The Scholar's Rebirth

His gaze flickered over the soldiers before him. Some were already sweating—not from the warm-up, but from pure, unfiltered dread.

"Warm-ups. Now."

A single command. No explanations. No wasting time. Hell began immediately.

For the next thirty minutes, the elves were mercilessly broken down with sheer endurance training.

Push-ups—fast, controlled, and never-ending. Some had barely healed from yesterday's bruises, but that didn't matter. Draco walked among them, correcting form with his boot, not hesitating to press down on their backs if he saw them slacking.

Planks—held until their arms trembled, their elbows sinking into the dirt. If someone collapsed? He simply said, "Start over."

Burpees—brutal, fast-paced, unrelenting. Several elves fell mid-jump, their limbs failing, but before they could even gasp for air, they were forced back up.

Sprints—back and forth across the field. No rests, no complaints, only obedience.

Halfway through, an elf collapsed face-first into the dirt, chest heaving, gasping for breath. He didn't even get a chance to recover before Draco's shadow loomed over him.

Draco crouched, golden eyes unreadable. "Are you dead?"

The elf, still breathless, shook his head weakly.

"Then get up."

Shame burned in the elf's eyes, and despite his shaking limbs, he pushed himself back onto his feet.

Draco didn't offer praise. He simply moved on, expecting nothing less than resilience.

#####

With warm-ups finished and bodies trembling with exhaustion, Draco divided the troops into their respective units.

Raven led the ranged fighters to the archery field. Today's test? Fifty consecutive bullseyes under exhaustion.

Their arms burned, fingers raw from the string. A single mistake meant starting over.

Raven's aim remained sharp, her arrows flying true, but some of the younger elves wavered, their hands trembling too much to hit the target.

Most especially Kael,he was more used to A sword than a bow,but Eira insisted he practiced both. Truth be told,he was doing good,but leave it to Draco to completely destroy your self esteem and confidence.

Kael, the youngest of the Rangers, stood among the archers, bow raised, eyes focused. His form was decent, but his hands shook slightly from exhaustion.

The target was fifty meters away. A simple shot, under normal circumstances. But with Draco breathing down his neck? Nothing felt easy.

He released the arrow.

It missed the center by a few inches.

Draco made a sound that was somewhere between a disappointed sigh and a disgusted scoff.

"Tell me, Kael… are you secretly cross-eyed?"

Kael stiffened. "N-No, sir."

Draco tilted his head, mock curiosity in his golden eyes. "Then why, in the name of all things competent, do you shoot like you are?"

Several elves choked on their breath trying to suppress their laughter.

Kael clenched his jaw, raising his bow again, determined to ignore Draco's comments.

He took another shot.

This time, the arrow barely grazed the target.

Draco blinked slowly. Then, with painful patience, he asked, "Did the target offend you? Is that why you're punishing the air around it instead?"

Kael's ears turned red. He quickly nocked another arrow, this time putting every ounce of focus into the shot.

Thwack!

It hit the bullseye.

Draco hummed. "Oh? So you do have functional eyes. That's a relief." He clapped his hands once. "Maybe next time, try using them before I start contemplating whether I should put you down like a wounded horse."

Kael bit his tongue.

But Draco wasn't done.

After archery practice, the Rangers were sent to the forest to train in survival and agility.

Draco, of course, followed.

The task? Move through the trees without making a sound.

Kael was determined to redeem himself. He crouched low, moving between the branches with precision. His breathing was controlled, his footwork silent.

He was doing fine.

Until Draco's bored voice drifted from above.

"Kael, do you think I'm blind?"

Kael froze. He hadn't even made a sound.

Draco's golden eyes glowed faintly in the shadows of the trees. His smirk was pure mockery.

"You're stepping like a drunken deer on ice."

Kael's entire body tensed.

Draco leaned casually against a branch, utterly unbothered. "If I were an enemy, I'd have killed you five times already. Actually—" he lazily flicked a small pebble.

It smacked Kael's forehead.

Kael clenched his fists, inhaling sharply. "Permission to—"

Draco raised a brow. "To what? Prove me right again?"

Kael shut his mouth.

Draco smirked. "Smart decision."

He stretched, yawning. "If you want to move like a Ranger, Kael, stop walking like an embarrassed toddler who just learned how to use his legs."

Kael gritted his teeth but focused.

This time, he moved with even more precision.

Draco watched.

When Kael finally completed the exercise correctly, Draco hummed. "Not bad."

Then he tossed another pebble at him, just for fun. "But I'd still kill you in a real fight."

Kael inhaled deeply. Where exactly had his sister gone. He was going to have nightmares about this.

######

The swordsmen engaged in rigorous sparring, the sound of wooden weapons clashing filling the air. Draco moved between them, eyes sharp, correcting their stances.

The shield-bearers were tested on endurance.

Hold your ground. Hold your defense. Do not falter.

Draco walked past them, testing their formations. Then, without warning—he attacked.

A massive force slammed into their shields, knocking three elves backward.

Draco clicked his tongue. "Dead."

The fallen elves scrambled back into position. This time, when Draco struck, they braced themselves—shields digging into the dirt, legs firm.

Much better.

The elves with magical abilities were pushed to their limits.

Casting spells under exhaustion, maintaining control even when their energy reserves ran low.

One elf's fire spell fizzled out mid-cast, his knees buckling.

Draco, watching, spoke calmly, "Power is meaningless if you can't control it."

The elf gritted his teeth, re-centering himself. This time, the flames burned steady.

Once each unit was pushed to their breaking point, they all came together.

Battle formations were practiced, switching between offense and defense.

Team coordination was tested, ensuring each unit worked together as a single force.

Simulated skirmishes were run—testing their adaptability.

Draco's commanding presence alone was enough to keep them on edge.

The elves pushed, fought, endured.

By the time the sun finally peeked over the horizon, they were soaked in sweat, aching, barely standing.

And yet, when Draco finally called for line-up, even those who had collapsed rose from the dead within seconds.

Draco scanned the ranks, his golden eyes gleaming. His gaze lingered on their exhaustion, the way their bodies screamed for rest but refused to fall.

He exhaled. "Better."

A pause.

Then, in a tone far too calm, he added:

"Not good enough."

The elves barely contained their groans. Not good enough?!

Draco smirked.

Tomorrow would be even worse.

He turned around and left,he had to find Eira so they could round up the preparations for the exam.

#####

The first light of dawn had yet to touch the sky when the elves assembled at the training grounds. A thick layer of mist clung to the air, curling around their legs as they stood in disciplined silence. Or rather, a silence forced by sheer necessity—no one wanted to risk drawing attention to themselves while Draco prowled the field, his golden eyes glowing faintly in the dim pre-dawn.

Eira was nowhere to be found.

The realization had settled over them the moment they gathered, and it had only made their anxiety worse. Everyone had been hoping—praying—that she would be the one to oversee their mock exam. Not that she was particularly merciful, but compared to Draco, she was practically a saint.

The dragon, fully aware of their thoughts, wore a slow, amused smirk. "Why the long faces?" he drawled, voice deep and edged with dark amusement. "Surely, you're not so fragile that a little training with me would break you?"

The elves straightened instinctively, not daring to respond.

"Good," Draco murmured, crossing his arms. "Then let's begin."

And with that, the hellish first day of the exam began.