TALENT AWAKENING: DRACONIC OVERLORD OF THE APOCALYPSE

The sterile white walls of the hospital ward hummed softly with the low buzz of fluorescent lights overhead.

Sunlight filtered through half-shut blinds, casting slanted stripes across the polished floor, where traces of hurried footsteps from passing nurses faintly lingered.

A faint antiseptic scent filled the air, mingling with the sterile chill that hospitals never seemed to shake off.

Beside a narrow hospital bed, Lila sat hunched over, her head resting against her folded arms atop the thin mattress.

Her soft brown hair spilled over her face like a curtain, rising and falling gently with each breath.

Despite the stiff chair beneath her and the ache in her back, she hadn’t moved for hours.

On the bed lay her older brother, Orien, his face pale, stained by faint traces of dried sweat. He had obtained some serious wounds after running into a monster in the outer rings during a delivery service.

Yes, he was a delivery boy. He had no talent—a special case in a society brimming with Awakened individuals. Although cases like him were not rare, most were due to the fact they never had the funds to attend an academy in the first place.

His chest rose and fell steadily, but the bandages wrapped around his torso were a clear reminder of the wounds that refused to heal—jagged lines that pulsed faintly beneath the layers of bandages, like cracks etched into fragile glass.

Lila stirred slightly, her green eyes fluttering open weakly with exhaustion. She straightened up just as Orien’s fingers twitched. Her heart leapt into her throat.

Then—

A faint groan.

His eyes cracked open, dull green irises slowly adjusting to the sterile brightness of the room.

He squinted, his lips parting slightly as though the simple act of breathing required effort.

“…Lila?” His voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

Lila bolted upright, her chair screeching softly against the floor.

“Orien!” she gasped, leaning over him.

Her trembling hands hovered, unsure whether to grab him or call for a nurse.

“You’re awake!”

Orien’s gaze drifted around sluggishly before settling on her face.

A faint, crooked smile spread to the corner of his mouth. “You look like hell,” he rasped.

Lila let out a shaky laugh, tears rising at the corners of her eyes.

“I’ve been sitting here all night, you idiot. Of course, I look like hell.”

She wiped her eyes quickly with the sleeve of her jacket, trying to compose herself.

“When they called me, they said it was critical. I—I thought—” Her voice caught, and she swallowed hard.

“Hey,” Orien interrupted gently, raising a weak hand. His fingers brushed her head, ruffling her messy hair with the softest touch.

“It’s alright, Lila. I’m still here.”

His words were both comforting and fragile.

She leaned into his hand slightly, grounding herself in the warmth of his touch.

Before she could respond, the sliding door hissed open.

A woman entered, carrying a small container filled with neatly cut fruit. Her dark brown hair was tied back in a bun, and her sharp green eyes softened the moment she saw Orien awake.

“Orien,” Veyra—their mother—breathed, clearly relieved. She quickly set the fruit on the bedside table and moved closer, inspecting him frantically… like someone who’d done this far too often.

“You had us worried.”

Behind her, a tall figure stepped in—Daren, their father, broad-shouldered and imposing despite the faint gray streaks lining his reddish-brown hair. His face was unreadable at first, but as he approached the bed, his stern features softened into something warmer.

“We’re glad you’re alright,” Daren said gruffly, placing a firm hand on Orien’s shoulder. “You gave us a scare there. We almost thought we’d lose you, considering how much blood you lost.”

Orien tried to chuckle, but the motion pulled at his bandages, making him wince. Lila immediately reached out, steadying him.

“You shouldn’t laugh,” she muttered. “Your wounds haven’t healed properly.”

Veyra frowned, her eyes darting toward the strange, faint red glow that seemed to pulse beneath the bandages.

“Even with your talent, Lila, the injuries didn’t respond?”

Lila shook her head slowly. “It’s like… something is resisting my healing. I don’t understand it.”

Orien shifted uncomfortably in the bed, the effort seeming to drain him.

“I’ll be fine,” he murmured, though he sounded uncertain. He glanced at his parents, the edges of his smile fading.

“It’s just… the pain seems to be spreading around my whole body.”

Veyra leaned in closer. “What happened, Orien? Last time on the phone you said you were making a regular delivery. Is that all?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a slow sigh before speaking.

“Yeah… I was visiting a regular customer, someone I’ve delivered to before. Same old routine. I didn’t think anything would happen, you know?”

