That not so important character turned out to be important

The dragon perched on the branch, its eyes fixed on Shaun as the man spoke. Every word seemed to carry weight, but the dragon's mind was a storm of thoughts, each one battling for dominance.

"What is he offering me?" The dragon's thoughts twisted like the wind, spinning in circles. "Power? Strength? A way out of this... pathetic existence?" It glanced down at its frail, scaly body. Weak. Small. Every inch of it screamed of failure.

The words Shaun spoke echoed in its mind, promising a future it had never even dared to dream of. "He'll make me strong." The dragon flinched. Strong? It hadn't felt strong in years. It had spent so long in this unforgiving forest, surviving only because the monsters hadn't yet deemed it a worthy meal. The creatures of this place hunted with relentless cruelty, and the dragon had learned to hide, to evade. To endure. But what does he want in return?

There was a part of it that yearned for the promise of power, a life where it was no longer the prey, where its wings—its missing wings—could unfurl and allow it to soar above the world. A true dragon... The thought stirred something deep within the dragon's chest. A flicker of longing. But the price—obedience. To follow someone like him, a creature it didn't fully understand.

It trembled at the thought of what might happen if it betrayed Shaun. The consequences. Could it bear them? Its mind flashed to the countless times it had been struck down by larger, stronger creatures, the beatings, the jeers. Would this be another one of those times?

"Endure," the primal voice whispered, echoing through its thoughts like a forgotten mantra. It had survived this long, hadn't it? The dragon clenched its claws. Its heart pounded in its chest. I've lived through worse...

But living had never meant thriving. Never meant growing. Never meant being something more than just another weak, abandoned creature in the forest.

Shaun's words came again, cutting through the fog of its thoughts. "If you stick with me, we both gain something. Power, survival, and purpose." The dragon's heart stilled. What did it even want? To die alone here, weak and forgotten? Or to trust this strange creature, this human who spoke of power and survival?

There were no answers to its questions, no certainty in its future. But one thing was clear. It couldn't keep living this way. Couldn't keep being a failure, an outcast. If there was even the smallest chance that Shaun could give it a purpose, that he could help it become something greater... maybe it was worth the risk.

But what of trust? Could it trust Shaun, a being so different, so foreign? What would happen if it gave in to this offer, only to find betrayal waiting at the end?

"Endure." The voice whispered again, stronger this time. Endure. It had been its mantra for years, but now, it was different. Now, it was a choice. A choice to survive, yes. But also to take a leap. To trust in something, even if it didn't have all the answers.

The dragon shifted uncomfortably, its gaze flicking back to Shaun. The decision was weighing on it. Power, survival... or stay in this never-ending cycle of fear and doubt?

Its claws scraped against the bark of the tree, its tail twitching. It could leave, could run, could keep hiding, but for how long? It was tired. So tired.

With a deep, hesitant breath, the dragon made its decision. Slowly, it inched closer to Shaun, its eyes locking with his. It didn't speak. It didn't need to. The moment was enough.

It would endure. It would trust. And in return... it would fight to become something more than the weak, forgotten thing it had always been.

Shaun's grin widened just slightly, sensing the shift in the dragon's resolve. "Good choice," he muttered, already planning the first step of its training. 

The path ahead was uncertain, but at least now, they would walk it together.

The dragon sat still, its fiery eyes flickering with a mix of curiosity and caution. It had been through so much already—pain, hunger, endless battles for survival—but this... this felt different. There was something in Shaun's words, something in his calm, commanding presence, that stirred a deeper question within the dragon's mind.

Shaun's voice broke through its thoughts as he continued, his aura flickering from his palm like a soft flame, but the intensity behind it was undeniable.

"I will be embedding my aura in you," Shaun said, his tone steady, almost like an instructor preparing to teach a difficult lesson. "This will manipulate your physical, mental, aura, and magical state, forcing you to awaken everything that's dormant inside of you. Your body will have to catch up with the energy I pour into you. It's going to be intense. I might even redesign your body if needed, to make it stronger, more capable."

The dragon flinched at the mention of redesigning its body, but it didn't pull away. It was too tired, too desperate for change. For so long, it had been weak. For so long, it had been a failure. Maybe this—this could be the chance it needed. Maybe, this was the way it could truly survive.

