“Incidentally, and to crify any lingering misapprehensions, I am not, in fact, a Phantom Dragon, but rather a True Dragon of the Wind Element.”

  This unexpected revetion left me momentarily speechless, grappling with its implications.

  “Then, do Phantom Dragons genuinely exist in this world?” I managed at st.

  Boco inclined his head in affirmation, a faint smile pying about his ethereal features. “Indeed they do, though they differ somewhat from the image your young mind has likely conjured.

  Phantom Dragons, you see, possess quite corporeal forms; it is only Elemental True Dragons, such as myself when manifesting in my elemental state, that ck a physical body in the conventional, tangible sense.

  In terms of sheer outward appearance, Phantom Dragons actually bear a closer resembnce to the Umbral Demon Dragons—another rather aberrant True Dragon cssification—and in the intricate tapestry of bloodlines, they share a more profound kinship with the Umbral Dragons found amongst the distinguished Quinquecolored lineage.

  I am, of course, acutely aware that you are bereft of the customary inherited memories, and no amount of eloquent exposition on my part can adequately substitute for your own direct, experiential understanding.

  You did, I believe, commence your rigorous Breath training earlier today, did you not?”

  Seeing my small, affirmative nod, Boco continued, his voice retaining its calm cadence, "In that case, the morrow should rightly be a day of tranquil repose for your developing form.

  Winters can, and I am certain will, accompany you to the eighth tier of the grand Library for an initial, introductory visit.

  You ought not to have been wandering abroad this night, little one, especially one so very newly hatched as yourself.

  Sufficient, undisturbed slumber is the very bedrock upon which rapid and healthy maturation is built.

  Under entirely normal circumstances, provided with ample sustenance throughout the day and sound, restorative sleep throughout the night, your bodily length will swiftly and impressively increase from its current diminutive metre or so to a more substantial five metres, all within the retively brief span of two sor years.

  This growth will, at the very least, bring your physical size more into alignment with those young dragons who preceded you in hatching from their shells, as the maximum attainable stature for a young dragon is merely in the region of ten metres.

  Only by achieving this crucial developmental milestone can you earn the coveted privilege of unrestricted movement and exploration within the hallowed confines of the True Dragon Academy.

  For should you remain too diminutive, you run the constant and serious risk of accidental injury, inflicted inadvertently by your rger, more boisterous youngling counterparts, at any given moment.

  Should you, through some misfortune or neglect, squander these initial, irrepceable two years of growth, your physical size will perpetually, and noticeably, g several crucial degrees behind that of your own clutch-mates.

  Furthermore, Winters should have most certainly, and most stringently, admonished you against the folly of leaving the retive safety of the Dragon's Den unaccompanied."

  I shifted my tail with a degree of unease, a silent admission of my transgression.

  "Ah, well, you see, it is presently nighttime, and I reasoned that no other young dragons would be active or about.

  I merely harbored a wish to gaze upon the celestial tapestry of stars and had absolutely no intention of spending the entire night afield.

  Uh… I simply found myself, for the moment, quite unable to succumb to the embrace of sleep."

  Hearing my somewhat stammered expnation, Boco was momentarily taken aback, his spectral form seeming to pause in its gentle undutions, before his gaze traveled slowly, assessingly, up and down my small frame.

  “Your Inner Focus, I perceive, is indeed considerably more active, more vibrant, than that of a typical, newly hatched youngling.

  This pronounced activity may well be an anomaly, a unique characteristic intrinsically linked to your particur bloodline, and as such, could potentially be submitted for…”

  Observing me once again instinctively clutching my tail, my teeth bared in a low, guttural, and undeniably warning growl, Boco trailed off, his sentence left hanging, incomplete and awkward, in the still air of the boratory.

  “Very well, very well, compose yourself; it was merely a tentative suggestion on my part.

  If you are so demonstrably averse to the idea, then let us speak no more of it.

  Incidentally, here, this is for your benefit.”

  With that, Boco materialized a small, elegantly crafted crystal phial, containing a milky white, opaque liquid, and pced it gently before me.

  “This, young Vet, is the expressed and purified juice of the rare Domia Flowers, a substance which effectively and gently promotes the onset of slumber.

  Although your current state of wakefulness may indeed be intrinsically linked to the peculiarities of your bloodline, insufficient sleep, or indeed, a complete and prolonged ck of it, is most decidedly detrimental to your healthy development.

  In truth, a carefully formuted sleeping potion would undoubtedly yield a more potent, more immediate effect, but given your very recent emergence from the egg, it is prudent to utilize the unadulterated, natural extract of the Domia Flower.”

