NTR School: S Rank Student

Raphael pushed open the door.

…

What?

The room was empty.

It was clearly a classroom, as rows of desks and chairs lined the space, but not a single person was inside.

That doesn't make sense. I can still feel the Red Dragon's energy. Could I be wrong—?

BOOM!

Before he could finish the thought, an explosion of energy crashed down from above. A crushing force slammed into his body, sending searing pain through his muscles. The impact was instant, violent, and left him no time to react.

The floor beneath him shattered.

The world blurred as he fell through the hole, debris tumbling alongside him.

Screams erupted from below as students on the second floor watched him fall from the ceiling, his red uniform a blur against the dark marble walls.

As the force of the blast finally cleared, Raphael caught sight of his attacker.

Standing on the floor above, looking down at him with a smug expression, was a man with long, golden hair flowing down his back.

His hands burned with a red energy bright like the sun itself.

Even before he hit the ground, Raphael knew exactly who he was.

Christopher Reynolds.

Owner of the Red Dragon.

The Dragonborn.

If Raphael hit the ground from this height, even he wouldn't survive.

Calling upon the power of the twin dragons within him, he twisted mid-air, summoning a surge of flames beneath him.

WHOOSH

A powerful burst of white and black fire erupted from his palms, slowing his descent. The sudden explosion of heat sent students scrambling, some running for cover while others stood frozen, unable to look away.

Gasps and excited whispers filled the hall as recognition spread through the crowd.

"White flames? That's him! That's the Son of the Dragon!"

"You idiot! Forget about Raphael! Look up there! That's Christopher!"

"Holy shit, it's a battle of the dragons!"

Despite his flames breaking the fall, Raphael still hit the ground hard. Pain jolted through his body, but it was nothing compared to the force of the attack that had sent him there.

Strangely, his body wasn't burned—he felt the heat, but it didn't sear his skin. His birthright granted him immunity to flames, though only to a certain extent.

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to his feet and looked up.

The whispers in the crowd turned into shocked gasps.

Christopher Reynolds was walking on air.

No, not walking—stepping on fire.

Bright red flames burst from his feet, forming footholds beneath him as he slowly descended, each step effortless. He moved with complete confidence, his golden hair swaying slightly as he closed the distance.

Raphael felt rage beginning to brew inside of him. This man had attacked him without provocation. That was all the reason he needed.

Christopher Reynolds deserved to die.

Summoning both Rachael and Naomi's flames, Raphael conjured his twin swords in his hands. The white and black blades burned with power.

"Woah, the rumours never said he could summon swords!"

"What do you expect? He beat Charles Thornbatch in his own estate! Of course he has insane powers!"

Christopher finally reached eye level, hovering just above the floor. His piercing gold eyes locked onto Raphael, as if seeing straight through him.

One of his hands still burned with red energy, while the other remained untouched.

"Did you really think you could just walk into my school without me noticing?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the excited murmurs of the spectators.

Raphael remained silent, his grip tightening around the twin swords.

Christopher smirked.

"Maybe your bond with the dragons is weak, but mine is not. She aids me in ways you could never imagine."

Raphael's mind raced as he contemplated the situation.

When he had come into contact with Naomi, the black dragon, she had immediately drawn him into her realm, because she was dissatisfied with her owner and wished to seek a new one.

Yet now, standing before the Red Dragon's wielder, there was no such response.

Why?

Could the Red Dragon actually be satisfied with her owner?

"Are you just going to stand there and wait for me to strike you again?" Christopher taunted, lowering himself closer to the ground. His burning hand shifted to his chest. "I'll even let you have the first—"

Raphael didn't let him finish.

He exploded forward.

With both swords drawn back, he aimed a devastating slash at Christopher's neck.

But the Dragonborn reacted instantly.

A shroud of red flames surged around his arm as he raised it in defence.

The clash was thunderous.

CRACK

The impact sent Christopher flying backwards. He crashed through the air before slamming into the marble wall ten meters away.

Dust and rubble rained down, filling the already chaotic hall with even more destruction.

Raphael barely had time to process what had happened before the dust cleared—

Christopher was still standing.

His arm, however, was bent at an unnatural angle. The force of Raphael's strike had shattered it.

Yet, instead of pain, Christopher laughed.

"A strike to the neck!" he shouted maniacally. "You really are as vicious as they say!"

Then, without hesitation, his other hand ignited.

A dark red shape began forming in the air, flames twisting together, coalescing into something massive. Raphael's eyes widened as he realized what was happening.

Christopher Reynolds was forging a weapon.

Within seconds, the fire solidified—an enormous war hammer, made entirely of flames.

It was far too large to be wielded with one hand, but Raphael understood fire well enough. To Christopher, the weight was meaningless.

Grinning, the Dragonborn charged.

CLASH

The twin swords met the hammer in a violent collision. A shockwave of fire washed over the crowd, vanishing just before it could burn them.

The students erupted in cheers, their excitement growing with every strike exchanged.

But Raphael didn't hear them. His entire focus was on blocking the hammer's strikes—and he was struggling.

Each impact sent him skidding backwards. The raw power behind Christopher's attacks was insane. He was clearly well accustomed to the weapon as his swings were controlled and accurate.

CLANG

Raphael barely managed to deflect another swing, his feet dragging across the floor.

I can't keep this up. I need to change my strategy.

Then, something strange happened.

A heat began growing in his stomach. Not from Christopher's flames—but from within himself.

W-what is this…?

WHOOSH

He ducked under a hammer strike, feeling the heat rise further, burning his throat, pressing against his chest like an uncontained explosion.

With each passing second, it grew hotter. More intense.

"..."

Raphael's lips twisted into a knowing grin.

I understand it now.

Christopher's expression darkened. "What the hell are you smiling about, false Son of the Dragons?"

Raphael slashed outward, sending Christopher stumbling back.

Then, he opened his jaws.

The heat surged up his throat like bile, but he didn't fight against it. He released it.

Christopher's eyes widened in horror.

A mixture of black and white flames roared from Raphael's mouth—far stronger than any fire he had ever summoned before.

Christopher barely had time to react. He raised a barrier of red fire, desperately trying to block it.

But it was too late.

The swirling flames engulfed him, consuming everything in their path.