Eze had been partying with netizens in a wild VR ninja-RPG simulation until late last night. Now, semi-conscious and groggy, he found himself submerged in a thick, sticky substance—like viscous gel—but with no feeling of suffocation. Instead, it oddly felt like he was basking in winter sunlight, warm and protective, like a return to the womb.
The sensation was…
Wonderful.
At least, that was Eze's drowsy thought—until he suddenly opened his mouth and muttered, "What the hell—" but what came out was an unrecognizable, immature roar.
He froze.
Not because of the alien sound, but—
What the hell is with this red membrane wall?!
And what is this dense, burning-smelling liquid clinging to him?
It reeked of sulfur and brimstone, yet looked eerily like amniotic fluid.
As a seasoned DND, One Piece RPG, and Naruto world-runner, Eze quickly realized the disturbing familiarity of the setting.
Was this... reincarnation?
Worse—was he reborn as some kind of low-level, oviparous beast?
Then he looked down.
And slapped himself—mentally.
From his current body structure and scale color, it was obvious—he had reincarnated as a Red Dragon—one governed by DND rules. A being whose very name signified apex status in any known dimension, whether Chakra-ruled or Magic-infested.
The egg quivered slightly as Eze moved. Just outside the lair, a massive creature stirred—its eyes flickering open with ancient fatigue and wonder.
Daenerys.
A living legend.
A Flame Dragon Matriarch known throughout the Elbaf Continent—a hybrid land where chakra beasts, devil fruit users, and ancient magic overlapped in chaotic coexistence.
She was over 2100 years old, a veteran of the Draconic Wars, a survivor of the War of the Five Races, and one of the only red dragons to earn divine grace from Tiamat herself—the Dragon Queen whose breath could burn both jutsu and haki alike.
She hadn't founded a dragon empire like others of her kind. Instead, after losing her fertility centuries ago, she dedicated herself to collecting and hatching red dragon eggs, scavenged from the magma fields of the Flame Mountains and the void rifts around Elbaf's southern ring.
Why only red dragons?
Simple: she ate the others.
Red dragons weren't known for diplomacy. Their arrogance dwarfed even the most prideful Uchiha, and their rage could rival a berserker using Gear Fifth fused with Sage Mode.
For centuries, she had ruled the volcanic zone of Yaldanar, hatching hundreds of red dragons. The surrounding landscape was littered with scorched skeletons of fools and challengers—pirates, marines, ninja clans, and rogue mages alike—turned to ash by her fury.
Now, in her twilight years, she had one last batch of eggs.
If any of them hatched into a true red dragon, she would raise it until adulthood.
If none did—she would leave Elbaf and find her final resting place, taking her treasure hoard with her.
Daenerys, with centuries of hatching experience, gently tapped Eze's egg using a massive crimson claw. Her talon was larger than the entire shell—but her touch was calculated, helping the hatchling break free without harm.
Inside, Eze had fully awakened to his new reality.
He drank the inner fluids in one gulp—expecting bitterness, but finding a strangely nostalgic cumin-like flavor, like seasoned meat cooked at a ninja barbecue festival.
He hiccupped.
Energy surged through his tiny frame.
Time to break free.
Despite knowing that a monstrous red dragon might await him, he had no choice. If he stayed, he'd risk becoming a stillborn.
Daenerys's assistance caused fissures to spider across the red scales of the egg. Then—
Crack!
A small claw pierced through.
Eze gasped. "Finally…!"
He braced both claws and ripped the shell open. Chunks flew everywhere, and he slithered out, drenched and exhausted, only to be met by—
A nightmare.
The dragon before him was colossal, with jagged horns forming a crown, scales glowing like lava, and molten heat radiating through the chamber. The air shimmered. The very space felt bent under her spiritual weight—like facing a tailed beast's killing intent fused with Emperor-class Haki.
She was ancient. Terrifying. Divine.
Her wings could blot out suns. Her tail ended in jagged, obsidian spurs. She was death and fire and legend incarnate.
And she was watching him.
If he wasn't a true red dragon—she would kill him. Her tolerance extended only to her kin.
But Eze wasn't panicking.
He knew the ritual.
As a veteran world-runner, he understood that dragon hatchlings had to emit their True Name immediately to prove their lineage. Any hesitation was death.
In that instant, information surged into his mind—a torrent of ancient draconic memories, sealed instincts, magical runes, and…
A name.
A name that burst into his soul like a Nine-Tails seal exploding:
"Eze Dumbledore Sol Targaryen!"
A name long, proud, and resonant. A name to shake the sky.