Lyra Winters, the matriarch of the Winters Clan, sat at the head of the long, frost-etched table. She exuded an aura of overwhelming power, one that went beyond the strength of an S-rank ability user. Lyra was one of the few in the entire country who had ascended beyond S-rank, a feat that placed her in a league of her own. Only two others in the nation could claim such a title, making their collective strength the cornerstone of the country's defenses.

Opposite her sat Ashna and Erwin. Both were still adjusting to the early hour of the summons, though they were sharp enough to mask their weariness. Ashna, her silver hair catching the morning light, held a composed expression, though her hands rested tensely in her lap. Beside her, Erwin's outwardly relaxed posture belied the intensity in his sharp gaze.

Lyra wasted no time, her voice sharp and clear. "Ashna. Erwin. We need to discuss something about your son."

The statement hit like a cold gust of wind, though neither parent outwardly reacted.

"What about Avince?" Ashna asked, keeping her tone even.

Lyra's piercing blue eyes fixed on her. "His soul growth. It's no longer a suspicion; it's a certainty. His soul is growing at an unprecedented rate—one that his body cannot sustain."

Erwin leaned forward, his expression darkening. "We suspected as much after our observation. But what makes you certain?"

Lyra steepled her fingers, her eyes narrowing as if peering into a distant memory. "The way his mana resonates... It's unnatural. His soul is growing at a pace far beyond what his body can handle. If this continues unchecked, he risks irreversible damage—perhaps even death."

Ashna's composure cracked for a moment, her lips pressing into a thin line. "There must be a solution."

"There is," Lyra replied, her tone measured but firm. "He must stop using his ability to improve his soul. Completely. At least for the next year."

Erwin stiffened. "You're asking him to stop using his ability entirely? That's... extreme."

Lyra's gaze turned icy. "This is not a suggestion, Erwin. It's a necessity. His soul must stabilize, and his body needs time to catch up. A year or more of focused body tempering and practice to control his overwhelming magic should suffice, but until then, he cannot afford to push himself further."

Ashna exchanged a glance with her husband. "He's not going to take that lightly. You saw him in the duel—he's determined to prove himself."

"And therein lies the problem," Lyra said, leaning back in her chair. "His stubbornness is commendable, but it's also dangerous. Did you see how he fought Kristine? Using only fire—fire, of all things. He's made his stance clear despite what I said, despite knowing I am watching him fight."

The mention of fire brought a flicker of frustration to the matriarch's otherwise stoic demeanor. She gestured toward the frost-covered windows of her chamber. "You should've guided him towards ice, Ashna. With your lineage and his potential, it would've been the natural choice. Instead, he clings to Tier 1 magic as if it's something to be proud of."

Ashna bristled but kept her tone calm. "Avince has always been drawn to fire after his failed awakening. It's not something we forced on him."

"That may be so," Lyra replied, her voice softening slightly, though the edge remained. "But you must make him see reason. Fire is holding him back. It lacks the refinement and versatility needed for the higher tiers of magic. If he refuses ice, then I suggest lightning. It's a far better alternative."

"Lightning?" Erwin echoed, frowning.

Lyra nodded. "I have connections with the Lightning Clan. They owe me a favor. If Avince agrees to transition, I can arrange for him to train under their tutelage. He may not appreciate it now, but it's a path that will allow him to grow properly. Continuing with fire will only hinder him in the long run."

Erwin hesitated, his hand clenching into a fist. "And if he refuses?"

Lyra's gaze hardened. "Then he'll be gambling with his future. I'm telling you this as a matriarch and as someone who cares for this family. Convince him, Erwin. Ashna. For his sake."

A heavy silence fell over the room, broken only by the faint hum of mana in the walls.

Lyra shifted her attention to Ashna. “Now, onto another matter. Amyra’s dragon.”

Ashna’s expression softened slightly. “What about it?”

“I’ve already reached out to the Patriarch of the Dragon Clan,” Lyra said, her tone matter-of-fact. “They have far more experience with such creatures than we do. If anyone knows how to guide her in this, it’s them.”

Erwin raised an eyebrow. “The Dragon Clan? That’s... unexpected.”

Lyra allowed a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Desperate times call for desperate measures. Amyra's potential is extraordinary, but she'll need guidance to harness it fully. This dragon of hers is a rare gift—and a dangerous one if mishandled."

Ashna's brows furrowed as she glanced at the Matriarch, hesitation flickering in her expression. "Do we truly not know who delivered the dragon egg? Its origin troubles me, Matriarch. Such a gift doesn't simply appear without motive."

Lyra's gaze hardened slightly, though her tone remained measured. "None that I know of, Ashna. I've made discreet inquiries, but there's no record of anyone within the clan delivering it—or even possessing knowledge of it beforehand."

Ashna's lips pressed into a thin line, her unease palpable. "And you're certain there's no danger in it? No hidden intent?"

The Matriarch allowed herself a moment of thought before responding, her voice firm and unshakable. "I checked the dragon thoroughly. Its aura, its essence—everything is as it should be. It's a pure, untainted creature, and its bond with Amyra is genuine. Whoever sent it either wanted her to thrive or saw potential in her growth. Regardless of their intent, the dragon itself holds no malice or ill will."

