Chapter 226: Loric’s Training

Chapter 226: Loric’s Training
Sacred Moon training garden – Late afternoon

The setting sun cast a golden light over the warm stone tiles of the training grounds. But today, there were no shouts, no battles. No armored wolves or warrior rituals. Just a four-year-old boy, precariously balancing on a fallen log, tongue poking out in concentration, and his favorite plush toy, Bouboule, resting nearby… barking joyfully at every success.

Well… “barking” was a generous term. It was more of a magical squeak, the result of a spell cast by Lina, supposedly meant to “encourage bravery and tactical coordination.” A spectacular success, judging by Loric’s bursts of laughter after each victorious woof.

“You want to call this an ‘introductory leadership course,’” Malick said dryly, arms crossed, observing with a half-smile. “But all I see is a log and three red-painted rocks.”

Caleb, standing beside him, nodded slowly.
“Exactly. Three red stones. Positioned in a defensive triangle. You know what that means?”

“That you’ve stopped sleeping,” Malick muttered, unusually amused. “He’s a pup, Caleb. You can’t turn him into a soldier at daycare.”

“He’s not a soldier. He’s a future Beta. He needs foundations. Not muscles. Instinct. Trust. And look at him.”

On the log, Loric had reached the end. He jumped, arms outstretched, landing on a stone with pride.
“See?” he called out. “Mission complete, Commander Bouboule!”
The plush squeaked in approval.

Caleb couldn’t help smiling.
“Besides, Lya said he needed to burn off energy. Otherwise, he starts repainting the walls.”

“With avant-garde finger murals,” Malick muttered. “The horror.”

They watched in silence as Loric started a new mini-challenge: finding the right “pack leader’s path” through a maze of ropes strung between foam posts. He moved in silence, frowning at each intersection.

“You used the old concentration test from the Eastern scouts,” said Malick.
“I simplified the rules,” replied Caleb.
“And added a barking plush that squeaks with every mistake?”
“Obviously.”

A pause settled between them. Then Malick’s voice turned more serious:
“Do you really think he can do it? Not just follow Kaelan, but guide him? Support him… even if he becomes one of those kids who’s too powerful for the world?”

Caleb didn’t answer right away. He watched Loric stop, hesitate, then choose a different path.
“He’s loyal. Curious. He thinks. He watches. And most importantly… he’s not afraid to say ‘I love you’ out loud, in front of the entire pack. You want a real Beta? That’s it. Not a warrior. A bond. An anchor. A brother.”

Malick sighed.
“You’re going to make me cry now.”
“You should. You’ve got two eyes. Might as well use them.”
“You’ve got two arms too. Want to see how many you’ll have left after a good elbow strike?”

They exchanged a smirk. In front of them, Loric finished his course, cheeks flushed, arms raised like a champion.
“I won! And Bouboule too!”

Caleb stepped forward, lifting him into his arms with a smile.
“You did more than win, little one. You just took your first step… toward a throne without a crown.”

“Is it a game?” Loric asked, eyes shining.
Caleb glanced at Malick.
“Yes. But it’s the most beautiful game. The one we play for those we love.”

Quiet garden, behind the family manor – Soft, sunny morning

Loric sat cross-legged on a large cushion in the grass. In front of him, unmoving like a mountain on standby, Théon observed him. The silver dragon had swapped his warrior attire for a simple tunic with stormy hues and stood with his hands behind his back, more wise than stern.

“You said we wouldn’t run today,” Loric muttered doubtfully.
“Not today,” Théon replied in his deep, calm voice. “Today, we learn not to fall… even when nothing is pushing us.”

Loric raised an eyebrow, confused.
“Huh?”
Théon smiled, then knelt slowly to the boy’s level.
“Breathe with me. We’ll start with that. Ready?”

Loric nodded, though his attention flickered. Bouboule was lying under a tree, spell deactivated to avoid distractions.
“Inhale like a dragon at rest,” said Théon, eyes half-closed. “Calm. Deep. Grounded.”

