a dragon pooping on my towel? Well, that's an insult to me. It's an attack on my pride and an insult to my honor. So I'm going to use you to send a message to other dragons. Don't attack my pride."

Standing the boy held out his right hand, aimed at the elder dragon, and wove together a spell. Then, he released his gravity spell. Aware the dragon couldn't do anything against him, he began to float up into the sky.

"Enjoy dying under your own weight, dragon," the boy said. "Because you angered probably the one being in all the world capable of neutralizing magic in its entirety. And I just erased all of the magic keeping you from crushing yourself under your weight."

He flew over the dragon, into the beast's cave, then opened up the lower pocket on the right leg of his shorts, before reaching out with his force magic. Immediately, the hoard began to fly into it, disappearing into the dimensional space woven into the pocket. He continued his theft until every last piece of the dragon's hoard was his, then he stopped using force magic and closed his pocket, before floating out of the cave.

Without sparing the dying dragon a glance, he flew off, soaring over the forest, then past the edge of the island. He'd already ensured no other dragons were around to save the elder dragon before launching his attack, so he knew that they'd eventually find the dragon dead and its hoard stolen.

They'd also know it was him, too. Hoping the message not to screw with him was sent, the boy flew above the fog covering the surface of the world, taking his time to enjoy the feel of the air passing over him, filtered through his magic to protect him against the cold, bugs, and other things which would bother him.

He could teleport home immediately, and would once he finished enjoying the feel of flight. However, he also knew that once he returned home, his ma would likely send him into the training room for more martial arts training.

Martial arts training occurred every day, for a minimum of two hours, right at five-thirty in the morning. If he wasn't there when it started, it would extend to three hours. His ma and late uncle and godfather wanted him to be prepared for anyone who came after him because of what he could do.

Magic training occurred in the evenings, for only two hours, and never on Nyzkal Island. His ma stopped teaching him magic there once he started learning more powerful spells, to protect the island and the sanity of its residents.

For some reason, people got nervous when someone who could easily blast through any alloy except for orichalcum trained his high-level destructive spells near them.

Back on the island, which was in the opposite direction of the dragon's island, it was almost six in the morning, half an hour after he was supposed to have begun his martial arts training. He also left his phone at home specifically so that his ma wouldn't keep calling him and run the battery down. She'd probably noticed it sitting on the kitchen counter the first time she called it.

At six-thirty, he finally teleported himself back home, and was almost immediately glared at by his ma.

"Cyrus!" She exclaimed. "What do you think you were doing? Where did you run off to this time? So help me, if you were stealing banana bread from the bakery again, you're grounded for a month! Don't think I won't get Var-Var to come and sit you to ensure you don't get up to mischief. I will! Are you going to explain yourself? Why are you dressed as if you're getting ready to fight someone? Cyrus, what did you go do? Who did you attack? Answer me, Cyrus!"

"Ma," he calmly said. "I was waiting for you to stop."

"Oh, right," she immediately backed off. "Sorry. You know I get worried about you, Cyrus."

"Dad died fourteen years ago," he said. "Because he overused a magic he shouldn't have and his genetics weren't complete. Mine are, meaning that I could use them even more than him, and I'd be fine. There's nothing to worry about."

"I'm not referring to that," she sighed. "Cyrus, I'm worried that one day, you're going to get attacked by something much bigger and more powerful than you."

"Please," Cyrus rolled his eyes. "I'm not Dad, I don't just charge head-first into a fight without a plan unless someone else feeds it to me. I acted calmly and rationally in a fit of spite, anger, and pride."

"You just contradicted yourself," she sighed. "And now I know what you did. You went after the dragon, didn't you?"

"That was my favorite towel. He deserved it."

"Alright," she said. "Well, get your butt into the training room, Cyrus. Three hours today, Isabelle is going to make you train until you're unable to move."

"No," Cyrus rolled his eyes again. "She's going to have the simulacrums train me until then. She can't keep up with me. It's a good thing Uncle Kal designed some with the purpose of training, right?"

"He did that specifically for you," she ruffled his hair. "Now go, Cy. I'll fix you up a good breakfast for after you finish."

"Thanks, Ma," he walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a glass. "Oh, and I stole the dragon's hoard. Since it's dead, it won't be needing it anymore. So expect Var-Var to call you complaining about the dragon king being annoyed by the theft. Then tell him to remind the dragon king that a dragon's rules is 'take the loot'. All I did was follow their code."

His ma appraised him as he filled the glass with water, then began to drink it.

"Cyrus," she said. "I believe I explicitly forbid you from putting dimensional spaces in your pockets. I don't care that Kal researched doing that, it only opens the door to abuse."

"You said pants pockets," he said. "And jacket. And shirt. And bag. You never said shorts."

"Stop looking for loopholes!"

"Stop making them," he filled the glass again, then drained it. "Anyway, I'm off to training."

"Make sure to change into your gi first," she told him. "Or you're in even more trouble for intentionally delaying things further."

Cyrus shrugged. He sometimes 'forgot' to change into his gi to procrastinate in his martial arts training. He much preferred using magic, though understood why his ma wanted him to train his body. It made it stronger, and thus more able to hold magic. At least, in her mind. She was always worried he'd suffer the same fate as his dad, despite knowing that wasn't possible.

If he were completely honest with himself, he didn't really mind the martial arts training. He actually did enjoy from time to time. When Isabelle wasn't the instructor. His ma? One of the other security guards? He didn't mind it when it was them. Isabelle, on the other hand, grated on his nerves.

He felt confident that his ma needed to reassess her training abilities. She was an excellent guard and soldier, but terrible trainer.

But he knew it would probably be awhile before his ma listened to him on that, so he resigned himself to another three hours of training, then set the glass in the sink before teleporting himself into the training rooms. He'd let off steam later by returning to the lake.

After breakfast, though. He would argue with anyone who said his ma didn't make the best pancakes.