In the outside world, the heavens once again appeared in the sky, searching—as though something had once again disturbed them. As for Drakion’s body at the Dragon Palace, he was surrounded by a bubble of water, protecting and encasing him. But Quinn knew—Drakion was comprehending the Water Law. He could feel a vast power behind that law. It was not the kind of force one could defy... it was nature itself. As he was still thinking of this, he felt Drakion’s aura shift—and in the next instant, everything turned frosty. As Drakion delved deeper into the Water Law, he felt something stir again. And when he tried to probe it— He found himself standing in a silent sky, eyes closed. A silence so profound, even the breath of the world seemed to pause. And in that silence... it arrived. Not like thunder—loud and declarative. Not like fire—alive with hunger. Not like water—fluid, eternal, forgiving. It had always been there. Cold was not a presence. And Ice... was its embodiment. Drakion did not feel a force flood into him. He felt everything else—leave. All of it faded... until only one truth remained: Ice was not water slowed. It was water refined. Where water flowed—adapting to the world— It did not move unless made to. Water whispered, "Let go." Ice answered, "Hold fast." This was not cruelty. Ice simply did not yield. It was resolve—made manifest. The quiet decision to remain unmoved. And unlike fire, it did not destroy. Unlike lightning, it did not strike. Unlike water, it did not erode. Drakion opened his soul to it. No flash. No flood. No shiver. Only a creeping, perfect clarity. Time slowed—not by force, but by presence. The air became still. And the countless, shifting layers of thought... crystallized into still patterns. Ice demanded no chaos. It was the Law of Composure. To comprehend Ice... was to understand the honor of stasis. To know what should never melt. To see the value in stillness... when all else screamed to move. Water is forgiveness. Water flows to adapt. Ice stands to protect. Water heals through motion. Ice heals through containment. Drakion exhaled—and the breath vanished before it ever reached the air. It was frozen in purpose. His Originat pulsed like frost on glass—slow, beautiful, inevitable. There was no roar. No flare. Only a presence that could still the blood of giants. That could preserve the past in untouched crystal. That could shatter anything... with a single fracture. And then he understood: It is preservation in the face of decay. A guardian of the unchanging. A shield against time. Drakion opened his eyes. But the air around him had shifted. And from deep within his core, a voice that was not a voice whispered— "Stand still... and let the world move around you." Drakion’s body in the outside world began releasing shards of ice and a chilling aura. The Ice Dragon found herself entranced by it, sitting cross-legged as she silently began to comprehend something unknown—something drawn from Drakion himself. Meanwhile, Drakion looked at two things in his hands: A bubble of water that continued producing tiny droplets, And a frost of ice that radiated a chilling presence. He could feel life in both, though they were still developing—just like the Thunder and Fire within him. Drakion was genuinely surprised by this. He missed the system, honestly. If it were here, he would have asked questions about all of it... but he thought of asking Quinn when he returned. As he glanced at the water surrounding him, he realized his mistake. Both in essence... and in origin. Even though they may give birth to one another under influence, They are not the same. Drakion’s body once again disappeared, as he appeared in a forest filled with rich Wood Originat Energy. He didn’t move this time. He sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and slipped into meditation. No haste. He was familiar with the process. Drakion stood beneath the canopy of silence. Only the quiet pulse of something deep—ancient and breathing. A rhythm beneath the world, slow and patient... Older than fire, deeper than stone. But like a seed—awakening. The Law of Wood did not strike. It did not burn or freeze or drown. Quietly. Constantly. Eternally. Where fire devoured, water flowed, and ice preserved— There was strength in growth— In the breaking of soil by a newborn sprout, In the roots that shattered mountains, stone by stone. But it was inevitable. Every inch gained, every breath drawn by leaf and bark— Drakion breathed in... and the scent of green filled him. It was not the scent of flowers or fruit. It was older—raw bark, damp earth, sap thick with memory. Wood was not just life. It was memory carried by life. The rings of a tree were not just age. Seasons recorded in silence. Storms endured, roots anchored, sun craved and savored. Wood Law was the testament of still life moving. A leaf turned by the sun. A root winding through stone. A vine that reached—and never stopped reaching. It grew because it must. It reached because it believed. It lived... because living was the only answer to decay. Drakion felt his Originat shift—not violently, but gently, Like leaves unfurling under a newborn sun. There was no surge of power. No explosion of insight. Only roots... reaching inward. Only branches... stretching upward. Only life... choosing to live, again and again. Wood is resistance—but not rebellion. It is strength—but not conquest. It is life—but not in bloom alone. It is the will to continue. To heal, to regrow, to restore. To be cut—and still sprout again. To be burned—and still rise in green. To be broken—and still take root. Wood is patient defiance. It does not war against death. It simply outlasts it. And in this silence beneath the heavens, Drakion knew— The Law of Wood is the breath between destruction and rebirth. The choice to live again. The power to begin again. The memory to grow differently. And so his Originat bloomed—quietly. A whisper of green amidst chaos. A stillness that promised strength. A growth that could not be stopped. A/N: Well, my dear readers, the next two Chapters will be filled with comprehension of law. It was because of this I had delayed publishing these days. For those who find this frustrating, I’m sorry. I wish everyone a great read and hope you gain something—because I have gained something from these.