  However, what the towering Boco evidently considered a "small crystal phial" was, from my significantly more diminutive perspective, rger even than the distant crystal jar on the stone shelf, the one containing the preserved form of the unfortunate Argent Dragon.

  Seeing me regard him with an expression that must have been undeniably peculiar, Boco finally seemed to register the rather gring discrepancy in our respective perceptions of scale.

  “Ah, yes, it is indeed, I concede, somewhat… capacious for one of your current stature.

  It appears, then, that I shall have to undertake the task of seeking you out each day to administer the appropriate dosage.”

  Saying this, Boco retrieved the phial, still brimming with the potent Domia Flower juice.

  “Is there truly no vessel of a more modest dimension avaible within this vast boratory?

  You yourself just mentioned that we are, in due course, to attend your Potion css.

  Are we then expected to employ such truly gargantuan, such unwieldy apparatus in our studies?”

  “Assuredly not,” Boco confirmed, shaking his head, a gesture that caused his ethereal form to shimmer.

  “However, even the most diminutive container at my disposal would, I fear, still prove somewhat oversized for your present, rather compact, physical dimensions.

  As I have previously stated, the initial two years immediately following hatching represent the period of most rapid, most crucial, physical development for our kind.

  Therefore, your formal instruction in the intricate art of Potion-making will not, and indeed cannot, commence until your growth in physical size has appropriately stabilized, an eventuality that will likely occur approximately two years hence.”

  My gaze drifted, almost involuntarily, towards the gently simmering pot, redolent with the aroma of cooking Dragon Beast meat, and I could not suppress a small, anticipatory swallow.

  “Two years, you say?

  Does that not strike you as an exceedingly, almost intolerably, long duration?”

  Boco, with a subtle manipution of the ambient wind element, gently stirred the bubbling contents of the rge pot.

  “Is a mere two years truly such a significant span of time, young one?

  Speaking of protracted durations, it has been a considerable, almost forgotten, age since I st permitted myself the indulgence of a proper, unbroken night’s rest.

  When the esteemed Karen finally deigns to return, I fully intend to surrender myself to slumber, soundly and without interruption, for several consecutive decades.”

  After a brief, contemptive pause, Boco continued, his voice softening slightly, “Fret not, little Vet; your grand draconic existence has, in truth, only just embarked upon its lengthy journey.

  For the True Dragon Species, possessing lifespans that dwarf the fleeting existences of lesser beings, time itself is, perhaps, the least precious, the most abundant of all commodities.”

  I offered only a noncommittal, humming sound in response, my attention now thoroughly captivated by the intricate, arcane patterns etched into the stone beneath the simmering pot, patterns that emitted a faint, yet constant, crimson glow.

  “Who, pray tell, is this Karen of whom you speak?

  And what, by all that is wondrous, is this fascinating glowing beneath the pot?”

  “Karen,” Boco expined, “is another highly skilled instructor, one exceptionally well-versed in the delicate and demanding art of potion-craft.

  She has, at present, ventured forth on an extended expedition to procure certain rare and essential materials required for the meticulous refining of advanced potions, and, as such, may not grace us with her presence again for several decades to come.

  Were she currently here, I assure you, my manifold burdens and responsibilities would be considerably, and most welcomely, lightened.

  As for this glowing pattern,” he gestured towards the floor, “it is a Thermostatic Array, an ingenious magical construct capable of providing a constant, unwavering, and precisely controlled source of temperature.

  The intricate process of Potion-making, you understand, is quite impossible, utterly unachievable, without its reliable function.”

  My gaze then shifted, with a newfound understanding, towards the pit where Boco had so unceremoniously disposed of the waste materials earlier.

  “Is there, perhaps, also a Magic Array concealed within that recess?”

  “That, young Vet, is a potent Annihition Array,” Boco stated, his voice taking on a graver tone.

  “You would be exceptionally wise to maintain a most significant and respectful distance from its vicinity.

  Should you, through some camitous mischance, venture too close within its effective radius and inadvertently infuse even the smallest measure of elemental energy into its matrix, your nascent draconic life would conclude with most abrupt and terminal finality, with not so much as a single shimmering scale remaining to mark your unfortunate passing.”

  I drew a deep, shuddering breath, the implications of his words sinking in.

  “Is it truly so perilous, then?”

  No sooner had the words escaped my lips than I detected a distinct, almost mischievous, glint in Boco’s ethereal eyes.