Loric inhaled… and immediately started coughing.
“Are you sure that dragon was sleeping? Sounded like it had a cold!”

Théon stifled a chuckle but continued, patient:
“Now exhale… like a wolf on watch. Silent. Steady. Vigilant.”

Loric let out a dramatic, puffed-cheeked blow, eyes narrowed.
“Feels like I’m trying to blow out a candle.”

“Perfect. The candle is your emotion. And you decide whether it lights up… or not.”

Loric considered it seriously this time, then tried again.
Inhale. Exhale.

Théon observed him closely. He knew self-control wasn’t taught in a day. But the seeds planted at this age would one day bear greater fruit than any physical training.

“You know,” he murmured, “when I was young, my master used to say: ‘Power lies not in what you can do… but in what you choose not to do.’”

Loric peeked one eye open.
“Then your power kinda sucks.”

This time, Théon burst out laughing, a rare sound for him. He gently tousled the boy’s hair.
“Maybe. But it saved more allies than any weapon ever could.”

They stayed there a moment longer. Loric resumed the breathing exercise in earnest—slow breath, palms on his knees. A bird chirped in the distance. And for the first time, Théon saw it: calm. Fleeting, clumsy… but real.

“Well done,” he whispered. “Tomorrow, you’ll learn to breathe like a protective dragon. That’s even harder.”
“And the day after, can I make real fire?”
“If you can, I’ll give you an armor made of marshmallow scales.”
“Is that a dragon promise?” Loric asked, eyes gleaming.
“From a dragon… and a Beta.”

From the soft shade of a flower-covered pergola, Caleb and Lya watched the scene. She sat comfortably in a cushioned chair, one hand resting on her rounded belly; he stood behind her, arms crossed, eyes fixed on their adoptive son and the ancient dragon.

The silence was peaceful, broken only by the rustling leaves… and Loric’s theatrical exhales.
“He sounds like he’s giving birth to a hurricane,” Caleb muttered with a smirk.

Lya elbowed him without looking.
“Shh. He’s focused. And it’s much harder than you think. Breathing is the foundation. Even for us dragons.”

Caleb raised a brow.
“I never needed to breathe to take down an opponent.”
“You breathe in your sleep, wolf. And trust me, it’s not subtle. Or graceful.”
“Okay, I take it back.”

She smiled, eyes glowing, deeply moved.
“Look at him,” she whispered. “He’s only four. But already he wants to do everything like the grown-ups. He wants to learn. Understand. Live up to what he thinks we expect.”

Caleb frowned slightly, watching Loric imitate Théon with moving seriousness.
“We don’t expect that much. He could just be a child.”

“He is,” Lya replied gently. “But he’s also your son. And so, inevitably… more.”

Caleb leaned down, placing a hand on her shoulder. He murmured, almost to himself:
“He’s also our future Beta. Kaelan’s first brother. And that’s what scares me sometimes. Not because he won’t be capable… but because he’ll want to be too soon.”

Lya turned to him, solemn.
“Then we’ll have to teach him that strength isn’t always about moving forward. Sometimes, it’s knowing when to pause.”

A small shimmer caught their attention. Loric had just exhaled slowly, and before Théon’s astonished eyes, a twig lifted slightly from the ground, as if carried by an invisible breath.

“Holy hell,” Caleb murmured. “Did he just start manipulating air? At four?”

“No,” Lya replied with a proud smile. “He listened. And sometimes, that’s even more impressive.”

Caleb laughed aloud.
“You’re the one talking about listening? The same Lya who growls when someone talks to me too long?”

“I don’t growl. I defend my territory. There’s a difference.”

Caleb leaned down and kissed her temple, eyes fixed on the boy they were raising.
“You know what? With those two… we’re doomed. But in a beautiful way.”

Lya chuckled softly.
“Yeah. Completely doomed.”