The moment he got the news, Tom didn't waste a second. After thanking Polana, he immediately activated Apparition and disappeared on the spot.

"Hey, Tom, you—!"

Before Fleur could even finish her sentence, Tom was already gone, not even a shadow left behind. Furious, she punched the ground twice.

"Was it really that urgent? Even if you're going, you should at least prepare properly first!"

Polana looked at her granddaughter, a mix of worry and resignation on her face. One might think it was Fleur herself who had to go face the dragon. But of course, it wasn't hard to see how much Fleur cared about Tom.

And honestly, it wasn't surprising. Life-saving debts are always the hardest to repay—it was practically tradition in their bloodline.

Back in her day, Polana had ended up with that old fool for the exact same reason—he'd saved her life. The only difference now was, that old fool had been hideous. Fleur and Tom? Now that was a good-looking match.

"Fleur," Polana said softly.

"Yes, Grandmother?"

"You have to trust Tom." Polana gently stroked the silver hair of the girl beside her. "If you want a relationship to last, trust is the most important foundation. If Tom dares to face a dragon, then he must have his own confidence in doing so. Men don't like being doubted—even if it's well-intentioned worry, too much of it becomes tiresome. Do you understand?"

Fleur nodded, not fully grasping the depth of her grandmother's words, but committing them to memory all the same.

…

Elsewhere…

After several consecutive Apparitions, Tom finally crossed the Rhine River and arrived at the edge of the Black Forest. He stopped to recover from the dizziness brought on by the rapid spatial travel.

There are two main ways to use Apparition. One is to clearly picture a known destination in your mind and break through space with sheer force of will. The other? Blind jumps. Like teleporting twenty kilometers east without ever having been there. It's harder, consumes more magical and mental energy, and the range is shorter—but it has fewer constraints.

Tom was doing the second kind. He'd never been to this area before and was following only Polana's directions.

And the reason he was in such a rush was because of one particular detail Polana had shared: the dragon had been spotted by a band of goblins en route to a deal with a group of German wizards. That meant the location couldn't be far from the border towns. If he waited too long, others might get there first—and that would make things much messier.

But Tom wasn't foolish enough to charge straight at the dragon.

After locating the two peaks Polana had described, he first sat down and devoured a whole roast chicken and about a dozen strips of bacon. Then, he circled the area to make sure there were no signs of nearby wizards. Only after confirming he was alone did he enter the valley between the two mountains.

Finally, one of Grindelwald's "useless" spells paid off—he sensed an overwhelming concentration of blood in one specific area. Following that trail, Tom finally laid eyes on the legendary beast he had long dreamed of—

The Hungarian Horntail.

Bronze-colored scales densely packed like medieval plate armor covered its fifty-foot-long body. Razor-sharp spines gleamed along its back, running from the tip of its tail all the way up to its massive head.

Among all fire dragons, the Hungarian Horntail wasn't the biggest—but it was unquestionably the most lethal. With immense power and a body covered in weapons like a living war machine, it was a monster of pure destruction.

Tom took a deep breath and, when he was about a hundred meters away, he silently canceled his Disillusionment Charm.

Getting any closer and the dragon would sniff out the scent of life on him.

Of course, part of him had wanted to ambush the beast. But he worried that such a tactic might not count under the rules of the Twelve Trials. So he opted for the most cautious approach.

The Hungarian Horntail, resting lazily, suddenly snapped its eyes open. Its vertical, amber pupils locked onto Tom and it let out a furious roar.

"ROAR!!"

The dragon's bellow shook the heavens—and yet Tom's face lit up with excitement.

Inside his mindscape, a glowing golden rune emerged—symbolizing dragon. It radiated wild, primal power.

The Dragon Trial… had officially begun!

With confirmation from the Trial itself, Tom finally relaxed.

He raised his wand and fired a spell.

It dealt zero damage.

But its disrespect? Off the charts.

The Horntail let out another, much angrier roar. That first bellow had been a warning—this was his territory, and intruders were not welcome.

But this human? This human mocked him.

The dragon was furious. It opened its jaws and unleashed a blazing torrent of dragonfire.

At one hundred meters away, it took about two seconds for the fireball to reach Tom.