  “You were merely jesting with me!” I excimed, a mixture of relief and slight indignation bubbling up.

  “It did, I confess, rather startle you, did it not?” Boco admitted, a faint, spectral smile pying on his lips.

  “In all truth, if the various Magic Arrays operational within this boratory were genuinely possessed of such inherent and immediate hazard, I would most certainly not have permitted you to stand, even for a moment, upon a functioning crushing array.

  Incidentally, I have, on countless occasions, utilized that very array to pulverize a veritable mountain of diverse magical ingredients with utmost efficiency.”

  I scrambled backward with a sudden, undignified haste.

  Even though Boco had now asserted that the Magic Array posed no immediate danger, the very notion of having unknowingly stood upon something so potentially, so catastrophically, destructive sent a fresh shiver of unease down my spine.

  "And what of this particur spot where I now stand?" I inquired, my voice still a little shaky.

  "That, too, is another Thermostatic Array, simir to the one beneath the pot," Boco informed me calmly.

  After a brief, somewhat flustered period of agitated movement and careful inspection, I finally managed to locate a small, unassuming area of the cavern floor apparently devoid of any discernible arrays.

  Observing Boco’s faintly smirking, squint-eyed expression, an expression that suggested a certain amused tolerance for my caution, I turned my head dejectedly towards the still-simmering pot, the aroma of its contents now almost painfully tantalizing.

  "Is it not yet ready for consumption?" I asked, a hopeful note in my voice.

  "It still requires a little more time to reach optimal tenderness," Boco replied.

  "However, if you do not object to it being somewhat underdone, somewhat… robust in texture, you are most welcome to consume it at your leisure now.

  In fact," he added, a connoisseur's gleam in his eye, "I wholeheartedly, and without reservation, recommend partaking of it in its raw state; the resultant texture, I assure you, is truly, exquisitely superb."

  I shook my head with a swiftness that left no room for doubt, then proceeded to survey Boco with renewed curiosity, from the tip of his spectral snout to the end of his translucent tail.

  His entire form appeared to be composed of shimmering, cyan-hued wind elements, his feet ostensibly resting upon the cavern floor, yet his whole being seemed to float, to drift, with an effortless grace.

  His forelimbs were noticeably short in proportion to his body, while his wingspan was impressively more than double his overall body length, and he possessed a slender, elegantly elongated Dragon Tail.

  A form such as this… it sparked a new question.

  "You persistently, and with such evident relish, emphasize the matter of texture; does this imply that you, too, require physical sustenance for your continued existence?"

  Hearing my query, Boco grinned, a gesture that, surprisingly, revealed two neat rows of perfectly white, tangible-looking teeth.

  Then, to my utter, unmitigated astonishment, his spectral form suddenly, and without warning, solidified.

  His general outward appearance remained fundamentally unchanged—he still bore scales of a distinct cyan hue—but he now possessed a tangible, unmistakably physical body.

  "In all actuality," he announced, his voice now resonating with a newfound depth, "this is the true, corporeal appearance of an Elemental True Dragon."

  "Then, your form just moments ago…" I began, still processing the transformation.

  "That," Boco expined, "is a unique, inherent faculty possessed by the Elemental True Dragon: the ability of Elementalization."

  Saying this, Boco’s now-solid body began to grow translucent once more, gradually returning to its previous ethereal state.

  He then added, a hint of casualness in his tone, "I simply find it considerably more convenient, more efficient, to move and interact in this elementalized state, hence I have been consistently maintaining it during our encounter."

  After a brief pause, Boco’s gaze shifted meaningfully towards the pot, still gently bubbling upon the Thermostatic Array.

  "It is now, I believe, perfectly cooked to your preference.

  However," he added, "you will undoubtedly require a touch of this to ensure a restful night."

  With that, Boco retrieved the phial of Domia Flower juice he had set aside earlier, cast a brief, appraising gnce in my direction, and then, with delicate precision, added but a single, pearlescent drop to the savory contents of the pot.

  "Partake of your meal with a tranquil mind, little Vet; I shall personally ensure your safe conveyance back to your den shortly."

  I turned my head, my gaze lingering for a moment upon the silent, preserved form of the Argent Dragon, still suspended in its crystalline vat on the distant stone shelf, then shifted my attention back to the now-ethereal Boco.

  "Let us be unequivocally, absolutely clear from the very outset," I stated, my voice small but firm. "You are not, under any circumstances, permitted to procure any measure of my Dragon Blood whilst I am under the influence of that potion and asleep!"