Ultimate Dragon System: Grinding my way to the Top-Chapter 145: Persuasion
Olmo wasn’t left with much of a choice but to refuse. He didn’t want to endanger Mira.
He had told Jelo to come to him whenever he needed Dabba’s Heart, yes—but he had never mentioned involving Mira. If anything happened to any student under his watch, it could cost him his position in the academy. The thought alone made his stomach turn. Years of service, of dedication to training young cultivators, could all vanish in an instant if something went wrong. The academy’s council didn’t take kindly to instructors who allowed students to come to harm, especially not during unsanctioned expeditions into dangerous territories.
"But she’s proven herself," Jelo insisted, his words stumbling over each other. "She can hold her ground in danger. You’ve seen it."
Olmo’s expression remained unchanged, his jaw set in that familiar stubborn line that Jelo had come to recognize over their months of training together. The instructor’s eyes held a weight of experience that spoke of battles fought and losses endured.
"This is already beyond me, Jelo," Olmo said firmly. "I’m risking my position just by helping you obtain Dabba’s Heart. Now imagine involving Mira too—two students’ lives on the line. What do you expect me to tell the academy?"
The question hung in the air between them, heavy with implications. Jelo could see the conflict playing out across Olmo’s weathered features—the desire to help warring with the practical realities of his responsibilities. It wasn’t just about the danger itself; it was about accountability, about the trust the academy had placed in him as an instructor.
Jelo clenched his fists. He knew if Olmo truly wanted to allow Mira to come, he could. Olmo was strong enough to protect her. But fairness—justice—was what troubled him.
The silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable. Jelo could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, could feel the desperation building in his chest. He needed Dabba’s Heart, and he had promised to bring Mira with him whenever he wanted to go get them, he didn’t want to go back one his words.
After a long silence, Olmo exhaled.
"Fine. Go ahead. Call her. But don’t waste my time."
He barely finished the sentence before Jelo dashed off to find Mira.
His feet carried him swiftly across the academy grounds, weaving between other students who were going about their daily training routines. The urgency in his movements drew a few curious glances, but he paid them no mind. His focus was singular, his purpose clear.
After explaining everything to her, she didn’t hesitate. She prepared quickly and followed Jelo.
Mira had always been like that—decisive, quick to act once she understood the situation. It was one of the things Jelo admired most about her. Where others might have questioned or doubted, she simply assessed and moved forward. Within minutes, she had gathered what she needed and was ready to go.
As they walked back, Mira was still visibly confused.
Her brow was furrowed in that particular way it did when she was trying to piece together information that didn’t quite make sense to her. Jelo could see the questions forming behind her eyes, could sense her mind working through the details he’d shared.
She stopped and turned to Jelo, her expression blank. "Why didn’t you tell me about Dabba’s Heart earlier?"
The question was direct, without accusation, but it still made Jelo pause. He hadn’t considered how his lack of communication might have appeared to her, hadn’t thought about how she might feel being brought into this situation at the last possible moment.
"I didn’t know until this morning," Jelo replied quickly.
His answer came out almost defensive, though he hadn’t intended it that way. The truth was exactly as he’d stated—he genuinely hadn’t known until the system had alerted him to his critically low energy reserves. But even as he spoke, he could see that his explanation wasn’t quite satisfying the curiosity in Mira’s eyes.
"You didn’t check your health status?" she asked. "Shouldn’t you be monitoring it so you know when you need Dabba’s Heart to replenish your energy?"
The question was reasonable, logical even. It was the kind of thing any sensible cultivator would do—regularly monitor their energy levels to avoid exactly the kind of crisis situation Jelo now found himself in. But Jelo had never been particularly good at the practical, mundane aspects of cultivation management.
Jelo rubbed the back of his head, his awkward smile trembling. "I don’t usually check. I just wait for the system to notify me when I’m low on energy reserves and need Dabba’s Heart."
Even as he said it, he knew how ridiculous it sounded.
The words hung in the air between them, and Jelo could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. It was the kind of admission that made him sound careless, irresponsible even. What kind of cultivator didn’t monitor their own energy levels? What kind of student waited until their body was on the verge of collapse before taking action?
Mira stared at him.
Her gaze was steady, unwavering, and in it Jelo could see a mixture of disbelief and something that might have been exasperation. She didn’t say anything for a long moment, just looked at him as if trying to determine whether he was serious or simply making a poor attempt at humor.
"So you wait until you have a splitting headache and can barely function before you decide to do something about it?"
Her voice carried a note of incredulity that made Jelo wince internally. When she put it like that, his approach to energy management sounded even worse than he’d thought. It wasn’t just impractical; it was borderline reckless.
"Well... that’s not exactly what I’m saying," Jelo muttered. "I just wait until the system tells me. But now that you put it like that..." He paused, thinking. "That actually sounds smarter. I think I’ll start checking from now on."
He tried not to sound any more foolish than he already had.
The admission felt necessary, even if it was somewhat embarrassing. Mira had a point—a very good point, actually. There was no logical reason to wait for a system notification when he could simply check his status regularly and plan ahead. It was basic cultivation management, the kind of thing instructors probably taught in the first-year courses that he’d somehow managed to overlook or forget.
They resumed walking and soon reached Olmo, who still looked uncertain about bringing Mira along.
The instructor’s posture was tense, his arms crossed over his chest in a defensive stance that spoke volumes about his internal struggle. His eyes moved between Jelo and Mira, assessing, calculating the risks they were about to undertake. The lines around his mouth had deepened, and there was a tightness to his jaw that suggested he was already regretting his decision to allow this expedition to proceed with both students in tow.