He casually sidestepped, already having predicted the landing point, and returned fire with another spell.

The Horntail dodged mid-roar, leaping into the air with its massive wings spread wide. It didn't climb high—only about ten meters off the ground—before it dived at Tom again, this time spewing not a fireball but a continuous stream of flame like a scorching whip nearly ten meters long.

"Protego!"

A shimmering barrier formed before Tom as he quickly backed away. The closer the Horntail came, the hotter the air around them became. The Shield Charm began to fully materialize, protecting him from the infernal heat.

50 meters.

40 meters.

30 meters.

20 meters…

Now!

Tom's eyes flashed.

He jerked his wand upward—

"Protego Diabolica!"

Flames erupted as the earth split apart. Two massive hands made of cursed fire burst from the ground—right beneath the Horntail's wings!

At this moment, the dragon was flying so low it was practically skimming the ground. With no time to react, the demonic flames grabbed hold of its wings.

"ROAAAAAR!!"

This time, the scream wasn't of fury—it was pure agony.

Tom didn't try to maintain the spell any longer. He immediately Apparated again, reappearing behind the dragon just in time to watch it lose all control.

The Horntail, weighing well over ten tons and now missing its ability to fly, slammed straight into the side of the mountain like a living missile.

The entire peak shuddered with the impact. Massive stones tumbled down from the cliffs above.

Everything was going exactly according to the plan he and Grindelwald had designed.

When a Horntail's wings are folded, they overlap and reinforce each other, becoming nearly impenetrable. The only way to cripple its flight in one blow is to wait until it's airborne—when its wings are fully extended—and then strike.

As Tom basked in the success of his trap, a sharp pulse of danger suddenly surged through his instincts.

His eyes narrowed.

He reinforced the Protego barrier—just in time.

The massive boulders that had buried the Hungarian Horntail were blasted into the air, several of them hurtling straight toward Tom.

"Reducto! Reducto!"

Tom fired spells rapidly, reducing every falling rock into dust. The miserable state of the dragon was finally revealed to him.

Its wings had been completely incinerated. The beast had torn them off in a brutal act of self-preservation, leaving only its thick, clawed forelimbs behind. Its amber vertical pupils were bloodshot with pain and fury. Suddenly, its massive tail swept sideways, striking out toward Tom with terrifying speed.

A gigantic iron shield conjured itself between him and the dragon's tail. Even steel nearly half a meter thick groaned under the impact, warping visibly. But it managed to blunt the force of the blow just enough for Tom to evade with ease. He retaliated instantly, firing two Oculus Hexes straight at the dragon's eyes.

A dragon's eyes were its most vulnerable spot. The Hungarian Horntail shrieked in unbearable agony, its vision plunged into darkness—it was now blinded. The beast began flailing madly, unleashing fire-breath and thrashing its body in wild, indiscriminate attacks.

Only seconds passed.

"Corrosive Acid!"

Tom leapt back again, flicking his wand. A hissing jet of acrid green liquid surged into the air and began raining down—acidic droplets sizzled as they fell, a downpour of sulfuric torment.

The Horntail was a creature of fire and stone, but even it could not endure the searing pain of magical hellfire followed by acid rain. Its once-impervious hide sizzled and bubbled, smoke rising from its body.

After two long minutes, the dragon's roars and howls reached a peak—and then began to wane. Its movement slowed, its strength visibly draining.

Tom ended both the Protego Diabolica and the acid spell.

Any longer, and the dragon's flesh and hide would be ruined—useless.

At this point, the outcome was decided. It all seemed so clean, so clinical—Tom hadn't even suffered a scratch, and the mighty Hungarian Horntail had been outplayed and broken like a wild beast. But the true key to his victory had been the sheer power of his Protego Diabolica and Corrosive Rain.

Even these vicious spells hadn't been enough to pierce its internal organs directly through scale and sinew. Timing and precision had been everything.

Tom waited patiently for his opportunity. When the Horntail's massive belly was finally exposed—he struck again.

"Entrail Expulso!"

RIIIIP—!

A jagged gash tore across the dragon's abdomen. Blood gushed like a waterfall, and steaming innards spilled across the ground. The stench of scorched meat and acid was overwhelming, as puddles of vital organs sizzled upon contact with the earth.