Ashna nodded slowly, relief flickering in her eyes. "Thank you, Matriarch. I'll make sure Amyra understands the importance of this."

Lyra offered a rare smile, though it was fleeting. "Amyra has been entrusted with something extraordinary. That kind of power requires care and wisdom. Ensure she understands both the privilege and the responsibility of this bond."

Lyra's expression softened for a brief moment before her sharp gaze returned. "And now, let's talk about the two of you."

Ashna straightened, instinctively bracing herself.

"You," Lyra said, focusing on Ashna, "are nearly healed from your injury. There's no reason to delay any longer. It's time for you to push for S-rank."

Ashna opened her mouth to protest, but Lyra raised a hand to silence her.

"I understand your hesitations," the matriarch continued, her tone firm yet measured. "But this clan needs more S-ranks. The stronger we are, the better prepared we'll be for what's coming."

She paused for a moment, her gaze growing distant, before murmuring, almost to herself, "It would be ideal if more people could ascend and surpass S-rank. The balance of power would shift, as the three of us alone in this country are simply not enough. Only then would we have the strength needed to face what lies ahead."

Ashna's jaw tightened, but she nodded. "I'll... consider it."

"And you, Erwin," Lyra said, turning her attention to him. "You have a tamed S-rank creature—a remarkable feat. But you yourself remain at peak A-rank. It's time to finally make that breakthrough."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Erwin met her gaze evenly. "I've been working on it."

"Work faster," Lyra said bluntly. "We don't have the luxury of time. Every S-rank we can muster will be crucial."

Another heavy silence filled the room, the weight of the matriarch's words pressing down on them.

"I'll do what I can," Erwin said finally, his voice steady.

"See that you do," Lyra replied. She leaned back in her chair, her demeanor shifting ever so slightly. "That will be all for tonight. Think on what I've said."

Ashna and Erwin stood, bowing respectfully before leaving the chamber. As they stepped outside, the gravity of the conversation hung heavily between them.

"What are we going to do?" Ashna asked quietly.

Erwin exhaled slowly, his breath forming a cloud in the frosty air. "We'll talk to Avince. But you know as well as I do—he's not going to give up fire easily."

Ashna nodded, her expression thoughtful. "And what about us? Are we ready to take that next step?"

Erwin glanced at her, his eyes reflecting a mixture of determination and uncertainty. "We'll have to be."

The two of them walked in silence, their steps crunching softly in the snow as the estate's sprawling grounds stretched out before them.

Earlier that day

The first rays of dawn crept through the curtains of his room, yet Avince lay wide awake, his mind spinning in circles. The conversation with the matriarch before last night's celebration still gnawed at him. Every word, every hint of disdain, replayed in his head, fueling his unease. It wasn't just the implications of her words—it was what they suggested about his abilities, about who he was.

He couldn't simply let it go. He needed answers, and there was one place he knew where he could get them.

Avince sat up abruptly, the blanket sliding off him as he reached for the silver amulet resting on the nightstand. Its faint glow pulsed against his touch, the resonance of his mana connecting with the artifact.

Sliding the amulet around his neck, he took a deep breath and focused his mana. The familiar warmth coursed through his body as the world around him blurred and shifted. His room faded, replaced by the dense, bright canopy of the ancient forest within the dungeon realm. The air smelled of damp earth and faint magic, and the faint rustle of leaves reminded him he wasn't alone.

"Back so soon?"

The melodic voice broke the silence, and Avince turned to see Althiel leaning against a tree, her expression a mix of amusement and curiosity. Her hair shimmered in the dappled light, and her golden eyes studied him with an intensity that always made him feel small, like a child standing before an elder who had seen countless lifetimes.

"You seem troubled, young one," she said, tilting her head. "What brings you back here so soon?"

Avince hesitated for a moment, unsure where to start. Finally, he blurted, "The matriarch of my clan said something last night—something I couldn't accept."

Althiel's brow arched as she pushed off the tree and folded her arms. "Oh? And what exactly did they say to stir you so deeply?"

Avince recounted the meeting in vivid detail—the veiled criticisms, the implications of his limitations as a generalist, and the faint disdain laced in her words. He spoke quickly, the frustration spilling out with every sentence. By the time he finished, he was pacing, his fists clenched at his sides.

Althiel listened in silence, her expression unreadable, but as Avince's words trailed off, a laugh escaped her lips. It wasn't a mocking laugh, but one of genuine amusement.

"I often forget how early your world is in its integration," she said, shaking her head. "Your matriarch sounds like someone clinging to outdated beliefs. Let me guess—your world didn't have magic before integration, did it?"

Avince nodded slowly. "No. Mana only became a part of our world after the first dungeon appeared."

"That explains much," Althiel said with a wry smile. "But an ascended this early in your world's integration... that's quite impressive. Now, tell me, what does your world know about magic conjuring in general?"

Avince frowned, taken aback by the question. "Well, we classify magic into tiers. Tier 1 magic—earth, fire, water, air—is the easiest to conjure and turns out is considered the weakest. The higher tiers are harder to conjure but are much stronger. Most people focus on Tier 2 magic or higher if they have the ability."