Shaun's voice continued, becoming more serious, more resolute. "You'll need to make a soul contract with me. Your soul and aura will be linked to mine. Whatever happens to me... happens to you. If I die, you die. But," Shaun's lips twitched, a wry grin touching the corners of his mouth, "in return, you'll gain incredible power. Abilities and strength that will far surpass anything you've known."

The dragon's chest tightened at the thought. It had always been weak. It had always struggled to survive. But could it really trust Shaun? Could it truly risk everything—its life, its soul—for the promise of power? It didn't have to think long; its heart raced with a mixture of fear and excitement. It wanted this. It needed this.

Shaun's expression softened, as though reading the dragon's internal conflict. "But there's a price to pay," he warned. "Pain. I'll do my best to ease it, but some of it... it can't be avoided. Pain is the greatest contributor to growth. It's the forge that shapes the strongest metals." His voice dropped slightly, a more serious tone settling in. "Are you ready for it, or not? There's still time to back out, if you're not."

The dragon blinked slowly, as the words sank in. Pain. The thought of more pain made its stomach twist. Yet, what was pain, really, in comparison to the years of weakness it had endured? The years of scraping by, always falling short, always living in fear? The desire to break free from that was stronger than the fear of pain. It had fought so long, had endured so much. This... this was its chance to rise.

There was no turning back now. The dragon's tail flicked nervously, its heart pounding with an intensity that mirrored the aura building in the air around them.

With a deep breath, it looked at Shaun, determination burning in its amber eyes. Yes. It was ready. Ready to shed its weakness. Ready to fight for the power it had always been denied. Ready to endure, to grow, and to survive.

The mountain range loomed before them, its jagged peaks standing tall against the clear sky. A perfect place, secluded and untouched, it would be the shaun and dragon's temporary home.

Shaun had already started making the space within the mountain—a hole carved out of solid stone, large enough for both of them. It was no palace, but it was clean, safe.

As the dragon hesitated at the entrance to the hollowed-out cave, Shaun's voice broke through the silence. "You go rest. Eat. Sleep here for now," he said, his tone unbothered, like he was giving an order but without the harshness that usually accompanied such commands. "I'll make food for you. At least for three days, you'll need to eat more than you can."

The dragon watched him, unsure. It had been alone for so long—there was no one to care for it, no one to feed it. In all its years, it had never been treated with kindness like this. Shaun, however, seemed genuine. He wasn't asking for anything, wasn't demanding obedience for the sake of it. Instead, it felt like... well, like someone actually cared.

The dragon stepped into the cave, its body still stiff with caution, but something inside it—something buried deep—shifted. It wasn't fear anymore. It was confusion. A strange, unfamiliar warmth bloomed in its chest, like the kind of warmth a fire might offer on a cold night.

Shaun had already moved to gather ingredients, his movements smooth and deliberate. There were no words exchanged as the dragon rested, its back pressed against the cool stone of the cave. For the first time in a long while, it allowed itself to close its eyes.

The first day passed slowly, with Shaun returning to the cave each time, his arms laden with food. Fruits, meat, and herbs, all prepared carefully. He didn't offer it in a rush, and he didn't force the dragon to eat. Instead, he placed the food near the dragon, observing quietly, like a parent watching a child tentatively take its first steps.

At first, the dragon didn't know what to make of the food. It wasn't the kind of meal it would usually find in the wild—there was no blood, no rawness to it. But it was nourishing, and after a while, it began to nibble cautiously. Shaun noticed, his gaze softening, and he didn't say a word, allowing the dragon the space to take what it needed.

The mountain cave was silent except for the rhythmic sound of Shaun's steady breathing and the subtle hum of the aura pulsating in the air. The dragon lay prone on the cold stone floor, its small, fragile body barely moving, save for the occasional twitch. The weight of the moment was unbearable—Shaun's presence commanding, the syringe in place, binding them together in a silent agreement. The ritual had begun, and there was no turning back.

Shaun's aura, stretching from his palm like an invisible chain, moved with purpose. It coiled around the syringe like a rope, binding it to the dragon, an unbreakable link that tethered the two together. It was not just an injection—it was an invasion, a flooding of the dragon's body with Shaun's energy.