His voice trailed off, and his brow furrowed as though the memory was difficult to put into words.

Daren crossed his arms. “And then?”

Orien paused, swallowing hard. “There was a woman. A blond woman, I think she had glowing red eyes. I didn’t see her face clearly—just… I know she was blond. Her hands were strangely long… And she had these claws—”

He shuddered. “Like, massive claws. She was whispering something… Help me… so I was conflicted at first, but then she—she attacked me before I could react. She was fast, too fast.”

Lila’s hand flew to her mouth. “A blond woman with claws? What do you mean, Orien? Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Orien said, his breath coming in shallow bursts. “Her claws—damn, they tore through me like paper. I thought I was done for.” His voice dropped to a whisper.

“She wanted to attack me again but then she grabbed her head and started screaming.”

“I barely managed to escape.”

Veyra gasped. “Did she away?”

“Obviously,” Orien muttered. “I didn’t even know where she came from to begin with… It was like she was a ghost, popped out of nowhere, and then just as fast, she vanished.”

Daren’s eyes darkened. “A blond woman with claws… That’s not normal. Could this be related to some strange dungeon brake?”

Lila clenched her fists. “But why wouldn’t my healing work? She did something to him…” Her voice trailed off.

Orien shook his head. “I don’t know. But I think there’s more to this woman. She wasn’t just some crazy attacker. I feel like she’s was being controlled by something.”

Before anyone could say more, another hiss of the door sliding open interrupted them. This time, three figures stepped into the room, all clad in dark Union officer uniforms, their badges gleaming under the sterile lights.

The leader, a sharp-featured man with silver-and-blue hair, his left eye covered by an eye patch, stepped forward. His piercing blue eye surveyed the room with a cold gaze, like someone used to these sorts of things.

“Apologies for the intrusion,” he said. “I’m Claus Renner, Union Senior Investigator. We’re here to examine Mr. Orien’s wounds. There are… concerns regarding the nature of his injuries.”

Lila immediately stood up. “Examine? Why? He’s barely conscious!”

Claus gave her a polite, tight smile. “We believe his wounds may be linked to a recent top-secret case the Union has been investigating.”

“So, we order the rest of you to step out of the room so we may have our time with the patient.”

Daren stepped between them, his sharp blue eyes locked with Claus’s. “You’ll speak to us with respect. This is my son’s life, not some Union case file.”

Claus didn’t flinch. “Of course. But time is a luxury we may not have.” He gestured to the officers behind him, who carried portable black oval shaped scanners and equipment unfamiliar even in the advanced medical setting.

“If we do not examine him soon, and possibly take action, his body may suffer irreversible changes.”

Orien groaned softly, shifting against the bed. “It’s fine, Dad,” he mumbled. “Let them do their thing.”

Lila clenched her fists but sat down reluctantly, her gaze flickering from Orien’s pale face to Claus’s impassive one.

Something about this didn’t feel right—not just the Union’s sudden interest, but the way Claus’s eyes lingered on her brother, as if trying to unravel a mystery only he could see.

Lila hesitated, her eyes lingering on her brother’s tired face.

Despite the pain in his expression, Orien gave her a small, reassuring smile. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to ease her worries, even if just a little.

“I’ll be fine,” Orien whispered.

Reluctantly, Lila nodded. “Okay,” she whispered back. Her fingers brushed his hand, and she lingered for a moment before standing up.

“We’ll be right outside.”

Veyra moved next to her, pressing a kiss to Orien’s forehead. “We’ll wait, son. Don’t push yourself.”

Daren gave his son a firm but gentle pat on the shoulder. “Stay strong, Orien. We’ll be here.”

The family stepped toward the door, each of them exchanging one last glance with Orien before they reluctantly exited.

Lila couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off—like the calm before a storm—but she trusted her brother’s word. He’d be okay. He had to be.

The doors finally slid shut.

Inside, Orien let out a slow breath, trying to ease himself.

“Apologies for the intrusion,” came Claus’s voice, breaking the silence.

Orien looked up, meeting the man’s icy gaze.

Claus’s voice was oddly warm as he said, “I’ll need to remove your bandages now. We need to examine the full extent of your infection.”

“Infection? I though you said injuries a while ago.”

“That was to not worry your parents.” Claus said sharply, sighing right after he then spoke to the union offices behind him. “Both of you take those bandages off, let’s see what we are dealing with.”

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