Dragon's blood, raw and untreated, was highly toxic. Tom suddenly felt a pit form in his stomach.

Damn it… Is this trial not about slaying the dragon, but surviving a bath in its blood?!

The Horntail's struggles grew weaker by the second. Tom made no further moves, simply waiting for its life to fade. As the blood loss reached critical levels, the bronze sheen of its scales dulled, and the flood of blood slowed. All the precious liquid was quickly gathered into enchanted containers by Tom.

Five minutes later, the mighty beast lay still. Dead.

A wave of feedback flowed into Tom's mind from the Twelve Trials—the Dragon-Slaying Trial was complete. All that remained was the final step: the Dragonblood Baptism.

Gritting his teeth, Tom stripped off his clothes. In the dead of winter, he stood naked in the wild, and raised the blood above him.

Thick, crimson liquid poured over his body like molten lava. The moment it touched his skin, he felt as though he'd been set on fire. His muscles convulsed. Pain shot through every nerve.

Within his mind, the golden sigil of the dragon erupted in brilliance—exploding like a sun.

Tom's magical core began to surge uncontrollably. The power in the dragonblood was trying to invade, while his own magic fought back with primal fury. The battlefield: his body.

At first, the two forces were evenly matched, tearing him apart from within. The pain was unbearable. But as time went on, his magic—bolstered by the dragon rune—began to dominate. It devoured the primitive essence buried within the blood. What began as a clash became an absorption.

His magic began to swell like a storm. The pressure it released cracked the earth beneath his feet, fault lines zig-zagging outward like lightning bolts.

Meanwhile, his bones snapped and reformed like popcorn kernels bursting in fire. His height shot upward—he passed 160 cm in seconds. Faint outlines of draconic scales shimmered across his skin before vanishing.

This was not a full transformation into a dragonborn. No—this was something far more refined. It was an evolution.

Tom wasn't becoming a dragon. He was absorbing its strengths, making them his own. Advancing toward a higher state of being.

After one searing minute, the turmoil ceased. The magic stabilized. Silence returned to the forest.

Tom opened his eyes—and instantly felt everything had changed.

His vision was sharper. His senses keener. Every cell in his body hummed with strength. His once-ephemeral magic had taken on substance—it flowed tangibly within him, like a second bloodstream.

He was taller. Leaner. Not thinner—more defined. Muscle condensed, refined to its most efficient form.

For a moment, Tom was tempted to conjure that wild bison again—the one he'd failed to lift with the Hovering Charm. He wondered: could he now punch a bison to death?

…Maybe later.

First, he needed to clean up.

Dragonblood had congealed into thick, crusted scabs over his entire body. A wave of the Aguamenti charm summoned clean spring water, washing it all away. Once clean, he dressed and began harvesting usable materials from the dragon's corpse.

Most of the Horntail's hide had been ruined—charred, corroded, tainted by dark magic. Useless. He carefully excised the damaged sections to avoid contamination.

The dragon's heart, liver, and other key organs would need to be preserved in a special alchemical solution to retain their potency. Tom had come prepared.

After an hour of work, everything valuable was packed up. He wasted no time. With a final glance at the ravaged battlefield, he cast Apparition and vanished into the air.

It wasn't until two days later that others arrived. The scene was carnage. Dragonhide, flesh, blood—wasted.

The poachers who'd come hoping for a prize could only gaze skyward and howl in frustration.

Someone beat us to it…!

—Back to the present—

On the return trip, Tom moved significantly faster. Where his Apparition range had once maxed out at twenty kilometers per jump in unfamiliar territory, that distance had now doubled. And even after multiple leaps back to the Veela village, he felt no nausea. No dizziness. Just boundless energy.

Since Tom had left, Fleur hadn't left his hut. She'd been pacing restlessly the entire time, unable to hide her worry.

The familiar pop of Apparition echoed outside.

She reacted instantly, rushing to the door—and threw her arms around him the moment she saw him.

"You're finally back!"

Tom blinked in surprise at how deeply Fleur seemed to care. Then, smiling, he gently patted her back and said:

"Have a little faith in me, will you? Not only did I come back alive—I killed the dragon."