"I will guide you through this," Shaun muttered softly to the dragon, his voice low but firm, a grounding force amidst the storm of energy. "Don't fight it. Let it take over. Let it transform you."

The syringe was not like a typical needle. It was an extension of Shaun's will, a conduit for his aura. As he commanded it, the aura flowed into the dragon with an unyielding strength, pushing deep into its very bones, binding to its essence. The dragon could feel it—a pressure, a weight that seemed to saturate every fiber of its being.

At first, it was bearable—just the trickle of energy, like a river creeping over a parched earth. But then, it intensified. The flow quickened, turning into a flood that surged through the dragon's body, making its heart pound in its chest. The dragon could feel its muscles stiffening, its very form starting to adapt to the foreign aura.

Shaun watched closely, his brow furrowing slightly as he tightened his control. He could feel the dragon's resistance, its fragile body shaking under the influx of energy. But he was prepared for this. It was part of the plan. This was the first step—the adaptation. The dragon needed to accept Shaun's aura, to let it sink into its very core, to become familiar with it.

"Just breathe. Adapt," Shaun repeated, his tone unwavering.

For the first three days, the dragon endured the pressure. The dragon's body was weak, its scales dull and lifeless, and it seemed as though nothing would change. Yet, day by day, the aura began to settle deeper into its system, working to mend the rift between the dragon's potential and its current state.

On the seventh day, the dragon's body could no longer take the pressure. Shaun's aura flooded it fully, and with a sickening crack, the first of its muscles snapped. Then came the bones—broken, shattered, reconstructed. The dragon screamed, but no sound escaped its mouth. The aura suppressed it, keeping it from expressing the full depth of its agony. It wasn't just the physical pain—it was the overwhelming sense of helplessness. Every part of its body seemed to fight back, as though it was being torn apart and rebuilt by an invisible force.

But Shaun never stopped. The syringe remained, connected by the ever-stronger chain of aura. Shaun's voice rang out through the process, cutting through the pain like a lifeline. "Endure it," he urged. "This is the path to your power. This is where you rise from your weakness."

By the ninth day, the dragon's body was no longer just breaking—it was being completely reshaped. Its muscles grew, its form expanded, its wings lengthened. The scales that had once been dull and gray were now beginning to shimmer with new life, reflecting the faintest glimmers of light. The dragon's aura, once weak and flickering, was now starting to stabilize, circulating more naturally, more powerfully. It felt stronger, more alive.

Shaun, as always, watched with focused attention, commanding the flow of his aura with an expertise that bordered on mastery. He was molding the dragon—shaping it, teaching it, filling it with knowledge it hadn't known before. Through his aura, the dragon experienced battle strategies, the ways of powerful creatures, and magic that had once been beyond its comprehension. It was like an explosion of wisdom, an endless library of experiences flowing directly into its consciousness.

The dragon's body began to catch up with the aura, its strength growing exponentially. It felt as though it could stand tall against anything, that no force in the world could rival its power. And then came the third phase. It was the final step.

On the tenth day, the dragon's transformation reached its peak. Its body, now filled with raw strength and untapped potential, began to form a cocoon around itself. This was not a physical shell—it was a spiritual cocoon, a manifestation of the dragon's aura taking shape. The aura from Shaun had stabilized the dragon's growth, and now, it was time for the dragon to undergo its final evolution.

Shaun stepped back, watching as the dragon's energy pulsed and flickered, its body enveloped in a swirling cocoon of aura. The syringe was still connected, stabilizing the entire process, keeping the link between them intact. The dragon's consciousness began to fade into a deep, tranquil state as the cocoon tightened around it.

"Rest now," Shaun said, his voice gentle yet full of authority. "The hard part is over. You've learned, you've grown. Now, you'll evolve. Everything you are, everything you could ever be, is within you. This is the last step."

The dragon's mind, now filled with new experiences, new knowledge, began to settle into the new power it had gained. It wasn't just stronger—it was something far greater than it had been before. A beast on the cusp of awakening to its full potential.

And in the stillness of the cave, as the dragon's aura swirled within the cocoon, it was clear—this was only the beginning of something much, much bigger.