"I see," Althiel said, her tone thoughtful. "Your world's knowledge is... outdated, likely because of that tome people will receive from clearing a mega dungeon. Such tomes are useful, but they often lack the nuances of more advanced magical understanding."

Avince's brows furrowed. "Outdated? What do you mean?"

"The Tier 1 magic you described," Althiel began, "is not inherently weak. Your understanding of it is incomplete. Think of it this way—earth, fire, water, and air are simply conjuring different states of matter. Earth is solid, water is liquid, and air is gas. Advanced applications of these elements—like ice, steel, or mist—are merely extensions of the same concepts, with additional properties layered on. For example, ice involves reducing temperature, steel involves hardening, and mist involves concealment. These are not separate elements but refinements of the basics."

Avince blinked, the implications of her words slowly sinking in. "But fire... fire isn't like the others. It's not a state of matter."

"Precisely," Althiel said, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Now can you tell me. How do you conjure fire?"

"I combust my mana," Avince said. "Essentially, I burn my mana to create fire."

"And how do you make it hotter, stronger?"

"Uhhh, by burning more mana?" Avince said hesitantly.

Althiel laughed again, shaking her head. "I should have known. When I watched your fight, I noticed something off about your fire magic, but I didn't think much of it at the time as this is pretty much common sense. It seems your world's understanding of fire, and magic in general is indeed... elementary."

Avince frowned. "What do you mean? What's wrong with how I use fire?"

Althiel stepped closer, her violet eyes locking onto his. "Let me ask you this: how do you make ice stronger?"

Avince hesitated, then said, "By making it colder."

"Exactly. So, if making ice colder makes it stronger, then doesn't it stand to reason that fire can be made stronger by making it hotter—not by burning more mana, but by using mana to control the temperature?"

The realization hit Avince like a bolt of lightning. He stared at Althiel, the pieces clicking into place. "So... fire isn't inferior. we've just been using it wrong."

"How did we miss something that simple?" Avince asked, his voice tinged with disbelief and frustration. "I mean, it's so obvious when you think about it—controlling temperature instead of just pouring in mana. How did no one figure this out before?"

Althiel leaned back, crossing her arms with a wry smile. "Oh, trust me, the answer to that is as old as arrogance itself. It's the tome they received—the ones everyone swears by—that are partly to blame. All world will receive some sort of copy of that same tome after the integration. It categorize the elements into tiers of power, making it seem like some are naturally superior to others. Fire has always been listed as one of the 'unstable' elements in the past, meant for raw destruction and little else. That kind of thinking puts blinders on people, makes them believe fire can't be refined."

Avince frowned, processing her words. "So, people have just been blindly following outdated ideas? And no one ever questioned it?"

"Some probably have," Althiel admitted, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "But there could be other reasons. One that immediately comes to mind is that fire mages tend to steer clear of ice magic. They see it as a rival element—opposite in nature, and they think there’s nothing to learn from it. That divide keeps them from understanding the connection. The truth is, controlling temperature is the key to mastering both elements. But you’d never know that if you refused to look beyond the fire at your fingertips."

Avince nodded slowly, his thoughts spinning. "So... you're saying that the idea of controlling temperature isn't new, but no one figured out how to apply it to fire?"

Althiel shrugged, her expression unreadable. "It’s also possible some people did figure it out. But if they did, they kept it to themselves. Knowledge is power, Avince, and not everyone is as willing to share it. " She leaned forward slightly, her gaze piercing. "Think about it—if a fire mage learned how to use their mana to control temperature instead of just fueling raw flames, they’d have an edge over every other fire mage. Why would they hand that advantage to the competition?"

Avince’s eyes widened as the implications sank in. "So this could’ve already been discovered by someone all along?"

"Could’ve been. Or maybe it’s been lost and rediscovered overtime. Either way, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you know now. And if you’re smart, you’ll use it to make your fire unstoppable." Althiel smirked, her confidence unshaken. "After all, fire isn’t inferior. It never was. It's one of the most versatile and destructive elements when used correctly. Do I look inferior to you?"

Avince shook his head quickly. "No, definitely not."

"Good," she said, her tone firm. "But there's another issue we need to address—your generalist approach to magic. I can understand why you've chosen this path. You want flexibility, to cover your bases, but this approach is indeed hindering your growth."

Avince bit his lip. "What should I do, then?"

"You need to specialize a bit," Althiel said. "Focus on two elements—three at most. Fire and lightning, for example, are both highly offensive elements. Some have made those two work, but I personally think they don't complement each other well. You can combine them or maybe add a third element to balance it out. The choice is yours. The world is your canvas, and the only limit is yourself."

"What do you suggest?" Avince asked, his voice tinged with desperation.

Althiel smiled faintly. "Your path is your own choice. I've already said more than enough. The rest is up to you."

She stepped back, her gaze softening. "Now, do you have any other questions, Avince?"

Avince shook his head, still processing everything she'd said.

"Very well," Althiel said.

Before Avince could respond, the world around him dissolved into darkness, and he was once again back in his room. Alone with his thoughts.